Family Slave (F/F)

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Family Slave (F/F)

lessthanzer0
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lessthanzer0
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Joined: February 1st, 2013, 9:38 pm

February 1st, 2013, 9:38 pm #1

Part 1:



My name is Elizabeth Byron. I am 17 years old, have
strawberry blonde hair and pale, freckly skin. I am thin and fairly pretty, at
least that's what people used to tell me.



When I was 11 my mother left and my dad got remarried to
a beautiful woman named Vanessa. Vanessa also has 2 children from a previous
marriage, Tara who is 1year younger than me and Lisa who is 2 years older. Both
of them are stunningly beautiful, far more so than me - as they frequently
remind me.



My dad was a business man and was away a lot, and in his
absence my stepmother and sisters treat me basically as a servant, making me do
all of the household chores and not being very nice to me in general (the ugly
duckling of the family, Vanessa called me, much to the amusement of my
stepsisters who began calling me this regularly.



The thing is, I have always been a complete wimp, giving
in instantly to people's demands and never standing up for myself. I can't help
it, it's just the way I am.



I thought things were bad back then, but that was
nothing. A few years ago my dad passed on, and that's when my servitude really
began...



As I frantically run around the kitchen preparing dinner,
I curse myself for only having two hands. My stepmother is going to be home any
minute and the consequences of not having dinner on the table waiting do not
bear thinking about. Panicking, I move as fast as I can to avoid her anger.



I am wearing just a pair of tatty, torn jogging pants and
an equally scruffy t shirt - the only cloths I own. On my feet are a pair of
high heeled boots, three sizes to small. They are agony to my feet, but I am
being forced to wear them all week by Tara as punishment for not cleaning her
shoes well enough. She is particularly creative when it comes to punishments.



I have almost finished dinner and am just about to plate
it up when I hear the front door open and my stepmother enters the house.
Petrified, I run into the hallway to meet her and collapse at her feet,
prostrate on my knees. My stepmother is 37, voluptuously built with a little
extra weight on her making her curvy, black hair and a face that looks at least
ten years younger than it really is. She is beautiful, and as I kneel before
her, I know than she is surveying me with that smug, superior smile that she always
wears when I greet her.



"Welcome home, beautiful stepmummy," I say as I
kiss each of her boots repeatedly.



"Is dinner ready?" She asks, her voice
deceptively sweet.



"Erm, almost, your majesty," I say, my voice
trembling. "I just need to plate it up, and then -"



"What?" She cuts me off, her voice venomous.
"You mean to tell me you haven't done as you were told?"



"I'm sorry, oh magnificent one," I plead,
cowering. "It's just that I've had so much to do; Tara told me to hand
wash all her socks and pantyhose, and Lisa said I had to lick all her shoes
-"



Reaching down, my stepmother grabs my hair, lifts my head
up and slaps me hard across the face. Then, she spits on my lips.



"How dare you blame your sisters," she
whispers, pulling my hair painfully so we are face to face. "You will be
properly punished later. Now, get my dinner ready and be quick about it."



"Yes, my wonderful mummy," I say, my eyes full
of tears. "Right away."



She lets go of me and walks into the kitchen. I crawl
after her and hurriedly finish preparing her dinner. I put it on the table
before her along with a glass of wine, and wait obediently on my knees for
further instruction. She just snaps her fingers, points at her booted feet and
says, "make yourself useful."



I immediately crawl under the table and kneel at her
feet. She is wearing her usual boots that she wears when she goes out in the
day (she doesn't work, as my dad left quite a lot of money) and I know from
experience that her feet sweat a lot in them.



"May I lick your beautiful boots clean, my
queen?" I ask, as I have been trained to do.



"No, take 'em off. My feet are killing me."



I unzip her first boot and slide it off her foot. She is
wearing black pantyhose and as her foot is freed, the stench hits me. I wrinkle
my nose. Her foot smells absolutely putrid, even worse than usual. I actually
wretch a little, causing my stepmother to laugh.



"As a little treat for you, I re-wore yesterday's
pantyhose," she says as she wiggles her stinky, nylon-clad toes Just
inches from my face. "Sniff."



Feeling like the most pathetic creature in the world, I
press my nose into my stepmothers hot, sweaty feet and sniff. They are so
smelly, I feel like I want to pass out. I just keep sniffing, knowing I don't
have a choice.



"How do they smell?" She asks, mockingly.



"Wonderful, oh sweet-smelling princess," I lie,
as this is what she wants to hear."



"Really? They smell disgusting from here, but it
doesn't surprise me that you like it; you've always been a little weirdo. Take
off my other boot and we'll see which smells better."



Prepared for the worst, I take off her other boot. It
smells just as bad, and the smell is stronger now both of her feet are free.
After a while, she says, "that's enough sniffing. My little tootsies are
aching like crazy; massage them for me."



Taking her left foot in my hand, reverently (I know I
will be punished if she is not satisfied) I begin kneading her fleshy soles. As
I rub my stepmothers fragrant feet, I keep my face within a few inches of her
wriggling toes so the stink is constantly filling my nostrils, as this is how
my family like me to be when I am massaging any of their feet. My stepmothers
moans of pleasure let me know that I am safe, she is happy.



"Do my toes, slavegirl," she says between
mouthfuls of the dinner I cooked for her.



"Yes, goddess," I reply, and obediently begin
fondling my stepmothers stinky toes.




 


Part 2:



As I gently caress my stepmother’s insteps, she finishes
eating.



“That was almost as bad as the crap you served me last
night,” she says as she brings her toe to my chin and tilts my head upwards so
I am looking into her eyes.



“I – I’m so so sorry, my fabulous” –



“Stop with the names now, it’s getting old,” she tells me
(She had ordered me last night to come up with different complementary names
every time I address her, for her own amusement). “Go back to calling me what
you usually call me.”



“Yes, mummy,” I say.



“Now,” she says, slapping my cheek quite hard with her
foot, “refill my wine and then follow me into the living room.”



I get the wine and crawl into the living room. She is
sitting on the sofa.



“Now,” she says as I hand her wine to her, “punishment
time. Let’s see, what am I going to do to you?” She considers for a moment,
then says, “Well, I suppose a spanking will be enough. Don’t you think,
slavegirl?”



“Yes, mummy,” I say, my voice trembling a little.



“Is that all you have to say?” She asks, outraged.
“Aren’t you even going to thank me for letting you off so lightly?”



