"W-wait!"

Rukia stammered, thrashing her head from side to side, her mind working furiously as Orihime seated herself on the shinigami's body. She had to think of something, and fast. However, there was one major problem with that: her mind was drawing a total blank. She desperately tried to stall for time, but Orihime didn't appear to be in a patient mood as she grabbed Rukia's flailing arms by the wrists, and braced as Rukia bucked wildly. The grim expression of determination etched on Orihime's face made it appear more like a rider taming a horse at a rodeo.

"H-hold on a secon-mmpphh!"

Rukia could not believe what had just happened. Something pale and fleshy just muffled her speech. Orihime, the girl she had captured, enslaved and broken as her foot slave, for the sheer thrill of humiliating her - in addition to the joy and practical use of having a slave who specialised in foot care - had turned the tables on her former owner, by mounting her body and cutting off her speech with the ball of her right foot, which she pressed against Rukia's lips. Rukia shook her head violently and screamed, but Orihime's foot held firm and continued to muffle whatever sounds Rukia produced from her mouth. Rukia couldn't breathe through her mouth, but was so busy screaming and resisting Orihime's foot, that she hadn't yet inhaled through her nostrils. She hadn't even thought about the smell of Orihime's feet, let alone the taste. The problem was that she was running out of oxygen, which she was using to voice her muffled disgust. She had become so caught up in her displaying her repulsion, that she didn't notice Orihime's foot was not only holding firm all this time; it was slowly advancing up her face, as Orihime used her toes to pull it along. Rukia finally realised this when it was too late: Orihime's big and second toe clamped her nose shut, depriving Rukia of oxgen, right when she needed it most.

"Shut up," said Orihime as Rukia somehow managed to continue to scream. Her instincts had taken over, and she had lost any of the quiet dignity that remained with her since Yoruichi's betrayal. It was at this point that Rukia managed to calm down, and met Orihime's gaze. It was one of sheer resentment, controlled and channelled through the torture she was putting Rukia through. Rukia felt a shiver go down her spine as she saw the grim mask of quiet determination and anger that Orihime's countenance had become. Or perhaps that shiver was a result of Rukia's lack of oxygen. This thought made Rukia panic once more, and she resuming bucking and shaking her head like a horse that refused to be tamed.

“Don’t fight it,” Orihime said, with not a hint of emotion in her voice. Although Rukia was presently fighting for her life – which was in danger of being snuffed out by Orihime’s feet, no less – even she noticed the stark contrast between the solemn, focused Orihime who was presently dominating her, and the emotional, fragile Orihime who had suffered at the feet of Yoruichi, and Rukia before her. As images flashed before her eyes, a product of her oxygen-deprived state struggling to maintain a hold on reality, she became aware of the difference between her and Orihime, when the roles were reversed.

When she was dominating Orihime, it had been more like a cat toying with a trapped mouse, enjoying the power and feeling the thrill of having the power over the life of another. She had seen what it looked like from afar through observing Yoruichi, who obviously obtained the same sordid pleasure that she did from dominating another. Orihime showed none of those signs. She was now cold and calculating. As Rukia continued to struggle for oxygen, she realised something. This human seriously intended to kill her, and in the most humiliating way possible.

Or so she thought. Suddenly Orihime’s toes released their death grip on Rukia’s nose, and Rukia sniffed harder and louder than she ever had before. The fetid stench from Orihime’s feet was nauseating. She clearly hadn’t washed for weeks. Of course she hadn’t, thought Rukia, she hadn’t let her use the bathroom for anything other than the call of nature. Rukia didn’t dwell on this thought: she was too busy trying to get enough oxygen into her body. She inhaled and exhaled quickly, but it was difficult to get enough oxygen into her body this way; humiliating to have to get it through Orihime’s toes, which rested on her nose, and above all else painful due to the ungodly odour. Rukia had been so relieved that all screaming had been ceased, but now she started struggling again. Her struggling wasn’t as violent as before: subconsciously she was grateful to Orihime, for allowing her to breathe again, but her instinct was that she needed to breathe through her mouth, and the best way to achieve that was through trying to wriggle out of the control of Orihime’s feet.

Rukia soon found her hopes dashed as Orihime planted her left foot on Rukia’s cheek and added pressure, holding the shinigami’s head in place. Rukia made a long, pathetic muffled moan, which was an attempt to beg for yet more mercy from Orihime. She looked up at the human with pleading eyes, prompting Orihime to sigh. Suddenly the pressure eased on Rukia’s mouth, as Orihime relented in her punishment of the shinigami. She lifted her foot away and Rukia took big, deep breaths through her mouth.

“I can see why you were such a big fan of this,” said Orihime, betraying the fact that however well she hid it, she certainly enjoyed torturing Rukia with her feet.

In truth, she had been about to kill Rukia. It was pleasurable to deprive her of oxygen, and she appreciated the irony of using her feet to do it, but she hadn’t allowed herself to enjoy it as much as she could have. For her it had been all about smothering Rukia until the end. But then a thought occurred to her: what was it really like to dominate another girl with your feet? Rukia and Yoruichi seemed to love it, and the way Rukia had screamed in disgust had certainly been enjoyable. Orihime had allowed herself to lose sight of her goal, and reap the benefits of dominating her former friend. But then it was only right. After all, a girl needs pampering once in a while.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Orihime said as Rukia’s breathing began to return to normal. “I want you to pamper me – or rather, pamper my feet.” As Orihime said this, she lifted her feet and placed them on Rukia’s face, so that they covered it entirely from the shinigami’s chin to her forehead. She couldn’t get enough of how Rukia’s soft, delicate facial features felt underneath her feet. Her soft cheeks; the tickle of her breath – particularly when she was breathing through her nose, between Orihime’s toes; and the titillating sensation of her lips brushing against her soles. The fact was that her former friend and owner made the perfect footstool.

“Pamper you?” was Rukia’s slightly muffled reply. For her this was absolute hell, and yet it had barely even started. There was still the small matter of Yoruichi, but for now she was but a distant memory. The wriggling of Orihime’s commanding toes, which drummed on her eyebrows and forehead happened to be more pressing - literally. Orihime was making herself very comfortable with Rukia’s face, and the shinigami found that the human liberally applied pressure to her new footstool. Equally bad was the way that the balls of her feet perfectly fit into her eye sockets, making her world pitch black. Not only was Orihime completely humiliating her, she was also dominating Rukia’s every sense. Except one, that is.

“That’s right,” continued Orihime, “I want you to pamper and worship me, just like I would worship you – just like you saw me pampering and worshipping Yoruichi.” Those words daunted Rukia, but nothing could have prepared her for what Orihime would say next.

“I showed you mercy before, but if you don’t do a good job then I won’t show you mercy again. So hurry up, already!”