aussiefootslave
02-03-2003, 9:59 PM
Part 2
I walked out into the backyard and saw no one. I wondered where they had gone, but I thought it would be best if I didn’t hang around here in their own yard, so I headed for the playground two blocks away. Bertram’s Park was an old playground and not a lot of its equipment was in very good repair. It did have a lot of trees so I figured that I could hide out until supper. No sooner did I enter the Park when I heard Janice. “Hey Larry come over here; I want to talk to you,” she yelled and I could see she was standing with three other girls, none of them Patty. I cursed myself for my stupidity in coming to the park and slowly walked over to her and her friends.
“Did you get my shoes all polished for church?” she asked with that same sneering smile.
I answered, “yes I did Janice.” The other girls were now snickering. I knew one of them. It was Roberta Smith who was in my class at school. Janice introduced me to the two other girls, who were sisters.
“Larry, this is Brigitte and Becky Katzen, and you already know Roberta,” she said. “I told them how nice you were cleaning and polishing my shoes for me; Roberta said she’d like to have her shoes polished too.”
I looked down at Roberta’s feet and saw she was wearing a pair of brown leather loafers. Brigitte and Becky each had sneakers on, and so did Janice.
“You’d polish her shoes for her if I told you to, wouldn’t you?” asked Janice, “after all you’re my slave, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t believe it! She had promised not to tell if I did everything she said. Here she was, telling Roberta and two girls I’d never seen before, Brigitte and Becky, that I was her slave.
“You said you wouldn’t tell if I did what you wanted,” I stammered not knowing what else to say, and not wanting to admit that I was a slave. The minute I said it I knew the secret was out. Only her slave would say that she had promised not to tell such a thing.
“I didn’t tell; you did; now you are going to polish Roberta’s shoes or are we going to have to punish you?” Janice seemed almost to snarl as she threw this challenge in my face.
I whimpered and again felt a tear in my eye, “I’ll polish your shoes for you, Roberta.”
The girls led me to a picnic table, which they sat on, their butts on the table and their feet on the seat. Janice said, “do everything Roberta tells you to do and maybe I’ll let you serve Brigitte, and Becky too.”
Roberta was a known bitch. She yelled at boys all the time and called us dirty names. She had kicked Ron Carr in the balls because he bumped into her in the hall at school, and made her drop her books one time. Now I was going to polish her shoes; the shoes that had crippled Ron for hours at school. She looked at me, standing before her.
“Get down on your knees, at my feet and tell me what you are,” she said.
I looked at the other girls, searching for some sympathy, but there was none. I dropped to my knees before her and said, “I am your slave Mistress Roberta.”
“Polish my shoes, slave” and, as she said this, she tossed a white handkerchief on the ground. I picked it up and began rubbing the dust from her loafers. They really weren’t too dirty, but I rubbed them hard, wanting to do a good job so that she would let me stop. While I rubbed her shoes, Brigitte and Becky, who were on each side of Roberta, scooted closer to her and began putting their shoes in my face.
“Now he’s blind!” said Becky as she covered my eyes with her dirty sneaker. She wiped it on my forehead then pulled back, giggling. Brigitte pushed the toe of her sneaker against my lips and kept saying over and over again, “kiss my shoes, kiss my foot, kiss my shoes, kiss my foot.” I finally kissed it just to get her to stop. She just laughed and shoved the other shoe against my face and started over again, “kiss my foot, kiss my shoe” until I kissed that one too.
Finally Roberta’s shoes were cleaned and polished to her satisfaction. She made me kiss each one and thank her for the privilege of polishing her shoes. While I’d been busy with this task, I hadn’t noticed Patty coming up behind me with two of her friends, Maureen and Candy. Maureen was a very attractive brunette, and Candy was a fat redhead. I shuddered when I saw them standing there while I knelt there before the four girls on the picnic table.
Patty said, “so now everyone knows that our cousin Larry is our slave; he kisses our feet whenever we tell him too, isn’t that right Larry?”
I turned on my knees to face Patty and I could see the sneer on Candy’s face and the look of disbelief on Maureen’s. “Yes Mistress Patty,” I mumbled.
“Kiss my foot, Larry the slave,” said Patty and I crawled over to her and kissed each of her feet. I remained in front of her, on my knees, head pressed to the ground.
Seven girls, Patty, Maureen, Candy, Janice, Brigitte, Becky and Roberta, heard me say I was a slave and had seen me kissing shoes. My awful secret would never remain a secret now. Soon seventy, seven hundred, girls, boys, parents, teachers! I thought the whole world would know but, in fact, I was wrong. A few other kids found out at school but, to my knowledge, no parents ever found out.
Candy said, “we came here to play soccer; do you girls want to play?”
