Tales of the Thousand and One Shades of Alanis, the Goddess (part 4)
4.
Last Order
It was Bert’s idea to spend the last days of his freedom with his friends, and to spend those days and nights in mythical Transsilvania. The next week he was to be married. After four days of continuous travelling and celebration, they were all broke and at the end of their energy. Bert was shot ripe for marriage. For the last night they had what they thought a special plan. No sex. No party. They dined at one of the most expensive restaurants in town, the “Galleria”, they had their last money scraped together and dined like Czar himself. It was top notch vegan food, they hadn’t realized it, but it was delicious nonetheless.
In the “Gallery” you dine at two levels. The three friends sat upstairs at Gallery-level and looked down at the guests below. All international moneybags. They laughed and made nasty remarks about the super posh society under their feet, dipping their naan into creamy avocado with red pepper coulis and sipping champagne rosé flutes. They sat atop them, ate, drank, loud, silly, hilarious. Some guests and some indignant waiter looked up at them. They were not bothered. Tonight was their night. Britannia rules. Tomorrow, they’d be heading back to England. And next week, well, Bert would lose his freedom forever.
Cheers!
Bert and Tim were sitting near the railing. They had the best view of the sparkling society. There was a table directly below them that caught their attention. Three women, enjoying dinner and conversation. Three bombs. All of them were pretty young, around 25 years old, definitely not older than 30.
“Look at her”, said Bert and pointed with his finger at an impressive Brunette who talked and joked with her two equally impressive friends. It wasn’t the Brunette’s undeniable beauty, her high cheekbones or her stylish and expensive black leather dress that flabbergasted him the most – but the opulent ornaments on her visible skin. She had tattoes everywhere, serpents crawling up her neck, mythical creatures and weird flowers colonizing her chest, her naked arms were practically black from multi coloured tattoo layers, and even her face was framed with mysterious ornamental scripture.
Mike became curious about the discovery of his giggling friends, he came to the railing and was thrilled on the spot. “Oh, look at the blonde, she is worth a hunt!” he screamed loudly. The Blonde: She had long platinum blonde straight hair and wore a light silvery silk dress that shimmered very elegantly into a bluish tone. It fit perfectly her incredible physique. The dress ended above the knees which allowed the guys a most exquisite view of her long legs and her tight tits. Outrageously expensive pearl jewelry clinked on her neck and wrists. Her bare feet were shod in high-heeled, pearl-studded plateau slingbacks. Her toenails were painted shiny silver. The face of the lady, unfortunately, the boys could not see properly. But they all were convinced of her stunning beauty.
Tim’s mind was absorbed from the third woman at the table. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked the youngest of the three. Nevertheless, she appeared to be their secret boss, the center of the ladies posse. Her slim and petite figure contrasted to the cascade of long red hair falling loosely over her white shoulders. Dark green eyes like dangerously deep lakes, her gaze calm and somehow frightening, her eyebrows sharp as shimmering knifes, her smile knowing as if she came from far above, her teint was lighter than the others… But what gave her the look of a true queen was her outfit: She wore a green and golden emboidered kurta set, her naked feet in golden strappy sandals. She looked like a GODDESS. But even without her regal costume, she had the aura and the look of a majesty. Still very sexy. Tim’s eyes were glued to her sight.
“The stench of money,” said Bert, grinning.
“Rich girls are still the Sexiest …” groaned Mike, hardly could he tear his eyes away from the three stylish sexy women. The ladies were in boisterous conversation and paid no attention to anything around them, especially not to three drunken British boys above their heads, who tried to look at them in detail. Just once, Tim noticed that “his” Red devilsih beautiful Goddess became aware of them. Her sudden stare from green eyes hit him like the blade of a knife. Immediately he turned to his friends as if a curse had hit him. Suddenly he felt it would be better not to get closer to these ladies.
One detail was particularly bizarre about the ladies on ground floor. Two men stood at a discreet distance on either side of the table in the shadow, broad guys in well-cut suits. The guys did not move, just stood there, observing the restaurant. They weren’t waiters. But bodyguards, obviously. And, strangely, they wore collars around their thick necks, like dogs.
