Bondage & Discipline, Submission, S & M

The Foot Fetish Trio Trains a Slave

By Marvin Black

Ryan could scarcely breathe with his head beneath the heavy quilt. He was tired and sore and hallucinating wildly. His knees hurt dreadfully and he imagined that an evil plastic surgeon had operated on his leg joints, leaving his limbs grotesquely disfigured and in a permanently kneeling position, dooming him to live the remainder of his days as a pathetic crawling aberration. Life was tough for slaves who lived on their knees and failed to get enough sleep.

The handsome, young submissive and foot fetishist had spent the past four hours kneeling at the foot of Mistress’ big, heavy, wooden bed, with his ankles shackled behind him, his arms spread-eagled, his wrists tied tightly to the bedposts.

"Worship my beautiful feet while I sleep," the cruel, young, New York City Lifestyle Dominatrix told him, adding, "and if I awaken and don't feel your lips kissing my feet, you will be severely punished."

"Yes, Mistress," Ryan replied obediently. Despite the loss of sleep and the

pain in his knees, Ryan was delighted to be granted the rare opportunity to worship the exquisite, high-arched, pretty, pampered feet of his Mistress -- the statuesque, heart-breakingly beautiful woman who had so effortlessly enslaved him only a few weeks before.

The obsessed young fetishist looked forward to an entire night in which to lavish passionate kisses on her lovely feet, to French kiss the soft and tender spaces between her toes, to nuzzle the damp, scented crevices beneath her toes. Like a proper submissive, Ryan adored his cruel Mistress and harbored a heartfelt passion for worshipping her exquisite feet. He adored her perfect legs too, and, if possible, he hoped to sneak a few reverent kisses above her dainty ankles. This, he believed, would be a night to remember!

Soon, however, it grew stifling under the quilt and Ryan began to suffer from oxygen deprivation. He felt drowsy and was forced to shake his head and pinch his side to stay awake. He wanted desperately to please Mistress and he feared that she would make good on her promise to mete out a harsh punishment if he failed her. It was just that he was so tired…

"How dare you fall asleep while worshiping my feet!" she hissed angrily.

Ryan lifted his cheek from the mattress and craned his neck to resume kissing her feet, but angrily she pulled them away and began to get out of bed.

Consumed with anger, she berated him cruelly. "You should be ashamed! I expected more from you, Slave Ryan -- an educated man. I must admit, you had me fooled for a while. I actually believed that you were a sensitive slave who honestly wished to serve your Mistress."

"But I--"

"Don't you dare interrupt me when I'm speaking."

The cruel, blue-eyed woman called on the intercom her pretty, switch Alexis and told her to hurry into the bedroom.

Turning again to Slave Ryan, she said, "I thought that you were truly devoted to your Mistress, but obviously I was mistaken. Isn't that right, slave?"

"But, Mistress I--"

"I said, 'Isn't that right,’ slave?'"

"Yes, Mistress." There was no getting out of this one. The pathetic slave was in big trouble and he knew it.

"Do you realize what you've done?"

"I, uh--"

"You've awakened your Mistress from a deep sleep, you ignorant fool! I hope you're proud of yourself. I hope you enjoyed irritating me and waking me up in the middle of the night. And do you know why? Well, do you?"

"No, Mistress."

"Because now I'm going to have to discipline you. You're going to suffer for your Mistress and, although you have suffered for me several times before, you have never suffered for me when I’ve been very angry. Isn't that right,


"Yes, Mistress."

Mistress’ pretty, young, switch maid entered. Alexis wore a brief and revealing, black-and-white, rubber, French maid's costume that fit like a second skin on her curvaceous body. She wore a black, leather, dog collar around her neck.

"Fetch my slippers, Alexis."

The majestic Mistress sat on a chair and extended her sexy long leg.

