A Fem Dom Experience by ROMMEL
I had been visiting Madam Lisa for about 4 months, generally every second weekend in the month. Madam Lisa was an excellent practitioner of the art of female domination, and had several slaves who she saw on a fairly regular basis. She didn't charge for her services, her reward came in the total subjugation of the male animal, and in this respect she was very adept.
I found her through an ad. In "Mistress Inc." - a monthly magazine devoted to female domination, and well worth a subscription for anyone in to that sort of thing. Her reply to my letter left me in no doubt that here was a lady who took this particular scene very seriously. When I visited her, usually for a 24 hour period, I had to submit myself totally to her ministrations. Anything she demanded she got. Any refusal on my part would mean instant dismissal from her service and no amount of pleading would reverse the decision. So far, I had accepted her demands willingly : much oral worship, foot licking, a little trampling and various menial tasks around the house. Of these, my favourite was the laundering of her undergarments. Her dirty linen basket was a virtual treasure trove to the appreciator of such things. Stockings, tights and a range of panties that took the breath away. There were usually about 14 day's worth of items that needed washing, and I relished the task.
At this point I suppose I had better describe Madam Lisa, a lady who catered to my desires so expertly. She was no spring chicken. I would think she was about 40 years old, but had kept her shape remarkably well. She might have been a few pounds overweight, but this just added to her voluptuousness. Her hair was black with the first few strands of grey beginning to show through, and generally it was tied back in quite a severe bun. In all the time I knew her, I never saw her without hosiery on her legs. Tights, stockings - she owned a huge selection, and took great pleasure in varying her attire day by day. Being a devoted nylon fan, this pleased me greatly and I spent many a happy hour lying at her feet as she watched TV and rubbed her nyloned soles over my face.
All this was to change. Madam Lisa had a side to her that I had never imagined. Her dominant demands so far had been exactly what I had always longed for in a superior lady. Towards the end of a heavenly weekend I was knelt on the floor between her legs, giving devoted oral service to her glorious inner sanctum, when she suddenly squeezed her thighs hard against my head and spoke to me, quite casually. "I want you here next weekend too. I know you're not due, but I'm having a party for some lady friends of mine, and you'd be ideal to act as waiter and general factotum. I'll expect you Friday afternoon about 3 PM to get things ready." Notice there were no ifs and buts, no can you, can't you about it. She had spoken, and there was an end to the matter. As it was, I didn't mind. I had no plans for the weekend, and I thought it would be interesting to meet some lady friends of this glorious creature. I thought it would probably prove to be a fascinating experience. Little did I know!!
The following Friday I arrived on time, wearing a crisp white shirt and black trousers that Madam had decreed as being in keeping with my station as waiter. I prepared a buffet and set out an impressive array of drinks that would have impressed the most devoted tippler. Just before 7 PM when the guests were due to start arriving, I got my first inkling that this weekend was going to be a bit different from my assumptions.
"Right," said Madam, "As soon as the bell rings, I want you flat on your face behind the door. You're going to act as doormat for my friends. Apart from keeping the street dirt off my carpet, it will also give them an indication of just how much under my control you are. You will just lie there quite still and let them wipe their feet on you. And don't dare complain, not then, and not for the rest of the party or you'll wish you had never been born."
I gulped a bit at this announcement. Lisa had never been quite this aggressive before. The first few pangs of doubt began to creep in. Maybe this weekend wasn't such a good idea - from my point of view, that is. And then the doorbell rang!
"Go on, get your useless body down there where it can do some good. NOW!" With that, Lisa pushed me violently towards the front door where I hastily assumed the position, lying on my face to act as a doormat. Lisa opened the door and from the shouts of welcome, I gathered there were three guests waiting to come in.
"Come on in girls," said this new aggressive Madam, "let me introduce you to my doormat. Stand on his back and wipe your feet well, I've got a new carpet and it's raining out."
I heard the women laughing, and suddenly my breath was expelled in a whoosh as a pair of high heeled shoes clambered on to my back and began using it just like a doormat. Whoever this woman was, she was damned heavy, and her stiletto heels hurt like hell. Her voice came from above me.
