Goddess Paulas Foot Slave Ch 02

You might recall from the first chapter of this story that I had found a group of friends after several years of living successfully, but alone. I also became desperately attracted to one member of that group. Her name is Paula (Goddess Paula to me) and she had so many desirable traits that I found her irresistible. One of these traits was her perfect feet. She didn't mind my attraction to her feet, and she even used my fetish to make me submit to her. She made me her slave. I served as her household maid and provided her with personal services like massages and foot worship.

That's how it started. Then, over the next few months, Goddess Paula added to her domination of her foot slave. She always enjoyed teasing and denying me and making me go home with a world-class case of blue balls. The thought of me rushing home to jerk off like a maniac seemed to amuse her. But, after a couple weeks, that wasn't enough. She wanted me even hornier and more desperate. So, she bought me a pink plastic cock cage with a little brass locked. Though it looked like a toy, it was strong and secure. Now, she could tease me and send me home multiple times, knowing I could not find any relief. She could keep me in a desperate state for weeks. And she did.

After a couple weeks with no relief, I was in such a desperate state that she could make me do absolutely anything. While my love of her feet was enough to make me her household maid and personal servant, the desperation of my forced chastity allowed her to carry my obedience and humiliation to extremes. For example, she took me shopping for lingerie, heels, and a sexy French Maid outfit. While it was demeaning to perform any household chore Goddess Paula desired, at her command, that paled when compared to the humiliation of performing these chores in bra, panties, French Maid outfit, and four-inch heels.

It is worth noting here that my heels were equipped with ankle straps to which Goddess Paula attached little brass locks, much like the lock on my cock cage. So, now, in addition to complete control over my cock and my orgasms, Goddess Paula also had complete control of my sexy footwear. During our shopping trips, she also had me buy myself what she called sissy-boy street clothes. These were clothes that I could wear in public without letting people know that something kinky was going on but would make it clear that I was some kind of sissy-boy. She had me buy pink flip-flops, white capri-length pants, and pink, lavender, and baby blue sleeveless tops, some with lacy trim at the neck and shoulders.

So, Goddess Paula typically had me serve her at her place in lingerie and heels, or a French Maid outfit and heels, and she would often send me out or take me out in my sissy-boy street clothes. All this humiliation was hard to take, as were the long periods of forced chastity. However, she allowed me to orally worship her shoes and feet often, acts to which I had practically become addicted. In addition, on the occasions when she did release me from my cock cage and allow me to cum, it was always an amazing and memorable experience.

I almost always came by jerking myself off, but Goddess Paula assured that a huge helping of erotic humiliation was involved, something else to which I had practically become addicted. On several occasions, she ordered me to cum all over her feet or shoes and to then lick up every drop. (Keep in mind that these were huge loads as I shot them after several weeks of forced chastity).

On another occasion, she surprised me by removing my cock cage and offering to allow me to cum, while we had been splitting a pizza. I was extremely pleased at this unexpected offer. My pleasure was somewhat dampened when she placed two slices of pizza on a plate, placed the plate on the floor in front of me, and warned me that I would be severely punished if a single drop of my cum missed the slices of pizza. Terrified of displeasing Goddess Paula, I managed to land every drop of my huge load of cum on the two slices.

I know I don't have to tell you what happened next, but I will. She picked up the plate and placed it on the table, took her seat, and went back to eating her own pizza. She motioned me back to my seat at the table where the cum-covered slices were just in front of me.

With a big grin on her face, Goddess Paula looked me in the eyes and pleasantly but firmly said, "Eat up, Sissy Michelle" (the little pet name she had given me as my feminine wardrobe had grown). I knew I had no choice. I ate both slices, barely able to keep down the slimy mess.

When I was done, Goddess Paula cheerfully chirped, "Time for chores" and handed me a big list.

I was already dressed in a nightie. Mistress Paula ordered me to put my little pink cock cage back on and to fetch and put on my locking heels, all of which she locked in place. She loved the amusement of watching me suffer the humiliation of struggling with my chores while mincing around in four-inch heels. Naturally, I had to clean up the remnants of our meal. I then had to wash the kitchen floor, vacuum the living room rug, do three loads of laundry, and put everything away, and scrub the bathroom until it gleamed. While I did these chores, Goddess Paula lay on the couch and watched a movie. She did, of course, interrupt me often, to bring her drinks and snacks, and to massage her shoulders and feet.

