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 refreshment. 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 discreet 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 pleased with the foot rubdown, so I had probably washed off my miscarriage again. But oh my, I forgot to put a towel, how could I dry her feet? Lady Karame kindly looked over my little carelessness, yes, more so, gracefully she allowed me to suck her wet feet dry, to suck the pearling water from her feet. And because she knows how much her slaves and slave contenders worship her, she still allowed me to drink the footbath of water. Greedily I drank, perhaps too greedy, for Lady Karame pressed my head into the tub. I could not breathe anymore, did she want to drown me? I sensed that I would have to drink the water completely to get a breath of fresh air...