"Do you know, I've never done this before, treading on a man that is. Do we get to do anything else to him while we're here?"
I heard Lisa chuckle. "Oh Christ yes, you're going to LOVE this party, and this pig's going to think his time has come. Believe it."
Another pair of feet was on my back now, flat soles this time, which eased the discomfort somewhat, but this lady was just as heavy. Suddenly, her shoe was on the back of my head, forcing my face into the carpet.
"I've always wanted to trample a man, but I've never had the opportunity until now. Lisa, you are something else. Where did you get him from?" The feet stepped down, to be replaced by another pair. More bloody high heels, and if anything, these were sharper than the first pair. They dug in cruelly, right at the base of my spine. You understand, at this point I hadn't even seen the owners of these feet. My face was pushed into the carpet, but I must admit my curiosity was aroused and, I have to tell you, I had a bit of an erection.
The wiping finished, the ladies retired to the lounge and I started to get up. "Stay down." Came Lisa's sharp voice, "There's one more to come and she'll be here any minute."
With a barely audible sigh, I lay down again. I STILL hadn't seen who'd been treading on me, and the suspense was killing me. Perhaps they were real beauties. There again, they might be real dogs, but what the hell, if you enjoy a bit of trampling it doesn't really matter what the woman looks like, so long as she hasn't got fat ankles. God, I hate fat ankles.
I was pondering this when the doorbell rang again. Lisa came out of the lounge to open the door, casually stepping on my back as she did so. She opened it, and a booming voice filled the room. "Lisa, you bitch, how long's it been? Must be all of two years. Can't wait to get aquainted with this male piece of shit you're providing for us. Where is he?"
"Hello Bessie. I'm really glad you could come. I wouldn't have wanted you to miss this. He's down there, you're supposed to wipe your feet on him." Lisa spoke happily, obviously she had a high regard for this latest arrival. I felt less enamoured, from her voice she sounded like a female bouncer, recently employed by a downmarket Lesbo club and sacked for undue physical intimidation. I wasn't far wrong as it turned out!
"Well hello" the voice boomed out, "You and I are going to get to know each other real well. And I mean REAL WELL." And with those somewhat disconcerting words ringing in my ears, an immense weight suddenly crushed my body, expelling every last bit of air out of my tortured lungs. What felt like two mating elephants began walking up and down my spine. I couldn't scream, I couldn't protest, my lungs felt flat and I couldn't even BREATHE.
"Come on Bessie" I heard Lisa say, "Don't crush him to death, at least not yet. He's got a lot of entertaining to do this evening. You can have fun with him later."
"Yeah, later man, I'm going to see YOU later," came the corncrake voice, and the paralysing weight left my back to my immense relief. They moved to the lounge and I pondered that last snippet of conversation. "At least not yet?" Had I heard that right? Time to go man. There's the door, scarper while the going's good. But the going wasn't good. Suddenly a hand like a 32 ounce steak grabbed me by the collar and hauled me to my feet.
"Weren't getting ideas about leaving us were you? Old Bessie's got plans for you a bit later, so come on in the lounge and join the fun." And I saw her for the first time, and my God, she was immense. She was also black! I suddenly realised I had just had at least twenty stone cavorting on my back. Her face was pleasant enough, with prominent cheekbones, a high forehead and, I swear to God, the ultimate cliché. A colourful bandanna encased her head, hiding her hair completely. She wore a loose sarong type dress that came down to her knees, bronze coloured stockings or pantyhose - I couldn't tell which, and large, clumpy, open toed sandals through which her scarlet painted toenails were visible through her hose. She was a BIG lady, but not unattractive, and, I was to find out, her bark was worse than her bite. She looked about 40 years old.
Holding me by the scruff of the neck, she marched me in to the lounge. "Good thing I went back," she announced cheerfully, "I think he suddenly got cold feet, and before we've had any fun too."
I looked at the other guests then. Not a beauty amongst them. Two of them, ( Sheila and Bev, I subsequently found out) were both slightly overweight examples of the female form. They were quite plain without being ugly. Both of them about 45 years old, well dressed in skirts and blouses, and both of them with decent legs thank God. (I HATE fat ankles, did I tell you that?) One wore high heeled red pumps and the other had on a pair of flat walking shoes.