“Those brides are romanian mafia,” stated Bert with a laugh, “crazy shit!” Again Tim looked down over the balustrade, but only very briefly. At the very moment the Tattoo Lady and the Blonde looked up. Had they been talking about the guys upstairs? Yes, they were beautiful, both of them. The Tattoo Lady had the feature of a “slavic beauty”, high cheekbones, slightly severe lineaments, she looked at the British with an expression as if they were dying flies glued to a fly paper. The Blonde had a softer face, her lips were full and sensual, red pouty lips, but her gaze was intense, arrogant and hostile also. Bert, Mike and Tim immediately turned back to their table. Bert giggled silly. “Who knows,” he said, “maybe there is still something in for us tonight!” Tim shook his head: “You’re crazy. Now let us continue to eat.” He suddenly felt very uneasy.
For a few minutes they were completely occupied with themselves again, telling each other about their past days and nights adventures. When Bert tried to entertain the friends by repeating his dance moves with which he had impressed a transsilvanian girl last night in the “Bunker” club of Cluj, he bumped his small daypack, which he by no means wanted to leave in the cloakroom (his last money was in it). He had squeezed the bagpack between two marble pillars of the balustrade – now it flew right through these marble pillars.
And flew.
Into the abyss.
Then silence. Throughout the whole restaurant.
“Shit,” whispered Bert. “Where did it end up?” Bert did not dare to look. Tim peeked cautiously down the balustrade.
The backpack lay in the middle of the beauties table. Like a shot duck. The Table: a battlefield. Flower vase toppled over. Flower water leaked. Soup bowl broken. Lettuce spread freely on the table. Avocado smeared on the floor. Wine glass lying on the table, shattered on the floor. Red and white wine – a lake district. The three women soiled, all of them. Their clothes, their shoes, their legs stained and dripping. They looked down at themselves, speechless. Wine, soup, salad, sauce, avocado, ice cream.
Then they looked up at the three british lads with stone faces.
“Shit,” Tim whispered. Bert answered accurately, “Shit.” Suddenly he giggled, nervous, slightly hysterical. But would the soiled ladies down there take it so humorously? Tim at least had his doubts.
One of the bodyguards and all the waiters jumped to the table in order to free the women from their plight, but the “Red Lady” in her kurta made a resolute gesture. We heard from above as she spoke sharply to the second bodyguard. And immediately he set off. Up the stairs. To Bert, Mike and Tim.
“Okay, let me do the negotiation,” said Bert, brave, taking the responsibility, and he rose from his chair.
The bodyguard already took the last step and walked over to them, a square man with an Mongolian face. He wore a nose ring like a chattel, and his face was covered with tattoos… Bert was about to get out his English when the man put his hand on Bert’s shoulder: “You. Come.” And then he pointed at Mike and at Tim: “And you and you. Come down. Down.”
Bert clearly was intimidated by the guy whose face showed not even the hint of a smile. Yet, he courageously made another attempt of appeasement: “Look, I am responsible for that mess. And I am really very very sorry… And…” Suddenly Bert screamed. Apparently the Asian gorilla had drilled his fingers deep into Bert’s shoulder. He repeated: “Yes, responsible. You. Come Down. The owners want to speak with you.”
The owners. Wow, Tim thought. Those young ladies own this place. So Tim hoped for the best. If they were interested in their clients, they surely would accept some apology of stupid british tourists.
The guy pushed all three towards the stairs. Tim raised his hands: “Okay, okay. We will apologize. Of course.” The gorilla nodded. Tim walked past his two friends who were confused and speechless, but also intimidated at the scene. Tim whispered to them: “After that, let’s get away here as quickly as possible.” The other two nodded. Bert, Mike and Tim went down the stairs.
Down.
Down.
Shards and crisps crunched under the soles of their shoes. They noticed that some guests had left very suddenly, or were about to leave. Others stared at them, while others tried desperately not to do that. The waiters sat invisibly in some mouse holes.
It wasn’t until Bert started jabbering that Tim and Mike dared to look at the dirty ladies for themselves. A huge red wine stain spread across the lap and hem of the radiant greengolden sari dress of the Redhair beauty, who obviously was one of the owners of this place. The dress was messed up, that much was clear. Her golden sandals were in a puddle of red wine and flower water and some undefined gravy. It didn’t look any better for the two other women. At first glance, the Tattoo Lady’s black leather outfit was less soiled, but colorful lettuce was strewn over her booties and salad dressing was visibly stuck around all the silver buckles. The blonde’s silver silk dress was soilt with fat gravy and wine splashes, mushroom essence spilled over her bare calves, and salad dressing beaded from the leather of the slingbacks and under the sole.