“I’m sorry! Thank you, mummy, for being so kind to me,
even though I’m so worthless!” I feel myself blush with shame. Here I am, on my
knees, thanking my stepmother who I have spent half my life slavishly waiting
on for a punishment I do not even deserve. Why am I so pathetic?



She leans in a spits in my face again. “Thank me
properly, you pathetic little worm.” I crawl to her feet and start kissing them
all over, long, loud kisses. “Kiss the bottoms of my toes,” she commands. She
gives a little sigh of pleasure as I start smooching her wriggling toes.



“Ok, get up here then,” she says, daintily patting her
knee. My heart racing, I climb up into my position across my stepmother’s
knees, face down. She gingerly pulls my pants down, exposing my bottom. “Hmm… I
think a dozen will do,” she says as she caresses my trembling backside, “you
count.”



Closing my eyes and steeling myself, I stammer, “one.”The
first smack brings tears to my eyes, the pain is unbearable. “Two,” I sob,
immediately. The pain seems to increase tenfold. “Three.” Tears are streaming
down my face now. After the tenth smack, I am in so much pain I hesitate,
unable to bring myself to say eleven. This is a mistake.



“Oh dear, we’re hesitating, are we?” She says, and I can
tell from her tone that she is enjoying my suffering. “That’s very naughty.
Start again.” And so the whole process is repeated. By the time it is finally
over, my bottom is in agony and I am gasping for breath. “What do you have to
say for yourself?” She asks me, placing her palm to my stinging butt-cheek and feeling
the heat emanating from it.



“S – s – sorry, mummy.”



“And?”



“Thank you for teaching me a lesson.”



Giggling at me, my stepmother pushes me to the floor. I
lie there, gasping.



“Don’t just lie there,” she says, kicking me. “Get back
to work. My feet are still aching.”



Still crying, I get to my knees. I reach down to pull up
my pants, but my stepmother stops me. “Leave them as they are. I want your
sister to be able to see the state of your aching butt. It will give them a
give laugh.”



So, my sweatpants around my knees, I crawl to my
stepmother’s putrid feet and start massaging them.



“Take off my nylons,” she commands. I reach up and begin
sliding off my stepmothers pantyhose. When I slide them all the way off her
sweaty feet, I blanch. Her bare feet smell even worse. I want to wrinkle my
nose in disgust, but I know that this could get me in even more trouble. I
resume rubbing her bare feet. They are sweaty and, although my stepmother’s
feet are as beautiful as the rest of her, I still find them disgusting.
Regardless, I continue slavishly pampering them, using my thumbs to sooth the
balls of her feet.



“Oh my God, you’re so pathetic,” she laughs at me. “Just
look at you, on your knees massaging my sweaty, reeking feet. You are such a
worthless fucking freak.”



“Yes, mummy,” I reply, meekly.



“Your little sister will be home from the gym soon. You
had better get her dinner ready. First, though, suck on my toes.” Disgusted
with myself, I open my mouth and begin sucking on her stinky toes. They taste
as bad as they smell, absolutely disgusting. As I suck, I use my tongue to
clean the toejam and sweat that has gathered in between them, as I have been
trained to do. My stepmother’s moans of pleasure let me know that I am doing a
good job, which is a relief as I don’t think I could handle another spanking.



Part 3:



When my stepmother is satisfied with my efforts on her toes, I am ordered to go
and prepare dinner for Tara, my younger stepsister. I do this, with my pants
still around my knees, my bruised bottom exposed.



Tara is built a bit like me, only a little shorter and
curvier. She has light brown hair, fair skin and a pixieish face with a
beautiful smile that looks deceptively innocent.



Just as I put her plate on the table, she enters the
house and comes into the kitchen. I drop to me knees and crawl to her feet. I
begin kissing her shoes, and say "welcome home, princess."



"Hello, slavegirl," she coos, reaching down and
scratching behind my ears. She often treats me like this, as if I am her
faithful pet - which I suppose I kind of am. She giggles at the state of my
bum, but doesn't comment. It is not that unusual for me to have a battered
backside. I still feel humiliated, with my sore body on display, with my pants
around my ankles, I know I must look completely pathetic.



"I prepared your dinner," I tell her.



"Oh, I'm not hungry," she says, "I already
ate."



My stomach growls as I watch her drop the food into the
bin - I haven't eaten in over 24 hours.



"Oh, I thought of something funny I want to try
today." She goes and gets a large bowl which she fills with water. She
puts it on the floor in front of me. "Drink. Quickly."



I do, lapping it up like a puppy. When I finish, Tara
refills the bowl and tells me to drink it all. My body feels full and I really
struggle. Tara tells me to hurry up, kicking me on my sore bum, causing me to
whimper. By the time I finish I feel sick and bloated and I hope there won't be
any more. Luckily, Tara heads for the living room. "Come on, ugly
duckling. I've just jogged 4 miles at the gym and my tootsies need some attention."



Tara goes to the gym 4 nights a week and always wears the
same trainers, without socks. Her feet always reek afterwards. I got a little
whiff when I kissed her shoes and I dread taking hem off.



My stepmother has gone upstairs and Tara has taken her
seat. Her feet are propped up on the footstool and I crawl to them and kneel
before her.



"No need to lick my shoes today. I'm dying for a
nice, soothing foot massage."



I untie my little sisters shoe laces and gently ease her
shoes from her feet. The smell is unbelievable. It is surprising that someone
so beautiful can have such foul, sour smelling feet. Even I can tell they are
pretty, smooth and petite with cute, wriggly little toes. The smell, however,
is almost unbearable and I find myself gagging as the stench fills my nostrils.
Unlike my stepmother, Tara doesn't insist on me pretending to like her feet as
she enjoys seeing my suffering plainly on my face. She giggles at me now as I
recoil.



"They're a little bit smelly," she says, which
is the understatement of the century. "Go on, sis. Sniff in between my
toes. Big whiffs, I want to be able to hear you."



Steeling myself, I lean in and smell between my little
sisters wriggling toes. The smell is so strong, it makes me feel dizzy. My face
screws up in disgust and I inhale the foul stench deeply, bringing more giggles
from my stepsister.



As I sniff, my stepmother pokes her head around the door.
"Jesus Christ, that must have been one hell of a workout," she
laughs, "I can smell your feet from the hallway."



"I got them extra stinky on the treadmill," she
smiles. "Luckily, my big sister is going to lick them nice and clean for
me, until they don't smell anymore."



Laughing at me, my stepmother leaves the room again.