The last guest, (Agnes) was as thin as a rake. She looked about 35, with a sharp face and an expression that seemed to indicate she had an unsavoury smell permanently under her nose. She wore glasses. Her legs were thin, but, again, they had curves in the right places, and these were emphasised by the very high heels she wore. These were black to match the shiny black hose that, I have to admit, really suited her. I was to find out that she was not a very nice lady. Of them all, however, she was to leave a most distinct lasting impression on me.
So, there I was, held ignominiously by the scruff of my neck by a 6 foot black lady and being stared at by the other three guests with expressions that boded no good at all. Madam Lisa took charge then. She stepped over to Bessie and gently removed me from that iron grip. "Down on all fours," she said, "Let's introduce you to my guests." She straddled my back and dug her heels in to my thighs. "Over to the couch" she said, "And you'll meet the ladies with the respect they deserve."
"I crawled over to the couch where the three women sat, Lisa's weight bearing down on me like a jockey walking a horse after a big race. I stopped in front of the first one. "This is Sheila. Sheila, this is Thing, say hello to him in a suitable fashion." Sheila looked a little perplexed. "Do something to him for God's sake." "Such as?" said Sheila, plainly puzzled. "Whatever you want. Make him kiss your foot, spit on him, kick him. Anything to show your superiority. God, you'll never make a DOM." Sheila's face lit up. "Oh, I see what you mean. Let's have him smell my foot." She removed her flat walking shoe and held up her nyloned sole, pushing it into my face with not a little force. "Go on, smell it. Let me see you breathe deep Thing. It's all you're good for." Actually, I didn't mind this sort of thing at all. Womens' stockinged feet have always entranced me, so I buried my nose between her toes willingly. They smelled divine, not pungent, but with that somewhat sweet essence that only womens' feet have. She wriggled her toes and grasped my nose with them, obviously enjoying this as much as I was.
"Alright, that's enough," said Lisa, digging her heels in again, "Now it's Bev's turn." Sheila removed her foot from my face, somewhat reluctantly, I thought, and I moved over to Bev. Close up, I could see that Bev had a bit of a cold. Her nose was red, and she was constantly wiping it with a tissue from her purse. As I stopped in front of her, she turned away with a muttered "Excuse me" but Lisa stepped right in. "If you're going to sneeze, give him the benefit, maybe he'll get the flu." Bev paused and suddenly smiled. "Right," she said with a sudden intake of breath, and exploded a huge sneeze full in my face from about 12 inches away. I recoiled, but Lisa urged me forward again. "No you don't. There might be another." And there was. In fact there were two, in quick succession, splattering my face with saliva containing God knew what germs.
Everyone thought this immensely funny as Lisa rode me over to Agnes. I looked at this severe lady with some trepidation. Actually, she wasn't laughing. She was staring at me with something that looked almost akin to hate. Why? What had she against me? I stopped in front of her and she slowly removed her shoe. "Kiss my foot too," she murmered, and lifted up that black silky sole for my attention. I buried my nose in it and inhaled deeply. Oh, it was good, certainly sweaty from its confinement in those restricting leather shoes, but not overly so. I pushed my nose in even deeper when, without warning, she drew back her foot and then rammed it full in my face with all the force she could muster. I reeled back, almost unseating Lisa, who cried out.
"The bastard was enjoying it," snarled Agnes. "He's not supposed to do that. WE'RE the ones supposed to enjoy it." "Steady on Agnes" said Lisa. "He does enjoy some of this stuff, that's why he's here. You should just make the most of it and revel in humiliating him. The chance doesn't come very often."
Agnes sat back, pulling on her shoe. "I doubt very much if he's going to enjoy me," she muttered, and I felt a pang of fear lance through me. This was a lady to watch out for, and yet, and yet, the thought gave me a definite thrill, somewhere deep down in my psyche. This was also a lady who, with her pinched haughty face, I could give myself to completely.
Now it was Bessie's turn. She was still standing, and Lisa rode me over to her. Bessie smiled down. "Let me introduce myself Thing," she said, "I'm Bessie, now kiss this." With that, she slightly squatted, lifted up her sarong, revealing tight red panties beneath her nyloned gusset, and, with both hands behind my head, pulled my face deep in to her snatch. An overwhelming smell of womanhood immediately assailed me as her hands pressed me deeper and deeper.
