Road Rage II

Sequel story to ‘Road Rage’

By Slave Paul

It is not long now! Not long until SHE will be home! She who must be obeyed, and is indeed my one and only dominating focus in life.

My beautiful, red-headed Mistress Colleen is a feisty, domineering and vicious character. She is a highly professional and extremely well trained Tickler-Mistress. This is the name applied to her somewhat devilishly cruel trade, as it is her job to visit condemned, and in most cases pre-condemned, prisoners in order to amplify their torments under the judicious female lash! I am merely her personal foot slave, and have been so for nearly five years now!

My Mistress Colleen actually rescued me from a fate worse than death, in my eyes! I was arrested for some heinous crimes against femininity (lack of proper respect to my young, female, college lecturer). In view of the ‘seriousness’ of the crime, the good lady Judge of the first female court of Gynarchy X sentenced me to life as an anatomist dummy in the very same college that I was studying at! This would have involved being trussed up daily while the young female students study male anatomy, with a view to more accurately tracking the nervous system and pain suppression techniques. I would have been a laughing stock, and in pain, in perpetuity! Such living, male dummies are permanently affixed to an adjustable iron cross that locks in a number of humiliating positions. The dummy must stand at the front of the lecture hall while all of the female students absorb their fascinating lecture!

The good lady Judge was indeed pleased to see me break down in tears as a result of her harsh sentencing! I knew how soul destroyingly humiliating this sentence would be, as I used to attend these lectures myself as a freemale student! That is why I was singled out - few men are allowed to attend these female orientated classes. How the class would chuckle as we all left the auditorium, and the young female lecturer would turn out the lights leaving the live male mannequin bent double with electrodes still plugged into the stimulator device (left alone all weekend)!

Imagine my utter relief, therefore, when this stunningly beautiful, red-haired, Irish Goddess, seated in the public gallery, politely requested my release into her personal custody! I was stunned when the good lady Judge actually acquiesced to her demands! This was unheard of! Why had the Judge so suddenly acceded to her demands? I was sentenced so harshly one moment; why would I be reprieved so rashly the next? So many questions were racing through my confused, male head!

Fast forward five years and all is blatantly clear now! Mistress Colleen was granted my custody as her full-time permanent personal foot-slave, due to the beyond-exemplary service that she had tirelessly supplied to the many male prisons around the Gynarchy X! The walls of her house were plastered in certificates and awards from prestigious female corrections service authorities! And the Female Court wished to express its appreciation to her also.

Hence my personal bondage to the redheaded minx!

The only further stipulation that the court made prior to my re-sentencing to life as Miss Colleen’s personal foot-slave was the addition of a permanent heavy wooden collar around my neck, known as a cangue! This was specifically listed in the proceedings as having to weigh 45 pounds! It also had to be nearly three inches thick, and a foot square, to meet this exacting criteria! But the backbreaking weight was, in my naïve eyes, a small burden to bear in view of the alternative of being a female students’ anatomical dummy!

Unfortunately for me however, escaping the female anatomists and my new wooden necklace was the last bit of luck that I was due to receive! Being a humble foot servant to a young woman that devotes so much of her time and conscious effort to pre-torturing shackled, male prisoners is a truly gruelling and harrowing existence! Each night brings new challenges and arduous experiences to overcome!

I hear her approaching the front door now! Keys jangling in the lock. I hastily drop the blue towelling socks that she saves for weekend, informal wear from my hosiery washing line and crawl as fast as I can to the door to meet her! I once missed her arrival home… I will never do that again!

The door opens to reveal her stunning, redheaded beauty and menacing presence! She is still dressed the same way she was when she left early for work this morning, her somewhat creased green cotton, summery dress clings to her shapely body as she has obviously been suffering in the heat! She is not used to being in direct sunlight, as she prefers the darkened dungeons of the Gynarchy X correction establishments!

I of course do not meet her gaze; it is my humble job to greet her by staring longingly at the green leather pumps that she is wearing on her pasty white, bare feet - the same pumps that I placed over her dainty, Irish, bare toes nearly twelve long hours ago!

I stoop yet lower in order to lay on a whole series of fevered, respectful kisses! She laughs and runs her pretty fingers through her shiny red locks above me:

‘You’ll be glad to know that they are sure to be reeking tonight, slave! HA! To be sure, you will be cringing as these little devils are released from their little, green leather prisons!’

