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Old 17-Jan-18, 01:13
jahampanah jahampanah is offline
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Default Re: Femdom Stories of mine

Story Name: Racquetball Bet
Author: Unknown

Chapter 6

I heard the sound of Matt’s car outside, doors slamming shut, engine roaring to life and finally a squeal of tires as he pulled the car into the street and raced away. I thumped my forehead to the carpeted floor trying not to sob with the realization of just how totally alone and helpless I now was…

It had started out as a joke; a racquetball bet between my mother, sister and I with the loser being the slave of the winner for a week. I had lost, easily I might add, and had agreed thinking that I would simply being doing all the chores and probably waiting on them for my indentured servitude. Over the course of the week however, hell the very first day we all quickly learned that we were all very excited by my new, temporary status in life and things began to escalate as my mother and sister took to abusing me and humiliating me in more and more degrading ways. I was dressed in Lisa’s frilly pink panties and the skimpy bottoms of one of her swimsuits while doing my chores. Of course I waited on them hand and foot, but the latter actually included me on my hands and knees and licking and kissing their shoes and feet. Even that though was just a start as Lisa later made me kiss the shoes of our neighbor, and Mom the shoes of the pizza delivery girl. I have been verbally abused and even slapped and beaten if I somehow failed to please them. And I had loved it all, at least until this morning.

I don’t know why I found it so hot being under their thumbs or feet even more literally, but I did. I was almost constantly hard and excited by the things they did to me and made me do; ordering me about and humiliating me. I loved it, and loved them for it and tried to show it with a passion to comply with whatever they demanded of me. I had even begged to be tied up by them, something I had fantasized about but never hoped to experience. Being a fairly typical teenage boy with Internet access I had of course secretly visited Porn sites on the web and while again being typical and found the sight of naked women exciting I soon found myself drawn more and more to some of the darker, kinkier sites, most of those dealing with Bondage and Femdom. Which is why I so readily fell into my new role I suppose and was hard and horny as Mom lightly bound and gagged me at my request for the night.

Lisa had kicked things up several notches this morning however, finding me still tied up this morning as Mom had not had the time to free me, running late to work. Lisa had teased and taunted me, keeping me bound and humiliated to the point where I had almost wet myself before she let me use the bathroom. Still I had made a mess, which she promptly demanded I clean up licking my own piss from the toilet and bathroom floor. At that point I had thought that I could sink no lower in my degradation, but she proved me wrong making me kiss and lick her boyfriend’s filthy cowboy boots, before they hog-tied and gagged me and left for the mall…
Now I was writhing in pain and moaning into my gag praying that they were just joking and would return to free me any moment. My mind was a flurry with all the things that might go wrong: a fire, a robbery, earthquake, terrorist attack, and I would be here bound and gagged and helpless. Obviously my imagination was running wild, but still as Matt had mentioned ‘Murphy’s Law’, the threat lingered and I was worried.

And I was hard and dripping I realized as I squirmed about trying to ease the pain as the minutes ticked by, the clock on the living room wall making the only other sound in the otherwise empty house. I could feel the bulge under me as I rolled my shoulders trying to ease the strain of the severe tie that Lisa had left me in, and the dampness in my panties. I moaned as the pain shifted to the muscles in my thighs, whining then as my legs cramped from the tight, bent position they had been forced into. It was a truly cruel position and I swiftly realized that there would be no relief. My wrists and ankles hurt from the constant pull, my shoulders ached from the strain of the odd angle and all my muscles seemed to scream in rage every time I shifted even slightly.

I don’t know how much time passed after I had given up trying to get free. I had tried to pick at the knots that held my wrists to my ankles, but they were too well tied and out of reach besides the fact that my fingers seemed to be going numb. I tried not to cry as my muscles cramped up, knowing that if my nose clogged with snot I would soon find it harder and harder to breathe as Lisa had thoroughly gagged me with my mother’s worn pantyhose and a swath of duct tape. I concentrated on staying calm and breathing evenly, consigning myself to the fact that I was trapped until Lisa returned to free me…

***

I woke with a start eyes blinking wearily as I shifted about wondering what was going on. I immediately remembered as pain lanced through my tightly bound body with my sudden movement, making me whine into my gag. Tears welled up in my eyes it hurt so bad, my shoulders and neck, wrists and ankles, arms and legs. I tried to control my thrashing about, but my spasming, twitching muscles would not allow it and I was soon sobbing in torturous agony.

I craned my neck as I heard something and looking around I saw sunlight streaming through the front windows of the house. Listening to the dull, monotonous ticking of the clock I must have dozed off and could tell that it must be after noon now by the glow of light illuminating the curtains, shafts of sun peeking through the edges, dust floating in the rays. I strained looking towards the doorway blocked mostly by the sofa as I heard the noise again. Keys turning in the locks! I moaned as I heard the front door open, sobbing again but at the prospect of freedom rather than the pain.