The tainted women looked at the boys with icy eyes. While Bert was talking and stammering and getting more and more nervous: “We are very very sorry for what happened. You see, we are tourists from England, those are my friends and we are celebrating my future wedding, and we are a little bit … over the top, if you understand what I mean, and … and so this Shit has happened … and … and …”
Bert stopped his stuttering. The women did not move an inch. Bert looked at Tim helplessly. He decided to say something when the Redhair Beauty spoke, who, as at least Tim and Bert should soon learn, was called ALANIS, at least by her friends, but friends they were not. She just uttered a clear, cold and sharp word: “Clean.”
Their surprise about the English word was almost as big as the shock about its meaning. Clean? How? What? Here? Them? Tim was about to file an objection, and Bert was also preparing for a pondering answer, when they saw the two bodyguards pulling guns out of their jackets. The Asian gorilla with the chattel nose ring reached into his jacket pocket and took out a silencer and calmly screwed it onto the pistol. His colleague did the same.
Okay. They had a real problem.
The lads stared at the guys, then at the women again. They have lost every color from their faces. The Redhair didn’t even blink and waited. Her blonde friend made a wry smile on her face, crossed her legs, and let her soiled foot dangle. The Tattoo Lady made another point when she plucked a leaf of lettuce from her leathered lap and tossed it on the floor, right in front of her feet.
“Clean the floor,” repeated Alanis.
Bert looked around desperately and Tim knew what he was looking for: a waiter who could help him with rags, buckets, mops, trash bins. But nobody came. No waiter was seen. It was as if this zone was sealed off from the rest of the restaurant, which was becoming increasingly empty. A no man’s land, a no-go zone. Bert turned back to look at the stern looking Tatto-Lady, then at the arrogantly smiling Blonde, then at the unmoved Redhair, who clearly was the Ladyboss here, and he croaked desperately at all of them: “Please, how …”
Abruptly Alanis got up. She wasn’t tall, actually she was quite petite and of delicate stature, but dressed in her majestic (if sullied) greengolden kurta, enflamed by her torch of red hair, she emanated like the Devil herself (what she actually is, in a way, as the boys soon would find out). She stood there like an ancient goddess of wrath, with her red hair cascade and tainted gown, and she now pointed unmistakably to the floor with her sharp and red shimmering fingernails. “Clean the floor! Dog!” She called Bert a dog. This was too much. The usually shy Tim was about to protest but––
–– Bert dropped to his knees in front of the Redhair beauty. He looked up at her. The woman called Alanis raised her reddish eyebrows. A fine smile played around the corner of her mouth. “Work. Dog,” she said, repeating her insult. And he actually started sweeping the shards with his bare hands. The leftovers. The dishes. The flowers. Mike looked at Tim. They both hesitated, shocked and flabbergasted, but Bert hissed at them: “Now go on, man! Do what they want! I want to get out of here! I don’t want any trouble!” Tim had the impression that he had tears in his eyes. Mike dropped to his knees and also began to “clean” the floor. Well, perhaps they were right.
Tim finally got on his knees, resistant and stiff, covering his wounded pride with a stupid false smile. Alanis turned her head and looked down at him. Her smile became suddenly devilish as if she had read his previous thoughts about her. As if she somehow knew how… fascinated smart and shy Tim was with her. (Maybe it was precisely then, when Goddess Alanis decided to let this boy live and keep him forever as her toy and slave.) She stood very close to Tim. He could smell her intoxicating perfume.
It was an unbearable humiliation. The three lads crawled on all fours around the table, around the young women, and swept up the garbage with their bare hands! Tim was shaking with shame and anger. Alanis did not sit down again. She walked around the table next to them and oversaw their humiliating work. Unvoluntarily Tim nudged her hand with his head once or twice, she was constantly close to him like an overseer. Wherever he turned, he always saw her sari-clad legs right next to him, her sandals in front of him. Sometimes Alanis shoved some lettuce leaves or broken pieces to them with her feet so that they wouldn’t forget anything. “Faster. Go on,“ she kept ordering. The two other girls laughed and started talking in a foreign language. Was it romanian? They didn’t know. Tim could imagine what the subject of their amusing conversation was. He could have sunk into the ground in shame. It wouldn’t have been a long journey.