"You can start my giving a nice, soothing footrub,"
she says sweetly. "There's no need to use any lotion, they're moist enough
already."



They certainly are, I can actually see vapour emanating
from her toes. I take her left foot into my hands and start rubbing. I begin by
kneading the soles of her dainty feet with my thumbs, my nose just a couple of
inches from her stinky toes. Then I use the back of my fingers to sooth her
insoles and then firmly caress her arches, eliciting moans from Tara. After a
while I start to really need to pee, unsurprisingly. I don't dare ask
permission to use the bathroom, but I grow steadily more uncomfortable as I
continue massaging her feet. After a while I start to squirm. Tara notices, and
smiles slyly.



"Anything wrong, sis?"



"No princess... I mean, yes, kind of. Since you made
me drink all that water, I really need to pee."



"We'll then," she says, her voice mischievously
sugary, "ask."



"Erm," I hesitate as I gently pull on her toes,
"please may I go to the bathroom, Princess Tara?"



She looks down at me for a few seconds, and then laughs.
"Nope, I'm going to enjoy watching you squirm while you massage my stinky
feet," she laughs, evilly. I realise she planned this, and don't know how
to respond as I realise I have no choice but to suffer in silence. Now
seriously uncomfortable, I try to just focus on massaging her feet, to take my
mind off it. Besides, I hope that if I do a good enough job soothing her aching
pups, she might let me pee sooner.



Part 4:



As I continue obediently to massage my little sister’s unbelievably pungent
feet, doing my best to please her despite my almost unbearable desperation to
pee, her phone rings.



“Hey, Anna,” she says.



Anna is Tara’s best friend. She is as beautiful as Tara;
petite, cute and bubbly. She is also every bit as cruel as Tara, and they love
thinking of ways of abusing and humiliating me together.



“Yeah, I just got home… No, not yet, I’m making her
massage them first… I know, she’s such a loser! They smell absolutely vile from
here, I can’t even imagine how bad it must be for her, her nose is practically
touching my little tippy-toes. But, hey, that’s not my problem; an unworthy
little doggy like her should be honoured to sooth my tired pups, no matter how
bad they smell!” She giggles a lot at this. “Yeah, I did the water thing, I
made her drink two whole bowls and Oh my god, it is fucking hilarious! She’s
wriggling around at my feet like a little worm, she’s terrified of letting
anything go because she knows what I’ll do to her if she does. She’s even
started rubbing my feet better, as if that’s going to get her off any sooner
–if anything, I should punish her for not doing her best in the first place!
Yes, you should totally come round and see!” Anna says something. Tara listens
and her eyes brighten. “Yes, that’s an amazing idea! Come round now and we’ll
do it. Ok, byyee.”



“Guess what, foot-breath? Me, Anna and you are going to
play dollies! We’ve even got a new outfit that’s going to look absolutely
darling on you.”



I feel myself tremble with dread. As you have probably
guessed, when Tara and Anna play “dollies” I’m the doll. They dress me up in
all kinds of humiliating costumes and make me do things for their amusement.
Recently I have been a French maid, a slug, the hunchback of Notre-Dame and a
toilet (like I said earlier, Tara is very creative). They record it all, but
not to go on the internet as my stepmother is weary of too many people knowing
about me, in case someone tells social services or something. Instead, Tara has
sleepovers where all her friends come over and they watch the videos through,
with popcorn. I am always forced to crawl from girl to girl, giving footrubs
and being verbally degraded while the girls laugh at the horrible things Tara
and Anna make me do. This is why I am now filled with terror as I redouble my
efforts to sooth my sister’s hot, rancid feet in hopes that she might be
mercifull – although I should really no better, but then I might at as well at
least pretend that I have a hope.



“Ahem, excuse me, my pathetic excuse for a big
sister,”she says, and I look up as her voice has taken on a dangerously
whispery tone that I have learned to dread. She has raised an annoyed eyebrow,
also a danger sign. “I just told you that we have bought you a present. Are you
even going to bother thanking me, you ungrateful bitch?” My fear rising
rapidly, I put my lips to my little sister's feet and lay a series of long,
loud smooches all over her toes and soles.



“Thankyou for being so sweet and generous to me, my
beautiful baby sister,” I say, trying to sound as sincere as I can, hoping it
will be enough to save me from further punishment.



Seeming satisfied, she returns her attention to the tv
and I am about to heave an inward sigh of relief when she says, “well, if you
think an ungrateful little doggy like you is going to be allowed to go weewee
any time soon, you are sadly mistaken.”



My eyes widen in alarm. By now I am practically spazming
with desperation. Kneading her soles as though my life depends on it and
leaning right in so that my nose is touching the tips of her sour smelling toes
and my lips are pressed to her sweaty soles, I plead, “Please, my beautiful,
perfect, sweet, caring, baby sister! Please, I beg you, as your miserable,
unworthy, pathetic little puppy-slave, let me go soon! I’ll do anything” –



She just laughs at me, kicking me in the face hard enough
to send me to the floor with a whimper. “Yes, I am all those things and yes,
you are all those things too. And no, you may not pee and if you let go of so
much as a drop I make sure you regret it every day for the rest of your sorry
little existence. Besides, what do you mean you’ll ‘do anything?’ You do
whatever I say anyway, you stupid fucking clown! Get back to work on my aching
feet, you’ve barely relaxed them at all you lazy little whore. On second,
thoughts, Anna’s here. Go let her in.”



I crawl to the door with my thighs squeezed tightly
together for fear of losing control of my bladder. Anna knocks and then lets
herself in. As I kiss her leather flats, she emits a loud HA! of sadistic
delight at the sight of me.



“Welcome, Princess Anna.”



“Wow, you look ridiculous! As if you actually have your
pants down, you freak! Oh, but it looks like someone spanked you good. Have you
been a bad doggy for someone? Who was it? and why?”



“My mummy spanked me, for being a stupid worthless
bitch,”I say, blushing as she laughs down at me. These types of answers
generally are keep me out of too much trouble. Still laughing at me, she shoves
me aside with her foot and goes to join Tara in the living room. Full to the
brim with urine and fear, I follow.



“Wow,” Anna stops in the doorway and pinches her nose.
“No offence babe, but those feet smell absolutely putrid, even from here.”



“That’s because I haven’t had foot-breath over there lick
the stink away yet. I’m saving that for later, so for now she can just carry on
enjoying the stench of my beautiful feet.”