Mistress had the most beautiful legs that Ryan had ever seen. The switch maid knelt and lovingly placed her Mistress' slippers on her feet. These were not ordinary bedroom slippers. They were black, suede, open-toed slides with five-inch, silver stiletto heels. Her toes peeked out enticingly. Alexis reverently kissed each precious toe.

Mistress commanded, "Fetch my birch cane. My slave actually had the nerve to fall asleep when he should have been worshiping my feet while I slept. He deserves a harsh beating and I believe that a good, stiff caning is a proper manner in which to convince him that it is very unwise for him to disrespect me by neglecting his duty." Turning to Ryan, she added, "You should be grateful, slave, that I even allow you the great honor of worshipping my beautiful feet!"

"Yes, Goddess," came his weak reply.

"His head will remain beneath the covers throughout the caning. You are sentenced to a dozen strokes, Ripley. Let's see how much you enjoy being on the receiving end of a harsh caning. The beating will be administered to your bare bottom." Turning to her maid, she said, "Pull down his shorts, Alexis."

Ripley bravely thought, twelve lashes won't be so bad. Hell, he had endured worse whippings. She had given him twice as many strokes with a buggy whip and she had beaten him badly with a riding crop. Once, he was forced to withstand nearly thirty strokes from a flogger. He had never experienced a caning, but how bad could it be?


"Oh, my God in heaven!" he cried.

The first stroke tore through the tender flesh of his firm, muscular buttocks like a bolt of lightning. He was totally unprepared its shocking intensity. He literally saw stars.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

He couldn't believe it! This was pain like he had never dreamed possible.

"You'd better hold still or I'll add to your total, slave."

Crack! Crack!

"Oh, Mistress! Please! I beg of you!"

Crack! Crack!

"I just-

Crack! Crack!

"Please, Mistress! I'll never disobey you again. I promise." The youthful, muscular submissive was crying now. Weeping. Shedding a veritable river of tears.

"How many is that, slave?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mistress. I--I can't even think, much less count."

She laughed heartily. "Mmm, I'm beginning to suspect that you have an aversion to the cane, slave?"

"This is terrible. Dreadful! I've never experienced anything quite like this before. The pain is unbelievable!"

"How many strokes has Ryan received so far, Alexis?"

"Six or seven, Mistress."

"Alexis? Tell the truth."

"Eleven, Mistress."

"Very well, you have two more lashes coming, Ripley."

"But you said I was to receive a dozen."

"A baker's dozen!" Mistress exclaimed, laughing wickedly.

"Mistress! Please have mercy."

"Are you saying, 'Mercy, Mistress'?"

She was referring to the "Mercy" code word. If a slave was unable to endure any more pain, he could cry out, "Mercy, Mistress" and the beating would cease.

Every dominatrix at Donatella Den’s dungeon was sworn to scrupulously upheld the fundamental principles of the sado-masochistic experience: all interaction between Mistress and slave must be safe, sane and, above all, consensual. Ripley wasn't always certain about the sanity of the S&M experience, but he could vouch for the scene's safety and consensual nature.

He seriously considered crying "Mercy, Mistress," but he didn't want to disappoint his cruel and angry Mistress. Moreover, he knew that he had committed an unpardonable sin. He deserved to be harshly disciplined. He gritted his teeth and decided to tough it out.

"I'll take the rest of my beating for you, Mistress," said Slave Ryan. "It's important that I suffer for you. I did a terrible thing. I disappointed you."

"You failed me, slave!" she corrected.

"Will you ever forgive me?"

"We'll see."


The horror! The horror! Ryan thought, sweat dripping down his face and shoulders, his eyes red and filled with tears.


At the final stroke, he passed out. When he gained consciousness, he was delirious. He was sweating profusely and, although he was unable to look, he just knew that his ass was covered with angry, red stripes. It would be a week or more before he could comfortably sit down. Suddenly, he felt tight clamps being applied to the loose flesh of his cock. A leather umbrella was fitted around his balls and weights were suspended below. His balls hung low and he had to tense his groin muscles to alleviate the pain.