“Lisa!”

My eyes went wide in confusion to hear my mother’s voice and the distinctive clack of her heels as she stepped into the foyer. I wondered why she was home, sensing that it was not late enough for her to be off work for the day. Then I realized that I did not care why and was simply happy that she was back, no matter the reason. I groaned into my gag trying to get her attention but she called out again.

“Lisa! I wonder where they are?” she said talking to herself I thought.

“Maybe they’re out back.”

I froze in shock to hear the other unexpected voice. A woman’s voice and naggingly familiar though then and there I was in no state to even try to think who it might be. I felt my skin tingling as the humiliation returned, my tiny cock stirring again as I knew that I was about to be exposed to yet another person; a woman and apparently a friend of my mother. I thumped my head to the carpet again and closed my eyes, softly breathing and wishing that I could sink into the floor but listening intently all the while.

“Maybe,” my mother replied as I heard the second set of footfalls, heels clicking on the linoleum entry followed by the closing door. “Grab a seat and I’ll go check.”

“Okay, Jen.” I heard the woman say as my mother strolled off to the kitchen. Softer footfalls as her guest stepped into the living room, the sound of her purse thumping to the floor. “Oh… My… God…”

I squeezed my eyelids tighter knowing that I had been discovered, then in the silence resigned myself to my fate and slowly opened them again. I saw a pair of feet situated just a few inches from my face, appearing large at the odd angle. They were shod in low-heeled, brown leather loafers that looked somewhat scuffed and wrinkled, creased with age, wear and tear. They were close enough that I could smell that now familiar leather scent, rich and sweet but almost overwhelmed by the odor of sweat and feet that had become all too familiar as well. The feet shifted as I craned my neck again, my gaze sliding up the somewhat plump legs sheathed in tan nylon, past the brown tweed skirt and well-rounded hips, the dark, silky blouse and the full mounds of the woman’s breasts to finally settle on her face. Despite the look of shock, the round ‘O’ of her red lips and wide staring eyes I recognized my mother’s guest finally placing the voice with the face.

Mrs. Henderson worked with my mother at Citibank, a loan officer like Mom. She was widowed in her fifties, and though plump still pretty with dusty blond hair just streaking gray in spots, big blue eyes and a pleasant smile, usually. Right now however that pretty face was pale with the shock of finding me bound and gagged on the floor no doubt. I had met her first years ago at the bank Mom often invited her over for dinner or summer barbecues. I knew that she and my mother were very good friends, but I could not believe that Mom had brought her home and wondered what she had been thinking. Well, no doubt intending to show off her slave but she had obviously not prepared her friend for this. Or maybe she had…

As I stared up at Mrs. Henderson with teary, pleading eyes I saw her expression change. The initial shock slowly faded away as she relaxed, her eyes sparkling as she took in my bound and helpless form tightly bundled on the floor at her feet. I burned with increasing shame as I watched her lips twist into a wide smile and finally chuckling with obvious delight at what she saw. I closed my eyes and put my forehead back to the carpet as she laughed.

“Jennifer,” she called out as she caught her breath between laughs. “I found Jay!” I heard my mother’s foot steps as she returned to the living room a few moments later followed by her own gasp.

“Oh, my god!” she exclaimed, then laughed herself. “I cannot believe she still has him tied up. Lisa!” my mother called out again then after no response headed off to check the rest of the house. I could hear her opening doors, calling my sister’s name while I just lay there burning with humiliation. I knew before I chanced a peek that Mrs. Henderson had not moved and was in fact still staring down at me, her feet still right before my face.

“She’s not here,” I heard my mother say, anger lacing her voice as she stormed back into the living room and stepping into my line of sight to stand beside her friend. I stared, shifting my gaze between my mother’s favorite black pumps and her guest’s well worn loafers, trying not to squirm as my erection grew again, my penis plumping back up with the shame I was feeling.

“I do not believe she left him alone here like this!” my mother snapped furiously. I watched as my mother’s feet shifted and she squatted down before me. I felt her fingers twine in my long, sweaty hair and yelped into my gag as she made a fist and jerked my head up to look me squarely in the face. Her dark eyes were crackling as she stared at me with an intensity that sent a painful shiver through my tightly bound body.

“Good lord,” she said as I felt her sharp fingernails picking at the ends of the duct tape plastered to my face. Without warning she quickly jerked, ripping it away and causing me to yelp again. Shaking her head she plucked the wadded hose from my mouth and tossed the packing aside as I licked my dry lips. I saw my mother’s face soften a bit as she watched me, with Mrs. Henderson still hovering in the background.

“Are you all right, Jay?” she finally asked and just for a moment I saw the mother I used to have full of love and concern. She still had a firm grip in my hair however, and I noted that she had made no move to untie me.

