aussiefootslave
03-01-2003, 1:27 PM
“We better get downstairs,” she said, “but first, there’s one more little thing to do; bring that snack bowl closer.”
I did as she said and put the snack bowl on the floor before her. She immediately put her feet in the bowl and started rubbing them all over the snacks Mrs. B had made. Snacks spilled from the bowl as she dug her feet down to the snacks on the bottom. She gave every snack in the bowl a touch of her grimy feet and made me put the ones that had spilled on the floor back in the bowl.
“That should be real tasty for a foot pervert like you,” she said. “Now open your coke; I want you to pour it over my feet and let it drip off my toes into your glass.” She looked haughty as she said this.
I opened the coke and held the glass under her foot. She extended her toes into the glass and I slowly poured the soda over her dirty foot. It ran down her instep to her toes and into my glass like a beautiful waterfall. It ran down the sides and bottom of her foot to her toes and into my waiting glass. When the bottle of coke was about half empty, she made me stop while she switched feet. I poured the rest of the soda over her other foot and I saw bits of foot dirt and Mrs. B’s snacks join with the coke and drip into my glass.
When it was done, she made me dry both of her feet using a towel she had already brought from the bathroom. I was surprised and disappointed that she didn’t have me lick her feet clean, but I did as she ordered.
She stood up and began undressing, taking off her blouse, bra, skirt and panties. I just knelt there with my mouth open. She was young and beautiful. Her breasts were getting big and were very firm, her stomach was flat and milky white, her pussy was covered in hair and smelled sweet, her butt was round and firm and, as I knew from earlier experience, tasted like heaven. She pulled on pajama pants and a loose shirt and sat back down on the bed and pointed to the floor over by the closet.
She made me fetch her slippers and put them on for her and then we both went downstairs. She hadn’t let me kiss her feet and I wondered what she had in mind. I carried the foot-soiled bowl of snacks and the coke that had bathed her feet.
When we got to the family room her father and mother were already watching TV and munching. Janice took the last available seat and I put my things on the floor near her feet. She ordered me, “Be a good boy and go and get me a bowl of clean snacks” and she snickered, “and a coke from the kitchen Larry.”
Mr. B just went on watching the tube, as if he hadn’t heard a word and Mrs. B said, “Yes, be a good boy Larry.” What did she mean? Did she know what was going on? I thought not and that she was just repeating what she heard. I went to the kitchen and fetched for Janice.
When I got back, I put her stuff on the end table beside her and sat on the floor by my stuff at her feet. We all watched the show and I didn’t eat or drink any of my stuff. At the first commercial, Mrs. B asked, “What’s wrong Larry, aren’t you hungry; don’t you like those snacks?” She sounded a little hurt that I might not like the snacks she had made. Of course, she didn’t know that Janice had added her own flavoring to the snacks in my bowl.
Before I could say anything, Janice spoke up, “Geez mom, leave little Larry alone; he loves this kind of food; don’t you Larry?”
I answered, “Yes” and almost said, “Mistress Janice” but caught myself in time.
“Dig in Larry,” said Janice and she pushed the bowl closer to me with her slipper.
I began to eat the foot-flavored snacks. They really didn’t taste any different than snacks that hadn’t been rubbed by feet. Of course, they were in smaller pieces having been broken when blessed by her feet. I took a drink of the footbath coke too. Mrs. B seemed satisfied and Janice was loving it. She actually giggled as I ate and drank.
When the show started again, all eyes were back on the TV and I noticed, as I reached into my snack bowl, that Janice had slipped off her slippers and was resting one of her feet in my bowl. I looked up at her and found her staring down at me as she mouthed, “Eat slave.”
I obeyed and took bits of chex, pretzels, and peanuts that were touching her dirty foot. I fantasized that I was privileged to eat from the foot bowl of some great queen. I imagined that the food carried the flavor of her magnificent, royal feet. I sipped the coke that had splashed over those feet. I was eating as hard as a rock.