"Lift your right knee," Alexis said in a stern voice as she positioned a brick for him to kneel on.

"Now your left."

The bricks were much harder than the thickly carpeted floor and his knees began to hurt dreadfully.

"Okay, Slave Ryan," Mistress said cheerfully. "I'm going back to sleep. For your sake, I hope that you can manage to worship my feet throughout the remainder of the night. If I discover that you've fallen asleep again, you be in very grave danger."

"Mistress! I promise I'll stay awake and worship your feet all night long." Ripley couldn't fall asleep if he wanted to. His balls were being stretched to the maximum, his cock was clamped viciously and he was kneeling on bricks. How did she come up with such wicked tortures? he mused. Five hours later, Mistress stirred. She rubbed her feet in Ryans face and summoned her faithful, pretty, switch Alexis to the bedroom.

"Untie Ripley," she commanded, and remove his clamps and weights. "You’ve surprised me, slave," she said cheerfully. "You managed to redeem yourself to a certain extent, although I will never completely forget nor forgive your rude behavior. You may stretch your limbs. Your body must be quite sore this morning."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Alexis, crawl behind me into the bathroom, where you will service your Mistress at her toilette."

"Yes, Goddess," the devoted personal maid said with a sly grin.

After Ella assisted her Mistress in the bathroom, where she dressed the magnificent dominatrix in a short, tight-fitting, black, leather dress; garter belt; sheer, dark seamed stockings; and a wicked pair of black, patent-leather stilettos with pointed toes and six-inch heels -- classic Mistress pumps.

The haughty Mistress took a seat. Casually, she thrust her lovely leg forward and uttered a single word, "Lick." Ryan obeyed at once.

He licked her black pump from the front to the back and down the heel, cleaning every speck of dust from her sexy, high-heeled shoe. He felt completely degraded, but he could not help becoming excited while performing this rude and obscene task.

"Don't be greedy!" Mistress hissed as she gave his cheeks a swift, hurtful facial kicking before placing her other foot beneath his lips and tongue. Overwhelmed with the eroticism of the situation, he licked her shoe gratefully.

She strode haughtily from the room, leaving Alexis and Ryan together.

"Mistress is positively decadent!" Ryan exclaimed.

"Mistress is entitled to be decadent, Slave Ryan, the lovely maid said coolly. I'm not sure that you comprehend how magnificent she truly is. Mistress is one of the premiere dominatrixes here at Donatella Den's excellent New York dungeon."

"Without a doubt," the pathetic foot slave concurred breathlessly.

"You are an extremely fortunate creature to have been granted you the opportunity to serve her. What you did last night -- falling asleep while you were supposed to be worshiping her beautiful feet -was positively inexcusable! Frankly, I'm surprised she didn't banish you on the spot.

"I like you, Ryan," Alexis said with surprising candor. I think you're a good guy. You have experience in the Scene and good instincts. You have a sterling reputation. You are honest and sophisticated, and you have the potential to be a good personal slave, but you'd better watch it, or you're liable to find yourself out on your ear. And, let's face it, you'll never find another Mistress quite like this one. Never in a million years.

Mistress is one of a kind. You and I both know it."

"Thanks," he replied. "Thanks for the advice. You're absolutely, one hundred percent right. I'll try harder."

Alexis continued, "Mistress instructed me to take you to the slave quarters and clean you up. Take a cold shower. There is no hot water in the slave quarters. Take time for a shave. You will find towels outside the shower room."

She led the pathetic slave to the slave quarters, located below ground in the basement of the building, beneath the stone dungeon. "You'll find what you need over there," she said, pointing.

On the way out, the switch maid added casually, "If you have any questions, ask Slave 39. He's a seasoned veteran."

Ripley heard water running. A tall, thin man came out of the shower and began to dry himself off with a small, thin face towel.

"You would be..."

"39. Slave 39."

"That's a tiny towel."