“Hurts…” I moaned and her lips twitched into a smirk.

“I imagine it does. How long have you been like this?”

“I dunno…” I said wishing she would let go of my hair. The pain in my neck was getting worse from her holding my head up. “Since before noon.”

“Jesus…” Mom hissed frowning again. “Two hours at least. And just where is your sister?”

“Went to the mall with Matt.” I winced as her grip tightened with that news.

“Matt? He was here? He saw you like this?” she asked incredulously, tilting my head even farther back.

“Yes!” I whined, tears welling again at the pain. I don’t think Mom even realized what she was doing to me. “He helped Lisa tie me up! Mom… Please! It hurts!”

“I cannot believe this,” my mother said finally releasing my hair and standing up. My head slammed to the floor as I rocked forward again sobbing in relief as the pain started to ease. Mom stepped away again and when I opened my eyes I saw Mrs. Henderson’s feet before me again. I could hear my mother ranting from the far side of the living room.

“Wait till I get my hands on… Lisa! Don’t ‘Hi Mom’ me. Where the hell are you?” I assumed my mother was on her cell phone then, talking to my sister. Mrs. Henderson meanwhile had taken to circling me and was now taking in my predicament from behind. I gasped as I felt the toe of her shoe tap against my pantied balls and heard her giggle.

“I can’t believe you left him here like this!” my mother continued, her voice rising in volume. “Yes, I’m home! Which is where you better be and damn quick! You are in SO much trouble!” I shivered as I felt Mrs. Henderson’s fingers brush my skin, goosebumps rising as she touched the knots of my bindings. I could hear her breathing hard, obviously excited.

“No… he’s fine. Just get your ass home and I’ll explain why… I don’t care… Now, Lisa!” I heard the chime as my mother broke the connection ending the call with a heavy sigh. She walked over to stand opposite her friend, the two women towering over me.

“I’m so sorry about that, Sally,” my mother said with sincerity. I cannot believe Lisa was so irresponsible to leave him home alone like this.” I heard Mrs. Henderson chuckle.

“No worries, Jen,” she said. “You promised me a special treat at lunch but I never imagined this,” she laughed. “But don’t be too mad at your daughter. He doesn’t seem any the worse for wear.”

“No,” Mom agreed nudging me with the toe of her shoe and eliciting a grunt out of me. “No, he’s not. That’s not the point though. You just don’t leave someone alone and tied up like this. If something happened, God forbid, he’d be helpless.”

“Well, she did leave a cell phone for him,” Mrs. Henderson said as her foot shifted brushing my face as she gently tapped my phone that Lisa had left for emergency. Like I’d be able to Speed Dial with my nose and grunt into the phone if the house was burning down around me.

“That hardly makes it right,” my mother said with another heavy sigh. “Well, I’ll deal with her later. Give me a hand here.”

Both women knelt down, one on either side of me and started to pick at the knots holding me bound wrists to ankles. I took awhile and some effort as the constant pull and my struggles had really tightened the ropes and they chatted seemingly casually about that as I grunted and moaned with their efforts. Finally though I felt the cords unwinding and Mrs. Henderson eased my legs out straight and placed my feet gently to the floor. As she started undoing the rope binding my ankles I felt my mother unlocking the handcuffs that had been biting into my wrists since the night before.

I groaned in ecstasy as feeling flowed back into my limbs, finally free. I just lay there for a moment breathing hard and fighting back the sobs of joy that were threatening to bubble up and out of me. Mom must have sensed that I needed a few moments and as the two women stood again, said, “Go get cleaned up when you can, Jay. And rub some lotion on your wrists. They’re chaffing. Don’t take too long, though. We’re taking a long lunch but we don’t have that much time. Come join us when you’re done. C’mon, Sally. Let’s see what we can find to eat.”

Without another thought both women strolled off to the kitchen leaving me sprawled on the living room floor. I was still aching and exhausted from the bondage that my sister had left me in, but my mind was swirling with what was happening. I could not seem to comprehend how everyone seemed to be taking this all in stride, the slavery and now the bondage like it was some common place, everyday thing. Robin and the pizza girl, Matt and now Mrs. Henderson all seemed to have no problem at all seeing me degrade myself and helpless, even abused. I was glad of course as I did not want someone reporting any of this to the police. I could only imagine Mom would go to jail and Lisa and I would end up wards of the state in foster homes or something worse.

I shuddered at that thought as I finally, slowly found the strength to get up to my hands and knees. The thought truly worried me, but too I figured that Mom knew what she was doing and who she could trust. Lisa on the other hand I was not so sure about. I would mention my concerns to Mom when I had the chance but right then I wanted nothing more than to get cleaned up and rub down my aching muscles. I crawled off to the bathroom then to do just that…

***

As much as I wanted to take a long, hot bath or shower to work the kinks out of my body I had to satisfy myself with just a warm wash cloth as Mom had said to hurry. I used the toilet after washing off and finally rubbed lotion into my red and raw wrists and ankles, noting that the skin had rubbed away a bit. I was finally feeling a little better when fifteen minutes later or so I made my way back into the living room, crawling of course.