During commercials, Janice would remove her foot from my bowl. If anyone, besides me, had actually looked at her foot, they could have seen bits of snack stuck to it. Sometimes she would dip her toes into my coke glass and then wipe them on my shoulder near my face. I could see the droplets of coke clinging to the tops of her beautiful toes and wished I could lick them off for her.
I have no clear idea of what it was that we were supposed to be watching on TV. I could only watch and think of Janice’s feet.
After more than an hour of this, the phone rang and Mrs. B got up to answer it. She soon called, “Larry it’s for you; it’s Maureen.”
I got up and went to the phone in the kitchen and Mrs. B went back to the family room. “Hello,” I said.
“Is this Larry?” asked Maureen. Her voice was silky and she sounded super sexy.
I said, “Yes, this is Larry; is this Maureen?”
“Call me Mistress Maureen, you little dirt bag slave,” she answered, and I knew her and Patty had planned something. Patty was probably on another line at Maureen’s. No sooner did I think of that that Patty made her presence known.
“Tell Maureen how you gave me some French kisses on my butt,” said Patty.
I could hear both girl’s giggling and Maureen asked, “Did you slave?”
I whispered, “Yes, Mistress Maureen, I French kissed Mistress Patty’s butt.” I could feel my cheeks turn red as I admitted what I had done.
“Did you like it slave?” asked Patty. I hesitated not wanting to say anything but Maureen insisted, “well, slave boy answer; did you like to kiss Patty’s butt.” I answered that I had.
“Would you like to French kiss my butt too?” asked Maureen and I answered that I would.
“He licks pussy too,” said Patty and Maureen asked me if that was true and I, of course, answered that it was and that I liked French kissing girl’s butts and pussies and being a lowly slave.
They made me recite my humiliation over and over, while they laughed, snickered, and giggled. I had to say, “My name is Larry Ranson and I am a pervert; I long to kiss girl’s feet and lick girl’s butts; I wish I could be a lowly slave to all girls for the rest of my life; I know I am not worthy to kiss a girl’s foot or butt, but I beg all girls to let me lick their feet and butts; I will gladly give everything I own and be a slave forever….” And so on.
I did as she said and put the snack bowl on the floor before her. She immediately put her feet in the bowl and started rubbing them all over the snacks Mrs. B had made. Snacks spilled from the bowl as she dug her feet down to the snacks on the bottom. She gave every snack in the bowl a touch of her grimy feet and made me put the ones that had spilled on the floor back in the bowl.
“That should be real tasty for a foot pervert like you,” she said. “Now open your coke; I want you to pour it over my feet and let it drip off my toes into your glass.” She looked haughty as she said this.
I opened the coke and held the glass under her foot. She extended her toes into the glass and I slowly poured the soda over her dirty foot. It ran down her instep to her toes and into my glass like a beautiful waterfall. It ran down the sides and bottom of her foot to her toes and into my waiting glass. When the bottle of coke was about half empty, she made me stop while she switched feet. I poured the rest of the soda over her other foot and I saw bits of foot dirt and Mrs. B’s snacks join with the coke and drip into my glass.
When it was done, she made me dry both of her feet using a towel she had already brought from the bathroom. I was surprised and disappointed that she didn’t have me lick her feet clean, but I did as she ordered.
She stood up and began undressing, taking off her blouse, bra, skirt and panties. I just knelt there with my mouth open. She was young and beautiful. Her breasts were getting big and were very firm, her stomach was flat and milky white, her pussy was covered in hair and smelled sweet, her butt was round and firm and, as I knew from earlier experience, tasted like heaven. She pulled on pajama pants and a loose shirt and sat back down on the bed and pointed to the floor over by the closet.
She made me fetch her slippers and put them on for her and then we both went downstairs. She hadn’t let me kiss her feet and I wondered what she had in mind. I carried the foot-soiled bowl of snacks and the coke that had bathed her feet.
When we got to the family room her father and mother were already watching TV and munching. Janice took the last available seat and I put my things on the floor near her feet. She ordered me, “Be a good boy and go and get me a bowl of clean snacks” and she snickered, “and a coke from the kitchen Larry.”