"You like?" she whispered, as I squirmed, fighting for air. "It's a bit confined now, but later we'll do it in its natural state, and I guarantee you'll LOVE that. Never mind Agnes, she just hates men, but we all have to do our thing, and I just LOVE men's faces in my crutch."
Lisa backed me off, my face moist and perspiring from a combination of sweat, the dampness of Bessie's groin, and traces of Bev's saliva.
"Right, that's the introductions made, now go and fix us a drink." said Lisa as she climbed from my back. I made to stand up, but Lisa's pointed toe thudded into my side. "NO, on your hands and knees you animal. In our presence you NEVER stand upright. Got that?" I nodded weakly and crawled over to the drinks cabinet. How the hell was I going to fix drinks AND carry them, if I wasn't allowed to stand up? This point obviously occurred to Lisa too, because she sniggered and called after me, "Alright, stand to make them and bring them over, then get down on your belly."
This duty done, and the ladies all supplied with drinks, I lay down on the carpet as unobtrusively as possible. Sheila said "Why don't we use him as a footrest." This came as no surprise to me at all. Sheila definitely had a thing about me and her feet. Probably one of her erogenous zones was located there. One she'd just discovered tonight.
The ladies pulled up chairs around me, and placed their shod feet anywhere that suited them. Sheila kicked HER shoes off and placed herself with the best access to my face. Her warm perfumed soles fastened on my face and I gave in to their magic. Slyly, I began to lick between the stockinged toes, and I swear I heard a sigh from above. This moment of magic was soon curtailed as Bessie's size twelves made themselves felt. She had them on my belly and, even sitting down, the heels dug into my abdomen, the weight of her legs alone almost too much for my slender form. Then another problem. I recognised Agnes' slim black legs above me, and her sharp stiletto heels settled on my throat. "Uh Oh" I thought," I'm in big trouble. This is going to hurt." And by God, it did! She skewered those heels deep into my neck until I moaned in agony. I think Sheila thought I was moaning in ecstacy because she pressed her toes harder to my nose and ground them about. I tried to respond, but the pain from Agnes' heels was too much. Later, I found she'd penetrated the skin and drawn blood. I was hardly aware of the other four feet on my body, although I had the sensation of somebody treading my genital area. Fortunately, this sadistic demonstration from Agnes was curtailed when Bessie suddenly spoke up gleefully.
"OK, everybody out of the way, I've got a little present for him." Chairs were moved back and the pressure of the feet on my body was suddenly removed. My eyes, which had been screwed shut in agony, opened, to see the vast form of Bessie descending on my face, the loom of her red panty crotch about twelve inches above me. She was facing my feet, and her ass settled on my face with a distinctive oomph from my surprised mouth. The world was blotted out entirely, and I struggled to breathe as my nose was forced deep in to her rectum.
"He's going to love this," I dimly heard from above me, and the next second her ass cheeks vibrated as she let go with a huge rasping fart. The stinking gas penetrated my nose, it went in my gasping mouth, and, I have to say, nearly rendered me unconscious. I struggled and squirmed but there was no escape from those immense buttocks. They pinned me firmly to the floor so that I was totally immobile. The stench was incredible. Think of the worst fart you have ever experienced, multiply its toxicity by a factor of five and you'll begin to get the idea! I heard the other ladies squealing in simulated horror, "Oh Bessie, you dirty bitch. That is GROSS!" "God, it's EVIL." "For Christ's sake open a window." Bessie laughed. "Sorry girls, it's that spicy gumbo I had for lunch. It always makes me fart like that. I bet he liked it though - didn't you?" She wriggled her ass, looking for a response, but I was incapable of anything. I felt nauseous. The stink persisted, and my nose was right at the core. Then, disaster - "Uh oh, here comes another, once I start I can't stop. Still, better out than in eh?" And she farted again. This was simply too much. I desperately tried to move my nose aside from that noxious hole, but bessie's weight defeated me. My nose was imprisoned as though in a vice, and my mouth, of necessity, was open for air. The air it got, however, I could have done without.
