Mall Princess

Mall Princess 4

The eighteenth day of the thirty-day test began with my three Goddesses surrounding the bed that I was tied to in Jackie's apartment. 

Martha, who I so desperately wanted to pass this month-long test for so that she might move into my large home and take over my life, had already showered and dressed in a short denim skirt and sleeveless yellow blouse.  Her blonde hair was around her shoulders and looked so soft, and she smelled of her sweet perfume as she grinned down at me.  I so loved her and so wanted to serve her forever.  I wished she would spit on my face.  I wanted her to fuck me like she did the night we met, with me tied to her bed and her tight eighteen-year-old pussy gripping my cock as she rode me while slapping my face and spitting on me gleefully.

I so wanted to come.

Heather, who worked in my office and was the boss's daughter as well as Martha's young friend, was still in her pajamas (big cotton tee shirt, gym shorts) stood opposite Martha and also looked down upon me with a smile.  As I lay there, she lifted up one of her bare little feet and put it over my face as she braced herself by holding onto a bedpost.  She teased me by keeping her slightly-brimy unwashed foot an inch above my nose so that I could breathe in her sweet-sour scent.

Jackie, cousin of Heather, very slim, almost skinny, tall for her age, with straight blonde hair, and also eighteen, watched from the foot of the bed as I sucked in air feverishly below her cousin's dusty, pretty young pink-soled foot.

The girls began to discuss the day. Martha and Heather wanted to take my Platinum card and go to the mall, but Jackie wanted to stay home and play with me.  That became the plan.  Essentially, I learned that Jackie was a sadistic little girl, and really enjoyed giving punishment thoroughly.  She giggled and laughed as she dished it out.  She also loved to humiliate and really let loose with laughter as she did that.

The girls decided that I'd cook them breakfast, they'd feed me as they ate, and then Jackie would be left to deal with me for the day as Heather and Martha went shopping at the mall for a few hours.  They decided they wanted pancakes and bacon.

I cooked them up their breakfast as they finished getting ready for their day.  Heather took a shower while Martha did her makeup.  Jackie went looking for things she wanted to play with as she dominated me for the day.  She made an arrangement in her bedroom, I surmised, as I cooked in her kitchen.  I didn't catch what she was gathering and putting in there, but she made several trips.  General household stuff, I guessed, that she saw a use in.

As I finished cooking, they took seats at the table.  A gorgeous tableau of three beautiful eighteen-year-old girls in sexy mall clothes and smelling like sweet flowers was served breakfast by my naked, collared self.  Other than my chastity belt, the key to which was in my prospective Goddess Martha's purse, the collar was my only piece of clothing.

Once the girls had plates in front of them, I served coffee and then followed Martha's direction to lie under the table face-up and let them rest their feet.

Martha rested her sandals on my face, Heather her spike-heeled boots on my chest, and Jackie her bare feet on my stomach.  As she ate, she would occasionally drop a piece of her eggs onto the floor  and mash them up with her right foot.  She then would stretch her foot to my mouth and order me to lick off my breakfast. At other times, she randomly kicked my still-sore balls with the heel of her left foot.  Hard.

The shoppers left, telling Jackie they'd be back around five in the afternoon, and Jackie said that six hours sounded pretty good.

"Don't wear him out!" Martha called as she bounced out the door with my Platinum card.

Jackie returned to her seat at the table and put her feet right on my face.  "Smell them, footslave!" she ordered as she began to tell me what she wanted to do this eighteenth day of my test.

"You pathetic loser," she started, "you disgusting thirty-nine year old guy who likes to be beat up and pushed around be teenage girls, you make me sick.  You make me want to smash you up into a pulp and you make me want to see you groveling and destroying himself at my feet.   I want to just fricking wreck you.  And I love it.  It's so fucking funny."

She paused for a moment and really started to grind her bare feet into my face, twisting them so that the light film of grime on her warm flesh rasped against my cheeks and chin.