"It's the only size Mistress allows us to use. She doesn't want to spoil us."

"Spoil us?"

"That's what she says."

This guy was certainly aloof. "So how did you get the name, 'Slave 39’"?

"It's a long story," he replied brusquely and let it drop.

Slave 39 was getting on Ryan’s nerves. "What gives, 39? Is it gonna kill you to be nice to me?"

"Look here, you! Mistress discourages fraternization among her submissives. I got in trouble for that once before. She was so angry that she threatened to banish me. The other fellow actually was banished."

"Do you know what would happen to me if I were banished from Her Majesty's presence? Nothing! That's what would happen. Absolutely nothing! I would return to being the pitiful, pathetic zero that I was before I was lucky enough to meet my beautiful Mistress and serve as her humble and adoring slave. My life would again be meaningless -- a cold, passionless, lifeless void, and it would remain that way until I took my last dying breath. I don't know about you, but I am not about to risk my entire future just so that I can be friends with some overeducated, overpaid, hot-shot from Wall

Street who has only served Mistress for a couple of weeks. Okay? Do we have an understanding?"

"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Ryan, wondering how 39 knew so much about him.

"All right, already. Lighten up. I don't handle rejection well, but I think

I'll survive. Just for the record, my name is Ryan.

"Lookit," said Slave 39. "I'm sorry that I snapped your head off. Maybe I'm overly sensitive, but her sublime Highness means everything to me."

"Hey," replied Slave Ryan, "you're entitled to your feelings, although you may be overwrought with fear and anxiety."

Slave 39 decided to lecture me. "Mistress has a powerful affect on her submissives. Did you know that she generally loathes novices and unprofessional dommes? There are thousands of submissives, masochists and fetishists who would give everything they own to serve our magnificent Mistress.

"As for me, I commenced serving Mistress before she became a professional dominatrix. I changed her shoes and stockings in high school. I was her thirty-ninth client … her 39th slave. Actually, I was never really a client. I was her slave from the very first moment I met her. I knelt and kissed her feet, figuring that she was entitled to own obsequious, adoring slaves, hoping that I would qualify as a member of her ever-growing stable of slaves. I was an accountant, dying a slow death by boredom. I knew as a child that I was different, submissive to beautiful women. I used to race home from school, take my father's Playboy magazines into my room and ogle the beautiful women, fantasizing that I was the centerfold’s adoring slave, worshiping her feet while she whipped and humiliated me, not because I had misbehaved, but solely for her cruel, whimsical amusement. You have no idea of the mental and emotional toll it took on my psyche."

"I had much the same experience."

"No doubt," Ryan said. "What about Mistress’ switch maid?"

"Pretty, switch Alexis?"

"Yeah, what's her story?"

"I heard that Alexis came to New York to serve in Mistress Jade’s New York dungeon. I think they met while Mistress performed one night at the Hellfire Club. But, I’m not entirely certain."

"She keeps a stable of slaves in New York?"

"Mistress is a renowned, world-class dominatrix. In addition to session clients, she has telephone, postal- and e-mail slaves all over the world."

Ryan was impressed. He had no idea that his Mistress was so popular, but it didn't surprise him.

Slave 39 continued, "You have to be careful what you say to Alexis. She's a switch who tells Mistress everything. I think she's a lesbian or bisexual at the least, but what do I know? One thing is certain. She’s got a mean streak a mile wide, but Mistress generally keeps her on a short leash. When it's party time, however, and Alexis is allowed to dominate submissive men and women, she has been known to turn into a monster. You've got to watch your ass when she's around. And I mean that literally. She thrives on meting out harsh beatings."

"What's going to happen tonight?"

"Mistress has invited some of her friends over for a party at the dungeon,"

39 said with a huge smile.

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means an exciting evening of fun and games," Slave 39 said with flashing eyes as he departed.

As Ryan stepped into the shower, he felt a profound sense of relief. How bad could it be: Mistress’ peers and their slaves all joined together in a festive mood? It would be fun and exciting. He was looking forward to it.