Muffled comments from the ladies filtered down to me, and I was dimly aware of the windows being opened. What I wouldn't have given to jump through one - even from the third floor, anything to escape those debilitating farts. I lost count, but I think she did it two or three times more, by which time I was totally out of it. Then, at last, the crushing weight left my face and I was able to breathe some relatively clean air. I say relatively because the room was still redolent of second hand gumbo, but it was a positive relief after what I'd just experienced. Bessie smiled down at me.
"How'd you like old Bessie's cooking then. Tasty was it?" I just lay there, totally incapable of any response. I think I'd aged ten years. Agnes spoke up. "You know, that's given me an idea. Why don't we all shit on him? We could do it in his mouth and watch him chew it."
Lisa, may her name be preserved for ever in The Book Of Light, came straight back. "Not in my house we don't. It'll stink the place out, and Bessie's already given us an example of overkill on that score. If you want to shit on him, wait until he comes to visit YOU."
Agnes smiled. "He wouldn't dare visit me" - and she was right. And yet, and yet, that nagging little voice deep down whispered "Would you dare? Why not? Imagine being under the total control of a woman like that, with that sharp face and those thin black stockinged legs. Something to remember." Yeah" I answered it. "IF I got a chance to remember it." This disturbing little private conversation within myself came to an abrupt end when Lisa said, "We could all piss on him. How about that?" Squeals of delight greeted this suggestion, and Bessie said "Good idea, I've got a bladder full." So, apparently had everyone else, which wasn't surprising after the drinking they'd been doing. I started to worry. I wouldn't mind one woman pissing on me, but FIVE? I began to think I was in BIG trouble again, and I wasn't wrong.
Lisa said thoughtfully, "We'll do it down here I think." "And what about the bloody carpet?" came back Sheila. "Don't worry about that," Lisa said positively, "I've got an idea. YOU - Thing, strip off completely and go and fetch your jacket and topcoat from the hall."
"Oh Boy, here we go" I thought, but had no choice but to comply. I stripped off, and piled all my clothes in a thick heap in the middle of the room at Lisa's direction. Then I lay down on my back, with my head on the pile, looking up. Lisa looked down with satisfaction. We'll have him drink as much as he can, but the overflow will just run on to his clothes. It wont get on to the carpet. Right, who's first?"
My Nemesis then spoke up. " Let's not do it one at a time, let's do it all at once. He'll nearly drown that way. It'll be funny to see." Everyone agreed with Agnes's prognosis, and they all gathered around my head and shoulders looking down. Bessie took a back seat. There simply wasn't room for her. She would have the distinction of using me as a toilet all by herself. The four other ladies stood above me in a rough square, and all raised their dresses, pulled down their pantyhose, and moved their pantie gussets to one side. Then they slightly squatted, and concentrated. Their timing was immaculate, they all seemed to start at once. I had a quick impression of them all pulling their labia lips apart, the better to direct the flow, and four strong gushers of pee hit me in the face simultaneously. I heard Lisa say, "Open that mouth, drink it, as much as you can. If you don't I'll let Bessie shit on you." Jesus! My mouth opened like the Grand Canyon and four streams of warm piss immediately filled it. I gulped, swallowed, gulped, swallowed, but couldn't cope with the volume. The overflow ran in waves down my chin and neck to be soaked up by my pile of clothes. I only bought the bloody jacket the week before, but that was the least of my worries. Somebody, (had to be Agnes) directed her flow in to my nostrils, and I began to choke. The piss went straight down my throat and I began coughing and spluttering. It made no difference. They kept on peeing, mouth, nose, eyes, until I really thought I WAS drowning. Fortunately, they couldn't keep it up, and the streams gradually died away. I turned on to my front and buried my head in my soaked clothing, trying to drain my nostrils of the burning pee. I could hear them laughing above me. "Go on Bessie, your turn," said Lisa, but again came the voice of doom. "Wait a minute," said Agnes, "Let's give Bessie something to wash off. Let's all spit on him." "God , Agnes, you do have some good ideas," said Lisa admiringly. "Let's do exactly that." And with that she kicked me over on to my back, knelt on my chest, and spat full into my already soaking face. She did this several times, then forced my mouth open with her hand, and from about twelve inches above, drooled a long string of saliva into my already violated mouth.