Suddenly he heard a scream. He looked up. Apparently, Bert had cut himself on a shard. His finger was bleeding. Somehow Tim was relieved. Now the humiliating revenge of these bitches must end. Indeed, the blonde beauty with the mocking smile, under whose chair he had previously swept up avocado pieces with his bare hands, she seemed to feel sorry for the boy. “Show me”, she ordered him with a warm, affectionate voice. Tim almost wanted to laugh at the sight of Bert showing his bleeding wound to this posh twentysomething girl he was kneeling in front of. But when Bert screamed again like on a spit, every thought of laughter evaporated.
The blonde devil had her needle-pointed ring, which she wore on her thumb, drilled deep into the wound. Bert screamed! The tattooed Lady and Alanis laughed their heads off! Now the finger was bleeding properly. Blood dripped on the Blonde’s silk high couture dress and her expensive shoes. She smiled into Bert’s distraught eyes as if she studies his pain and horror. She licked the blood from his fingers, only to open the wound again with her ring and teeth… Bert screamed on top of his lungs. The Blonde reached out with her hand and slapped him square in the face! Bert – shocked. He shook his head as if there was something he couldn’t understand. He looked up like a lamb at the beautiful woman who had just bit and hit him – and a second slap exploded on his face. It threw Bert to the ground. The Blonde laughed her head off and put her foot on Bert’s back.
That was too much. Tim jumped up: “You crappy cunts!” he screamed, not very diplomatically – and the next second he felt cold metal on his neck. The gun with silencer. Tim froze. He saw Alanis give her bodyguard a slight wink. The man withdrew. The Redhair Beauty pointed to the floor with her index finger. And Tim… he immediately fell back on his knees. What was going on here? What happened with them? How should that end?
They were all gone. He panicked. Where did all the people go? He looked around. Not a single guest was in the restaurant. Then he was torn from his thoughts by a powerful slap in the face. Alanis had hit him! She stared down at him, menacingly.
“Clean the floor, dog. Go on.”
Bert, Mike and Tim – they panicked and crawled around the table now, at the feet of the three women, pushed the rubbish together, wiped the wine and fat and soup stains off with their sleeves. Eventually, a huge pile of splinter, shards, sushi, lettuce leaves, avocado, flowers had emerged, and the floor had been wiped almost dry. Their shirts and pants looked like garbage. They gasped. Bert was kneeling next to the blonde devil as if he were her real dog, his face was red with exhaustion and shame, the imprint of the Blonde’s hand was on his cheek, his own finger was still bleeding as hell. He stared at the floor, distraught. Tim looked up at the beautiful Alanis, who was leaning loosely against the table between her friends. The boys waited for the ordeal to end. They were done. They had paid. So they thought.
Suddenly the tattooed woman leaned down to Tim and laid her hand casually on his head. She reached into his hair and pulled his face closer to hers and whispered: “What did you say? You crappy cunts?”
Panic rose in him. But before he could say anything else, the Tattoo Lady clawed her hand into his hair brutally and bent his head back. Alanis stepped forward, took a long swing – and slapped him square on the face. Once, twice, three times, four times, slap slap slap SLAP, with the palm, with the back of her hand, with the right hand, with the left hand … He didn’t know how many times her hand had hit his face with full force before the Tattoo Lady let go of his hair. He collapsed whimpering, his burning face landed on the feet of this Redhair She-devil. He was shaking, he couldn’t believe all of this.
Alanis spoke quietly to them. “Go on, idiots. Clean. Our shoes. With your tongue. Like dogs. Now.”
Mike wasn’t doing much better. The tattoed lady grabbed his hair and pressed his face onto her boots: “Have you not heard what my Goddess Alanis said? You should clean our shoes, that you have soiled,” she said,”lick my shoes, dog! Stretch out your tongue and lick for your little life. Otherwise we shoot you all and throw you into the garbage where you belong!” That was the first time when Tim heard the name of the Redair Beauty: Alanis … and her title: Goddess…
He looked up to the Redhair Goddess who stood before him, with her hands on her hips, smiling mischieviously. “Should I count to three?” she asked. Tim did not hesitate a second longer. He bent his neck and stared at the golden sandals and the delicate naked feet… He began to lick the sparkling golden straps of the expensive designer sandal, he desperately tried to avoid touching her bare skin with his tongue. But he could smell the salty scent of her… yes… beautiful feet. He heard girlish laughter above him. Alanis, the Tattoo Lady and the Blonde were chatting and giggling. They had their fun. As if they had forgotten the three british guys at their feet, licking their shoes.
