Weekend of Slavery - Part 3

Story written by - Slave R

Continued from Part 2...



I lay there on the floor, on my side, curled into a ball, acutely aware of the pain in my buttocks and feet, which had changed from a burning pain to a deep, aching throb. Broken and humiliated, I began to consider the life of servitude to which I had just agreed. Were there any aspects of our previously equal relationship that would remain unaltered? Would I ever be able to refer to Mistress H by her real name? Would I enjoy any of the normal daily activities that so many couples take for granted? Would Mistress H still want me for a sexual relationship? Would anyone else know that I was her slave or would it be kept behind closed doors? What about my job? My friends?



My head was spinning and I felt mentally and physically exhausted from the events of the day so far. I felt Mistress H rest her bare soles on the side of my head.



“Rest now, slave,” she softly spoke, “you have a whole life ahead of you to serve me. I think after all your efforts today you deserve some rest while I think about some ground rules for our new relationship.”



I must have drifted off to sleep very quickly and before I knew it I was stirred from my slumber by my Mistress’s beautiful toes stroking my cheek as she stood towering over me.



“Slave, I feel a little bad for hurting you so much with that paddle, so I’ve run you a bath to ease your pain. Follow me upstairs now.”



I pulled myself up onto my hands and knees and obediently crawled behind my Mistress. As she ascended the staircase I followed closely, my eyes at the level of her feet as she climbed step by step, her soles flexing as her weight alternated from one foot to the other. I wondered to myself how such a simple thing could be so beautiful. Her feet seemed to have a life of their own. Every inch of them was perfection in my eyes. I had always thought her feet were cute, I’d often given them massages in the past and occasionally we’d incorporate a bit of foot play into our lovemaking but now, in the harsh light of the first day of the rest of my life, I realised how privileged I was to be so close to – so intimate with – this part of my Mistress’s anatomy. Of course I remained hopeful that I’d remain acquainted with all those other parts of my Mistress’s anatomy that I knew and loved so much but if they were denied to me then contact with the lowest part of her body would suffice. If I was only ever to have her feet and nothing else from this day forth, I still felt a million-fold luckier than I would to have the entirety of anyone else I knew.



I followed Mistress H to the bathroom. She helped take my weight as I climbed into the bath, minimizing the pain in my feet. I shrieked with shock as I was plunged into ice-cold water. I was expecting a soothing, hot bath but what I got was quite the opposite!



“Oh do stop complaining slave!” Mistress H remonstrated. “You’ll soon get used to it and it will really help to bring down the swelling. Look – it’s certainly worked on your cock. I can barely see it!” She laughed.



I looked down and saw that my penis had almost retracted back inside my body and my balls were shrunken and prune-like. I flushed with embarrassment and tried to cover myself with my hands but Mistress H stopped me.



“Don’t cover it slave, I want to see how small and shrivelled you can get. Maybe I’ll get you a cock cage to stop those unsightly erections popping up when you’re serving me. I’ll chill you in the bath before fitting it so we can go for a nice small, snug-fitting model. That’s for the future though. For now we’re just easing your pain.”



And it was true: the throbbing ache in my buttocks and feet had been almost completely numbed and some of the redness and swelling had dissipated. I was starting to shiver so Mistress H helped me out of the bath, back onto all fours. She then towelled me off with a large, fluffy bath sheet.



“Slave, I want you to get dressed and back downstairs. I’m going out to a nightclub with Rhi later and she’s calling round for a drink first. I’d like things to appear as ‘normal’ as possible when she gets here,” Mistress H instructed.



“But Mistress, I heard you on the phone earlier: you referred to me as your slave. How is that normal?”



“Slave, that was merely a flippant remark. I told her you were busy cleaning the kitchen floor when I called her and she asked what my last slave died of. It was just a joke! Relax! Do you honestly think I’d tell anyone else about your humiliation? Hmm?” Mistress H replied in a maybe-too-saccharine-tone. Still, who was I to question my Mistress? Anyway, why would she go to the trouble of soothing my pains and letting me get dressed if she’d told Rhi what was going on? Besides, Rhi was my best friend and close colleague; I could hardly see her approving of my submission to Mistress H! So, a few hours of normality lay ahead and I relished that thought.



