Tales of the Thousand and One Shades of Alanis, the Goddess (part 8)

8. 
Slavedog’s service

 

From the outside it’s a jungle. Hidden between tropical trees, farns, lianas and carnivorous plants with thick leaves, there is a tiny gap like a crack in the world. A spider creeps into that tiny gap…

… and just inside, the spider changes it’s shape – and the cave transforms itself into a huge and labyrinth castle. GODDESS ALANIS has returned home after weeks of hunting and killing and enslaving men. 

The beautiful Alanis, her red hair like a crown of flames, climbs the stairs to her private chambers. Her servant, the chinese girl Yema follows her.

“Enough of the hunting! How’s my Slavedog doing?” asks Alanis. She licks her lips. She is looking forward to her latest favorite toy.

“He’s well occupied,” Yema replies, “I’ll take you to him.”

Once upstairs, Goddess and servant traverse the private luxurious chambers, they cross the bedroom. They stop in front of a door built into the wall of the dressing room. Alanis hears little bells ringing softly behind the door. She looks at Yema. Both women smile. “How long has he been in there?” Alanis asks teasingly. Yema smiles: “Four days, Mistress Alanis.” Yema opens the door. Alanis steps inside.

A walk-in closet. 

Shelves up to the ceiling. On the shelves, neatly sorted into pairs, are the Goddess’ shoes. 

Boots, overknees, ankle boots, pumps, high heels, casual shoes, mules, sandals… Valentino, Louboutin, Prada, Manolo Blahnik, Jimmy Choo…

The most expensive and elegant footwear from designers around the world and through the centuries. 

Over 500 pairs. 

Over 1000 shoes. 

And in the middle of it all: Slavedog, formerly known as Mr. Magma from Berlin, naked, nose ring, brand on his forehead, bells on his nipples, on his scrotum.

“Go on, Slavedog,” Alanis orders gleefully, because Slavedog immediately got into position when she entered: on his knees, hands on his thighs, palms up, looking at his owner. “I want to watch you.” And with that, Alanis sits down on a waiting leather armchair. Yema remains standing behind her. 

Slavedog immediately gets back to work. He has just cleared a lower shelf and removed the dust. Now he has to pick up each shoe individually, clean it carefully with his tongue and then place the spotless shoe neatly back in its old place on the shelf. He takes a shoe in his hands, champagne-colored platform peep-toes, runs his tongue gently over the shimmering leather, over the heel straps, licks the fragrant and somewhat worn leather on the inside extensively, then turns the shoe over, cleans the narrow platform sole with his lips and tongue, encloses the 100mm high heel with his mouth, sucks the heel carefully clean. Then he polishes the damp areas by rubbing his face and dry lips over the surfaces. One last inspection, then Slavedog places the elegant shoe on the shelf with its counterpart. And diligently reaches for the next pair, fine satin pumps with floral embellishments…

Alanis laughs happily at the sight and claps her hands. “Bravo, my slavedog! I like that! The love with which you clean your owner’s shoes. Come here to me, Slavedog.”

Slavedog quickly moves on all fours to Alanis, bends down at her feet, kisses the tips of her shoes in greeting, then straightens up and remains crouched on his knees in front of her. He looks at her. He is happy about his Goddesses praise. Alanis leans forward, takes his face in her hands and pulls it close to her. 

“You do that so well, my Slavedog. You’d think you were born for this. To lick my shoes clean. Every day. For the rest of your life. Hm?” Alanis teases him, nudging his nose with hers, smiling mischievously.

“If you wish, Goddess Alanis.”

“Come here, Slavedog,” says Alanis. “You’ve earned yourself a reward. You must have a very dry tongue. Come on, open your mouth.”

Slavedog obediently opens his mouth. Alanis moves her lips over his. They look into each other’s eyes. Alanis smiles. She savors the moment. She collects spit in her mouth. Then she purses her lips with relish and let her spit drip slowly into Slavedog’s open mouth. Finally, Alanis licks her slave’s open lips. “Now enjoy my gift to you. Don’t swallow it straight away. Do you hear me, Slavedog!” Slavedog nods. He gleefully moves his mistress’s spit around in his mouth, tasting it like a man dying of thirst tastes the vital liquid.

Alanis leans back again.

“You still have a little test ahead of you, my Slavedog. If you pass it, you can consider this part of your training complete. If not, you will spend another five days here. Are you ready, slave?”

“Yes, Goddess.”

Alanis looks at her slim wristwatch of poor silver. “You have 30 seconds. Bring me the Valentino kitten heel pumps, the brown Gucci sandals and the black lace-up boots from Jimmyy Choo, one after the other. Chop chop!”

