footcleaner83
01-31-2003, 10:31 PM
I wrote this story a while ago and only posted it on a Yahoo group so far. I fantasize about Britney all the time and what it would be like to be her slave and to be trampled by her. I hope you all enjoy it.
I had been kneeling in Mistress Britney’s dressing room for about 2 hours waiting for her to finish her concert. We were in Orlando tonight. She loved coming to Orlando, since it was Disney’s hometown. She had so many fond memories here from being in the Mickey Mouse Club when she was younger. She had been enjoying her success for a few years now and became more and more demanding of attention and pampering. I had attended her concert in Pittsburgh last year and she noticed me in the front row. I don’t know why she chose me, but I owed her so much because she did.
Ever since Mistress Britney chose me as her slave, I have been waiting on her hand and foot. Anything she wants me to do, I do, with no qualms or question. The punishment that she would hand out if I ever had any doubts would be so painful and so humiliating, that I would be sure never to question her again. My duties as Mistress Britney’s slave include; cooking and cleaning for her, bathing her (both in a bathtub and with my tongue), keeping her wardrobe in order, pleasuring her orally, serving as a toy for her and her friends, etc.
I had been dosing off, when around 9:30, the door to Mistress Britney’s room opened and she entered by herself. I could tell that she was tired from a hard performance on stage. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night. But that was my duty and I had no choice in the matter.
“Hello slave. Did you miss me?”
“Yes, Mistress Britney. Another outstanding show?”
“Of course, would you expect anything else?” she asked as she sat down on the couch in front of me.
“No, Mistress. I know that the audience would get a special concert. It would be well worth the price of admission.”
“Damn right it would be. Now, listen. I have been on my feet the whole time. I want you to do what I tell you, understand?”
“As always, Mistress.”
“Good. Now, the normal routine. First I want you to remove these hot boots! Use your teeth to unzip them. “
“Yes, Mistress Britney.”
I immediately went to work carrying out her command. I crawled over to her and leaned down towards her thighs. The boots were thigh high boots. They were black patent leather and had a 4-inch heel. They were really sexy. They had a long zipper that went up the side. I got one zipper in between my teeth and began to pull on it. I unzipped the zipper. As I did, I could see the tanned skin of her leg come into view. I got the zipper to the bottom. Mistress Britney told me to remove the boot from her foot. I did as she told.
“Oohh God, that feels so good to let my foot breathe.”
I then repeated the process with her right boot. I removed the boot to reveal her leg and foot. Mistress Britney had a pair of tan pantyhose on and they were really damp from dancing on stage. Sometimes she wore socks over the pantyhose with her boots, just to torture me later on that night. She really enjoyed dominating me. She loved the power she had.
“Lay down with your head towards me, slave.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I sat her boots to the side and lay down with my head at her feet. When I got into position, Mistress Britney lifted her damp, nylon-clad feet and sat them down on my face. They were so hot and sweaty. They were rank. Immediately, my head filled with the aroma of musty foot sweat, stale popcorn, and old cheese. Britney’s feet really smelled when she did a lot of dancing. She rubbed her sweaty feet all over my face. Occasionally she would cup her toes over my nose and she would seal my mouth shut by using the sole of her other foot. By doing this, it ensured that with every breath, I would breathe in her foot stink.
“How do my feet smell, slave Carl?”
“They smell wonderful, Mistress Britney, as always. Thank you for letting me smell them.”
“Do you want to lick my feet, slave?”
“Oh yes, Mistress. I would be honored.”
“Let me hear you beg. Why should I allow you to lick my feet?”
“Please, Mistress Britney? Please let me lick your feet. I know now that I was put on this planet to serve you. It would be a great honor to lick the sweat from your divine feet.”
“You are so pathetic.” She laughed. She really enjoyed having a man beg at her feet. “I will allow you to lick my feet. But first, you will remove my nylons.”
“Yes, Mistress Britney. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You had better do a good job or I will trample you so hard, that you will forget what your face looks like.”
I reached up and slowly slid her pantyhose down her legs. I slid them down ever so slowly, sliding them down over her feet. I finally got her pantyhose off and sat them on the floor, when there was a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Mistress Britney asked.
“It’s me, Britney. You promised the media a few comments on the breakup with Justin, remember?”
It was her publicist. Britney promised the few members of the media at the concert some words about her breakup with Justin Timberlake.
“Oh, damn it! That happened so long ago! Why can’t these assholes leave me alone?”
“A promise is a promise, Brit.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be out in a minute. Give me a sec.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Mistress Britney turned to me.
“I’ll be a few minutes. I’m a little pissed right now. I’m going to have to take it out on you. Lay down.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I laid back down on my back. Mistress Britney grabbed her sweaty pantyhose and shoved them into my mouth. She had a tough time getting them inside. She used her foot to push them the whole way in. She went over to her wardrobe and grabbed a pair of ratty old trainers and tied it over my nose. She then slipped on a pair of sandals and went out to answer the questions of the media. Even with her shoe on my face and her pantyhose in my mouth, I felt sorry for her. I knew how much she hated this part of her stardom. She closed the door and left me there alone to breather in the aroma of her old trainers. They were so beat up. She wore them all the time. Many times after a concert she would slip them on because they were so comfortable. She has had them for a few years and wears them all the time, sometimes barefoot, sometimes with socks, and even sometimes with pantyhose or nylons.
She had been gone for about 5 minutes before I started to feel lightheaded. The aroma of her feet was starting to have an effect on me. Every breath I took sent more and more foot stink into my nostrils. Not only that, I was really starting to salivate with her salty, sweaty pantyhose in my mouth.