Suddenly, Alexis reappeared. "What in the world have you been doing all this time?"

"I've been following instructions," he said.

"Mistress wants both of you in the upstairs living room, on your knees, and prepared to … ah! In her own words she said, ‘This evening, you shall be abused physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.’" She spun on her patent-leather stilettos to leave.

"Why? Why are we going to be so cruelly abused and humiliated? What did we do wrong?" Ryan justly queried.

"What difference does it make, Ryan?" snapped Alexis. You’re going to have to take a severe beating, first from me, and then from Mistress. She stopped dead in her tracks, turned and glared hard at Slave Ryan. "You may think that you're a real funny guy, Ryan, and since Mistress allowed you to join her stable as a primary submissive, you may even think that you deserve preferential treatment … and that therefore it's not necessary for you to afford me any respect. But, do you know what? You just may find out that your thinking is flawed. You may soon learn firsthand one of Mistress's most important maxims -- 'that all slaves are equal, but some are less equal than others.'" With that, the wicked, switch maid departed, leaving Ryan dazed, confused and scared witless.

Mistress would have fun tonight, but with her switch maid in the house, the scene would invariably jump-start into a serious worship and whipping fest. When Mistress and her pretty maid got together with a couple of slaves, sparks flew. Submissives were beaten and abjectly degraded. Typically, other Mistresses from the Dungeon of Donatella Den would be pleased to get in on the act, and give the masochists a serious whipping, after suspending the bondage boys from the ceiling, and dressing the sissies to look like sluts in flimsy, low-cut, short, black-and-white maid’s costumes and large high heels. Mistress was liable to send her sissy-slut slaves out to work the boulevard.

One late-arriving slave, called "Weak Link" was stripped and strapped across a hospital gurney with pillows beneath his pelvis. His plump, young ass cheeks silently begged for abuse. Mistress and switch Alexis worked him over with a flogger, a riding crop, and a birch cane that stung like crazy and could easily push a submissive past his limits … and drive him positively mad.

"Weak Link," hissed the beautiful switch maid reproachfully as his tear-filled eyes filled with tears. "I mean, his nickname is ‘Weak Link.’ I just don’t think that this slave possesses the character necessary to serve a world-class dominatrix such as yourself, Mistress."

"Well, evidently he didn’t earn the nickname, ‘Weak Link’ for nothing, Alexis," Mistress replied. "Neither of them are worthy of serving me, but perhaps you could teach them the basics of the S&M experience, and report to me on their behavior."

"I would be delighted," came Alexis’ eager reply, happy for the opportunity to abuse and degrade some foolish slaves.During the past few weeks, Mistress and switch Alexis have completely broken me. I have served time on the Medieval Stretching Rack; the Catherine's Wheel; the wicked St. Andrew’s Cross; and the Punishment Horse. I have bent over the paddling bench for a prolonged, over-the-knee spanking. I have suffered daily. Mistress has subjected me to cruel and unusual methods of discipline and corporal punishment. I have spent days and nights in leather and chain restraints, in the dreaded Tiger Cage, awaiting the opportunity to serve and suffer for the glorious Mistress, who owns my very soul. I have been suspended high in the air in a canopy and on a hammock for hours at a time.

Mistress and Alexis have taken great liberties with me. They have used me hard. Together, they have systematically beaten and degraded me to such a degree that, for the first time ever, I truly consider myself a "Masochistic Extremist!" Mistress taught me to worship her constantly and to suffer increasing amounts of pain for her pleasure and amusement.

At the conclusion of my last painful session in the dungeon, Mistress calmly warned, "Slave, Ryan, the next time I abuse you, I believe I shall introduce you to a nice fat, lengthy dildo … for a hard, long butt-fucking. That will teach you to do better, to improve your attitude, and to better understand the needs of your cruel Mistress."

At that moment, I realized with a chill that the worst was yet to come