Part 1

Mara ambled her way through the forest, wandering from the trail at times to smell a pretty flower, or other object that caught her fancy.  She had no particular destination in mind, and no pressing need to be anywhere.  She was truly free, freer than most people would ever be.  This freedom was clear to anyone who looked upon her, and it created a paradox; some people found it utterly refreshing, while others found it extremely threatening.

What was it about this petite young woman that provoked such reactions?  She was beautiful, certainly, with gorgeous green eyes, a pretty face and wavy blond hair cascading past her shoulders, but it was more than that.  Many beautiful women inspire strong reactions, but Mara was different.  There was one element of her being that was quite striking; she never wore shoes, or socks, or any kind of footwear.  Never.  She had always been barefoot, and always would be.  The idea of confining her feet in any way was unthinkable.  Mara was The Barefoot Girl; they were one and the same, indistinguishable.

So, how could one girl's simple bare feet be so refreshing and threatening at the same time?  For those who found it refreshing, Mara's bare feet exemplified liberation, of a kind which they themselves were usually unable to embrace, for any number of reasons.  They gently envied her, but encouraged her nonetheless, even if they kept it to themselves.  For these people, Mara was a bright, shining light in a world so often filled with darkness, and they remembered her and her bare feet long after she had gone.

For those who found Mara's feet threatening, it was because it offended their own sense of order and proper behavior.  To people like these, repression was the natural order of things, and to see someone like Mara proudly casting off the repression of shoes, was tantamount to an assault on their world view.  Anything that threatened to bring down the "forces of order" had to be crushed before it could do so.

But today, Mara paid little thought to repression, or the people who espoused it.  Today, she was alone in the forest, enjoying the wonders of nature.  Well, not entirely alone; her familiar, the fairy Byron, was flitting about on his little wings, occasionally dropping an acorn in her hair to annoy her.  He took careful aim with the latest acorn he had found, a rather large one, and let it drop.  He cursed under his breath as Mara suddenly stopped, the nut bouncing off the ground and landing in between her widely spaced toes.

"Nice try," she laughed, in her melodious voice, as she flicked the acorn away with her practically prehensile digits.  "It's warming up nicely.  Too nice to cover up."  Mara smoothly whipped off the midriff-baring blouse she wore.  She rarely bothered with a bra, and hadn't today, and her small but pert breasts bounced free in the warm sunshine and gentle breeze.

"That's better," she sighed.  She thought about stripping off her jeans, but held off for the time being.  She did undo the top button, though, and it would have been clear to any observer that she eschewed panties as much as bras.

It was possible that Mara's general disdain for clothing of any sort was the cause of people's strong reactions to her, but strangely, this aspect of her seemed less noteworthy than her bare feet.  Perhaps it was because full, or even just partial, nudity, was a rather blatant flaunting of social mores in "civilized" societies.  Going barefoot was more subversive, and therefore more dangerous to the powers that be.  Such is human nature.  In the end, Mara really didn't care.  She just loved to be barefoot all the time, and naked often.

"Thanks, li'l tits.  You gave me a new target," Byron laughed.  "'Course, you ain't got much in the way of cleavage, so it won't be easy."
Mara tossed her shirt at the fairy, catching him by surprise.  He let loose a stream of profanity as he became entangled in it.  He worked himself free, and then pitched the garment back at Mara.  She caught it easily and shoved it in the travel bag she carried.  Byron glared at her, and she blew him a kiss, then continued on her way, humming a little tune to herself.

Soon, they arrived at a little creek leading to a short waterfall and a little pond.  Mara didn't hesitate as she dropped her bag and slipped her jeans down.  She carefully maneuvered over some rocks, avoiding any really sharp edges.  Her feet were tough, but not invulnerable, nor were they immune to pain.  She slid her exquisite shape into the cool water, pursing her lips as her nipples hardened.  Byron couldn't help staring a little bit, though he also kept a watch to make sure there were no other eyes observing.

Mara took her time, enjoying her swim.  Finally, she came out of the water, and stretched out on the soft grass, letting the sunlight dry her body.  She reached her fingers down between her legs and allowed herself some pleasure.  When she was satisfied, she sighed and let herself drift off to sleep.  Byron perched on a tree not far from her, and watched her breath slowly rise and fall.  His eyes became heavy.

********

Byron snapped awake as an acorn zinged off the side of his head.  He cursed and fell to the ground.  He shook his head and then turned to Mara, still naked, laughing heartily.
"Serves you right for falling asleep on the job," she teased.
"Very funny, li'l tits.  You'll get yours," Byron grumbled.  "How long were we asleep?"
Mara checked the position of the sun as she pulled on her jeans.  "Several hours.  It's late afternoon."

They enjoyed a brief meal, then the barefoot girl and her companion continued on their way for a couple more hours, and twilight neared.
They came over a short hill, and found themselves at the edge of the forest, and facing a massive clearing, though they could see that it was encircled by the woods.  Within the clearing was a large manor house.  The place was well maintained, yet somehow foreboding.  Although dusk was approaching, the house still seemed darker and more shadowed than it should be.  Mara felt a chill.
"This place is evil," Mara stated, her attunement to nature telling her all she needed to know.
"Damn right it is, li'l tits," Byron chimed in.

The two quietly surveyed the dark mansion for a long moment.  Then they were startled to hear a low whine.  They turned to see a huge, dark gray wolf staring at them from the forest.  The wolf whined again, though it was not a whine of pain, but almost of pleading.  Mara moved toward it.  She had little fear of the creatures of nature.
"What's wrong, friend?  It's this evil place isn't it?" she asked.

The wolf loped slowly toward the manor, but he didn't get far before recoiling as if a solid wall blocked his path.  The wolf turned to her and whined again.  Mara walked carefully to the spot where the wolf had been stopped.  She felt an unpleasant tingling sensation, but nothing impeded her path.
"There's some magic at work here, alright," she stated. "Though it seems to have no effect on me."
Byron flew after her.  Or, rather, he tried to follow her, as he smashed into the same invisible barrier that had stopped the wolf. A string of profanity burst from his lips.

