by Victor Bruno
I crawled across the room to her feet, I saw the gleaming black patent of her shoes, the spike heels. I felt I would willingly die for her.
“Kiss my shoes,” she said.
Willingly, happily, slavishly, I obeyed her command... and, as I did so, she spoke to me.
“Apart from being my domestic slave,” she said, “you are going to become my body slave. You will serve me and please me in every way I command,. You will do so to my complete satisfaction. Whenever you do not, you will suffer for it. Never will I accept an excuse; never will I show you any mercy. Am I making myself clear, slave?”
“Yes... M-Miss ...” I said between my continuing kisses.
“Lick the soles,” she ordered suddenly.
Obediently I did so, feeling the dust rasping on my tongue. I continued at this duty for at least five minutes and was glad when she gave me the order to cease.
“Take off my shoes,” came the next order.
I did so... lovingly.
“Now remove my stockings,” she said.
To do this, of course, I had to unfasten her suspenders, and my fingers touched the warm softness of her thighs. My head reeled as I rolled the stockings down her long legs and then took them off. This was bliss for an adoring slave such a myself.
“This afternoon,” said Miss Dee, “you are going to show your devotion to my little toe. The one on my left foot. Nothing else. Just that. You will kiss it, lick it, suck it... until I tell you to stop. You will concentrate your whole being on that little toe of mine. Show it complete servitude and adoration. Proceed, slave.”
I looked at the small, delicate white toe with its red nail varnish. So that was to be the sole object of my adoration! Need I say that I had been hoping for rather more? Nevertheless, as I had told myself a hundred times before, I had to consider it an honour to serve My Mistress in any way.
Reverently I bowed my head and began my ministrations to the toe.
“Tomorrow,” said my Mistress from above, “you may be favoured by serving the toe next to that one. Thus we shall proceed. Step by small step, as I have already told you. And everything will be at my bidding and for my pleasure. If you disobey me, or over-step the mark for one single instant, I shall thrash you till you can’t stand!”
I shuddered. I believed her. I believed her absolutely.
I spent a whole half an hour showing my adoration for that one small toe. By the time I had finished using my lips and tongue. I think I knew the look and feel of it as well as any part of my own body.
Throughout, Miss Dee remained silent, smoking occasionally and reading a novel, I could hear her turning the pages. Of course, I dare not raise my head to look at her, but how conscious I was of her scantily-clad presence so overpowering me. So desirable, yet so forbidden to me.
All I had to concern myself with was that small toe.
“That will do,” she said at long last.
I remained crouched, back aching.
“Stand,” she ordered.
I did so. Rigidly. She could not have looked more desirable in those scanty undergarments. I lusted for her fiercely... and no doubt she saw this in my eyes.
“I suppose you want to toss yourself off now?” she said with a contemptuous curl of her lips.
“Yes... Miss... “ I said eagerly. Oh how gracious of my mistress to understand my fierce desires!
“Well, you’re not going to,” she went on, with another curl of her lips. “Don’t imagine, slave, that your close and intimate contact with me give you some licence to spend your manhood in that fashion as and when you wish. I shall control it. As I control you.”
No doubt my face fell. I felt the bitter anguish of utter frustration in my aching loins.
“Go to your room and remain there until I summon you. That will be when I want you to dress me before I go out this evening.”
She returned to her book and lit another cigarette.
“Get out,” she ordered, crisply.
I bowed and left, knowing I was truly her slave.
***
That evening, after I had dressed my Mistress in a sumptuous evening gown, I was sent back to my room. Permitted only bread and water as an evening repast.
“Too much rich food only stimulates the blood. And your lust,” she remarked with an acid smile.
So I lay there in misery alone... the pray to the fiercest jealousies. Yes... jealousies. For I imagined my Mistress dining with some handsome young man. Perhaps... even... in bed with him. On equal terms, He her lover. She his.
I groaned with the agony of that thought. For who was I?
But the idolater of her little toe!
Chapter 9
At one-thirty in the morning I was summoned by the ringing of her bell. Forcing sleep aside, I hurried to the bedroom.
There she stood, as beautifully imperious as ever.
“Unclothe me, slave,” she ordered.
A heavenly order to receive! Yet a hellish one too! She swayed slightly as I removed her gown... and I gained the impression that a little too much wine may have passed those lovely lips. And at the thought, the demons of jealousy awoke in me again.
Perhaps... perhaps... she had just come back from another’s bed! I felt the prick of tears at the back of my eyes, at the very idea. Absurd, you may say, but true.
Then she stood before me, naked ...
Untouchable ...
Divine ...
She seated herself at her dressing table stool and while she brushed her soft, dark hair, I carefully disposed of her clothes in the wardrobe and the laundry basket. Then I stood silent, awaiting her orders, looking at the straightness of her white back .. the swell of her hips... the roundness of her buttocks as she sat.
A Goddess indeed ...
She rose. Then, to my delight, she unpadlocked the restrainer which had been about me all day. At last... at last... I told myself... I can dampen the fires.