As if stung by a tarantula, the naked Slavedog jumps up and hops onto the ladder, climbs up a few rungs, reaches unerringly into the top shelf, grabs the Valentinos, leaps off the ladder in a single bound, hurries back to Alanis, places the shoes at her feet – and jumps back to the ladder again. Alanis laughs out loud. She looks up at Yema, who also frowns in amusement at the sight of the naked slave frantically shifting the ladder, climbing up like a monkey with dangling privates and ringing bells, grabbing the sandals, rattling down, rushing to Alanis, putting the sandals down — “You still have ten seconds… ” Alanis laughs — Slavedog falls to the ground where the boots are lined up, but then he panics — Where are the Jimmy Choo? ? “Five… Four… Three…” Slavedog turns each boot over in panic, but no, the ones he’s looking for aren’t there… oh God… no… “Two… One… Off!” 

Slavedog crouches in Alanis’ boots, utterly distraught. How could this have happened? He was so sure that the Jimmy Choos would be in the right place. He has held them in his hand at least ten times in the last four days, tasted every single eyelet with his tongue … Slavedog feels like crying, no: he cries. He hears Alanis get up and go to him. He turns to her, completely devastated, and looks up at her with teary eyes. He has failed. 

But Alanis smiles. She strokes his head. Then she suddenly laughs.

“We’ve teased you a bit, Slavedog.”

She turns to Yema – and that’s when Slavedog sees that Yema is holding the boots he’s looking for. At some point that day, when Yema was checking on him, she must have stolen the boots. Alanis and Yema laugh boisterously like schoolgirls after a successful prank. Slavedog leans forward in relief and covers Alanis’ feet with kisses.

“You’ve passed the test. Now put your shoes away. You have ten minutes to do that. Then you come to me – in the bedroom.”

Slavedog looks up.

“From today on, you will serve me there,” Alanis says with a smile. “As my body slave. As long as it pleases me. … Don’t forget to bring my slippers, like the dog you are.” 

With that, Alanis turns and leaves the walk-in shoe cupboard. Yema casts another mocking glance at Slavedog, puts the boots down on the armchair and follows Alanis. Slavedog closes his eyes briefly. 

Suddenly a memory flashes through his mind. A memory of the time when he was a successful businessman in Berlin, married, proud, aggressive… He opens his eyes. No, he mustn’t think about that! He must forget it! He is only a slave to this cruel immortal Witch Goddess, helplessly at the mercy of her whims and fancies. He must obey in order to survive.

Quickly and without thinking twice, he puts all the shoes in the right places on the shelf. He knows the cupboard inside out. He knows Alanis’ shoes better than he ever knew his own home in Berlin. Finally, he takes the white pom pom mules and puts them in his mouth.

Ten minutes have not yet passed when he leaves the cupboard on all fours and closes it from the outside. He is wearing Alanis’ slippers in his mouth. On his palms and knees, Slavedog feels the soft fabric of the thick carpet covering the floor of the bedroom. Slavedog looks into the room.

Alanis is sitting at her dressing table, busy removing her make-up for the night. Yema is no longer there. Several lamps scattered around the room bathe the bedroom in a warm golden light. 

In the mirror, Alanis sees Slavedog kneeling in front of the shoe cupboard, waiting for further orders. She snaps her fingers arrogantly without stopping to remove her make-up. Slavedog crawls to her on all fours. Alanis’ slippers are in his mouth. He remains crouched next to her and waits obediently. He looks at Alanis attentively, as he has learned to do during the months of training. He sniffs her perfume. He sits there with his attentive gaze and the slippers in his mouth like a trained dog. Alanis’ dog.

She is so painfully beautiful. 

She is wearing a dark green, yet almost see-through silky nightgown with plush marabou trim that reaches down to her knees. The outline of the delicate white brassiere and the tiny white panties are visible under the negligee. She is barefoot … 

“Are you dreaming, slave?” 

Slavedog is startled. Has he done something wrong? But then he sees that Alanis has lifted her bare left foot slightly. He immediately bends down to the ground and first takes off both slippers, grabs the left one with his mouth again and holds it so that Alanis can slip her foot into it, then he grabs the right slipper and she slips into it. She continues to remove her make-up, combing her loose red hair with long, flowing movements. She feels like torturing her slave’s soul a little. As she combs her hair, she looks down at him.

“Are you happy to be here with me, Slavedog?”

“Yes, Goddess Alanis.”

“What are you happy about, Slavedog? Tell me. So that it convinces me.”

“I am glad that you have made me your slave, Goddess Alanis,” Slavedog begins his mantra. Alanis raises her eyebrows questioningly. He must continue. “Thank you for tearing me away from my old meaningless life, Goddess Alanis, and turning me into your dog who can lick the dirt off your boots.” Alanis does not respond. It’s not enough for her yet. Slavedog continues haltingly. “Forgive me for fighting you in my former life. I can’t make it up to you. You are so merciful that you have shown me the error of my ways and allowed me to serve you for the rest of my life, to kiss your feet and…”

“Enough, slave, you bore me.” Alanis’ hair is brushed through, she stands up. She looks down at Slavedog. Slavedog holds his breath as he sees his owner in her almost see-through fabric, almost naked and erect in front of him: His cock fills with blood. Alanis smiles. She lifts her foot slightly and plays with the swelling piece of flesh in the tight metal ring.