I haven’t been told to do otherwise yet, so crawl back to
Tara’s feet. When I get there, I hear Tara go “ahem,” and look up to see she
has raised the eyebrow again. realising my mistake, I once again plant kisses
all over my little sister feet. “Thankyou for letting me carry on smelling your
perfect, pretty feet with my ugly, unworthy nose, my beautiful baby
sister.”Anna laughs out loud as my sister gives a contented giggle.



“I just wish mine were as stinky,” Anna sighs as she
slides out of her flats. “I do wear these shoes a lot and they get pretty
sweaty, trapped in the leather, but compared to those puppies I don’t think
they’ll be much competition.”



“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be enough for her. Dogs do have a
super strong sense of smell, remember.” They both laugh. “Go smell Anna’s feet,
ugly duckling”she kicks me away. Anna’s right, her feet don’t smell nearly as
bad as Tara’s, but she wore leather flats without socks so they still smell
pretty ripe. The smell isn’t as bad as the fact that this is my younger
sister’s friend, a guest in this house which used to belong to just my father
and I, making me sniff her feet for no other reason than to humiliate me. That
makes me feel pathetic and, for some reason, I never get used to feeling like
that. Although I am constantly being humiliated and forced to do things against
my will, I never stop feeling the humiliation as sharply as I did the first
time. If anything, it gets worse and worse as I sink deeper and deeper.



“Well, shall we get started?” Tara says excitedly with a
girly clapping of her hands, sitting up. “I’m ready to play dollies! We have
our doll, so she just needs to go fetch the rest of the things and we’re ready
to get started! Yay!” She claps her hands again, giddily. I dread to think what
she has planned…



A few minutes later, I am lying on my back, naked, in the
middle of the living room floor (The horrendously tight shoes that Tara is
making me wear have been removed, although Tara has told me I will have to wear
them for another week to make up for this). I am still agonisingly desperate to
pee, with my legs crossed to hold it in. Anna is standing above me holding the
video camera, as it is usually her job to record the “game”. Tara is standing
by my head, the stench from her feet filling my nostrils, making me feel
slightly sick. In Tara’s hand is a bag containing whatever costume it is they
have chosen for me.



“OK,” Tara says, excitedly, “I think we’re all
ready…play.”



Looking equally excited, Anna turns the camera on. “Hiii,
I’m Tara,” she blows a kiss and waves prettily at the camera, “and this is my
beautiful BFF, Anna,” Anna turns the camera on herself and waves too, “and
this,”the camera turns to capture me, panning along my naked, trembling body
and zooming in to rest on blushing face, still streaked with tears from my
spanking earlier, “is our ugly little dolly! Guess what?” She leans in and
whispers to the camera in her usual sexy, playful manner.“Earlier today, we
made dolly drink 2 massive bowlfuls of water and we haven’t let her pee at all
since! Dolly knows that if she does go weewee before we say, she’ll be smashed
up and throw away like any other bad, faulty toy. So,” she backs away from the
camera and raises the bag, “let’s see what dolly is going to be dressed up in
today.” Looking positively jubilant, she turns the bag over and empties the
contents onto the floor. Unable to resist (I’m not supposed to move unless
instructed to do so) I turn my head slightly to see what it is. My heart sinks.



A blanket. A pacifier. An adult-size diaper. A pink,
adult-size bonnet. A rattle. A pair of pink, adult-size baby shoes. A baby’s
milk-bottle.



“She’s going to be our very own ‘ickle baby!”Tara
screeches with delight.



Part 5:



“So,” Tara says, sitting down beside me, “the first thing we need to do is get
the baby’s daipey on before it has an accident. Grabbing the diaper up off the
floor, she pokes my leg and says, “wegs up, wittle baby,”speaking in baby talk
to make me feel even more humiliated. With tremendous effort while still
holding in a painful amount of water, I raise my legs up off the ground.
“Higher!” She pinches my leg with her sharp nails, making me raise them unnaturally
high. “Now, we put the daipey under baby’s red little bottom,”she puts the
diaper under me. “Oh, but we forgot the talc. Back in a mo’.”



She leaves the room. I start to lower my legs, only for
Anna to poke me hard in the side of my tummy with her toe. “No-one told you to
move, bitch.” So I am forced to wait with my legs in the air at a very
uncomfortable angle while I wait for Tara to come back. After what seems like a
very long time, she returns.



“Ok, so I couldn’t find any actual talc,” she says,
sitting back down, “but this should do just as good.” I glance down and, my
eyes widen with fear. She is holding a shaker of salt. “Hold still and keep
quiet now, little baby,” she says, still in the mock baby-voice, “while mummy
changes your daipy.” She bends forward, pauses, then says to me, “obviously,
just cos you are wearing your daipey, doesn’t mean you can go weewee until
we’ve given permission. You don’t want to see what happens to bad baby’s who go
too early.” With that she leans forward and applies the salt to my bum and
diaper. For a few moments I feel nothing – then fire! The tender spot from my
spanking feels like it has been set alight. I try not to make any noise as my
eyes fill with more tears, but by the time Tara has fastened my diaper on both
sides I can’t stop myself from wailing out!



“Aw, look, the silly babies blubbering,” Anna says
uncaringly.



“No problem, that’s what this is for,” Tara picks up the
pacifier and roughly jams it between my lips. I’m still moaning, but the
wailing is blocked by the pacifier. “There, that’s better,” Tara smiles, that
beautiful, innocent smile. “Couldn’t have that racket spoiling all the fun,
could we baby?”



“Hey, since she’s our baby, shouldn’t we name her?” Anna
asks excitedly.



“Yes, of course we should! But what should we call her?”



“How about… Foot Breath?”



“HAHA, YES!” Tara claps her hands together, “I love it.
OK, ‘ickle Foot Breath, “she moves towards my head, “lets get that cap on. We
don’t want baby Foot Breath’s head getting cold…”



A few minutes later, I am wearing a diaper, bonnet,
shoes, and waving a pink rattle around in one hand. Tara and Anna are in
hysterics. “That is the most pethetic thing I have ever seen!” Anna says
between bursts her laughter.



“I know! She looks so fucking stupid,” Tara laughs.



“What should we do with her now?”



“Hmm… let’s feed her!” Tara grabs the baby-bottle from
the floor. “Be right back.”



As Tara leaves, Anna walks to my head. She puts her foot
in my face, cupping her toes over my nose, filling my nostrils with her
vinegary, leathery stench. A minute later, Tara returns and she takes it off
again.