"Whatever this thing is, it's stopping me, too.  This is dangerous.  We'd better move on," the fairy said, after he had regained his composure.
Mara put her finger to her lip, contemplating the situation.  It was clearly dangerous, but she had rarely been one to shy away from danger.  She looked first at Byron, the concern on his face plain to see.  She then looked at the wolf.  It stared into her eyes, and it almost seemed as if it were speaking directly into her mind; 'This place is evil and dangerous, but it seems only you can do anything about it.  You must.'  Of course, it was doubtful the wolf could truly communicate in such a fashion, but Mara had long ago learned to trust her instincts, particularly where the voices of nature were concerned.

"I'll just check it out.  I won't be gone long," Mara said.  "You two keep each other company."  She blew them a kiss, then headed off toward the foreboding manor.
"Damn it, li'l tits, be careful," Byron whispered to himself, as he helplessly watched her go.  The wolf let out a low whine of agreement.

*********

As Mara approached the manor house, the shadows it generated seemed to grow even more intense.  Although the sun was going down, it still should have been fairly bright where Mara was.  The awful house almost seemed to be absorbing the sunlight.

The temperature dropped steadily the closer she came, and Mara retrieved her shirt from her pouch.  Her cold-hardened nipples were still clearly visible after she slipped it on.  The thin cotton wouldn't help much, but it was something.
The grass she walked through was not very long, but it too was somewhat unsettling.  It seemed unusually moist and damp, as if a cold rain had just fallen, and not at all hospitable to Mara's ever bare feet.  The blades were surprising sharp and pointy, though her soles were tough enough to resist injury for the most part.  Still, a couple of times she winced in pain as she sustained tiny cuts, though hey drew no blood.  In one spot, Mara could have sworn the grass actually moved and attempted to entangle her bare feet, though she was able to pull free without much trouble.

Fortunately, the shadows cast by the house seemed to conceal her fairly well, and she was able to reach the house without any apparent notice by anyone who might be inside.  The house was made of dark red brick, almost the color of blood.  For a house of its size, there were very few windows, and Mara could see no light, or any activity at all in any of them.  She avoided the front door, moved to a corner of the manor, and chose a second story window as her point of entry.
Mara spotted a cluster of ivy climbing up the wall and near the window.  Though her toes were probably strong and limber enough to climb the brick itself, the ivy would make it much easier.  She checked it for thorns, and found none.  She dropped her pouch on the ground, so it wouldn't hinder her climbing.  She hoisted herself up and began her ascent.  The ivy was not very healthy looking, but it seemed strong enough.

She had only gotten a short distance from the ground when she began to feel prickling in her fingers and toes.  There were thorns in the ivy!  Mara grit her teeth, trusting in the toughness of her soles to get her through.  Soon, the thorns began to poke through her blouse and jeans, taking a particularly rough toll on her small breasts, the nipples still erect from the cold.

By the time Mara finally reached the level of the window, it felt as if thousands of little barbs were jabbing the front of her body, and it seemed worst of all on her preciously exposed feet.  She carefully jumped to the window, her strong and limber toes finding purchase on the narrow ledge.

Up close, Mara could see that the window was so dark because heavy drapes hung behind it.  The window was of a type which swung outward in two sections, and Mara worked her fingers between them.  Fortunately, the window was not locked, and she had little trouble opening it.  She slipped inside, keeping herself between the drapes and the window frame.  She carefully shut the window behind her, then peeked out from behind the drapes.

Mara saw that there was light in the house, provided by a few candles in wall sconces, though the light was rather dim and sickly.  She saw a long hallway, with four doors to each side, leading to a stairwell.  There was no sign of habitation.
Mara stepped out from behind the drapes to look herself over.  Her hands were covered with tiny punctures from the thorns, though luckily there was little blood.  Her blouse was practically shredded in the front, and spotted with drops of blood from her breasts.  Her jeans had fared better, but they too were badly torn.  Finally she checked her feet, fearing the worst.  Much like her hands, her soles and toes were covered in tiny punctures, also without much bleeding.  It occurred to Mara that the coldness outside had probably constricted the blood vessels.  She smiled to herself, realizing that the unnatural cold had actually provided a benefit, unexpected by its creator.  All in all, aside from some stinging pain, Mara was relatively unhurt.  She breathed a sigh of relief.

Mara crept down the hall, silent on bare feet, but careful to make sure she left no bloody footprints.  She placed her ear to the closest door, hearing nothing.  She tried the doorknob.  It was not locked.  Carefully, to avoid squeaks, she opened the door and peered inside.  There was no light, save what penetrated from the hallway, but Mara could tell that it was simply a small, windowless, completely empty room.  No, not completely empty, Mara realized.  There was a set of chains and shackles hanging from one wall.  The barefoot girl was horrified and intrigued at the same time.  She was no stranger to bondage, and had at times enjoyed it, but there appeared to be no pleasure to be had in this place.  Mara shut the door and moved on.

She examined each of the remaining doors, and the next six rooms were identical to the first.  As she listened at the final door, however, she heard noise on the other side.  A soft moaning, as if someone were in constant, though mild, pain.  Then there came a terrible howl, as if the pain had suddenly increased to an agonizing level.  Mara cracked the door open, and a blast of extremely hot air hit her face.  She peeked inside, and found herself looking at Hell, or at least a decent facsimile of it.

Behind the door was no mere room, but a vast rocky plain, completely blackened.  Far in the distance a volcano belched forth its fiery contents, and the resulting thick, sulfurous clouds of ash choked off the sky.  The very air was foul, and the heat was intense, much like an oven.  Directly ahead, and about five yards in, Mara saw the source of the scream she had heard; a dark-haired woman, completely naked, chained to a rock.  There were shackles at her neck and wrists, which held her in a kneeling position.  Additional chains were clamped to her nipples and her labia.

Leaving the door open, Mara stepped inside the blasted landscape.  A small cry escaped her lips as her poor soles encountered the burning hot, asphalt-like rock.  She quickly realized it was not hot enough to actually burn her, at least not so long as she kept moving.  Still, it was rather unpleasant as she quickly hopped towards the captive woman.