“Play with yourself,” she said with a supercilious smile.
Yes... at last... at last... she was going to let me ...
I took hold of myself and, within minutes it seemed, had a hard and solid root upon me. My hand began to move faster. Oh the joy!
Then she returned before me. In her hand was the tubular steel restrainer. My night attire!
“Stop,” she said sharply.
It was almost impossible for me to do so, such was the state that I was in. But an order from her HAD to be obeyed. Somehow I ceased the movements of my hand.
Then, with the same supercilious smile, she slipped the tube over my erection and padlocked the contrivance on. I was imprisoned... and unslaked! Near to tears again, too, at the bitter cruelty of it.
“Get out, slave,” she said callously.
Even in the agony of my stress, I did not forget to bow subserviently to her, while she stood there, hands on hips.
The complete Mistress of my body and soul ...
“Sweet dreams,” she said with a laugh, as I reached the door.
I went down the passageway to my night of wretchedness.
***
The second day, the second toe...
The third day, the third toe...
On the left foot of my Mistress. Those were the objects of my adoration.
And, in between, the constant domestic duties and the service her body required.
On the fourth day, the fourth toe ...
On the fifth, the big toe ...
And throughout these first five days of my servitude, my Mistress allowed me no sexual relief whatsoever.
Imagine that! Imagine being constantly confronted by her divine body in a state of complete nudity. Imagine having to perform the most intimate services for her. Yet never being able to touch her or enjoy he
r even in the simplest ways.
It was a mental and physical agony of a terrible kind. And she knew it. It was, need I say, all part of Miss Dee’s iron disciplinary training. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew exactly what I was suffering. And she gloried in her power.
Yes, I have to say it, despite my torments. I was almost in a state of ecstasy in her power over me. It was something akin to the pleasures which saints gain from martyrdom, I suppose!
On the sixth day I was summoned to her presence... prepared to demonstrate my adoration for her right foot. Beginning with her little toe. But, on entering the bedroom and falling to my knees, I was startled to find her quite naked. More startled to see her flexing the cane in her hand. What had I done? I racked my brains and could find no answer.
In the silence she unpadlocked my restrainer. Then, when I stood naked in front of her, she tossed a ‘rubber’ at me.
“Put that on,” she ordered.
I almost sobbed with joy. After a whole week, I was going to be able to do what I had wanted night after night, day after day!
“Get down on your hands and knees,” she ordered, “and get rid of it.”
I got down at once and gripped myself. Oh God... how I needed it!
“But don’t imagine,” I heard her say, “that it is going to be a matter of simple pleasure.”
As I began to pump at myself, the cane bit into my buttock flesh. It hurt, but I didn’t really care. She can cane me as much as she likes... as long as I can go on.
I went on. And so did the strokes of the cane. As I worked faster and faster, gasping and grunting uncontrollably, the strokes came faster too. I was being unmercifully thrashed but, somehow, that only drove me to greater peaks of sexual pleasure.
On and on. On and on. Oh the utter joy of it!
My climax came with incredible force. It was powerful and prolonged and, with my hindquarters jerking to and fro, I slumped down to the floor. The caning continued throughout... and I lay there gasping with pleasure and pain, panting hoarsely.
“Oh God... oh God... “ I heard myself moaning.
As I ceased to shudder and the exquisite pleasure of release ebbed, the burning pains in my buttocks seemed to intensify. Miss Dee had certainly given me a right lacing.
But it had been worth it! Anything was worth being her slave!
“Get up,” I heard her say.
I staggered up, seeing her through a misty haze. Yes, there was a film of tears in my eyes. They were not merely on account of pain but also a mingling of relief and self-pity.
My restrainer was fastened on again at once... and locked.
“Well, that’s that,” she said.
In fact, she spoke rather as a nurse might have done; a nurse who had, say, given me an enema. What had been done - or rather what I had been allowed to do - was necessary for my physical health. If there had been any pleasure on the way, that had been incidental. That was the impression Miss Dee gave.
Still completely and beautifully naked, Miss Dee sprawled herself out on the plush chaise longue couch which stood at one side of the room. Her white body contrasted with its red covering. The thrust of her magnificent breasts was emphasised by the pile of cushions on which her back and shoulders rested. Also by her posture, she had her arms up and her hand by her head. The long limbs stretched down languorously, the thighs splayed carelessly. There was no secret of hers that was not revealed to me. And she seemed quite, quite unconcerned.
“Now, slave,” she said in that hypnotic voice of hers, “you will deal with my right foot, starting with the little toe.”
“Yes, Miss,” I said with reverence.
How lucky I was, I told myself, to worship such a lovely body... and to be able to show my reverence in such a way. Disregarding the fact that I knew that soon, my arms and back would be aching abominably... I knelt to my task.
Gently, adoringly, I kissed the small toe. It would ten minutes or so before I began to lick it. And another ten minutes before I had the supreme pleasure of taking it into my mouth and sucking it.