I found my mother and Mrs. Henderson both seated on the sofa and watching some after noon talk show on television. They had made finger sandwiches I saw, two still situated on a plate set on the coffee table and both women had a glass of wine in hand. Mom smiled as I crawled up beside the sofa, her high-heeled pump dangling from her toes as she bobbed her leg.

“Feeling better, Jay?” she asked taking a sip of her wine. I was a bit surprised that she was still calling me Jay as I had slipped back into my slave mode thinking that that was what she wanted. I nodded however, gladdened by her concern.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said feeling my erection stirring, knowing that she and Mrs. Henderson were totally focused on me and enjoying my submissiveness.

“Hungry?”

“A little, Ma’am,” I answered, lying. Truthfully I was starving as the last I had eaten was the slice of pizza the night before that Mom had chewed for me and spat on the floor. “I can wait though,” I continued, knowing that she wanted to put me through my paces before her friend.

“Of course you can,” she said with a chuckle, swinging her leg and popping her shoe on and off of her heel, knowing no doubt that she was driving me crazy with that simple, feminine act. I chanced a quick glance and saw that Mrs. Henderson had her legs crossed as well, which only worsened my condition. She twirled her ankle a bit, following my gaze. I had to wonder just how much my mother had shared with her or if she simply knew how to tease.

“Well, if you’re good maybe you’ll get a snack later,” my mother continued taking another sip from her glass. “For now I think Sally would like to find out what a good little foot slave you are. She was complaining this morning about her sore, tired feet and I told her I had just the thing to make her feel better.”

“And I had no idea she meant you, Jay,” Mrs. Henderson added.

“Call him slave, Sally,” Mom said with a widening grin, “or whatever you like. Loser… Sissy… Bitch. For this week, Jay does not exist.” Mrs. Henderson laughed.

“Okay, Jen,” she agreed, finishing her own glass of wine and setting it aside on the table beside the sofa. She uncrossed her legs and put both feet flat on the floor side by side. “Your mother… Your owner says you like feet, boy…” She pointed imperiously and with flourish at her dusty brown loafers. “Show me. Kiss my shoes!” she demanded and I nodded.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said and crawled before her. I immediately smelled the leather as I drew closer and saw again that the shoes were old and well worn with scuffmarks on the toes and along the edges. The leather looked soft and supple and I figured that these, like my mother’s black pumps, were her favorite work shoes and worn often. As I pursed my lips I could again smell her foot odor and sweat from the summer heat. I wrinkled my nose but did as ordered and kissed the toecaps of Mrs. Henderson’s shoes, blushing furiously as the two women laughed.

“Mmmm… “ she said after a few moments. “That’s nice. It’s been so long…”

And it was then that I knew why Mom had brought Mrs. Henderson into the mix. Her husband had died in the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Towers, a passenger on the second plane that hit the South Tower that horrible day. I heard a sadness in her voice as I kissed the leather of her shoes and knew that her husband must have done this for her in the past. Her own melancholy transferred to me and I kissed for all that I was worth wanting to make her happy.

She kept me there for a few minutes enjoying my devotion before she instructed, “You can massage my feet now, slave. Take my shoes off.” Her voice was soft and husky as I did as she ordered.

I felt my cock jerk as the smell of her feet and shoes hit me full force. It was pungent and rank, sweaty from months of wearing the loafers in all kinds of weather, in socks and nylon or bare feet. The scent of the leather was intoxicating, her feet overwhelming as I sniffed leaning in and extending my tongue to lick even as my fingers rubbed lovingly. I pressed my thumbs into her arches and heard her moans of delight as she settled back into the sofa.

“Ohhh… that feels wonderful…” she whispered, enjoying the attention.

“I told you,” my mother said as she stood and gathered the wine glasses. “Enjoy,” she added as she strolled off to the kitchen. I rubbed and massaged Mrs. Henderson’s big wrinkled feet, pressing my fingers into the soft flesh, massaging and passionately kissing until my mother returned and handed her friend her glass refilled.

“Normally I’d make him do that, get the wine, but I want you to have fun.” Mom sat and recrossed her legs watching me as I debased myself at her friend’s feet. We all started as we heard the locks in the front door suddenly rattle and the door opened. Lisa I assumed, but I was too busy to look.

“About time,” I heard my mother say, her voice suddenly cold as Lisa came into the room the front door shutting and locking behind her. I continued kissing and massaging but listening as well.

“Hi, Mrs. Henderson… Mom…” Lisa said but her voice seemed timid. She apparently knew she was in trouble and I assumed she was watching me. I kept licking.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” my mother asked coolly. There was silence for a long moment save for the sound of the ticking clock and my ministrations.