Mr. B just went on watching the tube, as if he hadn’t heard a word and Mrs. B said, “Yes, be a good boy Larry.” What did she mean? Did she know what was going on? I thought not and that she was just repeating what she heard. I went to the kitchen and fetched for Janice.
When I got back, I put her stuff on the end table beside her and sat on the floor by my stuff at her feet. We all watched the show and I didn’t eat or drink any of my stuff. At the first commercial, Mrs. B asked, “What’s wrong Larry, aren’t you hungry; don’t you like those snacks?” She sounded a little hurt that I might not like the snacks she had made. Of course, she didn’t know that Janice had added her own flavoring to the snacks in my bowl.
Before I could say anything, Janice spoke up, “Geez mom, leave little Larry alone; he loves this kind of food; don’t you Larry?”
I answered, “Yes” and almost said, “Mistress Janice” but caught myself in time.
“Dig in Larry,” said Janice and she pushed the bowl closer to me with her slipper.
I began to eat the foot-flavored snacks. They really didn’t taste any different than snacks that hadn’t been rubbed by feet. Of course, they were in smaller pieces having been broken when blessed by her feet. I took a drink of the footbath coke too. Mrs. B seemed satisfied and Janice was loving it. She actually giggled as I ate and drank.
When the show started again, all eyes were back on the TV and I noticed, as I reached into my snack bowl, that Janice had slipped off her slippers and was resting one of her feet in my bowl. I looked up at her and found her staring down at me as she mouthed, “Eat slave.”
I obeyed and took bits of chex, pretzels, and peanuts that were touching her dirty foot. I fantasized that I was privileged to eat from the foot bowl of some great queen. I imagined that the food carried the flavor of her magnificent, royal feet. I sipped the coke that had splashed over those feet. I was eating as hard as a rock.
During commercials, Janice would remove her foot from my bowl. If anyone, besides me, had actually looked at her foot, they could have seen bits of snack stuck to it. Sometimes she would dip her toes into my coke glass and then wipe them on my shoulder near my face. I could see the droplets of coke clinging to the tops of her beautiful toes and wished I could lick them off for her.
I have no clear idea of what it was that we were supposed to be watching on TV. I could only watch and think of Janice’s feet.
After more than an hour of this, the phone rang and Mrs. B got up to answer it. She soon called, “Larry it’s for you; it’s Maureen.”
I got up and went to the phone in the kitchen and Mrs. B went back to the family room. “Hello,” I said.
“Is this Larry?” asked Maureen. Her voice was silky and she sounded super sexy.
I said, “Yes, this is Larry; is this Maureen?”
“Call me Mistress Maureen, you little dirt bag slave,” she answered, and I knew her and Patty had planned something. Patty was probably on another line at Maureen’s. No sooner did I think of that that Patty made her presence known.
“Tell Maureen how you gave me some French kisses on my butt,” said Patty.
I could hear both girl’s giggling and Maureen asked, “Did you slave?”
I whispered, “Yes, Mistress Maureen, I French kissed Mistress Patty’s butt.” I could feel my cheeks turn red as I admitted what I had done.
“Did you like it slave?” asked Patty. I hesitated not wanting to say anything but Maureen insisted, “well, slave boy answer; did you like to kiss Patty’s butt.” I answered that I had.
“Would you like to French kiss my butt too?” asked Maureen and I answered that I would.
“He licks pussy too,” said Patty and Maureen asked me if that was true and I, of course, answered that it was and that I liked French kissing girl’s butts and pussies and being a lowly slave.
They made me recite my humiliation over and over, while they laughed, snickered, and giggled. I had to say, “My name is Larry Ranson and I am a pervert; I long to kiss girl’s feet and lick girl’s butts; I wish I could be a lowly slave to all girls for the rest of my life; I know I am not worthy to kiss a girl’s foot or butt, but I beg all girls to let me lick their feet and butts; I will gladly give everything I own and be a slave forever….” And so on.