Tim heard the Blonde saying to Bert: “There’s still dirt under my foot, dog. Be good and do away all dirt and insects. With your tongue.” He heard her laugh a little too bright. Then she spoke again to Bert: “Brave animal. But your tongue is too short. Sticky dirt is still under my foot. Your tongue must be properly under my foot. Come little animal, you can do it! Otherwise we’ll find ways to stretch it.” Again the women laughed their heads off. From his low position, bent over the Redhair’s beautys’ feet, Tim took a shy glance at poor Bert.
Bert was now completely on his stomach in front of the blonde girl who sat cross-legged on her chair and teased and laughed at Bert. He tried desperately to stretch out his tongue as far as possible into the space between the foot and the girls shoe sole. Now and then she leaned forward and patted Bert on the head like a well behaved dog. “Good animal. But still too short. Try harder, dog. Otherwise, I’ll cut off your tongue.”
Suddenly Alanis pulled back her foot – and kicked Tim square in the face. “Follow me, british creature. Follow me crawling on your stomach like the insect that you are. And keep your nose close to my heel.” Tim went face down on the floor. Alanis walked majestically around the table, she voluntarily stepped in every mud and puddle, allthewhile poor shy Tim crawled alongside her, trying desperatley to keep his nose near her heel. After endless minutes of worming behind the young woman, she suddenly stopped. She sat down, with her legs crossed. She pointed to her right foot that dangled just above the ground. “Do not think I make it easier for you. Lick the sole of my sandal.” The sole was smeared with all the dirt of the ground she had stepped into.
Tim had no choice but to turn onto his back, and to crawl face up under her foot so that he could reach her soiled sole. The worst part was not even the dirt under her sandals, but that he had to look up to his tormenteress. Her grinning face he had to endure. Her dark green eyes soaked up his humiliation. Alanis stuck out her own tongue, imitating movements of proper licking. “Go for it. Lick my soles. Sparkling clean.” He started to lick. “Good dog.”
No one of the lads kew how long they had to lick the feet of those three terrible beauties. Maybe the whole thing lasted only five minutes. Maybe half an hour? They didn’t remember. Eventually, their brains switched to autopilot. They just worked, they licked as long as they should. The women laughed while driving them on or talking to each other, again in Roamnian or some strange Devil’s language. It took forever. The humiliation burnt in their souls, and the only consolation for them was the certainty that their ordeal will come to an end, soon enough, no doubt…
And there, suddenly it was over.
But – over? They had lost all sense of time and sense of self respect.
Their tormentors finally made the boys kneel in front of them. Tim kneeled in front of Goddess Alanis, Bert bowed before the Blonde Devil, and Mike trembled under the hungry eyes of the Brunette Witch.
They all smiled down at them. Finally, Alanis spoke to them. A kind of speech: “You see, our clothes are all messed up. The shoes are of course not cleaned properly. We will make a proposal. We forget the whole thing if you pay us clothes and shoes.”
Bert, the idiot, started to stammer again. He even kissed in gratitude the feet of the Blonde who stood before him. “Yes,” he gasped eagerly, “that we do, yes, of course, we do. Thank you. Thank you.”
The Blonde and the Tattoo Lady couldn’t get over Berts gesture of humility. They laughed out loud. Alanis smiled down at Tim. He knew what was coming. And it came. Alanis said – and it sounded as if a judge speaks to the condemned: “It’s good that you do agree. My dress came yesterday from India as a unique piece and has cost € 6,000. My shoes € 3,500 – they are also a special model. Diana’s leather dress – a rare piece – 4.500 Euro. Daphne’s silk dress is as high class as it is ruined now, it will cost you 12.000 Euro, and the slingbacks are her absolute favorite, even if they only cost € 3,000 a pair, so…” She calculated calmly, and th Boys’ heads hung deeply… “That sums up to 29.000 Euro, so let’s say 30,000, one thousand extra for our shock and mental pain.”
Alanis paused and looked at the three friends. They were lost. They were trapped. Bert shook his head as if he could not understand something. The Blonde – Daphne – smiled and stroked his hair. She apparently took special pleasure in him, the future bridegroom, whom she called “little animal”.