Janice answered, “sure, we four against you three, since you’re older. Larry will be your goalie and we’ll use Scotty Hanson as our’s.” Scotty was over on the field already.
They all started jogging over, and Janice walked over in front of me, and told me to get up and follow her. I did and ran behind her to the field. Maybe I would be spared more humiliation!
Scotty and I were placed at each end of the field, in front of a very small goal area. I could see the four younger girls at the other end with Scotty, who just kept nodding his head. Patty instructed me to not let Janice and her team score, or I would be “in for it.” Candy emphasized the “in for it” and said she might clean her shoes on my face if I didn’t play “tough.” I swore to do my best, and the girls all went to the center of the field to begin playing.
Scotty and I didn’t have much to do for a while. The ball kept going back and fourth between the two teams at the center of the field, until Brigitte let fly with a long kick toward our goal. Roberta was there and heading right toward me. I could hear Patty yelling “stop her” and I got ready to block her kick. She kicked the ball hard toward me when she was only about ten feet away and I knocked it away with my hands. Before I could turn around, she was on me, kicking her polished loafer into my balls. I fell to the ground, moaning in agony, with my hands between my legs. She just laughed and said, “let that be a lesson to you, boy; don’t ever block my shots!” All the girls were laughing like it was one of the funniest things they’d ever seen.
Patty, Maureen, and Candy called time-out and came over to me. I didn’t think I could stand up for a while, so they told me to just stay on the ground while they took care of Scotty Hanson. I thought to myself, why would they take care of poor Scotty? I was the one who got kicked by Roberta!
The girls took the ball back in bounds and started heading down field. I saw Patty whisper something to Janice. Janice pulled her team aside. No one was blocking the three bigger girls as they took the ball down to Scotty. What happened next brought on one of the most horrible sights I have ever seen! Scotty Hanson was to wind up in the hospital for a week, but he never blamed the girls for this.
All three girls ran at him as hard as they could. They just left the ball in the grass. They ran right into him, and big Candy knocked him flat on the ground. I heard him scream in pain “hey, you can’t do that!” The women kicked and kicked and kicked him. Finally, they stopped, and he just lay on his stomach crying. Patty walked back to the ball and kicked it into his face. She asked, “do you think you can block my kick, Scotty?” I couldn’t hear if he answered. She kicked the ball into the goal, and she, and her teammates, walked away. Scotty tried to get up, but as he did, he could see his own team, Janice, Brigitte, Becky, and Roberta, walking towards him.
I walked out into the backyard and saw no one. I wondered where they had gone, but I thought it would be best if I didn’t hang around here in their own yard, so I headed for the playground two blocks away. Bertram’s Park was an old playground and not a lot of its equipment was in very good repair. It did have a lot of trees so I figured that I could hide out until supper. No sooner did I enter the Park when I heard Janice. “Hey Larry come over here; I want to talk to you,” she yelled and I could see she was standing with three other girls, none of them Patty. I cursed myself for my stupidity in coming to the park and slowly walked over to her and her friends.
“Did you get my shoes all polished for church?” she asked with that same sneering smile.
I answered, “yes I did Janice.” The other girls were now snickering. I knew one of them. It was Roberta Smith who was in my class at school. Janice introduced me to the two other girls, who were sisters.
“Larry, this is Brigitte and Becky Katzen, and you already know Roberta,” she said. “I told them how nice you were cleaning and polishing my shoes for me; Roberta said she’d like to have her shoes polished too.”
I looked down at Roberta’s feet and saw she was wearing a pair of brown leather loafers. Brigitte and Becky each had sneakers on, and so did Janice.
“You’d polish her shoes for her if I told you to, wouldn’t you?” asked Janice, “after all you’re my slave, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t believe it! She had promised not to tell if I did everything she said. Here she was, telling Roberta and two girls I’d never seen before, Brigitte and Becky, that I was her slave.
“You said you wouldn’t tell if I did what you wanted,” I stammered not knowing what else to say, and not wanting to admit that I was a slave. The minute I said it I knew the secret was out. Only her slave would say that she had promised not to tell such a thing.
“I didn’t tell; you did; now you are going to polish Roberta’s shoes or are we going to have to punish you?” Janice seemed almost to snarl as she threw this challenge in my face.
I whimpered and again felt a tear in my eye, “I’ll polish your shoes for you, Roberta.”
The girls led me to a picnic table, which they sat on, their butts on the table and their feet on the seat. Janice said, “do everything Roberta tells you to do and maybe I’ll let you serve Brigitte, and Becky too.”
Roberta was a known bitch. She yelled at boys all the time and called us dirty names. She had kicked Ron Carr in the balls because he bumped into her in the hall at school, and made her drop her books one time. Now I was going to polish her shoes; the shoes that had crippled Ron for hours at school. She looked at me, standing before her.