"So here's what I'm gonna do to you today," she continued, grunting a bit as she really bore down with her little feet, "I have six hours to play, and I'm going to make you do the grossest things I can think of and I'm gonna beat the shit out of you.  I'm gonna kick you all over," and now she emphasized her words with heel-stomps to my chest and belly, "and I'm gonna BEAT you with a whole BUNCH of stuff, and I'm gonna HUMILIATE you and DEGRADE you and HURT you, and I'm gonna make you WORSHIP me and thank me for WRECKING you."

I oomphed and moaned as her heels beat down with splatting noises on my chest.  She suddenly stopped and stood up.  I watched her feet as she backed up from the table; I could see only the bottom half of her tight, faded jeans.  Her ankles and a few inches of her lower calves were bared below the hem of the tapering denim.

"But, slave, we're going to start off slow.  I wanna make a plan in my head.  Go lie in front of the couch face-up."

I did as told as I listened to her rummage around her bedroom.  Soon she returned and sat on the couch.  She put her feet over my face so that my nose was hugged by her fragrant arches.

"First, you're gonna smell out the insides of all my shoes," she said.  She pressed one of her Keds over my exposed nose so that the tip met the soft fabric lining the inside of the sneaker.  "Breath deep," she ordered.  I did, loving her smell.  My cock swelled to its limit inside the chastity belt, hurting.

Shoe after shoe followed.  Then she tucked her panties from the day before between her feet and pressed them into my nostrils.  I breathed this pungent and perfect scent.

After a few minutes she had me get up on my knees to kneel before her.  She told me to put my hands behind my back and look in her eyes.  I did, gazing into her forbidden blue eyes lovingly as she smirked back at me.  This little blond was so beautiful.  her lips were young and fresh.  Her teeth were pure white and perfect.  She licked her beestung lips with her moist, glistening pink tongue.

"Now I'm gonna spit in your face.  And you just stay there and let it stick all over your ugly old face, you freak, you hear me?"

"Yes, Goddess," I replied meekly.

With a huge smile, she stared right into my eyes as she gathered a mouthful of juicy saliva.  Her cheeks hollowed as she brought it forward.  I heard it squelch inside her mouth as she got ready.

She spat violently from a foot away and her saliva spattered all over my face, most landing across my cheeks and nose.  Blobs began to slowly run down my face as she giggled.  She hawked up another juicy load of saliva and phlegm.  She gathered it on her tongue and told me to look at it as she stuck it out at me.  I saw the whitish-yellow bubbly mass pooled in the hollow of her tongue as she watched my eyes, enthralled.

Again, a monster blast of the girl's saliva and mucus slammed into my face, hitting my left eye and forehead.  It drooled down as it cooled.  My face felt cooly sticky as the blasts adhered and ran.

Over and over she spit into my face from point-blank range.  Eventually my cheeks and forehead were coated with the drying liquid, and my chin dripped from the rivulets that gathered there.  She had me kneel there for a quarter of an hour or so after she stopped.  She watched TV over my shoulder as I knelt there with my eyes now commanded to lock onto her feet.  She'd moved into an Indian-style position on the couch, remote in hand, channel-surfing.

In time, she looked back to me and said "Okay, you filthy piece of shit, now I'm gonna slap your face.  Look me in the eye and say 'Thank you, Jackie' after every single one."

I again gazed into her beautiful wide blue eyes as the straight-blond young girl stared at me.  She was wearing a lime-green tee shirt with a white iron-on decal of a cartoon stick-figure girl standing with her foot on the head of a kneeling stick-figure boy on a leash.  The boy's stick-figure back was criss-crossed with cartoon whip marks in red.  Underneath the cartoon it read "Girl Power!" in pink cartoon letters.  Jackie's large, round upturned breasts strained fully against the cotton of the shirt.

She smirked and raised her right hand, palm flattened.  I saw that her nails were long, but unpolished.  She took a wicked swipe and connected with my left cheek. 

My head snapped back a bit, and she snapped "Don't move!"  She stood up and stomped into her bedroom.  When she came back she was holding a dog leash made of braided red nylon rope.  It was a short leash, only a few feet long, and had a heavy brown leather handle.

