Over A Barrel!
Another submission by our guest author, slave Paul – once again on fine form!
Over A Barrel!
By Slave Paul
‘Sold to the podgy girl with the big smile!’
He could not believe his ears! Such a rude announcement by the slave auctioneer-mistress!
However, this was the one outcome he had wished for, for she was the only prospective buyer that had shown any kindness toward him during the pre-auction, walk around session.
Life had certainly changed swiftly for the newly enslaved male currently kneeling in chains on the auction block in the Gynarchy town square. Only a month ago, he was a successful accountant in one of the major Gynarchy banks. Paul and several of his other male co-workers were fortunate enough to have secured a long term position with Miss Thornton, the Bank’s Director. Little did they know that she was siphoning off the profits for her own private dealings!
Her little plan was eventually discovered by the Gynarchy fraud division and the bank was raided one sunny afternoon! All of the employees were arrested and thrown into jail. Miss Thornton and the other female workers were let off with a warning and a token fine. However, it seems that she had placed a clause in the contracts of the male workers stating that they were co-owners of the bank! Quite rightly, all of the male employees were found guilty and sentenced to life as footslaves in the community where they had defrauded thousands of Fems from the local female population!
Paul, or to use his new name FS-9458-001, had just completed his training course with time to spare! He had progressed well through the training session in prison and accepted his lot with humility, unlike several of his male cohorts who continued to protest their innocence! My, how they screamed under the lash! The sounds of agony rang down the concrete corridors of the prison without mercy or compassion of any kind!
Paul needed little whip encouragement! The morning had finally arrived where he and five other slaves were to be auctioned off to public and private servitude. He did have a preference for private servitude as he hated the idea of spending the rest of his life in chains in a public shoe or foot cleaning booth in the town square!
Each of the slaves were backed into a wooden paddock and chained by the neck to the wall to await inspection. Several cruel looking women inspected him without speaking. They simply prodded and probed him, pulled his hair and inspected his back for whip marks. One such cruel vixen, a tall blonde woman, dressed in a foreboding black leather jacket and jeans combination, simply dug her spiked stiletto-heeled toe into his temple and said ominously:
‘I hope you enjoy pain, for your sake boy! I will be adding to your whip marks HA!’
The morning passed by quite slowly and he was not attracting much female attention! Finally, another young lady approached the solitary slave. She was quite attractive but could be described as being overweight to say the least! Her delightful smile was surrounded by a set of dark brown curls that came down below her shoulders. She had pale skin, and seemed quite shy and retiring for a woman of the Gynarchy!
‘Hello there boy; you would do quite nicely, I think! Yes, I will put in a bid on you!’
She said all of this whilst doing the usual fingering of his whip marks and pinching his flesh to see his pain threshold response. She had such a lovely smile, he simply adored her already!
Fast forward one hour and he was there at her booted feet having his new Mistress’s name tattooed onto his right thigh - MISTRESS MELISSA. He had not noticed her feet until now, in his enforced kneeling position. She was wearing very tight jeans that tapered down to a small pair of very well worn, black ankle boots with small steel studs running the length of the ornamental straps! How powerful looking, he thought! OOOW! The pain of that tattoo!
A short while later they arrived safely back at her house in the suburbs of the Gynarchy. They entered the house and Mistress Melissa went through to the lounge to pour a drink. The humble footslave simply knelt and awaited his first instructions!
This was a pivotal moment in any Mistress Slave relationship. This would be the point at which the new Mistress would lay down the ground rules for the rest of the slave’s life!
‘Welcome to my home, slave. My name is Mistress Melissa and that is how you will address me at all times! I will give you more specific instruction over the coming weeks, months and years as to what is expected of you and the consequences of disobeying my orders! For the meantime, all you need to know is that I am in charge of your life and all aspects of your freedom. I will be feeding you according to my strict diet sheet that I will explain in due course. You are quite a chubby little thing, aren’t you? I will certainly change all of that. With regard to your sleeping quarters, I’m afraid I cannot afford heavy chains and expensive cages etc. so you will have to make do with this!’
At that point she directed the slave’s attention towards what looked like a beer barrel in the centre of the room. It was polished on the outside and cut in half and jointed with a hinge running the length of one side. At the top was an opening just large enough for say, a neck; or, to be more precise, his neck!