By the time I finished my chores, I was exhausted, and my feet hurt. Goddess Paula was kind enough to allow me to lick her feet and suck her toes for a half hour. Finally, she kicked me away. She unlocked my heels and ordered me to shower and get dressed in an outfit of my sissy-boy street clothes. When I returned to her, I knew to silently stand at attention next to her and await any orders. After about twenty minutes, she looked up at me, grinned, and purred, "mint chocolate chip".

My face must has telegraphed my dismay as Goddess Paula's grin grew wider. I knew what that order meant. Silently, I turned around, left the house, and walked a few blocks to the neighborhood convenience store. The store and the neighborhood were full of people who were more than happy to make fun of the sissy-boy buying ice cream. Suffering their insults yet again, I returned to Goddess Paula, opened the ice cream, served her a bowl, and again, silently stood at attention next to her and awaited any orders. Still watching TV, she enjoyed her ice cream, ignoring me completely. When she was done, she wordlessly handed me the bowl and spoon which I washed, dried, and put away.

I returned to her, prepared to take my position to await further orders, but before I could do so, she beckoned me to bend down to her. I could feel and smell her sweet breath as she gently kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, "You were very good today, Sissy Michelle. Good night". I knew I had just been dismissed. I grabbed my car keys and left to return to my apartment, still wearing my sissy-boy street clothes.

Over the past several hours, I had been made to jerk off, shoot a huge load onto two slices of pizza and eat them, perform hours of menial chores in lingerie and heels, worship Goddess Paula's feet and toes (this part of course actually being a reward), humiliate myself publicly getting her ice cream, wait on my goddess hand and foot, and finally be dismissed like the maid that I had become. Yet, as I drove home, wondering how to sneak into my apartment with the fewest of my neighbors seeing how I was dressed, I was ecstatic. I was euphoric. I had pleased Goddess Paula. She was happy with my performance.

Goddess Paula's addition of these forms of forced cross dressing to her domination of me was extremely humiliating but, like everything else, I accepted it as part of my submission to my perfect goddess. There were other changes too. Initially, my physical contact with Goddess Paula consisted of massaging her, applying lotion when needed, and oral foot worship, of course. Then one day, while I was on my knees worshipping her feet, she shocked me. She took a firm grip on my hair and slowly pulled my head up until it was between her thighs. As she did this, her robe slid open, revealing that she wore nothing underneath.

I found myself facing an incredibly beautiful sight, a neatly trimmed rectangular "landing strip" of pubic hair with the most luscious pussy lips visible just below. It smelled so good, and as Goddess Paula pulled my face into her sweet pussy, I started gently licking, intoxicated by her sweet taste. As she pulled my face in harder and deeper, I licked faster and more vigorously. Eventually, she drew my lips and tongue to her hard clit. I stiffened my tongue and swirled it firmly over her clit, eliciting soft moans from my goddess. As she forced my face deeper, I worked her clit harder with my tongue. Soon, she was pulling my head hard into her pussy, frantically humping my face, and starting to elicit a high-pitched scream. As her scream reached a crescendo, I felt her hot delicious juices flood my mouth and face.

As she released me, I felt an extreme sense of pride, accomplishment, and joy.

Licking my goddess's pussy to the point of bringing her bucking and screaming to orgasm immediately became one of my favorite activities, right up there with worshipping her perfect feet. I thought my goddess might discuss this new activity, but she just kicked me away and told me to get cleaned up. Over the next few weeks, I was saddened to note that Goddess Paula did not require me to orally service her pussy on every visit. My opportunities to do so were random and infrequent. But I cherished them when they occurred.

When I was allowed to orally worship Goddess Paula's glorious pussy, she of course controlled the action to be completely to her liking. Sometimes, she would relax in a chair with me on my knees before her. At other times, she ordered me onto my back, knelt on my shoulders, and ground her pussy into my face from above. In this position, she would sometimes slide forward a bit and make me lick her ass crack and asshole. When she felt I had sufficiently cleaned and worshiped her ass, she would slide back again and make me finish my ministrations to her pussy.

