Foot Cocktail

Lady Karame had ordered me on a stool where I had to stand half naked on a dozen painful bottle caps. Standing on bottle caps for five minutes does not hurt, but fifteen, twenty or even thirty minutes... After a while she sat down on her throne and wished a foot bath for entertainment. On duty, I knelt before the exalted Mistress and soaked her feet neatly, even inbetween her toes, massaging her feet. For a slave contender like me such moments are of unspoiled rapture, when a slave comes closer to the mistress, as in the modest ablution of her feet, which ritual illustrates a slave more intense, in which befitting relationship he is to a mistress? Lady Karame seemed to be fairly sated with the foot rubdown, so I had most likely washed off my miscarriage again. But oh my, I left behind to put a towel, how could I dry her feet? Lady Karame willingly looked over my little carelessness, yes, more so, gracefully she permitted me to suck her moist feet dry, to suck the pearling water from her feet. And because she knows how much her slaves and slave contenders adore her, she still permitted me to drink the footbath of water. Voraciously I drank, perhaps too greedy, for Lady Karame pressed my head into the bathtub. I could not breathe anymore, did she want to drown me? I sensed that I would have to drink the water downright to get a breath of fresh air...