Their plan

As Eleanor and Emily stand over you, the reality of your situation begins to sink in. This isn’t just some fleeting moment of humiliation—they’ve set a trap, and you walked straight into it. The thing is, deep down, this is what you wanted. You’ve spent so long hiding, lying, manipulating, that a part of you craved this. You wanted to be caught, wanted to be put in your place by the very women you tried to deceive. And now, you’re getting exactly that.

Eleanor takes a slow step forward, her leather boots creaking with the motion, her eyes locked onto yours. She’s always been intimidating, but now there’s a different energy to her, something electric that pulses between you, making you feel smaller than ever before. She’s taking her time, savoring the moment. You love the anticipation, the way she’s drawing it out, making you sweat. Your heart is racing, but it’s not entirely from fear. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

“I can see it in your eyes, Tom,” Eleanor says, her voice smooth and dangerous. “You think you’re scared, but deep down, you’ve been begging for this, haven’t you?”

She knows. She’s always known. The humiliation, the powerlessness—it’s what makes your blood rush, what twists that familiar knot of desire deep in your gut. You don’t answer, not yet. You can’t. You’re too overwhelmed by the sight of her standing over you, the way her boots shine under the soft lights of the living room, the way her legs stretch out endlessly beneath the tight fabric of her pencil skirt.

Emily is the next to speak, her voice sharp and playful. “Oh, he’s definitely been begging for it. Look at him—he’s practically drooling.” She laughs, a cruel sound, and moves to Eleanor’s side, her flats making a soft sound against the floor, almost silent compared to the confident click of Eleanor’s heels.

The two of them are like statues of dominance and control, and you are nothing more than a pitiful figure in the chair, staring up at them, unsure whether to feel fear or arousal—or both.

Eleanor leans down again, her face inches from yours, and for a moment you can feel her breath on your skin. “We could destroy you, Tom. Everything you’ve built, everything you’ve lied about, it could all come crashing down in a second. All it would take is one word from either of us.” She smiles softly, but it’s the smile of a predator, cold and knowing. “But that’s not what you want, is it?”

Your throat is dry, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst out of your chest. She’s right. You’ve played this game too long, let it run too deep, and now you’re caught in exactly the kind of trap you’ve always fantasized about. The shame, the powerlessness—it’s intoxicating.

“No,” you whisper, almost **** on the word. “That’s not what I want.”

Emily’s smirk grows wider as she saunters toward you, her black nylons stretching against her legs as she walks. She stops right in front of you, looking down with an amused expression. “Of course it’s not. You’re enjoying this. You wanted this. You wanted to be caught, didn’t you?”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of her question hanging in the air. You nod, unable to stop yourself. “Yes,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Emily lets out a soft, mocking laugh and nudges your leg with her foot, the flat pressing lightly against your knee. “Pathetic,” she says again, but there’s a cruel pleasure in her tone now, like she’s savoring your admission.

Eleanor straightens up, crossing her arms and looking down at you like a queen judging a lowly subject. “You’re such a liar, Tom,” she says, but her voice isn’t angry anymore. It’s teasing, like she’s enjoying this just as much as you are. “All this time, pretending to be in control, pretending you could handle us. But look at you now.”

She turns to Emily, her smile widening. “I think it’s time we show him just how powerless he really is, don’t you?”

Emily nods, her grin widening into something wicked. She steps forward again, this time closer, until her flat is resting on your thigh, just barely pressing down. “I think so. He’s been pretending to be so important for so long. I bet he doesn’t even know what it feels like to really be beneath someone.”

Your eyes lock onto her foot, the flat digging lightly into your leg. The weight of it, the casualness of the gesture—it sends a shiver down your spine. Emily’s control is different from Eleanor’s. Eleanor is refined, elegant in her dominance. Emily is casual, almost careless, but it’s no less effective. She’s treating you like you’re nothing, like you don’t even deserve her full attention, and it drives you wild.

“You’re going to beg for us, Tom,” Eleanor says, her voice low and seductive. She steps closer to you, the click of her heels echoing in the quiet room, and your eyes are drawn to her boots again, the way they hug her calves, the shine of the leather. She knows exactly how to tease you, how to use your fetishes against you. “But not yet. We want you to earn that.”

Your breathing is shallow, your pulse racing as you stare up at the two women, your mind spinning. You wanted this. You needed this. But now that it’s happening, it feels almost surreal, like you’re falling deeper and deeper into a pit of your own making, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever find your way out.

Eleanor takes a step back, her eyes never leaving yours. “On your knees, Tom.”

The words send a jolt through you, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you slide off the chair, dropping to your knees in front of them. The shift in position is immediate, the power imbalance glaringly obvious as you look up at the two women towering over you. You feel small. Insignificant. Exactly what you’ve always craved.

Emily lifts her foot slightly, pressing it against your chest, keeping you down. “Good boy,” she murmurs, the words dripping with condescension. “You belong down there.”

Eleanor crosses her arms, watching with a satisfied smirk. “Tell me, Tom,” she says, her voice soft but commanding. “Is this what you wanted? To be at our feet? To be humiliated by the very women you tried to control?”

You nod, your mouth dry, your throat tight. “Yes,” you manage to **** out.

Eleanor’s smile widens, and she tilts her head, her long hair falling over one shoulder. “Say it, then. Admit what you’ve always wanted. Tell us how much you need this.”

Your pulse quickens, the words sticking in your throat, but you **** them out, your voice trembling. “I—I need this. I need to be humiliated… to be at your feet. I deserve it.”

Emily chuckles, her foot pressing more firmly against your chest. “Of course you do,” she says, her voice filled with cruel amusement. “You’ve always deserved this. You just needed someone to remind you.”

Eleanor steps forward again, her boots inches from your face, the scent of leather and her perfume filling your senses. “We’re just getting started, Tom,” she whispers. “By the time we’re done with you, you’ll never want to be in control again.”