“Matt came home from Colorado,” Lisa said sheepishly. “I wanted to see him.”

“So you tied up your brother and left him here alone and helpless?”

“Yeah…” Lisa answered, hemming. “I was only gonna be gone a couple hours.”

“You DO NOT… EVER leave someone tied up and alone, PERIOD! I don’t care that we’ve never had a fire or a break in. You DO NOT do that. Am I clear?”

“Yes, mother…”

“Lose the attitude and go to your room. No TV! No music! No phone or computer! You’re grounded till I say otherwise.”

“Mom…” Lisa whined but my mother was not hearing it.

“Go!”

I sensed more than saw Lisa as she shuffled off to her room. Her door almost slammed shut as my mother sighed. Mrs. Henderson laughed twisting her foot so I could lick at the arch. “My Kelly was just as bad. Lisa will grow out of it too. She’s a good kid.”

“I know,” my mother said and I felt her legs drop onto my back to use me as a foot stool as I attended her friend. “I have two very good kids. One more so than the other at the moment.” Both women laughed as my mother ground the heel of her shoe into my back making me whimper.

They kept me licking and massaging Mrs. Henderson’s feet for a few more minutes before they realized that they had to get back to work. I knelt before them as Mrs. Henderson slipped her feet back into her loafers telling me to give them a final, farewell kiss, which I did.

”That was wonderful,” she said as she stood and shouldered her purse. My mother stood and did likewise while I just knelt there staring at their, pretty feet. “Thanks, Jen.”

“Any time, Sally,” my mother said standing before me. “He loves it and you’re more than welcome to use him any time you like.”

“Oh, I will,” Mrs. Henderson said as she moved towards the door. “Count on it.”

“Slave…” my mother said as she moved her own foot under my face. I leaned in and kissed the tip of her shoe. “You’re behind in your chores. Not your fault I realize, but regardless, you'll have to be punished when I get back. I suggest you get busy and do what you can before I get back home.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, kissing her shoe again. She laughed.

“Good boy. Get crackin’.”

And without another word they left…

***

“This is like, SO unfair…”

I paused from my chore, scrubbing the grout in between the kitchen floor tiles with my toothbrush on my knees and looked up at my sister. She was leaning in the door frame, arms crossed beneath her breasts and watching me. She was dressed in her jeans and a shell top, her soft moccasins on her feet and her ankles crossed. I noticed too what looked like her studded leather belt draped about her shoulders and briefly wondered why. She looked angry and put upon as I turned back to my chore scrubbing harder, figuring I was in for it.

“Like I gotta baby-sit you 24/7? What the fuck is up with that?”

“Mom was just concerned,” I offered. I felt her studded belt leather slam down on my back causing me to jerk and yowl in pain. I scrubbed all the harder,

“No one asked you, snitch. That was rhetorical. Keep working, bitch” I felt my cock harden as she strolled across the room. Her studded leather belt trailing in her wake as she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She popped the cap and took a drink as I licked my dry lips, thirsty as hell.

“I can’t believe you ratted me out,” she said leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Mom asked where you were,” I said looking up at her scowling face then eyeing the wide strap of leather dangling from her fingers. “I couldn’t lie to her.”

“You could’a fibbed,” Lisa said setting down her bottle. She gripped the buckle of the belt as she strolled about me, circling me. “You could’a said I went to 7-11 or something and I’d be back any minute.” She stopped in front of me, her soft brown moccasins right before my face. I could smell the leather, see her toes wiggling under the supple material.

Lisa hawked and a glob of spit fell to the linoleum floor right between her feet. “You missed a spot,” she said deadpan. I stared at the spittle a moment in disbelief, suspecting what was coming then finally leaned forward with my toothbrush to clean it up. I yelped as her foot came down hard on my hand, moaning as she shifted her weight forward and ground her sole against my skin.

“Lick it up, loser,” she ordered and I nodded leaning in, my face moving to the floor.

CRACK!

I whined as Lisa’s belt slammed down on my back, pain shocking through me. Tears welled in my eyes as I sucked back a sob even as the belt lashed into my skin again.

“I don’t see you licking,” she hissed beating me again. I quickly leaned into the floor and started licking up her spit as she ground her heel into my hand and continued whipping me...

***

I had cleaned over the hours, the generic, mundane tasks and was now on my knees in the living room plucking lint from the carpeting as per my mother’s penned instructions. Lisa had been over-seeing throughout, slapping me with her studded leather belt every chance she got, whenever she felt I was lagging, which seemed every couple of minutes. She was apparently taking out her frustrations and aggressions on me after Mom had read her the riot act and grounded her. My back had become a series of criss-crossing red welts and burning with pain when we heard the keys unlocking the front door.