“Here, baba,” Tara sits down and lifts my head onto her
lap. Holding up the bottle, she shows it to the camera. “Today, Foot Breath
gets a nice, yummy bottle of warm milk… oh, I almost forgot, there’s a pair of
my dirty, disgusting, smelly gym socks in there as well. Let’s just take out
the baby’s binky,” she pulls out my pacifier.” But wait – aren’t you hungry,
little baba?” She looks at Anna. “Don’t babies usually cry when they’re
hungry?”



“Oh yeah,” she frowns. “I think they do.”



“Oh… Well, I guess the baby isn’t hungry then…” As she
says this, she snakes her hand down my chest and, suddenly, takes my nipple
between her two sharp fingernails and squeezes as hard as she can. Instantly,
my eyes fill with tears and I cry out in agony. “There we go, “ Tara says
happily, “open up, Foot Breath.”



With that, she sticks the bottle in my mouth and I start
sucking. The milk tastes horrible, the socks have made it taste sour and
rancid, she must have worn them several times without washing them. I gag and
reflexively try to stop, but Tara just jams the bottle in farther and squeezes
my nostrils closed, stopping my breath.



“Bad baby. A growing girl needs to eat up all her
din-dins. Until you’ve drinked it all up, you’ve lost your breathing
privelages!”



How I managed to swallow down all of that rank, vile
foot-milk without breathing, I have no idea. I guess it’s probably because I
don’t have a choice. When it is all gone, Tara lets go of my nose and they both
laugh again as I gasp for breath.



“I bet ‘ickle baby Foot Breath really wants to go weewee
now, huh?” Tara says, mockingly.



I nod frantically, desperate.



“But that was just starters. You still have to have the
main course…” I am confused, but then Tara jumps onto the couch and puts her
feet onto the footstool. I notice also that she is now wearing slippers, the
stinky ones that she wears every night. “Come on, Foot Breath; come lick
mummy’s smelly, sweaty gym feet clean. When all of the stink is gone, then you
can pee!”



Sore, desperate, miserable, but finally seeing an end in
sight, I jump up, legs together so I don’t let anything go, I crawl to Tara’s
feet. I gently slide her slippers off, and instantly have to pinch my nose. If
anything, they smell worse than before, having acquired a new layer of sweat
trapped inside the tatty old slippers.



“Awww, does the wickle baby not like the smell of mummy’s
tired, stinky feet?” She leans forward and pulls my hair so my face is pulled
into her feet. “Sniff.” Really wanting to start licking so I can get it over
with, I start taking big whiffs of my little sisters feet. “Yeah, go on, sniff
my feet!” She giggles. “You’re such a loser, I bet they stink.”



“They really do,” Anna says, leaning away and pulling a
face. “They stink so bad.”



“I bet they taste even better; go on, you pathetic excuse
for a baby. Lick your mummy’s feet clean. It’s your din dins. Gobble it all up,
then you get to pee.”



Frantically, I stick my tongue to her soles and lick from
heel to toe. I think I’m going to be sick. They smell every bit as bad as they
smell, maybe worse. My head swims and it is only by reminding myself that I
have no alternative that I am able to continue. I lap at her heels, lick her
soles, suck her toes, dig in between them to lick out all of the toe jam and
sweat. Finally, feeling sick and my eyes watering from the taste and stench, I
look pleadingly up at my little sister.



“Hmm, what do you think Anna? Is she done?”



Anna leans slightly in and sniffs the air. “Bluergh,” she
wrinkles her nose, “no way!”



“Nope, sorry Foot Breath, they still stink.” She snaps
her fingers as she flexes her toes in my face. “Back to work.”



Tears streaking down my face, I go over my sister’s still
pungent feet with my tongue, circling her toes, lapping at her soles, twisting
to suck at the tops of her feet. Having done this a few times, I look up again
at my sister, hoping against hope that she shows some mercy.



“Well… I guess they’re ok. Which means, you can – but,
wait a minute!” She looks over at Anna. “You must feel so left out!”



“I have to say, that did look nice.” I shake my head
frantically, clasping my hands and holding them up, pleading.



“Bad baby! How dare you ignore aunty Anna like that!” She
hooks her foot around my head and forcefully flings me to the floor at Anna’s
feet. I get up and try to plead again. My stomach feels like it is going to
burst. “What’s that, Foot Breath?” Anna cups her hand behind her ear. “Sorry, I
don’t speak baby. Now, get to work. Give Aunty Anna a nice relaxing foot bath
with your worthless, disgusting tongue and then you can finally pee.” Unsure whether to believe her, I never the less
begin, sucking on her sweaty little toes. They don’t smell or taste nearly as
bad as Tara’s but it is still humiliating.



“Harder!” Anna commands as I struggle to lick her arches.
Finally having licked and sucked them all over twice, I look up, my eyes
desperate.



“Ok, Tara says, laughing, “Lie back on your blankey.” I
hurriedly obey. “Suck your binkey.” She jams it in my mouth and I start sucking
furiously. “Shake your rattle, too.” I do. “You may pee, in 1 minute. She looks
at her watch and counts down as I wriggle to hold it in.”



“Haha! Look at her squirm, like a slimy little worm,”Anna
giggles, recording me with the camera.



“Her we go,” Tara puts her foot under my nostrils, still
smelly, in spite of my ministrations. “3, 2, 1… You may pee, Foot Breath!”



Feeling my every muscle relax, I let go. It is
uncomfortable, I can feel the warm liquid running down my inner thigh. It is
sticky, as it spreads through the diaper and starts to cool against my tender
skin. Tara and Anna are in hysterics, pointing and laughing at my rapidly
expanding diaper.



Part 6:



A few hours later I am still wearing the diaper, which is
itching like crazy and I’m fairly sure it’s giving me a rash. The tight shoes
are on again too, Tara and Anna even recorded my moans and winces of pain as I
squeezed them back on. I am on all fours, serving as a footrest for my
stepmother and Tara. There is an actual footrest beside me, unused. The sore
spot from my spanking earlier is itching badly, so I try wriggling it a little
hoping it will scratch against the inside of the diaper and give me some
relief. I receive a hard kick from my stepmother . ‘Hold still, foot breath.’
That name seems to be catching on.