“You’re going to bathe and massage me now, slave. And then you will do something else for me before I go to sleep. A service that only my body slave is allowed to perform. An honor! I warn you. If you don’t please me, I’ll call Yema and you’ll get to know the pigsties. Do you understand, Slavedog?”

Slavedog nods and croaks: “Yes, Goddess Alanis.”

Alanis’ smile widens as she sees Slavedog’s sex standing at attention. Alanis takes his chin in her hand and lifts it slightly so that Slavedog’s lips are almost touching her palm. She looks deep into his eyes… and Slavedog can’t help himself: he humbly kisses Alanis’ palm without her telling him to. She allows it. It is another step into his slavery: voluntary surrender. She graciously gives him her hand, which Slavedog kisses and licks with fervor.

“Enough,” she says again and slaps Slavedog twice. Not painfully, just lightly and playfully. She reaches into his nose ring and pulls him along with her, as is her favorite thing to do. Mistress and dog. Slavedog is aroused. She holds his head close to her hip. He feels the plush trim of her kimono against his cheek. He inhales her fine, soft perfume.

The huge circular bathtub is already full of water, the tap is turned off, foam is standing on the water.  It smells of essential oils. Obviously Yema or another servant has already made provisions. Alanis stops in front of the bathtub and looks down at Slavedog. She opens her arms very slightly. Slavedog understands. He rises to his knees, heart pounding, and begins to undress his mistress. He carefully takes off her negligée. He lays it carefully on a stool. He unbuttons her brassiere. He takes a deep breath. Puts the brassiere on the negligée. He trembles. Alanis is standing right in front of him, her beautiful, peach-sized breasts naked in front of him, her lightly tanned skin, her belly button… 

“Shall I bathe like this, Slavedog?” she asks teasingly. 

Slavedog is sweating. He stretches out his hand… Then he receives a slap in the face. “With your mouth,” Alanis orders. Slavedog swallows. He moves his head closer to Alanis’ abdomen. His heart is pounding. His sex stands at attention. He touches Alanis’ naked belly with his lips. He tries to carefully grasp the tiny panties on the silky waistband with his lips, tongue and teeth. It seems like hours to him, but it’s only seconds when he finally manages to get his tongue between the skin and the fabric. He holds Alanis’ panties between his lips. Inch by inch, he moves his head down her legs, pulling the panties over her slim but muscular thighs, over the spider which is tattooed on her skin and which seems to move slightly as if it were alive, over her knees and down to her narrow feet with their red-painted toenails. Slavedog touches the tiled floor with his forehead, the panties in his mouth. Alanis lifts her right leg, she lifts her left leg. It is done.

Alanis climbs into the bathtub. Like a Cleopatra. A Jungle Venus.

Slavedog straightens up again and looks at Alanis. Her panties hang in his mouth like prey in the mouth of a proud hunting dog. He deeply inhales the scent of her panties. It is the most intimate scent of his owner. In these seconds, he is hopelessly addicted to her.

Alanis knows that. She smiles. 

“You will wear my panties over your face tonight, Slavedog. But now put them away and soap me up.”

Slavedog obeys. He takes the panties out of his mouth and puts them on the stool. He takes a sponge… “No sponge, Slavedog. Take the oil there, rub it in your hand, wash and massage me with it.”

Slavedog lets the Arabian oil flow from a blue crystal bottle onto his hands. Alanis lifts her upper body slightly out of the water and sits upright. But Slavedog hesitates. Alanis looks at him penetratingly. “What is it, slave?” Slavedog struggles with himself. But then he says: “I dare not… touch you… with my paws… Goddess…” Alanis looks at him blankly. Slavedog fears the worst: he will be punished… He will be sent back to the cellar… But Alanis suddenly laughs and strokes Slavedog’s face.

“That’s very good, my Slavedog! You don’t dare touch me because you’ve already learned that I’m a higher being. Is that true, Slavedog?”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“And you’re just a slave. A pet. My pet. Yes, Slavedog?”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“Very nice. I like that. But still, if you hesitate one more second, you’ll be picked up by Yema and…”

Slavedog doesn’t wait for the end of the sentence. He touches Alanis’ skin with his hands. He moans softly at the touch. He tries to concentrate. He spreads the oil on her shoulder. He gently massages her neck, her shoulders, her back. He takes more oil. Alanis turns her chest towards him. She smiles at him mockingly, almost coquettishly. She raises her eyebrows questioningly. Slavedog’s breath trembles as he touches her breasts. His fingers gently circle the small, delicate nipples with the warm oil, gently caress her peach-sized breasts, massage the fragrant fluid into the soft skin and continue to stroke her stomach…

Alanis sinks back into the water and rests her arms casually on the edge of the bath like a pasha being pampered in his harem. “Come into the water, slave,” she demands softly. 