Mara was nearly upon her before she was noticed.  The woman angrily turned toward her, her teeth bared, not unlike a rabid beast.  Her mood quickly changed to puzzled, as clearly she was expecting someone else.  Mara could clearly see that the woman was beautiful, though her face was streaked with grime and sweat, and partially covered by her long, thick hair.  Her figure was darkly tanned, lean and athletic, though wracked with pain.  Of course, Mara couldn't help but notice that the woman's well-formed feet clearly showed a life spent barefoot.
"Who...are...you?"  the woman growled.
"Mara," she replied simply, hopping from foot to foot to avoid the broiling ground.
The woman locked eyes with the barefoot shamaness, as if searching into her very soul.  "You are not...one of hers," the woman said, finally.  "Please...you must free me."

Mara debated for a moment.  Reason told her it was possible that this was some evil creature, condemned to this purgatory for its depraved acts.  Mara's instincts told her otherwise; this was a good person, cruelly and unjustly tormented.  As she so often did, Mara trusted her instincts, and decided to free the woman.  She examined the chains, noting that they were of a primitive, almost medieval style.  In the headband she wore to keep her hair back, Mara kept a simple lockpick, a legacy to her early days of breaking and entering for hire.  She thought the pick would suffice for these chains.  Before she could get it, a voice from behind her caused a chill, despite the oppressive heat.
"Well, what have we here?" the voice said, cold, yet seductive.

Mara turned to see an icily beautiful woman with auburn hair.  She wore a clingy, dark red gown which left her arms and legs bare, and had a plunging neckline which left little to the imagination.  Flat, gladiator sandals laced up the calf adorned her otherwise bare feet.  Mara, of course, also noticed that she wore a single gold toe ring on her right foot.

"I don't believe you were invited, my dear.  How rude of you to simply barge in," the woman said.  "Nevertheless, we'll provide you a nice room to stay in."  These last words dripped ominously from her mouth, full of venom.  Mara shuddered.  The chained woman's head slumped in defeat.

Part 2

Mara quickly took stock of the situation.  The doorway was blocked, but the terrain was certainly wide open.  The environment was hardly ideal, particularly for a perpetual barefooter like Mara, but nevertheless, that was her only option.  Not that she would have wished for footwear in any case.  She was The Barefoot Girl, after all.

Mara was just about to make a break for it, when in the blink of an eye, the evil woman was upon her.  She had made no motion; she was just suddenly there.  Before Mara could react, the woman's hand lashed out, catching Mara by the throat.  Their eyes locked, and Mara saw only pools of foul darkness.  Her strength drained away, and she collapsed to her knees.  The woman grabbed Mara by the hair, and dragged her to the doorway.  Mara attempted to struggle, but she was too weak.  Finally, she was roughly tossed into the hallway.  The dark woman stepped out, then shut the door, as the chained woman howled in pain once more.
Mara managed to sit up, and now noticed four other women standing in the hall.  All were attractive, and all were completely unclothed, save for elegant collars.  Though none wore chains, Mara was sure these women were quite familiar with such implements.  All of the women remained motionless and silent, their heads down.  Mara recognized the appearance of slaves, those whose spirits were broken.  She had no doubt who had broken them.  The evil one loomed over Mara.
"Hold her up," The woman snapped.  The two nearest slaves moved instantly, each taking one of Mara's arms, and hauling her to her feet.  They did so gently, and without cruelty, somewhat to Mara's surprise.


"I am the Mistress of this place, and you have entered my domain," the woman said.  "For that, your freedom and will are forfeit."  The Mistress ripped the tattered blouse from Mara's body.  "And none but myself are allowed garments."  She cocked her head toward one of the remaining slaves, who quickly moved to pull down her jeans.  Mara could feel her strength returning, but she was still too weak to resist.  Not that this was the ideal time to do so, anyway.  Once the jeans were removed, the Mistress surveyed Mara's nude, thorn-scratched body.  She stopped at Mara's feet; eternally bare, save for the toe rings and anklets she fancied.  "Filthy, unshod peasant," the Mistress sniffed.  "However, I will allow you to keep your jewelry, as it pleases me," she added, to Mara's unspoken relief.
"As my slaves are always on display, I do not suffer ugliness in them. Fortunately, you are not unpleasant to the eye, if a bit deficient in some areas," the Mistress said, noting Mara's small bosom.  "You will make a decent addition to the household, once you are properly trained."  Mara was horrified at that prospect, though just a bit curious, as well.

"But first, you will tell me how it is that you were able to enter my home without my leave," the Mistress commanded.
"I dunno. Lucky, I guess," Mara quipped.  It was basically true, since she wasn't really sure what the Mistress meant.  She received a vicious slap from the Mistress.
"Do not trifle with me.  No male may enter my domain, and females are bound to my will alone.  How did you enter my home unbidden, you little twit?"  the Mistress snapped.

Mara weighed these words.  They certainly explained why Byron and the wolf had been barred from following her, and why she had been able to pass.  However, it also seemed as if females were lured to the Mistress, not unlike the call of the ancient sirens of myth.  What had protected Mara?  Her shamanistic nature, her free spirit, or something else?  Mara intuitively sensed that the Mistress was not simply angry or curious, she was scared.  Despite her obvious power, the idea that someone could breach her "secure" sanctuary terrified her.  The Mistress slapped her again, impatiently.  Mara kept silent, having no real answer, anyway.
"Very well.  Your defiance will not last long," the Mistress stated.  She nodded her head toward one of the empty rooms.  A slave quickly opened the door.  The Mistress roughly grabbed Mara by the hair, jerking her away from the two slaves supporting her.  Mara yelped in pain.  The Mistress hurled the barefoot girl face first into the room.  Mara winced as her thorn-lashed body skidded across the bare floor.  After a moment, she realized that her strength had returned, and she was able to get to her hands and knees.  Mara turned to the doorway, where the Mistress stood, glaring at her with contempt.