CRACK!!!

“Keep working, slave,” my sister said as, my mother came home, shutting and locking the door behind her. She dropped her purse to the floor and strolled into the room.

“How’s he been?” my mother asked stepping up to me as I picked at the tiny pieces of dirt that I found in the carpet, dropping them into a plastic grocery shopping bag that I was dragging around with me. I glanced briefly at her sexy shoes watching her feet shift then got back to my task.

“Good,” my sister said, surprisingly. I had expected her to say that I had been loafing or lagging or giving her attitude, but she did not. I wondered why. “He’s been very docile and compliant, doing all his chores.”

“Good,” my mother said as she plopped down in the recliner and leaned back, her feet propping as the footrest extended. “You know you have to be punished.”

“C’mon, Mom,” Lisa whined. “I wasn’t gone that long and he was fine.”

“I know.” Mom settled back, crossing her ankles. “But you do NOT leave someone unattended and tied up like that. It is just wrong. So many things could happen. You are damn lucky they didn’t.”

“I know… “ I heard the trepidation in my sister’s voice. She seemed genuinely sorrowful.

“So, how many strokes do you think you deserve?” my mother casually asked and I looked up in shock and saw my sister flush red.

“N-None…” Lisa said with a stutter. “I- I’ve learned me lesson.”

“I doubt that,” my mother said as she took and unfurled Lisa’s studded leather belt. I could sense Lisa’s panic. She had not been expecting this. I was ecstatic.

“What about you, slave? How many strokes do you think are deserved of this infraction?” My mother laughed at her own words. I swallowed and thought, then after a moment spoke.

“Fifty!” I said, sure of my answer, relishing the thought of my sister getting what she deserved. A good beating…

“Fifty it is then. Assume the position, slave.” I stared at my mother as she quickly got up and swished the belt through the empty air a few times in practice. I was confused. If my sister was going to be punished, why did I have to assume the position, draped over the arm of the sofa?

My mother dangled the belt and smiled at me. “You didn’t think I was going to beat Lisa did you? You’re the slave and ‘Whipping Boy’. Lisa WILL be grounded, but you take her pain. Now bend your ass over the sofa and get in position, loser. You have fifty strokes to take.”

“B-but…”

CRACK!

I yowled as the belt slashed down on my already tender back. I was quickly sobbing again, groveling on the floor between them. I could not believe this.

SLAP!!

I scrambled to my feet, looking at Lisa before I flopped over the arm of the sofa. Her eyes were wide with surprise as I buried my face in the cushions. The belt slashed at my tender skin and I yowled as I crumpled leaning over the arm of the couch.

“Count!” my mother commanded as she lashed the belt over my ass. I heard my sister giggling now as I shouted, my voice muffled by the sofa’s seat cushion…

“One!”

The belt slammed home again…

“Two!”

And again…

And again…

6a

I was still sobbing over an hour later when my mother finally spoke to me again…

I was standing in the corner of the living room where my mother had directed me after the 50 strokes I had endured for Lisa’s punishment. She had dragged me off of the sofa’s arm and shoved me ignoring my whining and crying much to Lisa’s delight. I could hear my sister giggling as my mother stood behind me, following as I shuffled into the corner with my panties still draped about my ankles

“Hands behind your head,” she had said and I complied locking my fingers together behind my neck. I felt her soft hand on the back of my head as she eased it forward until my forehead was touching the corner where the walls came together. “Stop that sniveling!” she snapped her hand slapping against the already red and tender skin of my ass. I jerked and tried to stifle my crying, but my butt seemed on fire. It had never hurt so badly.

“You’ll stay like that until I think you’ve learned your lesson,” my mother said as she held my head to the wall. “Think about all the things you did wrong today, and what you can do to make things right.” She gave my ass another swat and I yelped, my ass burning only slightly more than my skin as I tried uselessly to control my sobs.

“Hungry?” I heard my mother say as she walked away and knew that she was talking to Lisa.

“Famished,” Lisa said.

“Guess we’ll have to fend for ourselves since our slave is having some ‘Quiet Time’. That IS another mark against you, boy.” Mom chuckled as I sobbed.

I heard them move off into the kitchen and start rummaging through the cupboards and refrigerator, both chatting away as though nothing was bizarre; having a semi-naked boy pressed into the corner of the living room, his ass raw from a whipping and squirming in agony as he tried to control his crying. I heard the microwave power up at some point and the smell chicken cooking soon drifted into the living room making my stomach growl.

I kept my head pressed to the wall breathing deeply as my crying subsided and trying to ignore the pain, the burning ache in my ass. It was hard and definitely not fair. I could not believe that I had been punished, taking Lisa’s strapping because she had gone off to the Mall with her boyfriend and left me bound, gagged and helpless. A short time, yes, but Mom and her friend had been the one’s to find me hog-tied on the living room carpet, and Lisa had been grounded but I was the one that had to suffer.