We then ‘reconvene’ in the luxurious living room. Mistress Colleen has poured herself a drink of Irish Whiskey and sits starting down at me in her favourite chair! I always hate this part as I never know what she is going to do next! Sometimes she just reaches under the chair to produce the dreaded cat-o-nine tailed whip, and then goes mad with it on my kneeling back for no apparent reason! This is quite a crude method of punishment in her eyes, as she normally delights in more refined and subtle, torture and stimulation techniques! Ad hoc whippings require an element of self-control and restraint on her part, lest she damage me irrevocably. But, sometimes she just needs to let go on me! Take out all her anger and frustration on me!

I can, however, report that, unrefined and crude form of punishment though it may be, the flesh-shredding sting of the nine tailed whip does a jolly good job of agonising me to the point of tears!

On other nights she will simply produce a long pair of socks and tie me up with them. She then uses rough hemp rope to lash me tightly in what she calls a ‘compression’ position. I must remain coiled up on the floor in silence and in socks for as long as I can without moaning. As the hours and minutes pass by, moaning becomes harder to stave off as the pain in my cramped muscles increases inexorably! If I reach the release time that Mistress Colleen has written on a piece of paper (which is cruelly kept out of my sight) I am set free to lick her shoes clean. If I moan and whine prematurely with the pain, I am made to suffer in unimaginably cruel and sadistic ways!

Tonight my fate seems to be uncertain! She is still smiling menacingly down at me:

‘Take of those shoes, ya little creep and get that convict nose of yours working in between my little tootsies or, I might just snap it off!’

I waste no time in pulling her green, leather shoes off her feet. They were quite difficult to remove as the sweat had stuck her feet to the soles of her badly worn inner shoe lining. As with every week-day for the last five years, I am now placed on the floor just inches away from some of the prettiest female feet on the planet! There are men out there that would kill for the right to worship these naturally beautiful, Irish feet! No polish needed, as her ten tiny perfectly formed toes need no artificial accentuating! This image, despite its intense beauty to me, only signals impending suffering (if one ignores the unholy smell of cheesy, vinegary female foot-sweat now surrounding one)!

I begin dutifully sniffing my way around her soft, feminine feet as she regales me with tales of her day above me (much better than the cat o’ nine tails!). She tells me some of the usual stories about how much she increased the amplitude of the screams and moans of two of the more regular attendees to the judicial punishment palace in which she works. One abnormal event took place however (doubtlessly the reason that we are still on the foot worship stage and I am not screaming for mercy) that Mistress Colleen delighted in describing in detail to me:

‘One eejit looked like a rabbit caught in me headlights! He was in for road rage, of all things, and as usual it was my job to prep the little bugger for a pre-judgemental whipping. This time was different though. The laddie had never been whipped or tortured before!...’

I should point out that Mistress Colleen loves it when newbies attend her cell for punishment, they are so frightened!

‘…I knew this rookie con was goin’ to be good fun, but, boy was I in for a treat! He was already glowing with embarrassment, hangin’ semi-naked from his wrist shackles when I came on to him! I went straight to work on his tough wee nipples! Workin’ them with me soft palms; the eejit didn’t know what was goin’ on, so he didn’t! Then I set about draggin’ me nails up and down his spine. Ha! Ha! Then he shrieked with the nervous stimulation at this point, and I’d hardly even started! Then, I…..’

This overly graphic description of male-prisoner nipple-torture (on remand!) went on for over an hour before we had reached the gory stage where the actual whipping had started! By now I had moved on to slowly sucking my Mistress’s bare toes, gently making sure that my teeth did not make contact with that milky-white, feminine foot-flesh! All of this foot-slavish attention, coupled with the erotic nature of my Mistress’s graphic story-telling, was getting her ‘in the mood’!

Most young women of her age (early twenties) are sexually active, young females by now! And rightly so! Unfortunately for me, my Mistress Colleen is not interested in that sort of pleasure; she only derives pleasure from making men suffer! In her own words, she is a ‘colossal, female pervert who rejoices in male torment’!

I could see the next part coming a mile off!

…………………………………….

Suddenly Mistress Colleen has stopped talking and is deep thought - no doubt fantasizing about what she is going to do to me next!

‘Right, ya little slave boyo, let’s be havin’ you down in the dungeon, shall we?’

This was what I feared all along! Normally, this is an experience saved for the weekend, where she is more rested and has time to sufficiently indulge her sordid, sadistic pleasures and passions! If she had not told that story and got herself all worked up, I would be safely sniffing the insides of her discarded shoes by now.

We arrive in the purpose built dungeon beneath the beloved home of my Mistress. No self-respecting Tickler Mistress would be without her own dungeon facilities! Mistress Colleen likes to try out new methods of stimulation on me, in her spare time. I am her guinea-pig, if you like! Some of her trial methods are deemed too perverted and degrading by the female authorities but, who will be there to moderate my Mistress’s perverse attentions towards me down here in her private dungeon?