Alanis smiled at Tim: “Can you pay? Immediately, of course.”
He shook his head.
Alanis played amazed. “This is soo bad. Then you are in our debt. Very bad news for you.”
She consulted with her friends in the unidentifiable language. Daphne talked for a while, then Diana nodded, Alanis turned back to us, “You’ve spoiled Daphnes birthday. Therefore, we leave it up to her to decide what will happen to you.”
Alanis paused for effect. She smiled down at the Boys mockingly. She licked her lips. She took a step sidewards and forward, stood between Bert and Tim, very close. She grabbed Tim and Bert in their hair. She bowed their heads back. Tim’s chin touched her right breast, Bert’s face was pressed against her left breast. They both looked up at her. She smiled down at them: “And she has decided. Daphne wants you all to accompany us home in our domicile. There you will try to compensate for the damage.”
Tim looked up at the Redahair Devil Beauty. In her smiling face. Her sparkling green eyes. She knew that they had no choice. She licked her lips. “Yes?” she whispered softly and clawed his hair. “What do you say?”
“Please do not kill us …” Tim heard Bert whimper. The blonde Daphne laughed and said something to Diana. The tattoed woman, who casually squeezed Mike’s ear with her fingers, also laughed: “We make no promises. So?”
Tim swallowed. Said hoarsely: “Tomorrow we return to England… We have to get our plane… Next week my friend will marry … please … We come with you … if you let us go then, so that we can return to England … and Bert can marry!” Before he had completed his plea, Alanis spat in his face. Her spittle ran over his face and lips. She grinned down at him. “I said, no promises. You decide – now.”
Bert, totally broken, whispered: “Yes, we come with you …” Tim too, he nodded. And Mike whispered: “Please don’t hurt us…”
Now everything went very quickly.
Alanis snapped her fingers. The two bodyguards came hurrying up and yanked the Boys’ arms back – and then they were handcuffed! Mike had tears in his eyes. Their hands were tied behind their backs.
Suddenly, a waiter emerged from the shadows and helped the ladies in their jackets and coats. The bodyguards dragged all three friends towards the exit.
Shortly before exiting the door, the women suddenly stopped. Alanis turned around and gave the Gorillas a brief command. The men let go and left the restaurant first. Alanis and Diana gave Daphne an inviting smile. The blonde beauty slowly came to the Boys, a spoilt princess that looked forward to something exquisitly mean. “Which one should I choose?” she asked like a child in a candy store. Diana laughed: “It is your birthday!”
“I will take all my animals,” she said in front of the three poor tourists. With her right hand she grabbed Tim’s hair, with her left hand she reached into Bert’s hair. She looked to Mike, the third wheel. “You will crawl behind me on your knees, and bow your deeply, your nose should always touch my ass. Clear, dog?” Mike nodded and fell painfully on his knees, tried to balance himself, sobbing, he stretched out his nose so that it would touch the blonde’s behind. “Good”, the blonde demon said, “if I feel that you loose contact to my superior derrière, I personally cut off your legs and arms and use you as my pillow.” Daphne pressed both their heads down, Bert’s and Tim’s. Something she said in the foreign language from hell, they all laughed – then they were off. Handcuffed, deeply bent, stumbling, helpless, like prisoners, like prey, they slowly were led out of the restaurant by a beautiful female beast who seemed drunk from power and who enjoyed their utter humiliation and dehumanisation. “You like it, taken away by your owner?” she asked in a sweet voice, and laughed.
Owner, she said.
Daphne led them by the hair across the parking lot to the car. They stumbled close to her hip, felt her fingers in their hair, saw only her hip and legs and her soiled silk dress, her slingback shoes, her feet and the pavement in front of them. Behind her scuttled like Livestock poor panic Mike, his nose always close to her ass, sniffing her derrière. We heard her sweet voice: “You will like your life with us. We always wanted to own british dogs. They are the best, they say. The most docile. Easy to train.” Laughter.
The doors of the limo were opened by the bodyguards.
“Animals, in, hush hush,” said the Blonde and let finally go of their hair.
Bert, Mike and Tim stumbled into the spacious rear compartment of the limousine. Alanis and Diana were already in it, with her legs crossed, sitting comfortably. Bert made a move to sit on the cushion beside Alanis. But a look and an outstretched index finger of Goddess Alanis made it clear to them where their place was.