I was still quite sore so opted for soft but minimal clothing on those areas: some cosy jogging bottoms without underwear (the thought of anything clinging to my buttocks made me wince) and a soft pair of slippers. I also threw on a T-shirt and hoody to complete the slouchy weekend-at-home look. Not really an outfit for wearing in company but I didn’t much care about appearance at that point!



I returned to the living room where Mistress H was reclined on the sofa.



“Sit next to me, slave,” she invited.



I eased myself tentatively onto the sofa, feeling the pressure on my bruised behind, although the cold water had definitely relieved the pain considerably. Mistress H stretched her feet out onto my lap.



“Massage!” She ordered as she flicked on the television whilst she waited for Rhi to arrive. “I just called Rhi while you were dressing, she’ll be here in about half an hour. I thought you could knock us up some sandwiches when she gets here, save us eating out before we go to the club.”



“yes Mistress,” I dutifully replied.



“While we’re waiting I want you to get busy and suck my toes,” she commanded, wiggling her toes playfully in my lap.



I eagerly bent forward, my moist lips meeting her waiting toes. I sucked each one in turn, swirling my tongue around them, enjoying the smooth texture of her toenails and the slightly salty taste of her skin. In no time at all I was aroused again and my cock was forming a tent in the loose fabric of my joggers.



Mistress H noticed my erection with glee. “See slave, it’s not such a bad life serving me, is it?” She questioned, rhetorically.



“No Mistress. I love worshipping your feet Mistress!”



“Just because you’re my slave now, it doesn’t mean I won’t allow you pleasure. It will be on my terms though. You’ll only be allowed to come when and how I decide you should.”



“Yes Mistress”



“There’s plenty of time for you to orgasm before Rhi arrives, slave. I bet a footjob would make you erupt in no time at all,” Mistress H said coyly, her left foot sliding over my crotch as I sucked the toes of her right foot. Then her toes gripped my shaft through my joggers and I gasped with delighted surprise. She moved them up and down my penis until I was fully erect and throbbing with excitement. “I don’t think I’m going to let you come yet though,” she said, suddenly, withdrawing her foot entirely from my crotch and resting it back in my lap. “It’ll be more fun making you wait until later!”



My heart sank and she laughed aloud at my disappointed frustration. I spent another ten minutes sucking her toes before the doorbell rang. Mistress H made no effort to move so I got up to answer the door, pinning my cock behind my waistband in an attempt to make my erection less obvious.



Tentatively, I made my way to the door, wincing as my bruised, tender feet bore my body weight. Rhi greeted me with all the bubbly excitement that she always did, giving me a kiss on the cheek and a big squeeze, inadvertently pressing my erection into her tummy. She didn’t seem to notice – she didn’t react anyway. Rhi was looking pretty hot, as she always did when going out on the town. Her long blonde hair was arranged in loose ringlets and she was wearing a kooky, retro mini dress and strappy stiletto sandals revealing turquoise painted nails. She also had a holdall with her – presumably an overnight bag so she could crash in our spare room after going clubbing.



“Hellooo!” Chimed Rhi, “how’s your weekend going? I hope Helen hasn’t been working you too hard!”



My face flushed slightly and I faltered.



“Helen tells me you’ve been busy with housework today,” Rhi continued. “Why don’t you let your hair down and join us tonight?”



“Err, well, I’m a bit tired and achy after all my hard work. I’m not really in the mood for dancing,” I replied, imagining the agony of trying to bounce around on my battered feet.



“Oh, it’s not that kind of place! We won’t be dancing. It’s more a place for us girls to hang out and relax, although guys are welcome too,” Rhi said, coaxingly.



I glanced over towards Mistress H, searching her face for some kind of clue.



“Yes, come on, join us! It wouldn’t be the same without you,” came her reply. Maybe this would work just fine: in public we’d appear to be like any other couple whilst in private I’d spend every moment serving at her feet and doing whatever she desired.



“Oh, okay then, you’ve twisted my arm,” I responded, excited at the prospect of a fun night out with my two favourite ladies.



“Great!” Said Rhi, excitedly clapping her hands. “Oh, this is going to be an unforgettable night!”