            Tara
slides off her slipper and holds her foot underneath my nostrils. ‘Smell my
feet,’ she says in her cute, girly voice. I do, and although they don’t smell
as bad as they did earlier, they still stink, having sweated a lot inside her
well-worn slippers. I never understand the cruelty of my family. There is no
reason to use me as a footstool when there is one already there, and Tara doesn’t
benefit from having me sniff her putrid feet. All it does in demean me for no
reason, which I suppose is the point. As a little girl I used to wonder why
they would want to do this to me for no reason, but now I am so used to it that
I don’t even question it in my own mind. They treat me this way because they
can, because I am such a pushover. That’s all there is to it.



‘Little kisses,’ Tara commands, and I obediently start administering
little pecks all over the top of her foot. Tara sighs with pleasure and says to
her mother, ‘there really is nothing like having your big sister kiss your
smelly feet after a long day.’



‘Well, at least the lazy little bitch is good for
something. The crap she keeps serving me at meals, she’s lucky we keep her here
at all. A few nights on the streets without food or clothing would probably
teach her some appreciation, then she might put in a little bit more effort.’



‘I’m sorry, mummy,’ I say between kisses.



‘I should think so, Foot Breath.’



Kicking me in the face and then standing up, Tara says, ‘I’m
going to bed. Night night, mummy.’



‘Goodnight, sweetheart. Do you need your sister to come
and help you get ready for bed?’



‘No, not tonight. You can keep her.’ She reaches down and
scratches behind my ears. ‘night, little baby foot breath.’



‘Goodnight, Princess Tara.’



When she has left the room, my stepmother puts her slippered
foot in front of my face and tells me to take it off. I do, using my mouth. As
I free her large foot and  she wriggles
her toes, the horrid smell hits me once again. You would think that after all
these years of being forced to smell feet I would be used to it, but I never can
be. I have always hated feet more than anything, which is why my family first
started making me service their feet so much. ‘Suckle my toes,’ I am commanded,
so I lean forward and take her hot, salty toes into my tired mouth. I suck,
lick, apply pressure to spots that I know she will like. She moans with
pleasure as I debase myself at her feet. Finally, she gets up. ‘Im going to bed.
Come help me get ready.’



            I crawl
after her, up the stairs and into the bathroom. I lap at her heels as she
brushes her teeth and when she is done, I open my mouth wide so she can spit
her refuse into my mouth. I am then handed my own toothbrush, an old bristly
one that I often use to clean shoes, which I use to brush my own teeth, using
my stepmothers waste as toothpaste. We go through to her huge, plush bedroom
and I help my stepmother undress and then await her command. She climbs into
bed. Massage my feet while I relax. I crawl to the foot of the bed, get my arms
and head under the covers and start caressing her feet, hoping it won’t be for
too long, as I don’t think I can take much more foot odour today. ‘You know
slave girl, you really are so pathetic. There are slugs with more dignity then
you. You are worthless, just like your cunt mother and your creepy dad – as if I
would ever have married someone like that if he wasn’t rich! I only wanted his
money, lucky for me I got his daughter too! It’s no nice for me and my stepdaughters
to have all this money and beauty. It makes it even better having an ugly,
worthless little thing like you to use and abuse and constantly remind us how
perfect and lucky we are.’ She giggles. There are more tears running down my
face, but I just continue rubbing my stepmother hot feet, using my thumbs to caress
and squeeze in between her toes. I hate myself so much for letting them treat
me like this, but I am just too weak and pathetic to do any different. I just
hope I can relax her enough quickly so that I can be dismissed. After about 20
minutes as I am stroking my stepmother’s arches, she sleepily tells me to fuck
off. I do, kissing her feet and saying ‘goodnight, mummy.’



Every room in this house has
video cameras in it. The reason for this is to keep me working hard, as I never
know when my stepmother will check a recording to see how fast I am going on
any given day. The other reason is to remind me that I have absolutely no rights.
I am never allowed to leave the house, so I am constantly being recorded, with
never a moments privacy. My bedroom is a tiny little cupboard under the stairs,
which has no bed but a few sheets of newspaper on the floor instead. Scattered all
over the floor are old, worn, stinky socks which keep my bedroom constantly
smelling of feet. This room also contains a camera, so they can even see me
when I am sleeping if they want to.



            Another
house rule is that I am never allowed more than five hours sleep per night. The
reason for this is because it means I feel constantly tired, making me even
more servile and easy to push around. As I am up at 7 every morning, I am never
allowed to go to sleep until 2. Until then, I am to remain on my knees sniffing
socks from my floor. I do this for half an hour until it is my bedtime. I writhe
around on the rustling newspaper, trying in vain to get comfortable. The diaper
itches and the shoes hurt.



Tomorrow my older stepsister, Lisa, gets back from a
music festival. She will have been wearing the same socks all weekend, in wellies,
dancing constantly in the hot sun. She also told me before she left that she
will be wearing the same socks that she wore to the last two festivals, which
have not been washed once.  I fall
asleep, dreading the stench and humiliation that await me tomorrow...
Next chapter will be up by the end of the weekend.
Last edited by lessthanzer0 on February 5th, 2013, 2:01 am, edited 1 time in total.
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afroking92
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February 2nd, 2013, 6:06 am #2

I like your new name it fits your character lol.

one thing plz finish the story when your ready, their are to many stories without an ending. I feel like u havent even scratched the surface in this story.
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usa02
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February 2nd, 2013, 8:12 am #3

Ah excellent addition
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Rikudo Sennin
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February 2nd, 2013, 10:45 am #4

Splendid like always.
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lessthanzer0
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February 2nd, 2013, 1:12 pm #5

Thanks! Don't worry, I will finish it. I have the rest of the plot planned out, there will be roughly another 7 or so parts.
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lessthanzer0
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February 2nd, 2013, 7:08 pm #6

Part 7:



The next morning I wake up at 7, sore, stiff and with an
itchy rash from my diaper, which has come off. Yawning, I go upstairs and take
a shower, using only cold water. Shivering, I pat myself dry, using the little towel
which is used both by me to dry myself, and occasionally to wipe my families
feet or armpits. Then I go downstairs into the kitchen, get everything out for
when the others wake up and then wait on my knees beside the table.



At 10:30 my stepmother comes in, in slippers and a
dressing gown. She is always grumpy in the morning, so as she takes her seat at
the table I meekly bend down and kiss her slippers, saying ‘Morning mummy.’



‘Coffee and Belgian waffles. And they had better be
perfect or I’ll make your butt look even more messed up than it already does.’



‘Yes, mummy,’ I reply respectfully, getting to work.
First I serve her coffee, then get to work on her waffles. She does not thank
me once, obviously.