‘That’s right, slave, I used to make furniture out of reclaimed materials and thought that a barrel would make a nice table and place to store my new footslave! Why don’t you give it a try?’
He was ushered into the empty barrel with some haste! The contraption swung shut around his neck instantly and was locked with a heavy padlock. His limbs and entire body were now trapped and effectively cocooned inside the barrel. It was very constrictive and the rough wood was causing discomfort already! His head felt very exposed at this point too!
Mistress Melissa was busy securing a large glass disk over his head and onto the top of the barrel. This completed her coffee table design, with the slave trapped inside as the centrepiece!
‘Wow! That looks better than I imagined!’
With that, she slumped into the arm chair and placed her booted feet on the table in front of the slave’s face for kissing! The light treads of her boot soles needed some attention, they had gathered small stones and other detritus on the way back from the auction. The slave was starting to panic at the enforced confinement!
‘Just relax silly! You will get used to it; I mean, it’s not like you have got any choice, is it?’
He sat there motionless and panting.
‘I asked a question, slave!’
‘Oh! No, most powerful Mistress Melissa. This humble, personal footslave is most grateful for being confined in such a restrictive and imaginative way!’
‘Good! Do you like the smell of a girl’s feet, as well as strict confinement?’
‘This humble slave has had much training in the correct method of sniffing a woman’s dirty hosiery, most respected Mistress!’
‘Who said I was wearing any hosiery, slave boy? You are quite a presumptuous little thing, I must say!’
She leant forward to unzip her boots and revealed her pasty white, bare feet and chubby unpainted toes! The new foot servant was disappointed at this revelation as he had a liking for socks as well as bare feet. This was drummed into him during the harsh training course in prison.
She once again looked into his eyes and read his mind with astonishing accuracy:
‘Don’t worry, slave; I do sometimes wear socks too! I just thought that we should get to know each other properly first. Besides all of that, you will have to earn the privilege of smelling my socks, slave!’
Needless to say, the first evening was spent with the centrepiece slave licking the dirt off his new Mistress’s dirty, sweaty, bare feet. She was quite impressed with his efforts and finally decided to retire for the night. She wearily stood up and patted him affectionately on the head before leaving for bed!
FS-9458-001 smiled and thought that he had fallen on his feet with this one! If only he could feel them through the crippling pins and needles/cramps!
The food diet chart was explained over a whipping one evening:
‘On good days, I will feed you one slice of bread and jam with a bowl of foot-wash water to drink. Oh, by the way, do you have a preference for what flavour of jam slave?’
‘Begging your pardon Mistress, but any fruit would suffice for this unworthy slave!’
‘Oh, you misunderstand! I only have cheese flavour!’
Oh, toejam! Now he understands!
For the most part, Mistress Melissa was a kind and gentle mistress! The only time she was unpredictable was following a heavy drinking session. She would frequently remove the slave from the barrel for a caning at her feet if she felt displeased with his service. Fortunately for him, she could not handle the drink and would wake up the next day having forgotten all about it! The slave would still bear the marks of course!
One fateful evening she was reclining watching the television with the captive, ornamental slave in the modified table contraption. She was once again drinking heavily, which did not bode well for the slave! She was reading through the slave owner’s monthly magazine. She giggled quietly and then reached for the phone.
She left the room and returned rather unsteadily on her bare feet. She then began to force her boots onto her chubby bare ankles once again and left the room to answer the door. A young lady walked in carrying what looked like a tool box. She placed it down and left the room to talk to Mistress Melissa.
A short while later the two females returned and some money changed hands? Mistress Melissa then announced to this perfect stranger that she would be leaving her alone in the house while she goes down to the shops to purchase yet more alcohol!
The un-announced Mistress then grinned down at the slave and moved closer. She then reached for the magazine and showed the confined slave the page his mistress had been reading. In the centre was a picture of a slave wearing one of those hideous, slave-footfool masks! At the top of the page a caption read:
‘Half price footfool masks made and fitted with any purchase of this magazine!’
The young, curly headed, blonde girl sat on the floor and gazed admiringly at the barrel contraption. She then looked at the blank section of the page in the magazine that was left for the slave-owning mistress to make suggestions on how the mask should look, within reason. As the job was being completed half price, it would be quite a plain and sombre affair! The blonde girl was evidently an employee of the footfool-mask manufacturing company which had placed the advert!