She clipped the leash to my collar and wound the nylon rope around her left hand several times, pulling my face toward her against the taut rope.  She lifted her right palm again, and slapped my face.

Again, again, again, her right palm smacked into my left cheek, eye, ear, head, chin, and jaw.  I felt my flesh heat up and my eye water as the blows continued... I began to count the wicked smacks.  One hundred, one-fifty, two hundred.  Just before two hundred and fifty smacks, with my swelling left cheek and tearing eye turning dark crimson, she switched the leash handle into her right hand and began to slap my right cheek.  I counted again as she held the leash tightly and beat my face.  Another two hundred smashing flat-palmed blows reddened this side of my profile.  Suddenly, on the 225th slap, her thumbnail caught my cheek and grazed a thin cut across it from in from of my ear to the side of my nose, where it began to bleed.

"Oops!" she exclaimed, and stopped to look more closely at the thin wound.  "Yup, slave, you're bleeding.   Oh well."

She slapped five more times, as hard as she could, and he palm turned red with dried blood.  The wound trickled to a stop, leaving a spatter drying on my left side.

"Now, next, we're going for a walk outside," she said as she stood up holding my leash tightly.  "Crawl behind me, slave."

Behind her apartment was a tiny back yardlet of sparse grass ringed by a sickly flowerbed of yellow and white daisies.  A tall wooden fence made the ten-by fifteen foot enclosure private.  The ground was damp from rain earlier, but it was sunny outside now, and warming.

She had me crawl behind her on the dirt and grass parcel as she circled it several times.  She made sure to grind her feet into the moist hardpan as she walked, occasionally lifting one foot to let me see the buildup of soil gathering on her soles.

After a dozen or so circlings, she led me to the center of the small rectangle.  She had me kneel behind her as she squatted down with her back to me.  With her free hand she opened her jeans and slid them down to her knees.  Her lime-green panties followed.  "Stare at my asshole, slave," she ordered as she began to piss onto the grassy dirt under her crotch.  I stared at the jet of hot liquid as her anus puckered a few times before revealing the end of a dark brown turd.

She shitted into the puddle of warm piss, the two turds plopping solidly into the liquid, one landing so that it curled over the other.  She ordered me to lick her asscrack clean as she moved her butt into my face.  I eagerly stuck out my tongue and lathered her asshole and seam.  I tasted her bittersweet shit as I sucked and cleaned her thoroughly.

Satisfied, she dropped the leash for the moment and told me to grab the plastic lawnchair standing next to the sliding glass doors leading back into her apartment.   I did, and she had me position it so that she could sit down with her dirty soles above the little shitpile in the urine puddle.  She pulled up her panties and jeans and sat facing me.  She had me kneel and watch her feet as she ground them into her shit, twisting and pushing, letting it squeeze up between her toes and lumpily coat the bottom of her little peds.  She rubbed her feet together, scraping the sole of one with the toenails of the other, making her unpainted nails sport a sliver-moon of shit and grime mixed with piss underneath their tips.

"Now," she said as she lifted both feet straight out before her seated form, "lie on your back under my feet.  You're going to lick them totally clean.  Ha ha ha!!!"

I got under her on my back with my head right in the center of the drying puddle.  Face-up, I could see the bottoms of her soiled feet as she slowly lowered them.  She rested her left foot on my chest, making a shit-dirt-piss footprint above my nipple, as she put her right toes into my open mouth.

"Suck them clean, you fucking sewer!" she gleefully exclaimed, pulling tight on the leash and giggling as I began to work.  My mouth watered furiously as I slathered her dirty toes with my tongue.  I scrubbed the lumps of grimy shit from between her toes, swallowing, until they were clean.  I sucked each of her nails until their tips were once again pristine.  As I moved to the ball of her foot to attack the moist, aromatic paste drying there she ordered me to crawl into the apartment and get her a Diet Coke and her Gameboy.

For two hours I lay on my back sucking, swirling and swallowing the shit-piss-dirt mixture off Jackie's soles as she contentedly played video games and sipped Coke.  Every once in a while, when she sensed that my tongue was getting dry, she have me look up at her with my face tilted and mouth open, eyes closed, so that she could spit in my mouth a few times.  She also had me stop three times in the two hours to crawl to the kitchen and fetch her another cold Diet Coke.  She drank all four.