She wastes no time in securely shackling, then strapping, me to her hand-built, wooden stretch-rack. This was personally designed by her to have very refined gearing installed. She wanted maximum control over the potentially limb-breaking strength that the unit is capable of delivering! The extra straps are only to ensure that my male body is totally immobilised, exposed, and totally at her female mercy! She never resorts to out and out torture, however; the phrase ‘tickler’ means just that. Assuming that she has done her job sufficiently, only a minor touch of the whip will be necessary to induce nerve shreddingly fearful pain!

As I lay on my back on the rack, trembling at what she has devised for me, I can just see her rifling through her box of toys in the far corner of the dungeon! She too is trembling, but with excitement and sexual energy! She returns and slowly winds the rack mechanism to take up the slack. The stretching makes it harder for me to breathe! Just before it becomes too intense she stops. She knows me and my bodily limits well by now!

Next I am aware of a cold, metallic sensation around my confined-in-wood, bare, right foot. A ‘foot-crusher’ is applied, and tensioned just enough to cause a dull ache, and nothing more. Then, on my left thumb, a small set of thumbscrews is slipped on and tightened. This device is designed for two male digits, but as my arms are currently held apart by thick shackles, one digit will have to do.

Off-duty Tickler-Mistress Colleen then settles down at the base of the rack by the stocks, and produces a pink feather duster. This is used to gently brush up and down my thighs and over the other foot with no crushing implement on it! The sensation of three types of pain - a dull ache, a tickling/pleasure and a harsh stretching sensation - is truly overwhelming. During the few lectures that I did attend in my past life, I was taught that the feeble, male mind is incapable of these three simultaneous sensations, so sensory overload ensues! I can report this to be absolutely correct; I don't know if I should laugh or cry!

More time passes by, and Mistress Colleen has now joined me on the rack! She is laying beside me, as if we were in bed together (and I were constantly stretching!). She begins using her new technique that started all of this off in the first place i.e. she slowly rubs my nipples with her warm, clammy palms. Mistress Colleen uses copious amounts of moisturiser in order to maintain soft skilful hands. This creates a very strange sensation. This is the only time I will ever meet her direct gaze; she stares almost lovingly into my eyes as she rubs my chest. Every time I forget the pain, and focus on the pleasure, she swiftly jerks my cangue causing excruciating pain in my shoulders! Then more sensuous rubbing ensues! All of a sudden her pupils, that until now have been comparable in size to dinner plates, contract to pin-pricks as she dives for my chest and bites down hard on my exposed, right nipple!

ARRRGH!

Next she decides to stand with her dusty, bare feet on my naked torso! She uses one of her perfectly formed toes to gently tickle my nose with the neatly filed toenail-overhang, which causes an involuntary sneeze on my part. This is pure agony, as the rigid confines of the rack hold firm as my body contracts and expands with my involuntary nasal reaction, with no forgiveness whatsoever!

‘Ha! I felt that one, ya little bugger, so I did’!

Now I can feel her left foot (the one without the nasal mucus on it) descending onto my stretched stomach, and moving ever onwards until it reaches my ‘insignificant, male organ’ (as she terms it loudly and often; and in public!). The cool sensation of her bare, Irish foot-sole on my male member through my flimsy, cotton, convict shorts is mesmerising! I feel a welling up of rare, but extreme, sexual pleasure inside me!

Just then her foot disappears, and is replaced with considerable force causing pure agony!

AARRGH!

Hours of this juxtaposed pleasure/pain experience ensue. I am truly a physical wreck of a slave by the small hours of the morning! Colleen is desperately tired by now, but the overdose of female endorphins and adrenalin are fuelling this gargantuan ‘tickling’ session! By 3 AM she is cranking at the rack, urging me to take yet more of the punishment, but I can take no more! I pass out in a cold, slave sweat whilst still strapped firmly down!

Still more hours later I awake, drenched in sweat. My Mistress Colleen is casually laying beside me, still on the rack. She has her arm round my sweaty torso, as if coiled in a loving embrace. Her bright eyes are wide open, and staring, almost manically, into my vacuous, male mind. This Mistress-slave moment seems to be the most tender thing I have ever experienced; but something has to end it, for, as we all know, all good things must come to an end!

AAAOW!

She suddenly pinches my left nipple with her long, green lacquered, finger nails! Then something quite unexpected, she moves in so close, I can feel her hot, panting breath!

‘Thanks for that, slave, I REALLY enjoyed it! When you passed out, I felt a great release, if ya know what I mean? HA!’

She then licked my cheek and moved towards my nose in order to bite it sharply!

‘Are ya ready for some more tickling, slave boy? I’ve got my second wind, so I have!’

All this, and it is still only Wednesday!