“Get down on your knees, at my feet and tell me what you are,” she said.
I looked at the other girls, searching for some sympathy, but there was none. I dropped to my knees before her and said, “I am your slave Mistress Roberta.”
“Polish my shoes, slave” and, as she said this, she tossed a white handkerchief on the ground. I picked it up and began rubbing the dust from her loafers. They really weren’t too dirty, but I rubbed them hard, wanting to do a good job so that she would let me stop. While I rubbed her shoes, Brigitte and Becky, who were on each side of Roberta, scooted closer to her and began putting their shoes in my face.
“Now he’s blind!” said Becky as she covered my eyes with her dirty sneaker. She wiped it on my forehead then pulled back, giggling. Brigitte pushed the toe of her sneaker against my lips and kept saying over and over again, “kiss my shoes, kiss my foot, kiss my shoes, kiss my foot.” I finally kissed it just to get her to stop. She just laughed and shoved the other shoe against my face and started over again, “kiss my foot, kiss my shoe” until I kissed that one too.
Finally Roberta’s shoes were cleaned and polished to her satisfaction. She made me kiss each one and thank her for the privilege of polishing her shoes. While I’d been busy with this task, I hadn’t noticed Patty coming up behind me with two of her friends, Maureen and Candy. Maureen was a very attractive brunette, and Candy was a fat redhead. I shuddered when I saw them standing there while I knelt there before the four girls on the picnic table.
Patty said, “so now everyone knows that our cousin Larry is our slave; he kisses our feet whenever we tell him too, isn’t that right Larry?”
I turned on my knees to face Patty and I could see the sneer on Candy’s face and the look of disbelief on Maureen’s. “Yes Mistress Patty,” I mumbled.
“Kiss my foot, Larry the slave,” said Patty and I crawled over to her and kissed each of her feet. I remained in front of her, on my knees, head pressed to the ground.
Seven girls, Patty, Maureen, Candy, Janice, Brigitte, Becky and Roberta, heard me say I was a slave and had seen me kissing shoes. My awful secret would never remain a secret now. Soon seventy, seven hundred, girls, boys, parents, teachers! I thought the whole world would know but, in fact, I was wrong. A few other kids found out at school but, to my knowledge, no parents ever found out.
Candy said, “we came here to play soccer; do you girls want to play?”
Janice answered, “sure, we four against you three, since you’re older. Larry will be your goalie and we’ll use Scotty Hanson as our’s.” Scotty was over on the field already.
They all started jogging over, and Janice walked over in front of me, and told me to get up and follow her. I did and ran behind her to the field. Maybe I would be spared more humiliation!
Scotty and I were placed at each end of the field, in front of a very small goal area. I could see the four younger girls at the other end with Scotty, who just kept nodding his head. Patty instructed me to not let Janice and her team score, or I would be “in for it.” Candy emphasized the “in for it” and said she might clean her shoes on my face if I didn’t play “tough.” I swore to do my best, and the girls all went to the center of the field to begin playing.
Scotty and I didn’t have much to do for a while. The ball kept going back and fourth between the two teams at the center of the field, until Brigitte let fly with a long kick toward our goal. Roberta was there and heading right toward me. I could hear Patty yelling “stop her” and I got ready to block her kick. She kicked the ball hard toward me when she was only about ten feet away and I knocked it away with my hands. Before I could turn around, she was on me, kicking her polished loafer into my balls. I fell to the ground, moaning in agony, with my hands between my legs. She just laughed and said, “let that be a lesson to you, boy; don’t ever block my shots!” All the girls were laughing like it was one of the funniest things they’d ever seen.
Patty, Maureen, and Candy called time-out and came over to me. I didn’t think I could stand up for a while, so they told me to just stay on the ground while they took care of Scotty Hanson. I thought to myself, why would they take care of poor Scotty? I was the one who got kicked by Roberta!
The girls took the ball back in bounds and started heading down field. I saw Patty whisper something to Janice. Janice pulled her team aside. No one was blocking the three bigger girls as they took the ball down to Scotty. What happened next brought on one of the most horrible sights I have ever seen! Scotty Hanson was to wind up in the hospital for a week, but he never blamed the girls for this.
All three girls ran at him as hard as they could. They just left the ball in the grass. They ran right into him, and big Candy knocked him flat on the ground. I heard him scream in pain “hey, you can’t do that!” The women kicked and kicked and kicked him. Finally, they stopped, and he just lay on his stomach crying. Patty walked back to the ball and kicked it into his face. She asked, “do you think you can block my kick, Scotty?” I couldn’t hear if he answered. She kicked the ball into the goal, and she, and her teammates, walked away. Scotty tried to get up, but as he did, he could see his own team, Janice, Brigitte, Becky, and Roberta, walking towards him.