"The rooms of my home are portals to realms beyond your pitiful understanding.  What you saw was just one such realm.  You shall soon be introduced to many others," the Mistress declared.  "And when I deign to let you return to this world, you shall be a broken shell, eager to serve me body and soul, lest I consign you to the horrors of infinity once more."  The Mistress nodded again, and a slave closed the door, plunging Mara into darkness.

Mara shook off the last of the Mistress's draining assault and got to her feet.  She had no clue what was about to happen.  At least she hadn't been chained up, she thought, remembering the shackles on the wall.  Suddenly, the floor vanished from beneath her feet, and she tumbled into the void.  She had no idea how far she had fallen before she was blasted by sunlight, coming to dead stop as she hit solid ground.  The wind was knocked out of her, and she remained motionless for a long moment.  She finally sat up, and determined that she had not suffered any injury from her fall.

Mara took in her surroundings, seeing only a vast, grassy plain.  It didn't seem particularly menacing, aside from the utter emptiness and silence.  Also, the fact that there was no sun, despite the bright blue sky, was a bit disconcerting.  Still, if these were the "horrors of infinity," they were sorely overrated.  She stood up, and started to walk, picking a random direction.  The tall grass was cool and refreshing on her bare feet, and she couldn't help but smile.  She lived for the thrills associated with going permanently barefoot, and despite the unknown situation she found herself in, Mara could still appreciate the simple pleasure of her naked soles traversing natural earth.

Mara had only gone a short distance (or maybe it was long; she couldn't really tell in this featureless plain) when she began to feel occasional tickling sensations in her feet, and then a slight itch.  She took a few more steps, and the unpleasantness intensified.  She stopped, and lifted up her right foot to examine it.  Her eyes widened in horror as she saw numerous tiny bugs crawling all over it, and skittering between her toes, and sometimes stopping to bite.  Mara desperately tried to brush them off, but there were too many.  She could feel the bugs all over her left foot, as well, and she frantically hopped around and kicked at the grass, vainly attempting to escape the creepy-crawly things.  It was no use.  The more she fought, the more numerous they became.  Mara was suddenly filled with a sense of dread, and turned to look behind her.  Her jaw dropped.
Where there had been nothing but grassy plain, now there was an endless carpet of bugs, completely covering the grass, and moving quickly toward her.  Mara ran, heedless of the disgusting creatures already swarming over her feet, wishing only to escape the devouring horde behind her.  There was a sickening crunching sound with each step she took, as the vile things under her soles were crushed.  But there were always more, so many more.

Mara's head spun as she neared exhaustion.  She couldn't keep running, nor could she stop.  The bugs had completely covered her feet, almost as if she were wearing boots.  Mara might have laughed, as this was as close as her feet would ever come to anything resembling footwear, though she was in no position to appreciate the humor of the imagery.  The creatures began to climb up her legs, though she was only dimly aware of it.  Soon, though, the horrid bugs reached her womanhood, and this was too much.  Mara stopped running, and in a blind panic, clawed at her most intimate areas, frantic to avoid this violation.  It was hopeless.  The pursuing swarm engulfed her, covering her body in crawling, biting, stinging insects.  Mara screamed, but it ended in a choke as the things poured into her mouth.  Just before the horrible bugs covered her eyes, Mara saw a black circle floating in the air, not unlike a vertical, open well.  She clamped her eyes shut against the swarm, and blindly dove for the circle.  She had no idea where it might lead, or even if it was some trick of her mind, but she didn't care.  All she wanted was to get away from the endless mass which threatened to consume her.  She felt herself falling, just as she had before, and once again, she came to a hard and sudden stop.  This time, however, there was no grass.  The ground was a solid sheet of ice.

Mara, ignoring the cold, leapt to her feet, and vigorously tried to sweep the clinging bugs away from her body.  Fortunately, most of the swarm had not come through the portal with her, and those that had come seemed to be dying very quickly in the frigid temperature of this new place.  Soon Mara had freed herself of the horrific crawling things, shaking the last of them out of her hair, and she was glad to see them expire on the icy ground.  Though Mara had respect for all aspects of nature, including insects, the bugs that had plagued her were in no way a part of the natural order.  Good riddance.

Mara examined her still unclothed body.  It was covered with insect bites, on top of the thorn punctures and slashes she had endured before.  Worst of all were her poor, ever bare feet.  They were by far the most heavily bitten parts of her body, and were horribly puffy and swollen.  Her toes were like little sausages, and her beloved toe rings pressed painfully into her delicate skin.  Mara dearly hoped the bugs hadn't been poisonous.  To make matters worse, her soles were covered with foul, sticky goo from the bugs she crushed as she ran.  She curled her lip in disgust.  She wanted a place to clean herself in the worst way.  Yet there was no such place here.

Having finally composed herself, Mara took a look around her.  As far as her eye could see, there was nothing but a solid sheet of ice, dotted with rocklike icebergs.  It appeared to be nighttime, and she could see fairly well, though no moon or stars were visible.  She looked below her feet, and determined that she was not standing on frozen water, but how deep the ice might go, she couldn't tell.  A frigid wind suddenly lashed her, and Mara felt the chill deep in her bones.  She shivered, and hugged her arms around herself, trying to cover her fiercely protruding nipples.  The effort was essentially useless, but she could do nothing else to protect her naked, horribly defenseless body from the bitter cold.  As before, Mara chose a random direction and started walking.  She wondered if the cold was the worst enemy she would face here, or if there were some other nightmarish ordeal in store for her.

Mara walked for what she thought must be hours, but time was meaningless in this frozen hell.  She kept her arms wrapped around herself, and her head down to avoid the cruel wind.  She just stared at her tortured feet as she took each step.  Her body was utterly numb from the cold, and she felt nothing save the awful chill which seemed to have penetrated to the core of her being.

Mara looked at her bare feet, contemplating them.  They had first turned red, now they seemed gray, or even a sickly green.  It was hard to tell in the dim light.  She had walked through snow and ice before, but never like this.  It was like they were no longer a part of her.  These wonderful, sensual bastions of her pride and joy were now like blocks of ice at the ends of her ankles.  She wondered if her nimble, happy toes would simply freeze solid and fall off.  Somewhere deep in her mind, that thought terrified her, but terror meant nothing.  Only the cold, the bitter, endless cold, had meaning here.