As she took the last swallow of the last Coke, she had me stop and kneel as she examined both of her feet.  She poited out a few stray bits of grime and had me open my eyes to lick them off.  Soon, her glistening feet were cleaned to her satisfaction.

"Now, slave," she said as she stood up, "it's time for your beating.  I am going to beat you really hard.  'Cuz I love it.  But before I start that, I need to pee.  I had four Diets!  So, you go crawl into my bedroom.  You'll see a white bathtowel in there and a roll of duct tape.  Also, on my bed, you'll see seven different things I'm going to whip you with.  Your job is to memorize what all seven are, in two minutes.  Meet me in my living room in two minutes with the towel and the tape.  Kneel at my feet there, and look at them."

In the bedroom I found the towel and tape on the floor.  On the bed, aligned in a row, I saw the seven implements.  I quickly took them all into mind and tried to memorize quickly by using the first letter of each one... she'd put out seven things from around the apartment.  A leather belt.  "B" for belt.  A ping-pong paddle.  "P".  A wooden yardstick.  "Y".  A wooden spoon.  "S".  A piece of thin plastic tubing like you'd use for a fishtank, cut about three feet long.  "T".  A leather strap that looked like it had ripped off of a purse; brass buckles were sewn into both ends of the two-foot long, inch-wide strip of stitched black leather, and scraps of torn leather were attached to these.  Another "P" for "purse-strap".  The seventh and final item was a six-foot electrical extension cord made of wire and brown plastic.  "E", I decided.  So... B,P,Y,S,T,P,E.  I looked them over quickly and formed a sentence of seven words matching the seven letters... "Be perfect, you slave, take punishment eagerly."  Belt, paddle, yardstick, spoon, tubing, purse-strap, extension cord. 

I mumbled the sentence to myself as I crawled back to the living room with towel and tape in hands.  I noticed that she'd changed into a tiny pair of cut-off denim shorts and a pink halter top that strained to hold her large round upturned breasts.  On her feet were her dirty blue Keds.  She wasn't wearing socks.  Through my mind floated the idea of the aroma her feet were making inside those warm, damp shoes...

She took the items from me as I knelt.  She placed her sneakered feet on my shoulders.  "Look at me, into my eyes, stupid shit," she ordered.  She hooked her ankles around my neck so that the toes of her sneakers met at my nape.

I looked into her cruel clear blue eyes once again.  She was smirking evilly as she toyed with the roll of silver duct tape.  The towel was folded in her lap. 

"What we're going to do now, shitface," she began, "is I am going to ask you twenty questions.  Seven of them will be about the seven things you should have memorized from my bed, the stuff I'm gonna beat you with.  And I'm gonna beat you fifty times with every one of the whips you get right, but I'm gonna go 100 times with every one you get wrong.  Get it, slave?"

"Yes, Goddess," I replied as I felt my cock swell maximally against the mesh of the chastity belt's steel cup.

"Good.  First question.  What was the first whip on the bed?"

I recalled the sentence.  "Be perfect, you slave, take punishment eagerly."  So, 'B'.  "A belt, Goddess."

"Right!" she said, "Fifty with the belt.  Second question.  Would you rather drink my pee or lick my asshole?"

"Drink your pee, Goddess," I quickly replied.

"Third question then.  Who is prettier, me or Martha?"

I froze.  Martha was my Princess!  She was my hoped-for destiny!  My goal in life!  I had to be faithful to her despite my current slavery to the skinny, lanky beautiful blond blue-eyed Jackie currently dominating me.  "Martha, Goddess, I'm sorry," I replied.

"Fine.  Five kicks to the balls to go along with your whippings," she replied in a monotone.  "Fourth question.  Do you want to lick my feet?"

"Yes!" I replied enthusiastically.

"Fifth question.  What was the last whip on the bed?"

I thought for a moment, my head still caught up in licking Jackie's Ked-clad feet.