I had been kneeling in Mistress Britney’s dressing room for about 2 hours waiting for her to finish her concert. We were in Orlando tonight. She loved coming to Orlando, since it was Disney’s hometown. She had so many fond memories here from being in the Mickey Mouse Club when she was younger. She had been enjoying her success for a few years now and became more and more demanding of attention and pampering. I had attended her concert in Pittsburgh last year and she noticed me in the front row. I don’t know why she chose me, but I owed her so much because she did.
Ever since Mistress Britney chose me as her slave, I have been waiting on her hand and foot. Anything she wants me to do, I do, with no qualms or question. The punishment that she would hand out if I ever had any doubts would be so painful and so humiliating, that I would be sure never to question her again. My duties as Mistress Britney’s slave include; cooking and cleaning for her, bathing her (both in a bathtub and with my tongue), keeping her wardrobe in order, pleasuring her orally, serving as a toy for her and her friends, etc.
I had been dosing off, when around 9:30, the door to Mistress Britney’s room opened and she entered by herself. I could tell that she was tired from a hard performance on stage. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night. But that was my duty and I had no choice in the matter.
“Hello slave. Did you miss me?”
“Yes, Mistress Britney. Another outstanding show?”
“Of course, would you expect anything else?” she asked as she sat down on the couch in front of me.
“No, Mistress. I know that the audience would get a special concert. It would be well worth the price of admission.”
“Damn right it would be. Now, listen. I have been on my feet the whole time. I want you to do what I tell you, understand?”
“As always, Mistress.”
“Good. Now, the normal routine. First I want you to remove these hot boots! Use your teeth to unzip them. “
“Yes, Mistress Britney.”
I immediately went to work carrying out her command. I crawled over to her and leaned down towards her thighs. The boots were thigh high boots. They were black patent leather and had a 4-inch heel. They were really sexy. They had a long zipper that went up the side. I got one zipper in between my teeth and began to pull on it. I unzipped the zipper. As I did, I could see the tanned skin of her leg come into view. I got the zipper to the bottom. Mistress Britney told me to remove the boot from her foot. I did as she told.
“Oohh God, that feels so good to let my foot breathe.”
I then repeated the process with her right boot. I removed the boot to reveal her leg and foot. Mistress Britney had a pair of tan pantyhose on and they were really damp from dancing on stage. Sometimes she wore socks over the pantyhose with her boots, just to torture me later on that night. She really enjoyed dominating me. She loved the power she had.
“Lay down with your head towards me, slave.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I sat her boots to the side and lay down with my head at her feet. When I got into position, Mistress Britney lifted her damp, nylon-clad feet and sat them down on my face. They were so hot and sweaty. They were rank. Immediately, my head filled with the aroma of musty foot sweat, stale popcorn, and old cheese. Britney’s feet really smelled when she did a lot of dancing. She rubbed her sweaty feet all over my face. Occasionally she would cup her toes over my nose and she would seal my mouth shut by using the sole of her other foot. By doing this, it ensured that with every breath, I would breathe in her foot stink.
“How do my feet smell, slave Carl?”
“They smell wonderful, Mistress Britney, as always. Thank you for letting me smell them.”
“Do you want to lick my feet, slave?”
“Oh yes, Mistress. I would be honored.”
“Let me hear you beg. Why should I allow you to lick my feet?”
“Please, Mistress Britney? Please let me lick your feet. I know now that I was put on this planet to serve you. It would be a great honor to lick the sweat from your divine feet.”
“You are so pathetic.” She laughed. She really enjoyed having a man beg at her feet. “I will allow you to lick my feet. But first, you will remove my nylons.”
“Yes, Mistress Britney. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You had better do a good job or I will trample you so hard, that you will forget what your face looks like.”
I reached up and slowly slid her pantyhose down her legs. I slid them down ever so slowly, sliding them down over her feet. I finally got her pantyhose off and sat them on the floor, when there was a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Mistress Britney asked.
“It’s me, Britney. You promised the media a few comments on the breakup with Justin, remember?”
It was her publicist. Britney promised the few members of the media at the concert some words about her breakup with Justin Timberlake.
“Oh, damn it! That happened so long ago! Why can’t these assholes leave me alone?”
“A promise is a promise, Brit.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be out in a minute. Give me a sec.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Mistress Britney turned to me.
“I’ll be a few minutes. I’m a little pissed right now. I’m going to have to take it out on you. Lay down.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I laid back down on my back. Mistress Britney grabbed her sweaty pantyhose and shoved them into my mouth. She had a tough time getting them inside. She used her foot to push them the whole way in. She went over to her wardrobe and grabbed a pair of ratty old trainers and tied it over my nose. She then slipped on a pair of sandals and went out to answer the questions of the media. Even with her shoe on my face and her pantyhose in my mouth, I felt sorry for her. I knew how much she hated this part of her stardom. She closed the door and left me there alone to breather in the aroma of her old trainers. They were so beat up. She wore them all the time. Many times after a concert she would slip them on because they were so comfortable. She has had them for a few years and wears them all the time, sometimes barefoot, sometimes with socks, and even sometimes with pantyhose or nylons.
She had been gone for about 5 minutes before I started to feel lightheaded. The aroma of her feet was starting to have an effect on me. Every breath I took sent more and more foot stink into my nostrils. Not only that, I was really starting to salivate with her salty, sweaty pantyhose in my mouth.