Trigger Warning: The following post uses terminology that some may find offensive, but which is simply used within the context and norms of the event in which it happened.
I counted five semi-naked slaves laying prone on the floor, three face-down on their stomachs and two between them on their back, whilst three ladies above were gleefully walking back and forth across them, each using the curled ropes secured to the roof of the cage to steady themselves as they walked. In fact, instead of walking, one woman was actually jumping up and down across the bodies below her.
There were more slaves of varying sizes, heights and shapes lining-up near the entrance to the cage, waiting to be motioned forward by a tall blonde figure wearing a flame-red jacket, black net stockings and wonderful thigh-length red boots. She was bending forwards at regular intervals prodding the five figures already on the floor, with her long cane.
As I moved closer I realised she was instructing the figures to turn over in succession so that the pattern of three backs and two fronts was like a rolling carpet of different textures for the ladies to trample across.
She noticed my interest and waved me forward, I pulled Subby1’s leash along with me. “Hi, I’m Mistress TV8” she called-out loudly above the music. From her deep voice, and the wobbling of flesh dangling impressively from the front of her stockings, I realised the relevance of her name.
She’d noticed my glance downwards as I’d stepped forward. “That’s the 8” she laughed as she swayed her hips from side-to-side with exaggerated wiggles.
“Do you think he’d like some of it?” she nodded towards Subby1 standing at my side now.
“I think probably not” I laughed, “but I’d like to walk across your floor if I may”, pointing down at the human carpet which was just being eagerly refreshed as two of the previous occupants had crawled away from the other end.
One of the ladies had also stepped off at the other end of the cage, so Mistress TV8 offered me a hand to step-up onto the first back naked below my heels, as I reached forward to pull myself up on the first rope.
I swayed, and walked, uneasily at first … using one hand after the other to steady myself from each rope to the next.
I followed the domme in front of me but couldn’t bring myself to stamp down on the flesh below us quite as forcefully as she was. She turned around when she got to the end of the cage, to come back past me again and laughed as she manoeuvred past. “Don’t be gentle” she laughed. “They love it. Look”. She pulled herself up on the rope next to me, and then bounced up and down with both of her sharp heels pummelling into the chest of the figure beneath her. “Don’t you slave!” she hissed down at him as she bounced.
“Yes Mistress … more Mistress … harder Mistress” he was gasping in reply.
The slave beneath my own feet was face down so I couldn’t see his face, but he was arching his back up and down in obvious encouragement for me to be more forceful in my stepping.
I managed several “laps” of the cage … becoming bolder and more heavy footed as I gained more confidence in my balance … and as I became more comfortable with the obvious signs of enjoyment beneath me.
As I reached the end of what I’d decided was to be my last lap, I recognised that the smiling face of the figure now immediately below me, had been the first or second slave I’d walked across when I’d begun my uncertain steps a few minutes or so earlier. (Subby1 later told me I’d been “walking” for at least 10 minutes)!!!
I recognised him from his mop of bright-white bleached spiky hair that had made him look as though he was in a constant state of electric shock with each passing foot-print.
“Please Mistress” he smiled up at me and lifted his hips to pull his black shorts down to expose his quite erect and upstanding cock. He flattened it against himself with one hand and pushed up against his balls with the other hand, making a target of the puffed-up bauble of flesh.
“No I couldn’t, not with these heels” I told him. I was wearing my black suede ankle boots, so not stilettos, but they do have a hard-flat heel and brass studs which I was worried might cause painful damage if caught across a not-flat surface. And that bauble was hardly flat!
“Please Mistress” he begged again, thrusting his hips upward.
I squashed, rather than stamped, downwards and had to hold onto the rope above me with both hands as he swivelled from side-to-side beneath my weight.
I was looking straight down at him as I pushed downwards again, holding tightly onto my rope to keep my balance as he bucked up and down against my shoes. His eyes were rolling and his enjoyment obvious from his throaty gasps, clearly audible above the music. I prodded down again with my heel. His mouth was open … wide open … with no sound this time. His eyelids tightly squeezed shut … and a sudden jet of creamy whiteness spurting from between his fingers …
The above is an extract from the chapter “Foot Worship and Toilet Duties” from my upcoming “Modesty Unleashed” – Part 8 of my “Modesty Ablaze Diaries of a London Hotwife”.
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Xxx- K