Once I have set her breakfast in front of her, she tells
me she wants to use my face as a footstool. I get under the table and lie on my
back, and she slides her feet out of her slippers and rests them on my face.
They have sweated a lot in the night, and smell quite nasty. As I lay there,
immobile beneath my stepmother’s horrid feet, she moves them around to give
herself a foot massage using my face. A few minutes later, I hear Tara walk in
and come to the table.



‘Morning, mummy,’ she says sleepily.



‘Morning, sis.’



‘Morning, Princess.’



For no apparent reason, Tara then prods me, hard, driving
her big toenail into the side of my tummy. I yelp and jerk slightly, causing my
stepmother to snap, ‘Stop wriggling, you little worm!’



‘Sorry, mummy,’ I say, my timid voice muffled by her big
sweaty feet. Tara giggles.



‘Get your little sister’s breakfast, and be quick about
it. Put my slippers on me first so my feet don’t get cold.’ I get up, kiss her
feet, and Tara’s just to be on the safe side, and then get Tara’s breakfast. All
Tara ever has is a smoothie, which doesn’t take me long. I give it to her, then
resume my position as my stepmothers foot-warmer. As she continues smooshing up
my face with her hot feet, my little sister puts her feet up on my chest, using
my breasts to rest her feet on.



‘Massage my feet,’ she orders, and I reach for her feet
and begin fondling them, doing my best in spite of the fact that I cannot see.
Not good enough. ‘Do it better!’ she says in her brattiest voice, lifting her
leg and bring her heel down hard on my boob, ‘that’s rubbish!’ I squeal with
pain again as my breast throbs, but luckily manage not to move this time, as that
would definitely irritate my stepmother.



‘I’m sorry, beautiful baby sister,” I half-sob, doubling
my efforts to try to please her, stroking a spot on her arches that I know she
likes.



After breakfast I tidy up and get to work on my usual
chores, cleaning the house. At one point as I am scrubbing the kitchen floor –
with my tooth brush – Tara screams ‘foot breath!’ from her bedroom. I instantly
abandon what I am doing and crawl as quickly as I can to her. When I get there,
she is on her computer at her desk. She doesn’t look at me, she just holds her
foot up and says, ‘I have an itch on my foot. Scratch it.’ Kneeling at her
foot, I scratch the ball of her foot. ‘Lower.’ I go lower, and keep scratching
until she tells me, ‘ok. Now, sniff in between my toes.’ I do, repulsed as ever
by the sour stench, and wondering how someone so beautiful can have such foul
smelling feet. When she has had enough, Tara just kicks me away and says, ‘chop
chop, back to work. There will be plenty of time for smelling my feet later, don’t
worry sis!’



I continue with my chores until around 2pm when I hear a
car stop outside and a familiar voice shouting goodbye to her friends. The
moment I have been dreading all day, is here: my older stepsister, Lisa, is
home from her music festival.
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usa02
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February 3rd, 2013, 4:58 am #7

Most good.
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shocker89
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February 3rd, 2013, 5:57 am #8

Great story! It would be awesome if they have a family reunion and she has to smell all the womens feet
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flipflop0
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February 3rd, 2013, 9:00 am #9

Inspired.  Loved all of it.
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lessthanzer0
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February 3rd, 2013, 6:06 pm #10

Part 8:



In my opinion, Lisa is the most naturally beautiful member
of my family. She is quite tall, curvy, has a golden tan and dark blond hair.
Her feet are quite big, with long toes. She is different to my stepmother and
Tara, who both dress very glamorous and get lots of treatments etc. Lisa is
more hippyish. She also has the smelliest feet of anybody I have ever met.



As she enters the house, I see she is wearing a pair of
filthy wellies, and with her is a girl I have never met, also beautiful. She is
voluptuous, with dyed blond hair and freckles. On seeing me kneeling, naked, at
the doorway, her eyes go wide with amazement. I crawl forward and kiss my
sister’s wellington boots. ‘Welcome home, big sister.’



‘Oh, you,’ she says, her voice full of contempt. ‘Sophie,
this is my pathetic little sister, the one I was telling you about.’



Sophie continues to stare in amazement as I kiss her
boots, too.



‘Take my things upstairs,’ Lisa says, stepping over me. ‘Then
come into the living room. I have a surprise for you…’



I take her heavy bag upstairs and put it outside her
bedroom, then return to the living room, noting the muddy footprints I will have
to clean up shortly. I crawl into the living room to find Lisa and Sophie
sitting side by side on the sofa. I crawl to their feet, and Lisa says to her
friend, ‘Now you get to see how weird she is for yourself. Do you want to go
first, or shall I?’



‘You go first,’ she says, sounding a little nervous.



Lisa holds up her left foot. ‘Take off my boot, bitch.
Oh, but first let me tell you about the state of my feet. I’ve been wearing the
same socks all weekend, the same ones I have worn at all of the festivals I’ve
been to this summer. I’ve also been wearing the same wellies and I haven’t taken
them off at all. I’ve been dancing in the sun, and I haven’t washed once. Now,
take ‘em off.’ She says this with relish, taking pleasure in the humiliation
and suffering she is inflicting on me in front of a complete stranger. I reach up
and slide off the first welly. As it comes off and her foot is released, I
genuinely fear that I am going to be sick. As she wriggles her socked toes in
my face, the stench is so strong, so sour, I am sure I have never experienced
anything like it. My eyes water and Sophie says, ‘Jesus, Lis, your feet smell
absolutely vile! Look, she’s actually gone green!’



‘Well, what did you expect?’ says Lisa, lounging back in
the chair. ‘Take the other one off, and then get the footstool so I can relax
with you take big whiffs of my stinky, sweaty feet.’ Her right foot smells just
as bad as her left, and I have to try so hard not to puke. I put her feet up on
the footstool as ordered, lean in and take a hesitant sniff. My head spins,
they reek so much.



‘Do you want to get involved, now?’



‘Ok,’ says Sophie, sounding excited now. She holds up her
feet, and I pull off her boots. As her feet are released, the smell assaulting
my nostrils almost doubles. Sophie’s feet don’t stink as bad as Lisa’s do, but
they still smell horrid. From both girls’ feet is emanating actual steam, they
have sweated so much in their boots.



‘I wonder whose feet are the smelliest?’ Lisa says, a
cruel smile on her face. ‘Bitch, sniff both of our feet and tell us whose stink
the worst. 2 minutes smelling each should be long enough for you to make a
decision.’