“You all bow down. Your head should never be above the height of our knees.”
They knelt on the floor of the limo, bowed down deeply, squatted in front of the women. Daphne also got in now, she pulled the door shut. Sat next to Diana. The Redhair Goddess put her sandalled foot onto Tim’s shoulder.
The car started moving.
The three women, divine Alanis, blonde demon Daphne, and cruel tattoed angel Diana, they smiled down at the Boys. They spoke to each other. Obviously about them.
Then Tim saw Bert … without being prompted … his face fell to the ground and he kissed the feet of Daphne. Had he lost all self-respect? But Daphne clapped her hands in delight. “Good animal,” said the girl, stroking Bert’s head. “You have understood. You belong to me now. You are my pet.” Tim saw a tear dropping from Bert’s eyes, as he stuck out his tongue and licked the blonde girl’s feet. He had given up completetly, as it seemed. He accepted his fate.
Ashamed, Tim looked away. Only to see Mike, squatting in front of Diana. “Put off my shoes … slave…” Helplessly he looked at the pretty brunette girl. How should he take off her boots, with his hands tied? Diana laughed. She leaned over and slapped him hard. His head was already cherry red from all the previous slaps. “Use your mouth … slave … and get used to it.”
SLAP!
The small hand of Alanis could hit with vicious force – and brought Tim back to attention. Alanis smiled and clapped her hands: “You too, creature. Take off my sandals. Only with your mouth and tongue!” The young women laughed about their efforts. Alanis also laughed and put her foot on Tim’s back. What didn’t make things any easier for him.
He worked diligently with tongue and lips and a little help from his teeth, tried to open the belt of the straps. After a while he managed to open the straps, and with tongue and lips he pulled off the sandal from the exquisite foot. He had already tasted her skin, it was not possible to avoid the contact with her foot. And he must admit… He liked the taste… it gave a strange pleasure… a warm feeling, totally unexpected…
Alanis pulled him back by the hair. She smiled as if she kew about his strange feelings. Again she slapped him, three, four, five times. Slap Slap Slap. She seemed to really enjoy slapping his face… “You must prove to me that you are worth something. Dog. Look how your friend do their future jobs.”
Alanis turned his head around by the ears, so he could look at Bert, who had managed to take off Daphne’s slingbacks and was lying face up under the bare feet of his young mistress. “My good animal,” said Daphne enthusiastic and patted Bert’s head. “You are a good footrest for me. I like that warmth from your breath. Now lick my soles and say Thankyou Princess Daphne. Thankyou for owning me.” Bert’s tongue stroked slavishly the feet of the birthday girl, licked with relish and joy the soles, and seemed to enjoy when Daphne put her toes into his open mouth, he sucked and sucked on her toes, and he was uttering steadily the words: “… Thankyou Princess Daphne thankyou Princess Daphne… thankyou for owning me…”
Mike meanwhile had experienced some kind of an upgrade. He wasn’t on his knees anymore, but his head was lying on the seat of the car, with Diana stting on his face. Desperatly he tried to breathe, but Diana dind’t seem to be impressed by his sounds. “Just stop whining and wailing, slave, and do your job. You will spend many more hours under my ass. Perhaps the rest of your miserable life. So get used to it, slave.” She enjoyed his suffering, she became more and more aroused by the movements of the car and the feeling of this man under her ass and in panic. She began to moan and to rub her ass on the face. The blonde Daphne-Demon, while fucking Bert’s mouth with her toes, leaned closer to Diana, who rubbed her leatherclad bottom on Mike’s face – and the two girls kissed… Daphne kissed Diana on the mouth. Long, soft, gentle. Passionately. Tim did not know what shocked him more: The utter brutal and dehumanising treatment of his friends, or this surprising sensual, incredibly exciting kiss of the two young women … Diana opened her lips. The tongues of the two women were dancing and playing. Dianas hand slid under Daphne’s silk dress. Daphne’s hand slipped under Diana’s shirt. Tim realized that the beautiful friends were more than just – friends. And Bert screamed in agony into the ass of his tattoed owner, and Mike gasped and whined because of the increasingly cruel staccato mouth fucking with the red nailed toes, which pierced his throat…
“See,” Alanis spoke, and Tim immediately turned his attention to her, pale as Death himself. “Your friends are worth much more than you! They have adapted to their new role in life much quicker than you, creature.” She stared at him. He tried to say somehting: “I promise to…” SLAP. SLAP SLAP. “You—SLAP -– never –– SLAP –– talk –– SLAP –– without –– SLAP my –– SLAP –– permission –– SLAP.” His head felt like an exploded tomato. She spat at his face. Once, twice, three times. Her spittle ran down his eyes and red cheeks and bruised lips. Suddenly she smiled: “But maybe I’ll find also a use for you.” He was horrified.