She began mixing the noxious, latex rubber compound and accelerator solution. This would make the facial addition a permanent fixture! The slave knew better than to resist; he just held still, thinking that he would never see his own face again! How he had misjudged his new mistress!
Barely an hour later, the mask was completed. All of the accelerator solution was used to make the job nice and solid! The young lady had done sterling work. She liked the barrel contraption in which he was trapped so much, she added a few extra adornments to the mask free of charge! A large pair of floppy ears and wonky, mismatched eyebrows!
A while later, Mistress Melissa finally returned with some shopping bags. She was present to see the final tweaks being made to the ignominious, artificial, permanent facial accessory. The rubber compound was setting nicely and perfectly matched the contours of his ugly, forlorn face beneath.
Mistress Melissa squealed with delight, before allowing a large alcohol-induced belch to burst forth into the living room!
‘Nice work, Mish, I love the mashk! It looks soo pppppathectic hic!’
After this latest ‘conversation’ had taken place, the mask-fitting mistress left and Miss Melissa stumbled up to bed to leave the slave alone in the dark. He could feel the cold, clammy, latex rubber compound contracting over his natural facial features! It seemed to be moving about his face and pouring itself into his contours adding to the unnatural tightness, sealing him inside forever more!
Needless to say, Mistress Melissa slept very well that night thanks to her alcoholic binge! The same could not be said for the footslave who didn’t even know what his new face looked like!
Miss Melissa finally awoke around midday with an almighty hangover. She stumbled into the room in her night dress still wearing those fearsome looking, studded leather boots on her feet! She had actually slept in them!
‘WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE, SLAVE?’
He was a little confused at this loud and very startled question! She was so drunk, she did not remember the mask from last night!
‘You fool! Why did you let yourself get that stupid mask fitted? I do not want a foot gimp, you idiot! What will people think?’
She then began pulling at the padlock on the barrel contraption in a hurried manner. It swung open and he was thrust out onto the floor in a sweaty heap!
Miss Melissa then began pulling frantically at the mask in a vain attempt to remove it!
‘Quickly, we need to get this gimp mask off before it sets! PULL!!’
Too late! After a gargantuan effort, the pair slumped to the floor panting from the futile attempt at removing the now permanent face mask! Even the Mistress herself could not remove it now.
‘Oh well, boy, we will just have to get used to it, won’t we?’
‘As you say, oh most powerful and feared Mistress Melissa. We will!’
‘That will teach you not to let me get drunk in the future Ha!’
As if he had the power to stop her!
Things finally settled down for the Mistress and slave alike. They got used to each other’s mannerisms, and the slave formerly known as Paul was actually very good at keeping his Mistress happy! He even got used to the mask in time!
The only thing he could not grow accustomed to was the barrel-pillory table contraption. It was so very uncomfortable and restrictive, and she kept him in it nearly all of the time!
On the plus side, she was now allowing him access to her sweaty, worn hosiery on a very regular basis!
Years passed by, and the Mistress grew so fond of her slave she actually had a special side-car commissioned for her slave so he could accompany her on the motorcycle! (That is what the studded leather boots were for, she was into bikes!).
The side car was basically a metal frame into which the slave’s head was clamped at foot level. It was his job to prevent her booted foot from picking up mud while on the open road, travelling at speed. He was also to congratulate her foot on every successful gear change by kissing the studded, black, course leather material surrounding her precious feet!
The pair travelled to every corner of the Gynarchy nation. Most of the time they (She) would stay in a tent that was carried on the back of the bike. Mistress Melissa was tucked up in a warm, cosy camp bed while the footslave was on sentry duty outside, lickshining her boots and mouthwashing her black, cotton socks ready for the next day’s arduous travel.
Miss Melissa had a clever way of ensuring he could not simply run away in the night; she stapled his head to the cold, damp, grassy floor with the use of an oversized croquet hoop! She would ‘peg’ him out to dry every evening under the starry sky, before divesting her precious, smelly, bare feet of their outer protective garments. The slave then had to mouthwash her sticky feet before she turned in, of course!
As they travelled the Gynarchy Empire, they collected several mementoes and keepsakes as a record of their travels. These trinkets manifested themselves in the form of humiliating additions to his mask! A small set of shoes from the cobbler town of Barberia were sewn on; a miniature-replica set of socks from a female prison in the town of Femina were affixed to one of his ears; and so on.