Another important change to our relationship was the incorporation of severe and painful discipline. One morning, Goddess Paula ordered me into one of my sissy-boy street clothes outfits. She then told me to take off my pink flip-flops and fetch my locking high heels. I put on my heels and Goddess Paula locked them in place.

As Goddess Paula beckoned me to the front door, I was confused and a bit nervous. Goddess Paula had taken me out in public in sissy-boy street clothes, but never in four-inch heels locked to my ankles. This made it completely clear that something kinky was going on and I was nervous about being seen like this.

But the thought of disobeying my goddess never crossed my mind. I followed her out to the driveway and got into her car. Paula grinned at me and said that she hoped I was ready to give my credit card a serious workout. In a state of confusion, I just looked at my goddess. My nervousness regarding my outfit and heels abated somewhat as she drove well away from the town in which we lived. I might be seen in this humiliating outfit, but at least I would not likely be seen be anyone we knew.

Eventually, Goddess Paula turned down an alleyway that opened onto a huge parking lot. Adjacent to the parking lot was the largest kinky sex shop I had ever seen. It looked like a kinky sex super-store.

Goddess Paula parked, got out of the car, and beckoned me to follow her into the store. Inside the store, I saw that they had everything anyone might ever need for any sexual activity. Goddess Paula looked lovely in her revealing top, tight leather jacket, tight jeans, and her own heels. Her heels were four-inch black leather, like mine, but had a pattern of small metal spikes all over. Somehow, our contrasting outfits made it extremely clear that she was the hot dominant goddess, and I was the little sissy-bitch slave.

Goddess Paula snapped her beautiful fingers and pointed to the shopping carts. I minced over to the line of carts, struggling to walk casually in my heels. I grabbed a cart and silently followed a respectful distance behind my goddess as she shopped. As Goddess Paula led me through the store, I was impressed at the extremely wide range of products and how well organized everything was.

Goddess Paula ordered me to stop at a large department full of whips, paddles, hairbrushes, and canes. My goddess did not seem interested in the whips. I guess they were simply not her style. She did inspect numerous paddles, sharply slapping a few against her open palm. The sharp crack of the paddles against her palm filled me with dread, for good reason, as I was soon to learn. Goddess Paula seemed interested in a long, springy, thin, wooden paddle.

My goddess smiled at me and said, "Drop your pants and panties, bend over, and grab your ankles."

When I grinned back at her, she glared at me and loudly growled, "Don't keep me waiting, sissy bitch! Do as you were told! NOW!!!"

Shaking, I quickly bared my ass, bent forward, and grabbed my ankles. Goddess Paula gave my ass a few hard cracks with this agile and streamlined paddle. Each stroke elicited a loud yelp from me. After a few sets of strokes, my goddess seemed satisfied and gently placed the paddle in my cart. She left me as I was while she selected a few more paddles to try out on my exposed and vulnerable ass. Most of them did not seem to please her. We ended up with only two: the long thin wooden paddle discussed earlier, and a clear Lexan paddle with a pattern of holes drilled in it. This paddle made me outright scream on each stroke.

We then moved on a short distance to a section of the same department where we found what looked like a selection of household brushes. Goddess Paula again ordered me into position and paddled my ass with several of the brushes. She added a slightly oversized ash hairbrush to the cart, whispering to herself that it would be perfect to keep in her handbag. She also found a long and rounded bath brush as one would use for back scrubbing. The long handle allowed her to hit very hard and fast with little effort on her part. This instrument of pain also went into the cart.

She rounded out her selection of ass beating tools with two canes, but only after leaving a series of harsh stripes across my burning ass cheeks. One was a thin flexible cane, almost more like a switch. The other was a heavy cane that looked and felt almost like a weapon. By the time I was allowed to pull my pants up and again push the cart respectfully behind my goddess, I was sobbing in pain.

I thought we were done selecting instruments of discipline, but we were not. Goddess Paula tested a variety of nipple clamps on me, and seemed amused by my moans, groans, and yelps. She placed a few different styles in the cart. My goddess also added six butt plugs to the cart. Thankfully, she was not allowed to try them out on me, due to hygiene laws, but the two largest ones had me terrified.