Fifty lashes with Lisa’s studded-leather belt- AND at my own suggestion no less. I had fallen right into that one. I had become my sister’s ‘Whipping Boy’.

I whimpered as I heard them return to the living room after awhile, laughing and talking. I could smell whatever they had nuked; chicken at least but I imagined more. My mother and sister ignored me as they took their seats, the television changing channels as they settled in, the sounds of them enjoying their meal as I stood shamed in the corner…

“So, have you learned your lesson, slave?” my mother asked seated somewhere behind me.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, my voice croaking, my throat still raw from crying. After an hour the pain in my butt had lessened to a dull throb but still hurt, making me uncomfortable. Too my arms were aching now having been up the entire time, and my forehead from pressing into the wall.

“And just what lesson might that be, boy?”

I knew my true lesson was not to think I could get over on either of them, but especially Mom. Somehow though, I doubted that, that was what she wanted to hear. I thought for a moment then said, as repentant as possible, “That you and Lisa are my superiors… my betters and are never wrong. I am just a … insignificant slave and whatever happens, it’s my fault and I deserve to be punished.

“God, what a brown nose.” Lisa laughed and I heard Mom chuckling as well.

“Well, close enough, slave,” Mom said, then added, “We ARE always right, but everything is not your fault. You did what Lisa wanted, but she over-stepped her bounds and jeopardized your safety. That WILL NOT happen again.” I could not see but imagined that my mother turned to Lisa on that statement.

“Yes, mother,” Lisa said with just a bit of annoyance in her voice. My mother then addressed me again.

“Not your fault, slave, but you will be punished for errors in judgement. Understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said knowing that I was screwed. Lisa could do whatever she wanted and if mom didn’t like it I would be punished. Sure, Lisa might get grounded or some other slap on the wrist but I would be the one to take the brunt. I could almost hear the gears and wheels turning in Lisa’s head.

“Okay, Mom continued, “come over here and thank us for out guidance and benevolence.”

Thankful to finally be free I turned from the corner and moved to pull up my panties. “Leave them down,” Mom commanded eyeing my tiny hard on. Despite the pain I was erect and excited and they both giggled to see my state of arousal.

“We’ve seen what you have,” Mom said with a smirk and a shake of her head. “No point in hiding it now. Get on your knees and crawl before your owners.”

I did as she commanded, dropping to my knees and crawling towards them. They were both seated on the sofa, their legs extended and their bare feet resting on the coffee table. I came before them and knelt, my panties bunched about my ankles as I stared at the soles of their feet, both twisting their ankles and wiggling their toes before my face. I saw too the remains of their dinner, the glasses and half-empty plates with scraps of chicken strips and potato skins, dirty napkins and silverware along with condiments. They had left a mess that I knew I would eventually have to clean up, but right now they wanted attention and I wanted their feet.

Mom raised a leg and stretched it forward, planting the ball of her foot on my forehead with a little pressure. “You may thank us now,” she said with a giggle, dragging her foot down my face until her toes were prying at my lower lip. I opened my mouth to take in her toes but she hesitated. I could still smell the scent of her worn leather pumps, her favored work shoes and her sweat despite all my licking and cleaning earlier. Her feet were soft and pink though, and her soles smooth.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” I said leaning forward to kiss and lick her beautiful foot. With a swift jerk though she pulled it out of reach.

“For what?” she asked coyly as I stared at the silky soft sole, the wriggling toes.

“Thank you for being my superior,” I said licking my lips. “Thank you for showing me the error of my ways and punishing me. Thank you for showing me my place and allowing me to serve you, both of you.”

My mother laughed and pressed the sole of her foot against my face, the heel on my chin, her toes at my forehead, pressing into my nose and flattening it. I kissed her sole first then stuck out my tongue and started to lick…

***

They kept me there for over an hour, on my knees and naked but for the panties wadded about my ankles. I licked and kissed and massaged their feet, occasionally vocalizing my thanks for their attention and direction when they pleased. My mother’s feet were still tainted, but pleasantly so with a hint of leather and sweat. Lisa’s though were almost pristine as she had showered earlier and of course I had done my duty. Hers smelled of peach body wash, but I licked and kissed with a vigor regardless.

Finally my mother said, “That’s enough.” I heard the television in the background announcing the David Letterman Show and knew that it was 11:30 at least. She pulled her feet away and out of reach leaving me kneeling and frustrated on the far side of the coffee table as Lisa stood, stretching.

“I’m for bed,” my sister said as she bent low and scooped up her moccasins by the heels. “This slave stuff is tiring,” she giggled strolling towards the hallway and her room beyond, knowing that my eyes were on her. “Tomorrow’s another day though, slave, and I have some ideas.”