Yes... I would spend half an hour or more on that toe. I knew. Obviously it was the beginning of a new cycle. A week for the left foot... and now a week for the right. So be it. As my Mistress decreed.
I was her contented slave.
***
It was as I surmised. During my five-day working week, I moved from toe to toe. As before, my restrainer was never removed and my tensions mounted day by day. Also, my Mistress seemed to be becoming ever more provocative in her movements, her displays, even her looks and words. It was if she were deliberately taunting me with her womanly sexuality. Perhaps she was.
If it pleased her, why should she not?
It took little perception to guess what would happen on the sixth day of the second week... and when the summons came, I went to Miss Dee’s bedroom with the blood tingling like champagne in my veins. It scarcely concerned me to know that she was going to cane me cruelly. All I wanted was relief from the burning lust within me, which had seemed to swell like a bubble as each day passed.
As I had expected, she stood there naked, the cane flexing in her hands, a contented - almost a smug - look on her face.
I crawled to her ...
“What would you say, slave,” she enquired from above, “if I told you I was going to let another week pass?”
It was like receiving a blow in the pit of the stomach. Could she possibly mean it? Could even she possibly be so cruel? I felt something almost like a panic welling up within me. I had been on the point of reaching the pinnacle... and now this!
“I... I would b-beg for... for your mercy... Miss... “ I answered.
She couldn’t mean it! She couldn’t... my need was too great!
“Would you, indeed,” she said callously. “Well, you know I am not in the habit of showing you that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Miss... “ My voice was a groan more than anything else.
She couldn’t mean it! She couldn’t! I was bursting ...
“The point is, slave,” she went on, “you have to learn discipline. The true meaning of discipline. You must never anticipate anything. You must learn to expect nothing from me. Remember, as I have told you before, this servitude is not for your pleasure, but for mine. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Miss... I do!” I answered. “But, Miss... this once... I beg you, have mercy on your slave ...”
She must have heard my desperation. And revelled in it.
“This will be an excellent piece of disciplinary training for you, slave,” she said remorselessly.
At that point I gave up all hope, I nearly wept openly.
“For pity’s s-sake... “ I began.
“Silence!” she rasped. “You are not going to be permitted your medical masturbatory relief. Not until I decide upon it. On the other hand, slave, you ARE going to be caned!”
Oh the cruelty of that! The pain but none of the pleasure!
“Mercy ...”
“Get it up!”
Half sobbing between clenched teeth, I offered her my submissive rump. With slow, methodical precision, she began to whip-lash the rod across it... slowly but surely reducing me to a whimpering, snivelling, boyish weakling.
Yes, a complete weakling. And HOW I wished to be a man before her!
“Back to your room,” she ordered, when she had given me what I considered far more than a fair ration. For, after all, what had been my fault? Nothing, in truth.
But that did not matter to Miss Dee. It was simply a matter of discipline. And in such matters she had a mind and a will of her own. An iron will.
Like the whipped cur I was, I scurried from her room, quite defeated once again.
Then, back in my own room, I lay on my bed and found the
only relief I could. In tears. It may sound ridiculous that a grown man should cry like a child, but it is true. Such were the depths of my emotions. Also, you must remember in what fashion, throughout most of my life, I had been conditioned by Miss Dee.
So I lay there, fruitlessly clasping the unyielding leather of my restrainer, twisting and turning in frustration, sobbing my heart out.
***
Although I have mainly recounted the times I had to serve my Mistress as a body-slave, you must remember that most of my time was occupied with what I might term ‘maid’s duties’ and ‘domestic duties’.
There was the morning routine of cleaning Miss Dee’s lavatory and bathroom. Then I had to bath her... dry her ...powder her... dress her. You can imagine what effect these daily events had on my seething emotions.
After that there were the daily chores around the house. The beds to be made, the meals to be prepared, the cleaning to be done.
Why, you may ask, did I not flee from this ‘prison’?
But then, if you ask that, I have not made properly clear the degree of the hold Miss Dee had over me. Over my being. Over my very soul, it seemed. I was held to her with invisible bonds which were stronger than any chains.
IT WAS SIMPLY NOT POSSIBLE FOR ME TO ESCAPE HER.
She knew it... and I knew it.
She even sent me out on my own on shopping expeditions. But for the hold she had on me, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to run away. But, in my heart, I knew that, even if I did run away... I would soon come crawling back to beg her forgiveness. And receive her punishment.
And what a punishment THAT would be!
Thus, you may say, I was trapped like a fly in a web ...
While my Mistress, the spider, made sport with me. Would the day ever come, I wondered, when she would ‘eat me up’.
On the afternoon following her refusal to allow me relief, I was summoned to Miss Dee’s bedroom. As usual the time was three o’clock. My main duties were done. Now it was time to attend to her personally. To grovel and kiss her feet almost indefinitely, simply for her amusement, simply to feed her over-weaning power-pleasures.