We then walked through the cross-dressing department. While I already had a modest selection of lingerie, my sexy French Maid outfit, and my sissy-boy street clothes, Goddess Paula noted that I did not have any slutty dresses. She made me try on a few and placed two in the cart, one black and one red. She also saw a long straight wig with bangs. She made me try it on and she loved it. Not wanting to risk damage to the wig, she made me wear it.

She was also excited to find high-heeled pumps in my size with locking straps. She placed two pair in the cart, one red and one black. Then my goddess spent some time perusing a metallic silver pair of heels. She added these to the cart, grinning at me and telling me that these were for my future trailer-trash look. All three pairs of heels we six-inch. Apparently, my days in four-inch heels were coming to an end.

Finally, we made our way to the check-out lanes. Goddess Paula grinned as she stepped aside and waved me through, reminding me not to forget to pay for the wig that I was wearing. The total price had me ready to cry again. I looked at my goddess with pleading eyes, but she just continued to grin at me. As we walked through the parking lot, Goddess Paula joked that I needed to get in better shape and should skip a few lunches anyway. By my calculations, I would have to skip two-hundred lunches to pay back these discipline and cross dressing supplies.

While the extra cross-dressing clothing and heels were used to add to my humiliation in the ensuing months, it was the discipline utensils that really changed my life. Goddess Paula seemed to really enjoy disciplining me in various ways and took advantage of every visit to do so. I was paddled and caned. My nipples were tortured. My ass was plugged on arrival on almost every visit, and I did all my chores not only cross-dressed and wearing a cock cage and painful heels, but with my ass plugged. Goddess Paula selected the butt-plug size at her whim, of course.

With all these changes, my informal position seems to have evolved from "Goddess Paula's Obedient Foot-Slave" to "Goddess Paula's Obedient, Chastised, Disciplined, Cross-Dressed, Ass Licking, Pussy Licking, Sissy Foot Slave". I was so enamored with Goddess Paul, her perfect feet, and her complete and utter dominance of me as her slave that I never complained and simply became more and more determined to please her in every way.

My heart leapt each time Goddess Paula ordered me to her house. My heart leapt every time I saw her at an event with our friends. While we, of course, kept our kinky relationship secret from our friends, Goddess Paula couldn't resist exposing little hints, and enjoying my embarrassment. For example, as we sat around with a group of our friends, she might place her feet on my lap and declare that her feet were killing her, and that she needed a foot rub. She did this in such a jovial manner that I don't think anyone suspected that this was really an order. Red-faced, I would remove her shoes and massage her feet, noting a few raised eyebrows from our friends.

Another of her favorite little secret signals she enjoys when we are with our friends is to remove her slightly oversized ash hairbrush from her handbag and wordlessly hand it to me. I immediately take the hairbrush from her, jump up from my seat, stand behind her, and gently brush her long, beautiful hair. I would brush her hair until she extended her hand towards me indicating that I was to give the hairbrush back to her. She might do this after fifteen minutes of hair brushing, or after an hour of hair brushing. It was, of course, completely up to her.

Our friends seemed mildly amused by these expressions of affection that I was showing. I think they would have been a little bit uncomfortable if they knew that it was submission to and fear of my dominant goddess that made me massage her feet and brush her hair at her whim. And, I know they would have been very uncomfortable to learn that, just yesterday, I was at Goddess Paula's house, draped naked across her knees, being spanked to tears with the very hairbrush I was now using to brush her lovely hair.

And so, my submission and obedience to Goddess Paula had deepened, especially in private, but also a little bit in public. I was comfortable in this more intense relationship. What started as submission and obedience due to my love of Goddess Paula's perfect feet had evolved to a deeper form of submission and obedience due to my forced chastity and my fear of the pain that my goddess inflicted on me on a regular basis.

Some aspects of this life (the hours of hard labor, the long periods of chastity, and the intense and unpredictable pain I was required to endure) were a bit difficult to take. But the rewards were many (being allowed to spend long periods of time in the presence of a goddess, having this goddess recognize my presence in her life, routinely being allowed to worship this goddess's shoes and perfect feet, and occasionally being allowed to worship this goddess's ass and pussy).