As the years rolled by, his mask become steadily more crowded. Incredibly, twenty five years had now elapsed and the Mistress and slave were still very much together. This was almost unheard of in the Gynarchy today!
As a result, Mistress Melissa has been asked to be interviewed for an article about long term slave ownership in the FEM PRIDE Gazette! The masked slave is once more confined inside his wooden barrel awaiting the arrival of the female reporter.
‘On your best behaviour, slave. I do not want you showing me up, okay?’
‘Oh yes, most respected Mistress; thy humble serf hears and will obey!’
She continues to pace the floor, nervously awaiting the young reporter’s arrival.
At last, the doorbell rings! A very attractive brunette walks in holding a notepad and a fetching handbag. She is quite thin, and has a lovely figure and tight-fitting, one piece dress. She is wearing black, high heels on her bare, shapely feet and looks very powerful indeed!
Unsurprisingly, she laughs out loud at the image of a disembodied, masked head as a table-mounted centrepiece! The two women begin talking above the slave about the proposed news article. The reporter introduces herself as Miss Candice. She immediately asks if she can photograph the foolish-looking slave in the barrel, and his fascinating mask!
This was very humiliating for the slave, as he had no say in the matter as usual; his mistress Melissa, as always, had him over a barrel!
‘So, Miss Melissa, please tell our readers about the slave’s hilarious mask and the table/barrel setup?’
‘Well, the barrel was my idea! In the evening, I just rest my feet on the glass, inches away from his rubber clad face, and make him sniff my feet - bare or socked. At night, I make him mouthwash my dirty, stinky hosiery and normally leave at least one set of boots next to his head to lickshine!
The mask was a bit of a happy accident, really. Mr Slavey, there, let me get drunk and I ordered that mask to be fitted you see! Oh how we both laughed the next day! And the mask has been added to over the years as a representation of our travels across this great land together.’
‘Oh I see! Could you talk us through the mask’s additions, for our readers?’
‘Sure! These mini stocks represent the ones that I locked him in, and lost the key! He was stuck there in the town centre for days before I could get him out!
Those jagged nail clippings on either side of his mouth were personally sewn on by the brutish woman that I paid to give him his first REAL whipping! She sewed them on to look like fangs! He did yelp at first, as I think she accidentally caught his upper lip with the needle HA!
The miniature handcuffs, and prison number, are from when my old boyfriend moved back in ten years ago. He did not like the slave, so I had him thrown into prison to work the treadmill! Unfortunately things did not work out with Bruce, so we went our separate ways. I decided to have my slave released a year later as I was missing him! Prison certainly helped him shift that extra weight! It’s all sorted now and we have no hard feelings between us (not that I have ever bothered to ask!). Oh how that slave worships and idolises me!’
How true Mistress, Thy humble slave truly worships and venerates your powerful presence!
With the interview drawing to a close, Miss Candice asked if she may be allowed to have her own feet photographed, pressed against the slave’s masked face! He felt anger at this question! He was the property of Miss Melissa, not this reporter girl! His Mistress must surely refuse the arrogant, young reporter’s rude request?!
‘Sure, go right ahead! I will even take the picture for you, if you like?’
Miss Candice needed no further encouragement! She hastily threw her high heels to the floor revealing a pair of high-arched, pasty white, pedicured feet! Her nails were painted a gloss black colour and were neatly filed square at the ends. She thrust both feet over his masked, comedic features blocking his rubbery snout up! The smell was pungent, to say the least! Her feet were warm and clammy! Not like Mistress Melissa’s; she had such pretty feet, and a very familiar foot-odour that he had grown ever so fond of! Oh how he worshipped and doted over her!
This latest issue of FEM PRIDE soon flew off the shelves, propelling Mistress and slave into unwanted stardom! Miss Candice commissioned a mini model of her own feet smothering the slave’s masked face and had them sewn onto his mask above his right eye, to commemorate the magazine issue and 25 glorious years of servitude to his Mistress! He was disgusted to have her feet permanently bonded to his face in such an ignominious, brazen-hussy manner! He would have much preferred his own mistress Melissa’s feet to have been added to his mask!
He sat confined in the barrel, licking mistress Melissa’s bare feet, watching her read and re-read the magazine issue with a satisfied smile.
‘Here’s to another twenty five years’ service, you little foot gimp!’
What a woman!