They all took it in turn, kneeling on my chest and spitting great gobs of saliva that covered my face and filled my mouth when they drooled it. Bev, the one with the cold, managed to hawk up a couple of gobbets of pure phlegm that clung to my face like glue, one of them gumming my left eye shut.
"OK, that's about it," said Agnes after ten or so minutes. "You wash it all off now Bessie."
"About bloody time too," said Bessie, "I'm busting to go. She didn't stand above as the others had done. Instead, she knelt above my face, her great hairy pussy about six inches from my mouth. "First, I'll clean you up," she said. "Then I'm going to feed it to you bit by bit so that you get to drink it all. I have great muscular control, and we'll try to see that you don't waste a drop. Your clothes are soaked enough anyway." Then she began to pee, playing the stream all over my face for a few seconds, until all the spit and phlegm had washed away.
"Now you get to drink," she said, "Keep that mouth open all the time, I'm going to feed you." I opened my mouth wide, (ANYTHING so she wouldn't shit on me) A short burst of warm piss filled it, and I swallowed dutifully. Then another burst, it was as she'd said, her muscular control was superb. It went on for about two minutes, piss, swallow, piss, swallow, until my belly felt overloaded, and my throat burned from the relentless bursts of pungent piss it was forced to accommodate. Eventually, of course, it came to an end, and Bessie stood up, re-adjusting her gusset as she did so.
"That was very well done," she said. "I don't think you wasted a drop. I'll let you have some more soon."
"Oh, we'll ALL let him have some more," said Lisa happily. "For the rest of the night he's our toilet. When you want to go, just order him on to his pissy clothes and give it to him." There were murmers of agreement from the ladies, and they all replenished their drinks to guarantee a continuous supply. Then they left me alone for a short while as they got down to some typical woman style gossip. I just lay there, too drained to move, and fighting waves of nausea that threatened to make a mess of the new carpet if they came to fruition. If I was sick, God knew what revenge Lisa would take. The ever present threat of Bessie's gumbo loomed in my mind. I resolved NOT to be sick.
Speaking of Bessie, I noticed she was drinking glasses of lager as if there was no tomorrow. No doubt I would get the benefit in due course. However, there seemed to be no real malice in the woman. She had expressed no desire to hurt me, only humiliation. I supposed I could live with that. Agnes, of course, was a different kettle of fish entirely. After about fifteen minutes of peace, and having just about got my guts under control, Agnes got up and strolled over to me.
"I think I'll kick him a bit," she said to the others. "Don't want him to feel neglected do we?" She looked down and studied me before casually landing a heavy kick to my ribs. I winced, and rolled over on to my side. Another kick followed to the small of my back, and I gasped in agony. She began slowly pacing around me, landing a kick here, a kick there, and a couple of hard stomps to straighten me out from my protective foetal positions. Those high heel shoes with their pointed toes really hurt, and yet there was an almost sexual pleasure in being so helpless and at the mercy of so vindictive a woman. I gave in to the feeling completely, and at some stage I found myself offering my unprotected abdomen , inviting her to do her worst. I think she was aware of my total subjugation to her, and she relished it. Her small, but deadly foot crashed into my body time and time again until I was finally forced to plead with her to stop. She smiled down at me and slowly lowered her foot towards my face. The sharp heel forced itself into my mouth and she began remorselessly grinding it about until I could taste blood. Lisa finally intervened.
"OK Lisa, give it a rest now, save some of him for us, we don't want him passing out on us." Agnes grinned, and stepped away. "I really enjoyed that. If he ever DOES come to visit me, I don't think I would be responsible for my actions. I love kicking,"
Bev then joined the action. "Come over here and kiss my crotch. I haven't had you up there yet." I crawled over and looked expectantly up at her. She bent forwards and spat forcefully in my face. "Now you can wipe it off," she said, "Get your head between my legs and wipe it on my gusset. Then see if you can make me cum through my panties."