I already know whose feet smell worst, but I am still
forced to sniff one of Sophies putrid feet for 2 minutes, and then Lisa’s. I am
so dizzy, I just try to focus on not vomiting as I do the pointless and
disgusting task. WHen I am done, Lisa says ‘well slave?’



I kiss the tips of her toes, which actually makes my lips
sting, they are that sweaty, and say ‘Yours smell the strongest, big sister.’



‘Well, I guess that makes sense,’ she smirks. ‘But wait,
that’s not fair. You only sniffed one feet from each of us, you lazy bitch.
Sniff mine and Sophie’s other foot and see if it is any different.’ They giggle
as I am forced to do it all over again. Of course, they smell exactly to same,
foul. When I have finished, and given the same verdict, Lisa says, ‘Maybe it’s
just my socks that smell the worst. I think you should take of both of our
socks, and then we can try again.’ I start to pull Sophie’s socks off, only for
Lisa to kick me and say, ‘with your mouth you moron.’ I do, and the taste, even
though the socks barely enter my mouth, is unbearable. When they are released,
Sophie stretches her toes and I see they are covered in sock lint, with lots of
toejam and sweat. There is dirt under her toenails, which are long. Lisa’s are
even worse, and both pairs of feet smell even worse now they are bare. There
are no words to describe how what they smell like, it is just horrid. Lisa
leans forward and, taking all four socks, she pulls my mouth open and shoves
them in my mouth. ‘Did I tell you, she doubles as a washing maching?’ She giggles.
I actually throw up, but manage to swallow it back down as it is just half way
up my throat. The taste is also beyond words. ‘You can clean our dirty socks
while you smell our feet. I want to see you sucking and chewing, ok little sis?’
My eyes watering, I nod and lean in to smell Sophie’s bare feet. As I stick my
nose in between her toes and sniff, Tara walks in.



‘Jesus,’ she says, and I quickly glance around to see
that she has pinched her nostrils shut. ‘Lisa, that is the worst thing I have
ever smelled.’



Lisa introduces Sophie to Tara, who sits down in an
armchair behind me to watch, still holding her nose. I continue smelling Sophie’s
feet. The steam emanating from them has doubled since I took her socks off, as
has the smell. I chew and suck on the vile socks, fearing punishment if I don’t
manage to get them clean. As I chew and sniff, Tara suddenly says, ‘why are you
only making her smell? You should have her massaging your feet while she
sniffs.’



‘Good thinking, sis. Rub my friends feet while you sniff,
you lazy bitch.’ So, wishing Tara had not entered the room at all, I start
kneading Sophie’s sweaty feet. As squeeze the balls of her feet, eliciting
moans of pleasure, I once again feel incredibly low, massaging the putrid feet
of a girl I don’t even know. After a while I am told to move on to Lisa’s feet,
which of course smell and feel even worse. As I fondle ans pull her long toes,
my sense of disgust deepens. As I work, Tara moves and sits behind me. I am
scared of what she will do, but don’t dare look back. Suddenly, I feel a
shooting pain in my behind. It feels like Tara is pinching me with her nails,
digging them into me hard. I squeal through the socks and tears come into my
eyes, and I instinctively reach back to protect my bottom. This is a mistake.
Tara grabs my fingers and pulls them painfully, as Lisa leans forward and yanks
my hair, making me cry even more. Don’t you fucking dare, you pointless little
worm.’ She pauses a moment, collecting spit in her mouth and then she spits
right in my face. She does this several times, as do Sophie and Tara. I now
have many balls of spit trickling down my face, as I continue to massage my
sister’s horrid feet. I feel truly worthless. Tara is still pinching me,
giggling as I do my best to ignore the pain. Eventually, as my fingers are
starting to ache like crazy from all the footrubbing, I am told to spit out the
socks. I do, feeling relieved, but then I am told that I will now be licking
and sucking on Lisa and Sophie’s feet until they are clean. I am told to start
by lapping at the bottoms of Lisa’s feet. Then, to lick slowly from the heels
to the toes, taking about a minute to get from one end to the other. Next, I
suck on her long, wriggling toes. I suck, whilst swirling my tongue around each
to, then I clean between them. I am not allowed to swallow, so I collect a
great deal of toejam and sock lint on my tongue. Tara is still pinching me,
enjoying herself a great deal, and there are still numerous streaks of spit
trickling down my face. I can still smell the overwhelming stench of both girls
feet, and my mouth is full of the sickening taste. Lisa moans and sighs a lot,
at least she is enjoying this, I think bitterly. The tv is switched on, and I am
basically ignored for about half an hour, when I am told to move on to Sophie’s
feet. I take very small consolation from the fact that they don’t taste or
smell quite as bad as Lisa’s but this doesn’t make me feel much better. I use
the same technique to clean Sophie’s feet that I used to clean Lisa’s. As I lap
at her heels she sighs with pleasure, seeing to enjoy it even more than Lisa. I
suppose she is unused to being slavishly pampered like this. My stepmother
pokes her head around the door. She raises no objection to seeing her stepdaughter
covered in spit, licking feet while having her sore backside pinched. She just
waves a hand in front of her face and wrinkles her nose, saying ‘whoo, what a
horrid smell.’



‘This is nothing, mummy, they were much worse before.
Luckily, slave girl here has taken care of them – although she sure has been
difficult.’ I cannot belie this, I have done exactly as I have been told,
obeying every command.



‘Well,’ my stepmother says, ‘if she gives you any more
trouble, send her through to me and I’ll teach her a lesson.’



‘Will do, mummy.’ Once I am finished cleaning both girls
feet, including digging under both girls toenails with my tongue, I am told to
open wide and show how much dirt and toejam I have collected. All three girls
say eww and look disgusted and amused. Each girl then spits in my mouth and
tells me to sniff their feet while I chew. This goes on for a while, then they
make me swallow. They laugh at me and tell me how vile and disgusting I am.
Then Sophie has to go. I put her socks and shoes on for her.



Before she goes, she spits in my face one more time and
says ‘I will be seeing you again very soon. My God, you’re so fucking weird!’



Feeling sick and wretched, I then accompany Lisa as she
takes a bath, scrubbing and massaging her as she relaxes. ‘It’s good to be
home,’ Lisa sighs with contentment as I scrub the bottom of her foot.
Last edited by lessthanzer0 on February 5th, 2013, 1:05 am, edited 1 time in total.
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