Finally, she just stopped walking.  She plopped down on her ass, heedless of the ice burning her cheeks.  She took her left foot into her hands, rubbing it, trying to coax a last moment of pleasure and warmth from her soles and toes before she froze to death.  It was no use.  Her hands were too numb and stiff to really do much.  Her foot might already be dead, she thought.  She tried the right foot, but the effort was equally futile.  Finally, she just placed her soles together, and cradled her feet in her hands.  This was the position she would die in.  She wondered if someone would find her one day; a frozen, naked, barefoot girl.  What would they think.  Then, just as she was about to submit herself to icy oblivion, she saw it.  The black portal, a few feet in front of her.  She blinked, but it was really there.  She tried to stand up, but her body was too stiff to comply.  She managed to crawl, dragging herself on her hands and knees.  Her progress was painfully slow, but the portal remained.  Finally, she reached the vertically hovering opening, and with the last of her strength, she managed to hurl herself into it.  She experienced the familiar sensation of falling through darkness, with the sudden stop at the end.  She barely felt the impact, only aware that she had stopped falling.  She had a dim sensation that the ground was warm, and her mouth managed a slight smile as she slipped into unconsciousness.

*********

Mara eyes snapped open.  She had no idea how long she had been out.  Her entire body felt raw, but at least it was warm.  She sat up and looked herself over, as she had done so often recently.  On top of the bug bites and thorn lashings, much of her skin was covered with gray patches, of the type caused by severe frostbite. Fortunately, she seemed to have no loss of feeling. She carefully examined her feet.  They were extremely swollen, and had taken on a purplish-gray tinge.  For one who took such pride in the beauty of her feet, it was disheartening.  Most importantly though, she could feel them again.  It was painful for her to wiggle her toes, but she was able to so, and she still had full range of motion.  She could only hope no permanent damage had been done.

She examined her new surroundings.  She appeared to be in some sort of tunnel that was part of a cave or mine.  It was dimly lit by some sort of luminescent fungus which clung to the walls. The tunnel led behind and in front of her, and she couldn't see the end of either branch.  She assumed there must be some sort of thermal or volcanic activity in the area, as the tunnel was pleasantly warm.  Mara gingerly rose to her feet, somewhat reluctant to put weight on them, but they did not let her down.  She chose a direction, and set off.  It was difficult to walk, as her battered feet could only manage to hobble and limp along.  To one such as Mara, for whom the simple joy of barefooting was so inherent to her being, terrible injury to her feet was the cruelest fate.

Mara slowly shuffled along the tunnel for what seemed a long distance.  Though it jogged a bit, and curved at times, she encountered no other branches.  Finally, she spotted a small opening to her left.  Orange firelight emanated from within it and danced across the far wall.  Mara peered around the corner of the opening and saw a small, dead-end chamber.  In one of its walls, there was a large, roaring fireplace.  The only other objects in the room were a stone table and various tools for stoking the fire; pokers, tongs, and the like.  Mara's heart leapt.  A fire and tools implied habitation, and it seemed an eternity since Mara had seen another living being (not counting those awful bugs, of course).

Mara stepped inside the chamber, noting as she did that there were a pair of four foot tall fungi resembling sea anemones at either side of the doorway.  She raised an eyebrow at the sight of the bizarre things, then shrugged.  Suddenly, a hideous, misshapen creature leaped up from behind the stone table.  Mara shrieked in surprise.  The thing was roughly human, about three feet tall, with a hunchback, bowed legs, and huge eyes bulging from its wart covered face.

"What's this, then?  A pretty?"  the thing cackled.  Mara recoiled as it came at her, stumbling back toward the doorway.  Unfortunately, she backed into the tendrils of one of the strange fungoid anemones.  Worse, the tendrils began to writhe, entangling her upper body.  Mara struggled to pull free, but she was held tight.  Then, the monstrosity began sliding its entire trunk like a snail, moving toward the stone table.  Mara tried to stop their progress, but her battered toes only skidded across the smooth floor.  The weird creature was simply too strong.

It undulated its tentacles as it lifted Mara up and placed her on the table.  She now noticed that the second fungoid had silently followed, and now took up a position beside her feet.  It stretched its tentacles toward her lower legs and ankles.  Though Mara furiously kicked to avoid them, she could not get far with her upper body entangled, and the monster's tentacles were simply too numerous.  Soon, her legs were completely immobilized, and the misshapen man-thing cackled again.  Mara felt a sudden sense of dread, as she knew it was likely no accident that her feet were left fully exposed.

The hunchback turned toward the fireplace, humming an awful tune to himself.  Mara watched in horror as the ugly creature used a pair of tongs to pull a small, disklike object from the coals.  He then turned toward her with a ghastly smile on his face.  As he moved toward her, Mara could see that the little disk was a coin, and it was red hot.  She knew that he was going to place the molten coin somewhere on her body, but she could do nothing to stop it.  She squirmed her midsection, but she could not free herself from the fungoids' tendrils.  The hunchback held the coin over Mara's belly, hesitating an agonizingly long minute before slowly placing it just above her waistline.  Mara screamed and jerked as the coin seared into her flesh.

The trollish torturer cackled once more.  He left the coin where it lay, then returned to the fire.  He plucked out another fiery coin, and this time went to Mara's right breast.  She renewed her fierce struggles, but it was futile.  The hunchback placed the coin directly on her poor nipple, already ravaged by bugs and cold.  Mara screamed again as her skin cooked, feeling the heat of the coin even on her face.  The torturer gave her little respite, as he swiftly retrieved a third coin, placing this one on her left nipple.  Once again, Mara cried out in anguish, to the hunchback's great delight.

