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Old Yesterday, 3:23 PM
subfootstool subfootstool is offline
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PART 117

The next few weeks had a similar pattern. Madame used me most days and I also served at the café. Mistress Charlotte was not present as often for a foot rub at the end of the day as she had apparently built up quite a following at The Confessional. I could visualise her pulverising all those sub males balls, intimidating them with her beauty and power and, I had to admit, since I’d been doing her pedis, her feet were even more astonishingly beautiful than ever!

Then, one day, I saw something that sent a shiver down my spine. Through a crack, from the back of the café, I saw Mistress Max, Lady Lucinda and Mistress Georgia all sitting, sipping coffee, and talking animatedly, with Mistress Charlotte flitting by and joining the conversation in between serving customers.

Uh oh, I hoped I wasn’t the topic of conversation because, if I was, it could only mean that I was to be either locked up in chastity or the dreaded Castration Ceremony was in the wind. Fuck no, hopefully they were talking about their boyfriends, or clothes, or anything but me!!

Mistress Charlotte popped out the back and addressed me,

‘Into your cubicle, gimp’, she said pointing her finger towards my nook. I scurried out there and waited on my knees without being told.

Times like this were terrifying for me because of the open-ended nature of my fate as I cowered on my knees. Who would be my visitor? And what did they have on their mind? Punishment, ball kicking, instructions, what?

I could always hear their footsteps as they approached which added to the melodrama and I could now hear the scuffing of boots on the concrete outside. Shit oh dear!!

Then she appeared … it was Lady Lucinda, the Woman who had branded me GIMP, thereby ruining my life forever, replete with her purple spiked hair and sleeve tattoo. I prostrated myself at her feet and kissed her Doc Martens as a sign of my submission to her.

Total humility was always the safest approach dealing with these lethal Mistresses from The Confessional and, furthermore, I had overheard the others talking, and Lady Lucinda was regarded as being the most brutal and heartless of all of them. Apparently all the piercing and tattooing at her place of work had made her indifferent to human suffering, and she enjoyed being able to escalate the agony she gifted her subjects in her role at The Confessional.

She allowed me to slobber over her Docs for a few minutes before speaking;

‘Good news, gimp, your Queens Keep has arrived. It’s pitifully small but, with the addition of a Prince Albert piercing, it will be inescapable. I’ve just been chatting with the Sisters about whether we should geld you first or lock you up. I’ve been pushing for locking you in chastity for a prolonged period before we castrate you to magnify your frustration. I know Caitie locked you up for 2 months not that long ago and you were nearly a mental case by end of that time, but I’d be interested to see what you’re like after, say, 6 months without an orgasm’.

She paused, for effect, and to judge my response I surmised, so I replied, ‘Yes Lady Lucinda, what you say when you say’.

‘Good boy, I like that, no resistance; you’ve been trained well by my Sisters. You haven’t had the honour of being under my feet yet so you may remove my Docs and I’ll use your face as my footrest while I explain a few other things we’ve decided’.

Now that was good news after all the depressing talk of being locked up and gelded, so I reverentially removed Lady Lucinda’s boots and found that she was wearing a pair of short white socks which were a bit moist and smelt of leather and foot sweat from being confined in the boots.

‘Go under, gimp’.

So, I lay on my back as her moist, aromatic feet and socks were lowered onto my face and I was instantly transported to that deep subspace fellow foot freaks will know only too well. I couldn’t help getting hard, which she noticed of course, and then she spoke,

‘That’s a woeful lack of discipline your dick is displaying there, gimp. I’m going to relish disabling your cock, just like I relished mutilating you. Let me tell you how it will play out … ‘
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