Becoming A Slave to My Foxy Asian Neighbors

Aug 31, 2002
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Chicago
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#1
It was a very warm, even hot, Chicago summer day. It was my day off and as I pulled into the alley after my workout at the gym I noticed our new neighbor women working hard in their back yard. They were Asian, perhaps Vietnamese or Thai, and had always been friendly enough to respond to friendly generic greetings. Their house and land were across the alley from mine and down a little bit, on the corner lot. Their back yard was large and they made it into a real productive garden, but they had had to replace lots of things due to tree rot and other crap.
After I parked my car in the garage I went back down the alley. I looked at what they were doing across the low metal fence. One of them stopped to acknowledge my presence and looked up; her pretty face was streaming with sweat. “Can I help you?” I innocently asked. “You are working so hard, maybe you can use some help?”
‘Help?” said a second woman working further in, nearer the house. “Why would you help us? We cannot pay you.”
“To be a good neighbor,” I said, not really expecting my good nature’s offer to be questioned. “You are working so hard I only thought I could lend a hand. Today is my day off. If you don’t want me to, that’s OK . . . “
One of the women had already opened the chicken-wire-like gate into their property, letting me in with a big smile. “All men gone for the week,” she offered, “your muscles will help us!” She handed me some tools and pointed me towards some thick and bad roots that needed to be cut and dug out. I went to work.
For some time they and I worked hard under the summer sun. One of the Asian women was substantially older, like 70; her name was Vivian. The 3 others were across the board age-wise but they were all nice looking, even foxy, and larger than the stereotypical Asian lady. At one point one of the women came to me, Ann, and said, “You good worker, we like you.” Another one, very pretty, named Lee, said, “Hard work and free from man like you, we like.”
After some hours, they tired and came to me to take their tools back. They were smiling and appreciative, although I noticed they never offered me a drink from the water bottles they had in an ice chest nearby. Vivian, the oldest one said, “Thank you. Come tomorrow, 2 o’clock.”
Huh?
I did have to work tomorrow and told them that, so they said, next Monday, 2 o’clock. And I did turn up. They all smiled and even applauded together when I arrived. Vivian gave me some tools, told me what to do, pointed me to the work area, and disappeared. I went to work, but soon noticed that I was the only one working! I turned and looked and saw 3 chaise lounges in the backyard, and one hammock, as well as some of the normal tables and chairs anyone would have on their back patio.
I didn’t’ have to wait long. Two of the women came out with nice-looking drinks in tall glasses and sat down in the chaise lounges. They looked at me, smiled, waved, and sat down. Then a third did the same. Vivian emerged and got into the hammock. Clearly no one was going to be working in the yard but me! I walked over to the hammock.
“Excuse me, but what’s going on here? I came to help you, but no one else is working.”
She smiled broadly; despite her age she had a degree of sex appeal. The sexual dynamic was palpable, as if they knew of my submissive nature. “You said you would help us, no? Why no help now? You don’t need us to work for you to work. Why should we work if you will? We like to watch. We in charge. We told you we cannot pay you but you still help us.”
Lee chimed in, “In our country, free help for labor does not exist unless we call it slave help.”
Ann said, “You worked here for hours last week for free; what are we going to think? That you are a nice guy? That you want to get in our pants? More likely that you are a slave waiting to be taken. We take you.” Then she smiled and my third leg began to grow even as my knees got weak. She then added, “We know your kind. We read you immediately last week.”
“A slave?” was all I could muster in surprise reply.
“You worked hard, for women, for nothing. In our land, only slaves do this. By what you did, and by coming back, you told us that you want to be our slave. Are we wrong??”
I looked at the four of them; Ann, Lee and Kara on chaise lounges looking sexy, relaxed and dominant; Vivian in charge on the hammock clearly controlling whatever happened. They were desirable, they were pushy, they were arrogant, and they were right.
“Let us say it again, dummy! I think you want to serve us like a slave,” Kara said. “As all white men should, to make up for all the pain they have inflicted on us over the centuries!”
There was silence; they expected me to answer.
I swallowed. “You’re right,” I confessed. “You’re not wrong. I want to serve you all like a slave.”
“Then GET ON YOUR KNEES bitch!” shouted Vivian from the hammock. I was stunned. Half the block would have heard it, though no one could see us other than the people across the alley. I pondered, swallowed, gazed at their stony, beautiful, expecting faces, some behind sunglasses. But I did kneel. They raised their drink glasses as one in triumph and one of them said something joyous-sounding in a foreign language, which they all repeated together. I felt a little like a prisoner of war.
They gave me the chores to do that hot afternoon. They ignored me most of the time. They never offered me any of the ice water they enjoyed. I saw a few of them take cell-phone pictures of me while I mowed the lawn or dug in the earth. I put in four hot long hours before Vivian beckoned me from her hammock,
“White! Boy! Come!”
I got up slowly as my knees ached and went to the hammock.
“Kneel, boy.”
I knelt. She smiled.
“Good boy, learning his place. Work done for today. Go home. Come back next week. Our men still gone. And say ‘thank you.’”
“’Thank you’?”
“Thank each one of us for letting you serve us! Remember you are white slave; we are superior to you in every way. You know that or you would not sweat for us for free. You natural-born slave; we natural-born slave-owners. Now kiss each foot five times and say ‘thank you,’ or we hurt you real bad.”
I leaned forward and kissed each of her bare feet five times; though she was 70 her feet were supple and well cared-for. They were actually nice. I went on my knees to the other ladies in their lounge chairs and kissed each foot five times. I barely remembered to say ‘thank you,’ but I think I did. The look on their faces was both chilling and priceless.
The next week, like a sucker, I returned. The tools were waiting for me, as was the sun and the ice water that was not for me, and the lovely Asian ladies who reveled in my submissive servitude.
This time there was only a few hours of garden work, hard as it was. When I thought I was done, I put the tools away and went to the hammock which served as a summer throne for Vivian. I knelt before her.
“I am done, Madame,” I said.
She didn’t even look at me. “You’re not done until we say you’re done. Kiss my foot.” She thrust her right leg towards me. “You’re a slave, right? Do as you’re told. Work for me. Sweat for me. Humble your white ass to me and kiss my superior bare foot!”
Always attracted to the ladies, I moved over a few feet on my knees and began to plant kisses on her foot. The backyard erupted into applause as the other women clapped and howled their approval of my servitude and humiliation. I kissed her foot for many minutes, passionately, until she kicked my face away with a laugh and said, “See who else who will suffer your pansy ass.”
“I will!” said Ann. “I want his white lips on my feet right now!” I moved over on my knees and began to kiss her soles. She was really foxy! But she was nasty.
“You Anglos, always thinking you’re all that. Treat us like second class trash. Treat us like dummies who don’t know English, who can’t fight Communism, who have smelly food, who can’t get a man. Well I got a man right where I want him, don’t I? Right here on his mother-f***** knees kissing the bottoms of my bare feet! Lick, you sucker! Lick my feet like your life depended on it!”
I began to lick the soles of her foot like a real love-struck slave, which I of course had become. They all laughed and clapped some more. Then, suddenly, from behind I felt clamps like handcuffs put on my wrists, and my ankles! Who was that? It was Vivian, moving quickly, and then she pushed me sideways to the ground. She put her now-shod foot on my chest and said, with a huge grin, “Now you are in chains to us; now you are real slave. We treat you like slave. Kara, get the collar, the rope, and the cane!”
She laughed and pressed her sandal hard onto my chest. I was in utter disbelief yet also wondered if I had entered utter heaven . . . or hell.
 