"I love the pretty's screams.  Oh, yes," the awful creature giggled.  The torturer waited a few moments for the coins to finish their work, while Mara thrashed helplessly and grit her teeth in anguish.  Then, using the tongs, he peeled the three coins away, revealing little round patches of horribly burned flesh.  Mara couldn't help but stare at the wounds that had been inflicted on her.  Three identical, round burn marks forming a triangle across her torso.  Worst of all, her normally pert little nipples appeared almost melted.  Tears began to flow from her eyes, as much from the utter degradation she had suffered as from the pain.
The hunchback retrieved yet another coin from the fire.  This time, he positioned himself at Mara's feet.  Her blood went ice cold.  The torturer grinned, his half-rotten teeth glinting in the firelight.  He planted the coin directly on the ball of Mara's already battered left foot, holding it in place with the tongs.  The pain was excruciating. After several minutes, the twisted man pulled the coin away, taking bits of cooked flesh with it. He pulled a fifth coin from the fire, and, for variety, placed it on the heel of Mara's right foot. She howled in anguish at this new violation.  When the torturer finally removed the coin, Mara could only sob.  She could not see her soles, but she knew that they were horribly maimed, and would possibly never recover.
The torturer was not yet finished.  He took still another coin from the fire.
"Now the pretty will see the light," he laughed.

The hunchback aimed the coin directly over Mara's eye.  This was too much.  Even after all the indignity she had suffered, she would not be blinded by this twisted freak.  With a manic burst of strength drawn from deep inside her, Mara jerked her arm free from the fungoid anemone, and grabbed the tongs by the shaft.  She wrenched them from the shocked torturer's hands, and drove the fiery coin into the fungoid behind her.  It clearly could feel pain, as it instantly released Mara from its grasp, and tried to escape the horrible burning as the coin slipped into the recesses of its tentacled body.

Mara, without missing a beat, launched a left hook at the hunchback, catching him square on the jaw and knocking him to the ground.  Though they no longer held a burning coin, Mara used the tongs in her right hand to stab the fungoid holding her feet.  Evidently, she found a sensitive spot, as the monstrous thing let go.  The hunchback staggered back to his feet.  Mara spun on her ass and used both feet to kick him full in the chest.  The awful pain in her feet was worth it for the satisfaction of striking back at her tormentor.  The torturer stumbled backward, falling headfirst into the fire.  He leaped out, screaming like one of the damned as he caught fire.  The flaming hunchback lunged at Mara, but she quickly rolled off the far side of the table.  The torturer tried to come around but only managed to bump into the fungoid that had held Mara's feet.  The fungoid also caught fire, and as it thrashed its tendrils in pain, it only served to block the hunchback's way.
Mara raced out the doorway, heedless of the horrendous pain in her tortured soles.  She saw the black portal just a split second before she passed into it, not that she would have avoided it in any event.

Mara hit the ground once more.  When she sat up, she saw that she was laying on a thin spit of land, essentially a sandbar.  To either side were steep depressions, descending about fifteen feet into pools of murky water.  Beyond Mara's immediate surroundings, the entire landscape was made up of sandbars and deep pools, creating a sort of irregular honeycomb pattern.
Mara examined her soles.  The torturer had done his job well.  The ball of her left foot and the heel of her right were hideously red and raw.  On top of the perils her beautiful bare feet had already suffered, the burns were just the centerpiece.  Both of her feet, which she took such pride in, were a terrible mess.  She took some comfort in the fact that though they might be scarred, they were at least intact.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her gave way, and she slid feet first down the side of the depression.  She managed to stop herself before she completely hit the water, but her feet went in.  As soon as her feet entered the liquid, she knew it was not water.  It was acid. The large splash from her feet caused some acid to land on other parts of her body including the side of her face.  Her feet, and other parts, sizzled, as Mara frantically clawed her way out of back up the slope.  She reached the top, then desperately tried to dilute the acid by throwing dirt on it.  Eventually, the dirt soaked up enough of the acid to stop the burning.

Mara's feet were now a gory mess, the flesh melted to the bone in some places.  There were deep acid burns on the other areas splashed by the acid, and though she could not see her face, she knew that it too was horrifically scarred.  This was too much.  After all she had endured, this was the final straw.  Mara curled into a fetal position and sobbed.  She would remain like this until she either died, or the Mistress came to claim her.  If the Mistress did come, Mara would be hers, body and soul.  Mara had been broken.

"No."


Mara blinked.  The voice came again, "No."  It was defiant, not despairing.  She realized it was her own voice, welling up from deep within her.  Though her conscious mind had given up, her inner spirit, which had sustained her through all the difficult times in her life, was still strong.  It was her inner spirit which had allowed her to persevere, to go on in the face of all adversity.  The inner spirit which steadfastly drove her to refuse to ever wear shoes or socks, to always enjoy the freedom and sensuality of going barefoot, would not let her quit.
Mara sat up.  A revelation came to her, as if someone had lit a candle in a dark room;  The Mistress had said she did not allow ugliness in her slaves, and she intended Mara to be her slave.  The Mistress would not allow Mara to become disfigured or scarred.

Mara's spirit soared as her despair was wiped away.  Her pain vanished, and before her eyes, she could see her body healing, returning to its original beauty.  Finally, her feet returned to their pink and ivory barefoot glory.  Mara giggled and flexed her toes joyously, as if seeing the return of long lost friends.  Around her, the landscape faded away, and Mara found herself seated on a stone-tiled floor, in near total darkness.  But there was light; a faint rim of it outlining a door.  Mara was back in the room in the Mistress' home.  No, that wasn't right.  She had never left it.  The Mistress' greatest power was mere illusion, and now Mara could see through it.

Mara rose to her feet, and crept to the door, silent in the way that only one who is barefoot can be.  The door was not locked, a sign of the Mistress' overconfidence.  Mara peeked out; the hallway was empty.  She carefully stepped into the hall, luxuriating in the feel of plush carpet under her beautiful bare soles.  It was time to shatter the Mistress' illusions.