Violently, she pushed his head down. She spread her legs a little. Slowly and sexily she rolled up her fantastic elegant greengolden sari dress till it reached the region of her equally fantastic thighs. His stare went to the still hidden dark area between her legs, her womanhood, her crotch… “Look into my eyes, creature!” she ordered, and immediatley he obeyed. He crouched in front of her on all fours, his head between her beautiful legs. She looked down at him as he were an insect. “Slave …” she said, and I heard an excited tone in her voice, “… do your job … now!”
The Devil Goddess pulled his head closer to her. She grabbed his hair firmly and smiled down at him. She licked her lips and pulled him closer. His face was near her still sari covered crotch, his head between her legs. Slowly she closed her legs around his neck. “Say Goodbye to England and to your old life … When we arrive at our home, we will whip you and beat you and torture you for days and weeks… till you all are completely tame and broken to our will… The we will bite you and suck your blood and make you ours for all eternity… Your new roles in life are to be at our whim and mercy, to serve us in every way possible… Is this clear to you, british nameless creature? So now… Pleasure me and seal your fate … Pleasure your new owner …”
Alanis pushed his head roughly between her open legs. Tim felt the fine fabrics of the sari on his face. He felt her thighs on his cheeks and ears, her soft and warm skin. He smelled the scent of her aroused vulva. Then she pulled his head towards her with full force. His lips touched her lips. She wore no panties. He inhaled her heavy female scent, mixed with her perfume, she pressed him into her sex and closed her thighs around his neck. “Lick me, slave, pleasure me … like a good slave …” Although difficult, his face and neck clinged hard between her thighs so that he coughed and lacked of air, he stretched out his tongue obedienty – and horny – and ran slowly up and down her wet labia. He licked deep, stretched out his tongue deep, very deep into her aroused pussy, the top of his tongue searched and approached for her treasure … Soon, his mouth, his face, were wet with her juices… She laughed and moaned. She grabbed him by the ears – and directed him with even more vigour into her sex. It was barely possible to breathe between her thighs, with his mouth at her pussy. “Yes … my slave … my dog… lick your owner … Deeper … Stretch your tongue, slave … That it is what you are good for… You have no other use anymore … You are our property now … Pleasure me …” She used his face like a vibrator. I could hardly breathe. “Do not breath … Just my pleasure … Yes … Good dog …”
Soon Diana also groaned and Daphne, who kissed and fondled and licked each other, and Tim didn’t know whether Bert was still alive under the ass of the brutal tattoo angel, and whether Mike was pierced to death by the toe nails of the blond Demon Daphne…
As the car approached the House of these… female Demons… in dark Bucarest, Tim wondered whether they would ever find their way back home. To freedom. To England. Or whether they would be shot altogether whenever these mysterious sadistic millionaire girls have had their fun? Whether they would end up in the dump somewhere in Romania? And what did this redhair demon meant when she said: We bite you and we suck all your blood?…
Would they actually remain the slaves of these cruel, brutal … gorgeous … women till the day they all would die?
And as his new owner Alanis screamed with girlish delight, she closed her legs tighter and tighter around his head and neck, and Tim was close to blackout when he heard from a great distance, muffled by the legs of his rapist, the rich sweet excited voice of Daphne: “Very good, my creature … Open your mouth wide… more … more …and do not lose a drop!”
And he heard with horror the sound of a stream. And the gurgle of a drowning man. A desperate whimpering and gagging. The cruel laughter of the blond Demoness. Then he heard from far above the voice of his Goddess Alanis, thick with arousal: “This is good, Daphne!” And down to him, obviously: “When you have finished me the way I like it, then I’ll introduce you into another of your new duties, your new existence, the new purpose of your life: my own little toilet.”
Then he did not hear and did not feel anything anymore.
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