I dutifully thrust my face between her opened legs and felt the silky nylon of her stocking tops clasp me tight. I pushed my nose into her white cotton knickers and began licking. I felt her squirm, and her labia lips seemed to open beneath the material as I tongued her through it. It didn't take long. I have an idea this lady hadn't been getting much lately. She feverishly pulled her gusset to one side to give me better access, and within minutes of sucking on her clitoris, she came in a great heaving spasm. Then I felt her stroke the back of my head before pushing me away and flat kicking me on to my back.
"Oh, what a nasty way to treat a good little cunt licker like you," I heard Bessie say. "Come over here to Bessie, she'll treat you right. Over I crawled as Bessie pulled down her tights and pants. "Get your head in there and give Bessie a nice time too," she muttered. "I've been looking forward to this." I crawled forward to be confronted by the largest pink slit I had ever seen. The labia lips were akin to aero flaps, and the clitoris was a knobby lump of gristle that almost seemed to have a life of its own. I swear it beckoned me. Hesitantly I pushed my face into the damp morass and was immediately engulfed. Her large hands clasped the back of my head and pulled me in further. "Now suck." I heard from above. The clitoris seemed to enter my mouth of its own volition, and I sucked on it as though sucking someone's meaty thumb. She began shifting about, rubbing my face into her crotch as though she were using a flannel to wash it. I began to suffocate. No two ways about it. There was simply no way to breathe. My face was so enveloped in wet flesh, breathing was simply out of the question. Then she farted again. I was only aware of it because I HEARD it. A rasping rumble reverberated around my ears and I thrust my face even further into the swamp. Better death by suffocation than toxic poisoning from Bessie's farts.
"Sorry about that," I heard her say, "But when they come, they come. Nothing I can do." Even deep within her, the first sly whiffs of second hand gumbo began to penetrate my nostrils. I rubbed my face frantically against her all enveloping flesh, desperate to hold the stench at bay. I partly succeeded, but eventually HAD to withdraw or I really would have suffocated. The self survival instinct is a powerful thing. I drew a deep breath, and immediately wished I hadn't. You know why. Back in I plunged, and did everything in my power to bring her to orgasm. I Had to get away from this noxious prison. It took a long time, but suddenly she heaved and bucked and pressed my head so hard I thought the whole thing would be inside her any second. I heard her moan and gradually the pressure behind my head lessened, and the grip of her thighs relaxed. I backed gratefully off.
"Thank you Thing," she whispered, "You come and see old Bessie any time. I can't get enough of that."
After that, the night dragged on until I thought it would never end. I was spat on, pissed on, kicked and trampled several times by all of them, except for Bessie. She never kicked or trampled me, but I was forced to endure another cunt licking. This time she sat on my face and, praise be to GOD, she didn't fart. She did piss on me again however, when she had finished, but didn't force me to drink it. I did drink some, but most of it ran off onto my suffering garments.
The one incident that truly broke my spirit during that endless night was down to Madam Lisa. As I may have mentioned, she was prone to giving me a trampling session on my previous visits to her. They were most enjoyable, being relatively short in duration, and with no overt violence. This night, however, she went over the top. I suspect she didn't want to be overshadowed by the sadism of Agnes in her treatment of male slaves. In the early hours, with the ladies still filling their glasses, and by now well and truly "oiled," I was laid flat out on the floor having just been used as a toilet by Sheila. I felt well and truly wretched, my stomach protesting violently at its constant intake of urine, when Lisa has an idea.
"I'm going to give him a trampling test," she said. "Let's see just how well he does in a real marathon. I'm going to trample him until he begs me to stop. If he cries for mercy before, oh let's see, say ten minutes, we'll take him up to the bathroom and we WILL shit on him." She said this last, with a sly look at me, and I'm sure she meant it. The alcohol had reduced her inhibitions and she was capable of just about anything. Now, if being trampled by a woman in high heels for at least ten minutes seems pretty innocuous to you, then I suggest you try it. First, of course, make sure you've been well and truly kicked by several people, and your belly is full of piss, courtesy of those same people. Then report back to me. If you STILL say it's a "doddle," then I'll take my hat off to you. For me it was absolute purgatory.