I recalled my memorization sentence... last letter was an 'E'... but I struggled for a moment before remembering, then blurted "Extension cord!"

"Right, fifty with the cord.  Yum, that's gonna hurt!" she giggled.  "Sixth question.  Do you want to smell the inside of my sneaker?"

"Oh, yes, Goddess!" said I to this gorgeous teenage sadist who was having so much fun with me.

"Fine," she said, and she pulled her right foot into her lap and deftly pried off her sneaker after untying and loosening the laces.  She grasped my head by a handful of hair and pressed her sneaker over my face so that my nostrils were flattened against the fragrant inner lining.  Jackie then tied the laces around my head tightly so that the sneaker would stay there.  She laughed and claped her hands as she looked at my ridiculous self, kneeling naked before her but for a collar, chastity belt and her sneaker on my face.

"Seventh question.  Name the wooden whips on the bed that I'm gonna beat you with."

I carefully went through the list, but couldn't remember what the 'S' stood for... but I did remember the wooden paddle and the wooden yardstick.

"Yeah on those two, so fifty with each," she told me, but smiled as she continued with, "and you forgot the spoon.  So... a hundred with the spoon!"  She clapped her hands and went on.

"Next question is the eighth.   When was the first time you ate a girl's shit?  How old were you?"

I thought for just a moment before recalling.  I'd been very young, just a little boy in nursery school, and it had been early one morning as I was playing in the sandbox with a little girl named Karen who I had a kiddie crush on.  I was perhaps four years old, because I went to kindergarten the next year.  It was before the other kids had been dropped off for the nursery-school day, and the sun wasn't quite up yet.  The woman who ran the school, who we called "Teacher Anne" was sitting on a bench near the sandbox watching Karen and I push sand around with little plastic shovels.  Teacher Anne was a deviant, and she did all sorts of bizarre things with us kids in her nursery class, but we didn't know so we just thought it was fun.  She loved to make up reasons for us to spank eachother or lick eachother's pee-pees.  But that wasn't what happened here.

Karen had suddenly stood up and smoothed out her little cotton sundress.  She kicked the sand out of her rubber flip-flops and said to Teacher Anne "I have to go to the bathroom."

Anne looked back and said "You know I can't unlock the door.  The janitor has to do it when he gets here soon.  If you have to go, you'll just have to do it here."

Karen whined "But I have to go number two!"

Teacher Anne said back, "Well, then, you'll have to go in little Jamie's mouth, then, because I can't have you poop on the grass!"

I remember hearing that at four years old and feeling a combination of mild revulsion with a strange excitement.  Even at that age, I'd always loved being bossed around by girls and had done whatever I could to be the "victim" of one of their Teacher-ordered spankings in nursery school.

Karen had looked at me and sweetly said "Can I poop in your mouth, Jamie?  I really have to go."

I had just nodded with a dreamy look on my face.  Teacher Anne, excited now, strode over to us and directed Karen and me.  "Karen, you take off your little panties and give them to me.  Jamie, you lie down there on your back on the edge of the sandbox.  Face-up, there you go.  Okay, Karen, get right over his face... Jamie, open your mouth, get ready... Okay, Karen, poop when you can.  Go ahead."

It had been over quickly. The little girl had let loose with a long soft girl turd that fell into my mouth and filed it with a rich, strong scent.  I had chewed it and swallowed without disgust... and had really liked it.  A moment later, Karen had stood up and Teacher again directed me to lick her butt clean.  In another minute, Karen had her panties back on and I had a wintergreen Lifesaver in my mouth that Teacher'd fished out of her purse.  Karen and teacher were giggling, and my little four-year-old dickie was throbbing.  We resumed playing in the sandbox.

Back to reality as Jackie sat there staring into my dreamy eyes as I reminisced over that scene while taking in her foot odor with every draw of breath via the sneaker on my face.  The answer was "Four years old."

"Okay," Jackie said after hearing that, "Question nine..."