Part 3

Mara crept to the door of the room where she had found the chained woman.  Mara slowly cracked the door open.  It was dark inside, and she could hear only the quiet whimpering of pain from the prisoner within.  Mara opened the door more fully to let in some light, and the sight that greeted her was much less impressive than the first time she had looked into the room.  The naked woman was still there, chained to the floor, but her surroundings were just an empty room, not the wide, blasted landscape of Hell.  Mara was sure that the tormented prisoner still saw it, but the illusion no longer had any effect on the Barefoot Girl.  Mara walked over to the woman, smiling at the memory of how she had "hotfooted" it over the imaginary terrain the last time.

"Hey there!  I'm back," Mara said.  It was rather glib, under the circumstances, but she couldn't think of anything better to say.  The woman, who had her head down, her eyes tightly shut against the pain, whirled to face Mara, her eyes wide.
"But how?  You...escaped the Mistress" She murmured.  Then she gasped as a fresh jolt of pain arced into her body through her chains.
"Yep," Mara giggled.  "And so will you.  It's all fake.  Nothing you're seeing is real except for me and the chains.  The Mistress is a total fraud."

The woman was puzzled.  Mara pressed on.  "Look how I'm standing.  Do you think I could do this if the ground was hot?  Or could I do this?"  Mara belly flopped onto the ground, leaning on her elbows and waving her feet in the air behind her.  "See?"
The woman blinked, as the reality became clear, then her lips curled angrily and she let out a primal scream of rage.

"Yes, I see!  All this time, and it was all a trick!  I'll feast on her entrails!" the woman strained mightily at her bindings, but they held firm.
"Easy now," Mara said.  "Let me help you there."  The Mistress had not taken her headband away, nor the lockpick hidden in it.  Mara quickly released the shackles.  The woman rose to her feet.  She was several inches taller than Mara, with a lean and powerful build, though still extremely feminine.  She let out another howl of rage.
"Now I will kill her," the woman said simply.  She started toward the door, but Mara stepped in front of her.
"Wait.  We need to be careful about this.  I'm not sure that all of the Mistress' powers are an illusion," Mara said, noting a bit of irony in the fact that she was urging someone else to use caution.  She who had heedlessly, and often foolishly, stepped barefoot into countless dangers.  Oh well, even Mara could sometimes appreciate the need for discretion.  "Hey, what's your name, anyway?"  she suddenly thought.
"You can call me Shayla," the woman replied.  Then, as if she had forgotten her manners, "And thank you for freeing me, Mara."
"Don't mention it," Mara laughed.  "I'm just surprised you could remember my name after all you went through."

Mara and Shayla crept into the hallway; a pair of beautiful, naked women, completely silent on well-conditioned bare feet.  Although it was only carpet they walked on, Mara could tell that her initial impression had been right; Shayla was a barefooter by practice, and well-accustomed to life without shoes.
The pair made their way to the stairway at the end of the hall and peeked down.  It descended into a large foyer, with elaborately tiled floors.  The two froze, as one of the slaves came into the foyer bearing an armload of towels.  The slave, as befit her status, kept her eyes cast down, and did not see Mara and Shayla above.  The slave entered a pair of double doors to the right of the stairs and shut them behind her.  Mara and Shayla descended the stairs, alert for anyone else who might happen along, but no one did.  They reached the bottom, and Mara scrunched her feet at the coolness of the tile floor.  She had an unpleasant flashback to the "land of ice," but it quickly passed.

Shayla sniffed the air.  "She is in there," she said, indicating the double doors the slave had passed through.  Mara could smell nothing, but Shayla seemed certain.  Then, perhaps in a flash of intuition, Mara noticed a door set under the stairway.  She felt drawn to it.
"Just a moment.  I think this may be important," Mara said, leading the way.  Shayla, eager to confront the Mistress, reluctantly followed.  The door was locked, which in itself seemed unusual in the Mistress' house.  Mara's lockpick handled it without much trouble.

The two found themselves on another stairway, presumably leading to some basement.  Shayla's eyes narrowed.  "There is something important here," she said, confirming Mara's guess.  They descended into a large room, ornately furnished, with books lining the walls.  As Mara perused the titles, she saw that there was no light reading to be found here, only knowledge dark and foul.  Shayla seemed very ill at ease.  "This is the center of evil here.  The Mistress must die now!"

Mara didn't care for this place, either, but she was sure there was a reason she had been drawn to it.  Then she saw it: a large glass globe, sitting on a round table carved with arcane symbols.  Inside the globe was an exact replica of the manor house they were in.  Mara instantly sensed some magic at work.  She picked up the globe, and felt a slight, but familiar tingle.  She recognized the sensation as the same one she had felt when she passed through the barrier that had blocked Byron and the wolf.  Mara took a calculated gamble, and hurled the globe to the floor, smashing it to bits.
"What are you doing?" Shayla asked.
"I hope I'm bringing some help," Mara said.  "Either that, or I just broke the Mistress' favorite snow globe." Shayla seemed confused at the reference.  "Forget it," Mara said.  "Let's go find the Mistress."  Shayla nodded and licked her lips in anticipation, much like a hungry wolf.

The pair returned to the foyer.  It was still clear.  Shayla sniffed in the direction of the double doors.  "She is still in there," Shayla confirmed.  "And she is mine."
Suddenly, Shayla's flesh began to undulate and spasm, and thick gray fur began to sprout all over her body.  Her arms and legs shortened and became thinner, and her nose and mouth lengthened into a snout.  Mara watched in astonishment as her companion metamorphosed from a beautiful woman into a large she-wolf.  The wolf Shayla snarled and then raced to the double doors, hurling herself into them and forcing them open.  Mara rushed to catch up.

Beyond the doors, the room was opulent, with gold fixtures, a marble floor and lush red walls.   At the center of the room was a large bathing pool, filled with rose petals and scented waters, but more importantly; the Mistress had been caught taking a bath.  Her slaves scattered to escape the fierce wolf that had suddenly burst in.  They curled up against the walls, too downtrodden to even defend themselves.  Not that it mattered, for Shayla had no interest in them. Her wolf's eyes narrowed and she growled as she spotted the Mistress in her pool.  To the Mistress' credit, she reacted fast, leaping from the water and grabbing a long candlestick holder for use as a makeshift staff.  Shayla charged her, leaping clear over the pool.  The Mistress managed to get her staff in the way of Shayla's jaws, and the two wrestled with the pole.