“It certainly is!” Replied Mistress H, grinning.



I left the two girls to catch up while I went and prepared our food. This was set to be a great night! When I returned to the lounge with sandwiches and a nice bottle of red wine, the two girls were sitting at either end of the sofa. Rhi had kicked off her shoes and had her legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. She was absently scrunching and spreading her toes as she chatted to Mistress H. I found myself mesmerised as I set the food tray down on the coffee table. I glanced over to Mistress H and realised she was watching me intently. She looked down at Rhi’s feet and back to my eyes and I blushed. I quickly made to retreat to the armchair on the other side of the room but Mistress H stopped me.



“Oh, don’t sit all the way over there! Join in with the conversation,” Mistress H said. “Here,” she continued, “Sit on the floor in front of us. That way you can pass us our food and wine without any of us having to get up.”



“Sure,” I replied, “why not.” I tried to ignore the slightly dangerous tone in Mistress H’s voice but I had a horrible feeling she was really going to make me sweat.



I winced a little as I sat on the floor. Rhi nudged my leg with her pretty – if a little dirty, for Rhi always went barefoot at home and obviously hadn’t washed them before leaving the house – foot.



“You in pain?” She enquired.



“It’s nothing Rhi, my back’s just a bit stiff after all the housework,” I lied.



“Oh, it’s not from the beating Helen gave you before you willingly entered into a lifelong contract as her foot slave then?” Rhi responded, her tone suddenly changing to one of intrigue, excitement and, to my dismay, dominance.



“You… you TOLD her?” I stammered, turning to Mistress H.



“Well duh!” Came her reply.



“But you said…”



“It is of no concern of yours what I do or don’t say. Your only concern is to do as you’re told at all times. If I wish to share our little secret with my close friends, that is my perogative. If I wish to SHARE you with my close friends, that is also my decision and NOT yours. Understand?”



“Yes,” I replied meekly.



“Pardon?” Mistress H bellowed, reaching forward and slapping my face with an open palm.



“Yes Mistress, sorry Mistress”, I responded, dropping the thin veil of normalcy and assuming my true, lowly position as Mistress H’s lifelong slave.



“Now, apologise to Rhi for that blatant lie.”



“Sorry Rhi…”



“NO! Idiot, that’s not how you address your superiors. That’s how I address my equals. YOU call her Miss Rhiannon!”



“Yes Mistress, sorry Mistress. Sorry, Miss Rhiannon”, I muttered feeling utterly humiliated and somewhat ridiculous. I was shocked that this girl, who had been a friend and colleague for so many years, could so readily play along with Mistress H’s little game. How could we maintain a friendship now? But I guess that was exactly the point: maybe the appearance of friendship could be maintained at work and in public but she was now very obviously my superior and I wasn’t worthy of her friendship. I was feeling a deep sadness and humility when Mistress H brought to my attention the perks of this change in the dynamics of my relationship with Rhi.



“That’s not much of an apology, slave. Beg Miss Rhiannon for her forgiveness.”



“Please forgive me, Miss Rhiannon! I’d do anything if you’d accept my most humble apology,” I begged.



Miss Rhiannon giggled, somewhat uncomfortably, and looked searchingly at Mistress H.



“Honestly Rhi,” Mistress H started, “like I told you on the phone earlier, he will do it – you only have to tell him. In fact, knowing his tastes and judging by the furtive glances he was making before he sat down, he’s probably fantasised about it. And we have to give our little worm some rewards don’t we?”



I had a fairly good idea what Mistress H was alluding to and without even being fully aware of what I was doing, my eyes dropped once again to Miss Rhiannon’s pretty feet.



Mistress Rhiannon was well aware of the object of my attentions this time and that gave her the encouragement she needed.



“Oh, okay Helen, if you’re sure you don’t mind your boyfriend worshipping me like this,” Rhi said, still with a hint of reluctance in her voice.



“He’s not my boyfriend any more Rhi. He’s my slave. And if I give one of my friends permission to use him, he is as bound to their service as he is to mine. The only exception is that he is allowed to penetrate nobody but me with his cock, if and when I might want him to. But you can use him any other way you wish to give you whatever pleasure you wish, whenever he’s in your presence.”



