Block Heels

FEMDOM PARTY - Goddess Club
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Like most people I love a good party, however unlike most people I also experience feelings of fear and utter
humiliation, because no party thrown by my MISTRESS can go on without me getting whipped, slapped, canned and
humiliated. That's right I am a slave, not just any slave but Supreme Goddess La Reigna's own personal slave.

Becky was my superior in my first job. She'd joined about a year after me and my management was one of her responsibilities. I felt humiliated by her from the start as I had applied for the job myself but had not got it despite being more qualified and having more experience than her. She, however, was stunning and had an unbelievably sexy manner that turned men to putty.

Hello? ---- Oh, hey Suzy! ---- Oh, yeah... uhmmm...i forgot... been kinda busy here. You'll NEVER guess what happened! ---- Oh, shut up, do you wanna hear why I didn't make it or not?

Well... you know that cleaning service I just got? They sent this guy today. ---- No, not that one. A new one. Anyway, he was late! the asshole, so I left as soon as he got here so I could make it to class on time. But of course, you know me, I forgot something, so halfway there I had to turn around and get my notebook. ---- Be quiet! You're no better :). ---- Anyway I got back to the house and went in, and I guess the guy didn't hear me. ---- I don't know his name, just listen! ---- Oh, well he's almost 6' and more tan than me, prick! Kinda hairy too. Mustache and goatee.

Chapter 1 -- Room Service

'Hotel "Footslave", can I help you?'

The hotel receptionist answered the phone in her usual chirpy, happy voice. She loved her job -- her first real job since leaving school. Trudy had just turned 20 years old, and all her family were impressed at the fact that, despite leaving school with virtually no qualifications, she had at last managed to secure a potentially good career in the hospitality industry. She may be just the receptionist now, but Trudy had a very high opinion of herself and had ambitions to rise to the very top. She was determined that one day she would be the manageress of her own hotel.

Footslave Themepark

Part 1 – The Welcome

The four young women and their boyfriends, all in their 20s, reached the entrance to the theme park. They read the sign on the gate:

'Welcome to the Footslave Themepark!

Strictly adults only.

No admittance to persons under the age of 18.'

'This is going to be fun!', exclaimed Olga, the leader of the group.

Her friends knew she was right. It had been Olga's idea to come to the theme park, and it was a brilliant idea! The excuse was to celebrate Angela’s 25th birthday -- not that this particular group of friends needed any excuse to humiliate pathetic, male footslaves. They were all haughty, arrogant, spoilt young people -- confident in their innate superiority over mere slaves. And what better place to exercise and demonstrate that superiority than in a theme park devoted to the subject of foot slavery?

Dave licked both of Kim's boots to perfection, they gleamed like new. It made him feel so proud to have acomplished something so wonderful. To enhance Kim's appearance even more by ensuring her boots were as clean as could be was an incredible honorur to him, and Kim felt it as he looked up at her, a look of slavish devotion in his eyes.

"Ah, look at how proud he is to have licked your boots, Kim," chuckled Claire. "Isn't it a great feeling?" "Oh yes," replied Kim as she crouched down a little to examine her boots, turning them on the heel from side to side. "He's done a good job, too. You've really trained him well. I would love to have a shoelicker of my own!!"

Part 1

He lay shackled on the floor of his gloomy, windowless cell. Only the single, bare light bulb in the ceiling kept him from being in total darkness. The only sign of life was the occasional sound of the voices of the female guards outside the cell door as they patrolled the corridors.

It was more of a dungeon than a cell - straw on the ground for a bed; a hole in the ground for a toilet. The sole item of furniture was, somewhat bizarrely, a thick, heavy wooden chair in the middle of the room – a chair he couldn’t even reach far enough to sit on due to the chain connecting him to the wall. All he could do was lie or kneel in front of it. Why was there a chair in the middle of the room? It obviously wasn’t for his use. Who was it for?