Likes: maddog4056
Nov 7, 2008
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#6
Awesome, awesome story...I really hope you continue it. I wish there were more stories with an Asian mistress theme. Great story, I hope he really suffers for his asian masters
 

auntrani

New Member
Oct 29, 2008
25
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1
London, England
#7
Excellent start. I would love to be enslaved by Madame Vivian and her cohorts. To have her make me work hard in her garden under the heat of a blazing sun without giving me any water is my ultimate fantasy. My fantasy would end with me falling to the ground tired and dehydrated as I am worked to death. Then Madame Vivian and Mistresses Lee, Kara and Ann, would all placed a sandal heel on my chest as they mockingly take sips of ice cold water from the glasses they are holding, each of the cruel ladies smirking at my plight. Please post the next part. I would love to see what happens next. Any chance of adding the next part?
 
Feb 27, 2005
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NYC
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#8
Great writing, Aramis!

I love the concept: Asian neighbors who know and recognize male submission, and are more than eager to use it for their advantage.

Great concept, skillful writing, can't wait to see where your creative and talented mind will take this saga next. Maybe the younger women all together standing on him as the senior superior steps up onto his face, full weight, to show him his very life is under their feet and whim! Maybe they train him to serve as their maid and butler to show off their dominance to their friends from their country, busting his face with sadistic kicks as they all glory in putting a white man right where he belongs: under their power! Maybe they have a contest among their friends to see who can come up with the most degrading ways to put this inferior white man where he belongs - under their feet and at their mercy!

can't wait for more, thanks so much for sharing!:thumbsup:
 
Likes: maddog4056
Aug 31, 2002
631
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Chicago
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#9
Thanks for all the very kind replies; I dont know if I will continue the story but if I do it will be because of your suggestions and encouragement; which are truly appreciated! Thank you, and power to the Asian Women!!
 
Aug 31, 2002
631
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Chicago
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#12
thank you, thank you everyone for your kind words, but the Muse just has not struck me again, although I have not forgotten the story either. Aunt Rani, You surprise me by expressing a desire to be beneath dominant female heels, as You Yourself are an Indian mistress and owner of men. Are you perchance actually a submissive men hiding behind the persona and great tales of Aunt Rani?
 
Likes: maddog4056
Jul 21, 2003
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#13
Real good start. I'm usually not as into the "willing" stuff, but this is very well written and has a taste of emotional conflict in it. Looking forard to the rest.
 

auntrani

New Member
Oct 29, 2008
25
0
1
London, England
#16
Hi thanks for your reply. I am actually a male - Nial Van Haydam. I write the aunt rani stories (www.auntrani.com). I like dominant Indian and Asian women. My forum ID is auntrani. I know you haven't got the 'muse' yet but please continue this wonderful story. This is a wonderful start and the story has potential to be an all round femdom classic. Nial. (Nialvan@yahoo.co.uk)