And so on, until she'd finished all twenty questions.  I'd scored fifty lashes each with the Belt, paddle, yardstick and extension cord.  And another hundred with the wooden spoon, plastic tubing, and leather purse-strap.  Plus five kicks to the balls.

It was now about four o'clock.   Martha, my dreamed-of Goddess, and little redheaded Heather were due back from the mall at five or so.  "I have about an hour to give you your beating, you fucked-up dude, so that's a really fast and hard lashing.  You're getting five-hundred whips with the stuff plus five kicks to the nuts in an hour.  Wow.  Get over the couch with your legs spread and ass high."

I stood behind the couch and did as she ordered.  She tied my leash to the front-center leg of the sofa, and my ankles to the rear side legs with some nylon rope.  She cuffed my hands behind my back.

"I'm going to start with the belt.  Fifty."

Without any warm-up at all, she began to viciously beat my ass and thighs with the leather belt.  The strokes slashed everywhere rapidly without pattern.  Sometimes the tip whipped into my hips, other times into my chastity-covered crotch, which still stung.  She did all fifty strokes in ten minutes.  By the time she was done she was breathing hard and I was aflame, biting my lower lip to stifle cries.  This lanky teenager could hit hard!

"Fifty with the paddle!" she yelled as she took the first swipe, and ten minutes later she'd pounded flat the welts the belt had raised.  My ass was in places on fire, in places numb, and in places seeping blood.  She threw down the paddle and went right to the wicked piece of plastic tubing.  "A hundred with this!" she yeled as the whipping started.  I jerked and strained ithin my bonds, and yelped a few times, but avoided insulting or bothering her as the little blond goddess made my dappled and striped ass bleed some more.

As soon as the hundredth with the tubing was done, Jackie noticed that "Hmmmm... this is making little blood drops spatter on the floor and the back of the sofa.  I'll be right back, shit-slave."

She returned with a couple big towels and spread one under my feet and tucked the other under my belly so that it draped down over the couch and protected the fabric.

The whipping resumed at 4:30.  She finished with a hundred from the leather purse-strap.  This vicious little item was the worst; it was three feet of inch-wide leather, bad enough, but each end was capped with a brass loop sewn into it.  Each of the hundred lashes left a loop-sized ring on my flesh that instantly started to bleed lightly.  My thirty-nine year-old ass was raw, aflame, and crimson with blood spatters when this eighteen-year-old sadistic skinny blond finished my beating at five PM.  She was huffing for breath, having delivered five hundred hard lashes in one hour... and she still had the five ball-kicks to go.

"I'm going to leave you there until the other girls get back.  I'll give you the five ball-busts as soon as your Goddess Martha takes off that chastity belt.  In the meantime, you just enjoy your bleeding ass and the air from the inside of my shoe you sick, ridiculous old dude."

She scampered off to another room and left me there as my wounds dried.  The pain really started to set in after the shock fled my system and the skin tightened with swelling.  The welts and bruises were dark and myriad, and bore witness to a horrible beating.

Of course, now that it was over, I relished the memory of that beating and my erection returned to press against the inside of the steel cup again.

When the shopping Martha and Heather finally returned at seven that night, I had fallen asleep tied over the couch and they just left me there until the morning.  I awoke during the wee hours, but was forced to endure the uncomfortable bondage with weak knees and itching, flaming rear end until the girls drifted awake six hours later.

Day nineteen of the thirty testing days I had sworn to endure to prove myself to little blond Goddess Martha started with my cooking the three girls breakfast, eating mine from the bottom of Martha's bare feet, getting my five ball-kicks from Jackie, and then being tied up all day on the kitchen floor with a blindfold and ear plugs as they all went shopping.  When they got home Martha just let me use the bathroom for a while before I was tied up again and served as their nude, blind-folded and ear-plugged footrest for their evening of movie-watching.

Martha ordered me to call into work and get a week off as a vacation.  Heather had the week off from work anyway, being the boss's daughter, and she wanted to spend it having fun with Martha and Jackie, who was off from school, "playing" with me, Martha's hopeful 24/7 slave-for-life.