After a month or so of constantly being sat on, stood on, walked on and stomped, Mike's day had happily resigned himself to being my slave to be punished and abused anyway I saw fit.
On Friday afternoon, my younger sister got out of college for a week on Spring Break, and wanted to come and spend the week with me, as I had previously told her about my slave. She was excited to come and try him out. Mike agreed excitedly to Kim coming and helping me abuse his dad for the week. About 6:00 Friday afternoon, I heard Kim knock on our door. I already had Mike's dad on the floor, in front of the door with his arms stretched out in front of him, near the door opening. I walked over him, and stood on his hands as I opened the door and greeted my sister. After a warm hugging and greeting, I intruduced Mike's day, (my slave) to Kim and said, "don't bother to get down and shake his hand, just stomp the daylights out of it!" "Cool!" Kim said excitedly. She had on blue jean short shorts, a white tee-shirt and a pair of black sandals with a 2 inch hard, blocked heel. Kim stepped up to Mike's dad and looked down at him smiling. Without hesitation, she raised her shapely leg and stomped hard on my slave's right hand. "Hello slave!" Kim told him, giggling.

The next morning, I got up and walked into the kitchen to put on coffee. Mike's dad had fallen off the bench I'd left him on the night before, and was lying sprawled out in the middle of the kitchen floor, obviously sleeping off his intoxication from last night. I looked at his pinky finger that I had bitten and chew so cruelly. It was swollen and looked terrible. I wondered if he'd remember any of what happened when he woke up. As I put the coffee on, I looked down at the old man again, lying there on the hard tile floor of our kitchen. Suddenly a cruel thought struck me. About then Mike walked into the kitchen and took one look at his dad on the floor and laughed. "You sure did a number on him, Sweetheart!" Mike told me kissing me. "Yeah, well, I kind of enjoyed it and I especially enjoyed you in bed afterwards!" I told him. "Did it turn you on to watch me punish your dad like that?" I asked Mike. "It sure did, Honey." He replied. I love watching you sit on his face, and then when you started biting and chewing on his finger, it was just icing on the cake!" He continued excitedly. "Look at him, sleeping like a baby." I said smiling at Mike. "I wonder how he's gonna feel when he wakes up." I said. "I don't know, but I bet he's going to have one sore finger!" Mike said laughing again. "Why don't I make sure he does?" I asked with a cunning smile parting my lips. "What do you have in mind, Sweetheart?" Mike asked me. "If you'll bring me my black sandals, I'll show you!" I replied. "Black sandals? That sounds interesting!" Mike said with a grin on his face. Mike then went into our bedroom and returned with my sandals. They were black strappy sandals with very hard blocked heels about one and a half inches high and tapering down to a one inch bell shape. I sat on the bench and strapped them on my feet and then tip-toed over to Mike's dad lying there on the floor and told Mike, "Watch this." I raised my foot about knee high and stomped as hard as I could on his pinky finger, the same one I had bitten and chewed on. I felt it splatter under the hard heel of my sandal. The old man screamed and tried to jerk his hand away but his finger was still under my heel and I had every ounce of my 145 pounds on it. He rolled over in excruciating pain and was about to grab my ankle with his other hand when I kicked him hard in the face. Then I began grinding his pinky under my heel, literally tearing the flesh from it. Mike was loving every second of it as his dad began to cry, still screaming in terrible pain. After grinding his finger under my cruel heel several times, I stomped on it again real hard and then stepped over to the coffee pot to pour Mike and me a cup of coffee. The old man was lying on the floor crying and squirming in excruciating pain, holding his mangled finger.

The Special Red Carpet

It was a fairly warm night for December, even in California. But it was much colder lying here on this cold stone walkway.
Here he was with all the others, men and women all dressed in outfits made of a soft dark red material witch felt like carpet.
They were all lying side by side leading all the way from the driveway, trough the well landscaped grounds, right up to the front door of the elegant mansion. All together they formed a long human red carpet.

He figured they all like him had been sworn to secrecy and transported secretly to this secluded mansion up in the hills surrounded by mountains.