“Slave,” Miss Rhiannon addressed me, giggling at the absurdity of the situation, “you seem interested in my feet. I want you to bow your head down low and kiss the tops of them please.”



“Don’t ask him Rhi, tell him!”



“Kiss my feet, slave!” Miss Rhiannon responded.



I complied, tenderly kissing the tops of her feet and once again begging her forgiveness. I got the chance to take in the full beauty of Miss Rhiannon’s feet as I kissed. Her toes did not quite have the elegant length of Mistress H’s but they were just as cute, the second toes being ever so slightly longer than the big toes, the others tapering away successively in a perfect curve towards the little toes. Her feet were a little smaller and narrower.



“I will forgive you slave, but only if you clean my feet for me – I can hardly go to the night club with dirty soles can I?”



“No Miss Rhiannon. I will gladly clean them for you.”



With that cue she pushed me back to a kneeling position with the tops of her feet, presenting her dirty soles for my eyes to take in. She had nice arches, although her soles appeared a little less soft and fleshy than Mistress H’s and her heels were a little yellowed with hard skin from all that walking barefoot but they were by no means unpleasant. I knew that once I did this I’d never be able to look Miss Rhiannon in the eye again without a sense of humiliation. I hesitated and was rewarded with a slap in the face by the dirty sole of her left foot.



“Lick!” was her monosyllabic command.



Swallowing down my last thread of dignity I protruded my tongue and licked her left foot from heel to toes in one broad stroke of the tongue. I could taste the stale sweat and the bitterness of the dirt and could feel my arousal starting to build once more. She giggled and reflexively pulled her foot away.



“Be careful! I’m ticklish,” Miss Rhiannon remonstrated. “Be gentle or I’ll punish you!”



“Go girl!” Mistress H chuckled.



Miss Rhiannon returned her foot to my face and, very gently, I licked again, removing some more of the grime from her soles. Everything was fine until I focussed on the soft skin on the ball of her foot, immediately beneath her toes. She pulled her foot away again, laughing, then slapped me hard on the face with her hand. I felt the blood rising in my cheek as it flushed from the stinging blow.



“Slave, concentrate on what you’re doing or you’ll be corrected,” warned Mistress H as she took the paddle from beside the sofa and stood behind me.



I knew there was no way I’d be able to clean Miss Rhiannon’s sensitive toes without tickling her and braced myself for a paddling to my already-bruised behind. Once again I began gently licking Miss Rhiannon’s feet and sucking each individual toe to remove the day’s sweat and grime. Every time Miss Rhiannon flinched or giggled from the strokes of my tongue I received a firm slap on the bottom from the paddle. Mistress H did not hit me hard like before, it was more for the purpose of instruction than punishment, and I was thankful for that, but it still caused a good deal of pain by stirring up the injuries I’d sustained at the hand of Mistress H earlier in the day. I must have received twenty or thirty strokes of the paddle by the time I’d cleaned both of Miss Rhiannon’s dainty feet.



“Good job slave,” Miss Rhiannon remarked upon inspecting her soles, which were now spotlessly clean and gleaming with my saliva. “You’ve softened up my heels quite nicely too! Maybe one day I’ll let you scrape off the hard skin with your teeth but not tonight. We should think about going out soon, shouldn’t we Helen?”



“Oh yes! Look at the time! Let’s finish up our food, polish off this wine and get ready to go clubbing! Have you got your outfit with you Rhi?” Mistress H asked.



“In the bag,” Miss Rhiannon replied, gesturing toward her holdall.



“Good! Let’s go and help each other into our clothes then,” Mistress H said. And then we can dress slavey in something more… appropriate. Slave, you stay hear on your knees and clean Miss Rhiannon’s shoes for her. We don’t want those nicely cleaned feet going back into dirty shoes!”



I was left kneeling in the middle of the room, licking the dark toe prints from Miss Rhiannon’s sandals while my two dominant mistresses went to get changed. I was absently rubbing my hard cock through the jersey material of my joggers and wondering how I’d managed to end up in this situation with such minimal resistance on my part. It didn’t really matter how it had happened; what alarmed me the most was, despite all the restrictions now imposed upon my life – my future – I’d never felt so content!