So for the next week, this was the pattern.  Menial tasks or tied in bondage with a blindfold and earplugs to serve as a footrest.  Constantly in chastity, I spent sixteen hours a day with one of the three girls' feet in my face and a huge boner inside the steel cup of the device trying to break out.  At the end of the week it had been twenty-seven days of chastity while being teased constantly.

Finally, a change in routine on the twenty-eighth day, because it was a Monday, and the day I was scheduled to return to work.  Heather also had to go in to the office that day, so everyone returned to their homes and got ready for work.  I got to the office and picked up the thread like everything was completely normal.  Nobody had any idea that I'd spent my vacation week basicaly being a roped-up lifeless doormat and footrest between beatings and slavery.

After catching up, I remembered that at quarter-to-six on days Heather was in the office, I was to be kneeling on the floor behind a closed office door to await her.  I got into position at the appointed time.

She strode in in her business outfit, one of her many conservative women's suits with a medium dress and long jacket.  She wore her knee-high spiked boots.

She pulled up a chair before me so that her boots rested comfortably on my shoulders.  She relaxed with eyes closed as I followed her command to lick the soles of each for twenty minutes or so.

When she spoke, she said "Tonight is a special treat.  You're going over to Martha's and you'll see.  Meet you there as soon as you go buy a snorkel and a diving mask."

She left.  I drove to a sports equipment store pondering the need for the two items.  I couldn't imagine anything definite that I might be in store for.

When I got to Martha's, I knelt at the door as required and rang the bell.  A young woman I didn't recognize answered.  As the door opened, I heard raucous female laughter and saw many pretty legs filling the kitchen and hallway.  All females, all with drinks in hand, all dressed in short skirts and barefoot.  There were at least thirty of them. I saw a keg of beer on ice in a barrel in the hallway.  I saw Martha approach as this girl answering the door called for her.

"Ah, slave, here you are.  Tonight, you're going to be submerged in girl-piss!"

She had me strip, she removed the chastity belt and collar, and she was helped by Heather as I was tied up and laid face-up in the bathtub of the first-floor guest bathroom with my knees folded to my chest and bound there.  Martha put the dive-mask over my face and made sure it was airtight, then she put the snorkel in my mouth and used some twine to tie it to the faucet to keep it standing up.

The girls partied for a while, and then a parade of girls began.  Sometimes singly, sometimes in pairs or groups of three or four, they'd gigglingly stumble into the bathroom, shed their panties, straddle me, and piss all over my flesh.  The tub was stoppered, and the level began to rise.  After a few hours it was two inches deep, and after five hours it was at chest level as I lay in the narrow tub. 

The party went on for hours more.  It was getting close to midnight when four girls, drunk as skunks, laughing uproariously, gushed copious amounts of their golden fluid in a four-faucet straddling arch that resulted in the piss level covering my face.  I now had to use the snorkel to breathe as I lay under the surface of the warm pee pond.

Girls started to depart a couple hours later, and when all were gone it was three in the morning, with work starting at eight AM, and the night was capped off by a triad arch of pissing carried out by a very drunk and swaying Martha, Heather and Jackie.

When they finished, Martha laughingly told me "Lights out!  See you in a few hours!"

They overslept, and Heather called herself and I out of work for the day.  I spent it under the piss pond as they added more throughout the day... and night.  I had to reluctantly add my own.

Thirty-six hours tied up and submerged under the piss of thirty girls ended on Wednesday morning.  The thirtieth and final day of the test.  Again, Heather and I called out sick once I had been untied and allowed to gratefully use the bathroom for relief and to clean up.  Martha put my chastity belt and collar back on and I made the three of them their breakfast as they discussed how to end my thirty-day test that would determine whether or not she'd be moving into my house to take over my life.  They decided, as I licked my eggs off the soles of Martha's sneakers, that a day of public humiliation would be the final test as to whether I was ready to devote myself entirely to Martha.   I would have to do anything she ordered as I took them all out for a day of shopping and fun.  It turned out that Jackie had a particular fetish for slapping guys in the face in public, I would find.

Once they were ready to go, my Goddess Martha had me dress in plain jeans and a polo shirt over the chastity belt.  She took off the collar.  She had me wear socks and sneakers.