She had me lie face down with my arms stretched out. Bev and Sheila stood on my hands, and Agnes settled herself on my head, the weight of her silky black bottom probably being a positive delight under different circumstances. Now, however, I was completely unable to move, my naked body prostrate and about to be subject to Lisa's cruel high heels. She warned me that if I DID beg her to stop before ten minutes was up, well, I knew what to expect. Then she started, stepping heavily on to my back and balancing there, her weight concentrated on those spiky heels, which dug in to my lower back mercilessly. She slowly began walking up and down my spine, starting at my buttocks, and finishing at my neck, now tightly clamped by Agnes's knees. Then back again, and again, and again! Occasionally she would pause, and let those heels dig down into my flesh, twisting them remorselessly until I wanted to scream out. But I didn't. I simply could not tolerate the penalty that would ensue if I gave in before the limit of ten minutes had been reached. I know it's a cliché, but those minutes seemed like a lifetime, and, of course, no one told me how they were progressing. I had to judge the passage of time myself, and woe betide me if I got it wrong. In the end, when the pain became absolutely unbearable, with the two heels gouging into my kidney region, I screamed out for her to stop, my scream muffled, of course, by Agnes's backside.
"Well, he did it," I heard Agnes say, still sitting on my head. "Exactly 13 minutes twenty seconds." Did I denote a touch of disappointment in her voice? Of course I did, there was nothing she would have liked better than to shit in my mouth and make me eat it. She still had a card to play, however. "OK, I'm going to have a turn. We'll give his back a rest this time, I'll trample his chest, and THIS time he's got to hold out for fifteen minutes."
I literally groaned aloud. I couldn't stand those shoes on my chest for fifteen minutes, I just couldn't. Lisa replaced Agnes, sitting down with a contented sigh, on my face this time, as Agnes rolled me over. She mounted my chest and began her probing, her heels, even sharper than Lisa's, digging in cruelly. She really did enjoy this, her enthusiasm being transmitted down to her feet, which did their work with great efficiency. The pain was even worse than before, particularly when she transferred her attention to my abdomen, skewering them deep into the soft flesh of my belly, and then just standing there, her weight balanced on her heels alone. When I finally screamed out for mercy, muffled of course by Lisa's ass cheeks, I felt sure I'd failed the time limit.
"I think he's saying something," said Lisa, as my scream transmitted itself through her crotch. "What's the time, did he pass?"
"Just," said Sheila, obviously consulting her watch. "Fifteen minutes ten seconds, I guess we don't get to shit on him after all." She didn't sound too disappointed, I don't think she was too keen on the idea quite honestly. It was just Agnes, SHE wanted nothing better. The feet left my hands, Lisa arose from my face and Agnes, obviously reluctantly, stepped down from my body. For a good ten days afterwards my body looked like the surface of the moon, with craters everywhere, some of them bloodstained. It was agony even to pull a shirt on.
And that was just about it. Taxis were called and the ladies started pulling their coats on, Bessie slipping me her address on a piece of paper and tipping me a wink. "Call me," she said with her big smile and vanished into the night. Sheila and Bev left next, both spitting casually on my face as a gesture of goodbye. "See you sometime Thing," said Sheila, "You can come and make love to my feet anytime." And then they were gone too. Agnes was the last. Her goodbye was a bit different. "Kiss my shoes before I go, and always remember what they did to you," she said with a nasty little smile. I dutifully got down and put my lips to her toes. They never got there. Agnes swung her leg back and gave me a kick full in the face, which split my lip and sent me reeling back. "And remember that too. If you ever DO visit me, you'll get more of the same."
"You are a cruel cow," said Lisa, "But I've learned a lot from you tonight. His visits to me are going to be somewhat different from now on."
Agnes bent down, spat full in my face and walked out with a smile. Lisa closed the door behind her.
"I don't suppose you'll forget tonight in a hurry," she said. "They're all coming again next month for my birthday. Would you like to be waiter again?"
The expression on my face must have been something to see. I had been abused beyond my wildest fantasy, Kicked unmercifully, trampled, spat on, pissed on and gassed, and she wanted to know if I'd come back for more!
I said Yes!!
This story is dedicated, once again, to Mistress Domina.