“Ooo… aren’t you lucky?” my mother said as she rubbed her foot along the side of my face. I shivered at the touch and nodded. “One more kiss…” I kissed her sole again and she pulled her foot away. I heard Lisa go into her room.

“Good boy,” she said standing and stretching herself. I heard her back popping as she reached for the ceiling, then she stood haughtily with her hands on her hips.

“Clean up this mess,” she commanded waving at the remains of their dinner. “Then the kitchen. Set the coffeepot for 4:30, and then get yourself something to eat if you want. Clean up and get ready for bed then, and come to my room. And don’t dawdle. I have work tomorrow.”

With that my mother turned on her heel and strode away towards her own bedroom. “And bring my shoes when you comer to bed,” she said then vanished into her bedroom closing the door.

I knelt there for a moment wanting so much to jack off but held back. After a few minutes I pulled up my panties and started gathering the plates, glasses and garbage…

***

On my knees about an hour later I knocked on my mother’s door…

I had done as she commanded, cleaning up their dinner mess in the living room, washing glasses and dishes, silverware in the kitchen. I then wiped down the microwave and countertops, cleaning everything that I thought they might have soiled. It did not take long, and after I zapped my own dinner in the radar range; two strips of chicken tender and a baked potato skin that had been left for me. I ate ravenously and wanted more after I had finished, as over the last few days I had not eaten much. In the end though I decided against it, suspecting a trap maybe. I cleaned up my own mess, meager as it was, then got the coffee maker ready for the morning. That done I took a final look about the kitchen and satisfied, went back to the living room. I picked up my mother’s pumps and hurried to my mother’s closed bedroom door where I knelt and knocked.

“Come,” she said and I reached up, turning the knob and opening the door, crawling inside.

My mother was seated at her vanity brushing out her hair. I glanced up and saw her smirk as she eyed me in the mirror. I crawled into the room carrying her pumps, which I set by the side of the bed then knelt there awaiting her whim. She was dressed in a filmy blue negligee for bed that left little to the imagination, a pair of fluffy, scruffy, blue fuzzy slippers on her feet. She kept brushing, leaving me there for a time.

“All done?” she finally said after a few minutes setting her brush on the vanity and opening a jar of cold cream. She dipped a finger in then dabbed spots on her face, crossing her legs and letting her slipper dangle.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said. “I did everything you asked.”

“Good boy,” she said turning in her chair to face me and holding out her hand. I stared at her fingers, greasy with the cold cream and knew what she wanted even as she wiggled them. I scrambled forward and licked at her fingers, sucking them of the cream. It tasted nasty but I did as she wanted, suckling her fingers until they were clean. She made me kiss her scruffy slippers then.

“I suppose you’d like to be tied up again,” she said with a somewhat bored tone, recrossing her legs. I nodded, excited at the thought.

“Yes, please, Ma’am,” I said barely containing my excitement, adding, “If you don’t mind.” My mother laughed.

“Of course not,” she said rising from her vanity chair and strolling to the bed. “In fact, I’m looking forward to it. Stand at the foot of the bed.” I saw that she picked up a box of Uncle Ben’s rice as she moved to the end of the bed. She upended the half-filled box and dumped the contents on the floor at the end of the bed, spreading the uncooked rice about with her foot. “Kneel there,” she said pointing to the floor and the rice and I dropped to my knees as instructed.

I winced in pain as the hard rice dug into my knees, shifting about and trying to get comfortable as she dropped the box into her trash and returned with cuts of nylon cord. My mother proceeded to lash me to the bed frame, my wrists to the posts at the foot of the bed, several turns of the rope biting fiercely into my flesh. When she was satisfied with my wrists and their security, she bound first my ankles draping the left leg over the right, then my knees tightly together. I was already squirming as the rice bit into my knee caps, trying to get comfortable.

SLAP!

“Hold still!” my mother ordered as she balled up her stockings and poked them into my mouth in a loose gag. I looked up at her and felt my cock stiffen as she placed her hands on her shapely hips, smiling wickedly at me.

“Hurts?” she asked and I nodded furiously. The rice was digging into my knees as I pulled at my bonds. “Good,” she said as she picked up her bottle of water and took a swig. “I want attention, so you’ll be nuzzling my feet all night long. Licking and kissing, rubbing your face on my smelly soles, sucking my toes,” she said as she capped the bottle and sat on the edge of the bed. She kicked off her slippers and swung her shapely legs under the covers, adjusting them. Stretching out she eventually found my face and pressed her smelly soles to it, rubbing her feet on my trapped face. She settled back and with a contented sigh, said: “Lick, slave… Make me happy.”

I leaned in and started kissing my mother’s feet, her soles, eventually sucking on her toes though her hose were stuffed into my mouth. She eventually fell asleep but I continued licking and kissing as best I could, wanting to make her happy, the bondage and rice keeping me awake until morning…
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