I drove the Escalade as they sat in the back seat, Martha's sneakered feet on my shoulders from behind.  Every red light meant I had to kiss her shoes as people in nearby cars watched and pointed.  At Starbucks I bought them coffee drinks and knelt on the floor under their table, fully exposed as a subject as the other patrons either took sideways glances or openly gawked. After a while, the manager, a chubby woman about twenty-five with a plain face and mousy brown hair, approached and said to me "Hey, you can't do that here, please."

Martha said to her "But he has to, I told him to."

The manager seemed to pause for a few beats as she considered this, then said "We can't have weird sex things like this here, it makes other people uncomfortable."

Martha replied "It's not sex, he's just being a good slave!"

Under the table, I remained kneeling with my nose to her sneakers, furiously blushing red.

The manager continued.  "Nope, it's weird, you can't do that here.  He's gotta get up off the floor."

Martha spoke now to me.  "Kiss her shoes, slave!" she ordered, pointing to the ugly black sneakers the Starbucks manager wore.  Yuck, I thought, as I looked at the splotted old sneakers on the big lumpy feet of the fat girl.  But I bent toward them as ordered and pursed my lips.  The manager, aghast, yelped "No!  Get out!" as everyone in the place turned to look.

"Let's go!" called Martha as the four of us ran back to the car, they all laughing girlishly as I made my red-faced way to the driver's seat.

Next was the mall.  I tied and re-tied their shoes publicly all day long as they made me do it over and over. But I also was subjected scores of times to Jackie's favorite fetish... the little skinny sadist loved to make up "fake" fights and then slap guys in public.  Hard.  So, in each of the twenty stores we visited (as I paid for everything and carried all the girls' bags) Jackie would suddenly scream at me and I was to turn my face to her as if to answer back... so that she could blast my face hard with a loud smack of her right palm.  Then she'd have me pay for her purchases as people snickered at what looked like a spoiled brat daughter slapping her mopy father in public.

By the end of the day, my face was red and swelling from the hard blows of the sadistic teenager.

The final stop after dropping off all the purchases was to go out to a club in the city.  It was a loud dance club, and the girls all dressed to the max.  Martha had me wear my collar.  She also had me wear a tight shirt, black slacks and stylish shoes.

The thirtieth and final night was concluded with the three girls dancing and drinking as I knelt under their table and got laughed at by the other partiers as I massaged all three girls' feet every time they returned to the table.

When it was time to go home, the final act was to have me publicly kneel before Martha's chair, remove her boots, and worship her beautiful bare sweaty feet as a ring of revelers hooted and watched.  She led me out behind her, on my leash, crawling back to the car.

When we woke up the next day, before I went to work, Martha woke me up.  She put a lock on the collar.  She snuggled up next to my bound body and said  "The test is over.  I've decided that I'll move into your house and take over your life.  We'll start having sex again... my way, of course.  You'll sign a contract and papers that transfer everything to me as long as we're together.  Under two conditions.  One, that Jackie also moves into the house with us.  And two... that I don't have to restrict myself just to your cock.  I get to fuck other men if I want to... I'll never make you touch them, as I know that you're totally straight even if you are totally slavsh to girls... but I can cheat on you whenever I want to.  What do you say?"

I answered immediately.  As long as I was hers, I knew that letting her have outside sex would keep her around.  I didn't care.  As long as I was her slave.  All day, every day.  Subjected to her beatings and punishments and humiliations, dedicating my life and everything I owned or earned to her pleasure, exclusively.  Living only for her happiness.  Total slavery to her in every way for every single hour of every single day.  I hadn't had an orgasm for thirty-one days, and I loved her.  I agreed without a moment's hesitation.

"Fine.  Starting today, after work, you will drive straight home, my home, the one that used to be yours, and you will strip, put on your collar, and kneel on the carpet just inside the front door with your hands on your head. That is how you will start your day at home, every day, after work from now on.  And you will await me.  Now, give me the keys to the house and get yourself to work."

And so it began.  But that's another story...