Mara surveyed the room, looking for a way to help, but definitely not wanting to get in the way of the frenzied wolf.  She did move closer, though.
Shayla's powerful jaws finally wrested the candlestick away from the Mistress, and triumphantly cast it aside with a toss of her head.  Unfortunately turning her head gave the Mistress an opening, and she lashed out, catching hold of Shayla's neck.
"No! Look out!" screamed Mara, but it was too late.  Shayla had forgotten about the Mistress' strength draining ability, which was clearly not illusion.  Shayla's legs buckled, and she dropped to her belly.  The Mistress viciously kicked the she-wolf, causing her to roll into the pool.

"Mangy beast!  I don't know how you escaped, but it won't happen again.  Soon, you'll beg me to kill you!"  the Mistress promised.  Heedless of her nudity, and reveling in her power, the Mistress turned to the equally naked Mara.  "And as for you, my little wench –"
Her words were cut off as Mara made a desperate leap, trying to knock the Mistress down with a tackle.  Though the barefoot girl made solid contact with her abdomen, the Mistress was merely surprised.  She was too strong to be taken off her feet.
The Mistress drove her fist downward onto Mara's back, driving her to the floor.  The Mistress laughed at the audacity of this "peasant" girl, daring to strike her.
"Poor little fool," she sneered.  "You would have made a fine slave.  Now you'll simply die a slow and terrible death.

Mara lay on her belly, not bothering to get up without knowing what to do next.  She stared at the Mistress' bare feet, noting their regularly pedicured softness.  The Mistress was no barefooter, though current circumstances had forced her into it.  Mara also noticed that the Mistress still wore her little gold toe ring, though she was otherwise completely nude.  The ring had an odd carving of a fist on it, and Mara had the sudden sense that the ring held some magic within it.  As her intuition had seldom failed her, Mara knew what to do.  She noticed a table fork sitting on a platter of fruit, no doubt intended to be fed to the Mistress while she bathed.

Just then, Shayla emerged from the pool.  She was weakened, but not completely.  The wet, angry wolf growled at the Mistress, who simply grinned evilly.  This was the opportunity Mara needed. She snatched the fork, and stabbed it into the top of the Mistress' tender foot.  The Mistress howled in pain, and hopped on one leg.  Shayla leaped, and the off-balance Mistress tumbled.  Mara grappled her leg, though it took both hands to hold on.  Mara popped the Mistress' toes into her mouth, and used her teeth to pry off the toe ring.
"No!"  the Mistress screamed.  The strength the Mistress had stolen from Shayla fled from her and returned to the she-wolf.  Shayla surged forward, and tore into the Mistress' jugular with a massive spray of blood.  The Mistress' legs spasmed in Mara's arms, then they were still.

There was a huge crashing sound from the foyer.  An instant later, the huge male wolf Mara had met outside appeared in the bath chamber doorway.  His eyes found Shayla, and he raced to her, the two wolves eagerly nuzzling each other.  Byron flew in, a little more hesitant, just in case there was still some danger. The fairy let out a little sigh of relief when he saw Mara, though he covered it quickly.
"Hey, Li'l tits.  See you managed to get naked again," said Byron.
"Guess you inspire me," Mara quipped to the always unclad fairy.

The two wolves came over to Mara, and Shayla reverted to her human form once again.  The male also assumed a human form, a handsome, muscular man with a thick beard.
"Thank you again, Mara," Shayla said.  "This is my mate, Karsh." The male gave Mara a tremendous hug, lifting her off her feet.
"Yes, thank you," Karsh echoed.  "Shayla's captivity kept us both from changing form, but I'm so glad you were able to understand me.  I am forever in your debt."
"We are forever in your debt," Shayla clarified.  "And we shall always call you friend."
"Aw, gee, it was nothing," Mara blushed.  "Just trying to be a good person."
The Mistress' slaves had started to approach, hesitantly.  They cringed as soon as they were noticed.
"Are...are you our new mistress?"  one of them was finally able to ask.
"No.  I'm nobody's mistress, 'cept maybe my own," Mara replied. "And his, I guess."  She jerked a thumb toward Byron.
"You're free now, all of you,"  Shayla added. "My mate and I will escort you to a safe place."
"Take what you like of your former mistress' treasures, but this dwelling will soon be no more,"  said Karsh.

*********

A short while later, Mara, Byron, Shayla, Karsh and the slaves watched the Mistress' manor burn to the ground.  The slaves had all claimed some of the Mistress' non-magical jewelry and various other gold and silver objects, enough for each of them to live quite comfortably for long time.  They had also taken some of the Mistress' clothing, enjoying the simple feel of garments which had been denied to them for so long.  Mara was rather pleased to see that none of the former slaves had taken any footwear, preferring to remain barefoot.
For herself, Mara took only a couple of outfits that caught her fancy, and the gold toe ring with the fist.  Shayla and Karsh had taken nothing, having little interest or need for material possessions.

When the house had been completely consumed by the flames, everyone checked to make sure there were no burning embers left to spread the fire elsewhere, and Mara laughed to see all the cinder-blackened bare feet.
"What a bunch of Cinderellas we are!"  she said, recalling an ancient tale she had read.  No one else seemed to understand the reference.  Mara just shrugged.
Soon, Shayla and Karsh assumed their wolf forms, and led the freed slaves toward the closest town.  Mara and Byron chose a different route, and said their goodbyes.

A little later, Byron noticed Mara looking at the Mistress' gold toe ring.
"What you got there, L'il tits?"  the fairy asked.
""It's a magic ring.  I think it drains other people's strength into its owner, temporarily.  'Course, I've got no idea how it works."
"Oh, great.  You with a magic ring you got no idea how to use.  Dis'll end up well," snorted Byron.
Mara smiled.  "I'll need to keep it someplace safe.  Ah, I know."  She bent down and placed the ring on her fourth toe.  She wiggled her toes in delight, as it seemed to go well with her other foot jewelry.  Byron just rolled his eyes.

     THE END