Slavedog shivers with pleasure. 

He immediately crawls to Alanis in the bathtub and kneels at her feet. Alanis smiles. She lifts her left leg out of the water. Slavedog carefully grabs her leg by the heel. He caresses her thigh, feeling the warmer area on the inside of her thigh, close to her sex. His fingers move nervously downwards, he massages her upper thigh, strokes the back of her knee, kneads and oils the muscles of her calf. Then he repeats the procedure with her right leg. 

Alanis finally places her left foot loosely on Slavedog’s shoulder and playfully circles her right foot in front of his face. Slavedog becomes braver. He grabs the foot. He massages the reflex zones, strokes the toes… “Lick it,” says Alanis softly, and Slavedog has the impression of hearing the coating of sexual arousal in her voice. He leans towards her foot, licks the instep, takes each individual toe in his mouth, licks the skin between the toes, in small, gentle movements, like a kitten, not like a greedy dog, he licks the sole of the foot… He places the foot on his shoulder… takes the left foot… caresses it, lost in a dream…

Slavedog blinks at Alanis’ face, and he sees her keep her eyes closed and enjoy his tongue massage… Slavedog is happy. For the first time in half a year. For the first time since his cruel enslavement, he is happy.

“Enough,” sighs Alanis. She gently kicks Slavedog in the face with her foot and pushes him away. Her legs disappear back into the bathwater. She reaches for a silver tray next to the bath. There are soft leather straps with a lockable buckle. Alanis straightens up. 

“Come here, slave,” she whispers.

Slavedog straightens up. He squats in front of her, on his knees. Just as she squats in front of him. Very close and intimate, like a beloved woman. Like an equal. He could kiss her, she is so close to him.

Alanis pushes his arms behind Slavedog’s back. She ties his hands behind his back with the leather straps, very tightly. Her breasts touch his upper body, her arms embrace him as if she wants to hug him tenderly like a lover. Her lips are only millimetres away from his trembling lips. He inhales her sweet breath like a drug. Then he hears a hard click – the leather cuffs are locked. 

His hands are tied behind his back. He kneels in the bathtub full of water in front of the beautiful, cruel… in front of Alanis, his eternal Goddess. She too is naked, squatting in front of him. Slavedog fantasizes. Does she want him… now? Can he take her…? Does she want him to… her…?

Alanis breathes: “Would you like to kiss my breasts, Slavedog?”

Indeed. The dream seems to be coming true. Involuntarily, Slavedog closes his eyes. 

“Yes, Goddess Alanis,” Slavedog croaks excitedly. 

Alanis breathes: “Would you like to make love to me, Slavedog?”

Oh God, thinks Slavedog: YES, YES, YES!

Slavedog breathes with his eyes closed: “Yes!”

Silence.

Something is wrong.

Slavedog opens his eyes. Goddess Alanis looks at him without smiling. Her eyes narrow to small slits.

Slavedog knows immediately that he has made a terrible mistake. 

“Yes, GODDESS, GODDESS!” he says loudly. But it’s too late. Alanis has only been waiting for something like this.

Alanis grabs his nose ring – and simply sinks back to the edge of the bathtub. She pulls Slavedog violently with her and he loses his balance with his hands tied. Slavedog slumps forward like a sack of potatoes, plunging face first into the bath water. His head twitches and wriggles between Alanis’ legs. She holds him under the water by the nose ring with just two fingers.

Slavedog wriggles in a wild panic, helpless, at the mercy of the tyrant who had just been his dreamed-of lover. He struggles with his thighs, roars under water, bubbles rise, foam… But Alanis holds him iron-hard between her legs under water, and when she fears that in his panic he might move so wildly that the ring would tear his nose, she pushes his head under the water with her other hand… for minutes…

Slavedog shrieks. Fear of death. She will kill him! Drown him like an animal, between her legs. His resistance weakens. He swallows water. He will die here, literally in the hands of this beautiful, cruel young immortal Witch Goddess.

Then she lets go.

She grabs Slavedog’s hair and pulls him up. He gasps, wheezes, spits up water, chokes. Alanis holds his head above water by his hair. Only her strong grip on his hair prevents him from drowning again. She looks at him. She speaks harshly: “Never forget what you are: My slave. My property. My animal. I can wipe you out at any second.”

With that, she pushes his head back into the water, smiling coldly. She holds his head under the water for a few seconds, then pulls his face closer between her open legs, right up to her pubic area. She closes her thighs around Slavedog’s face. She holds him under the water with her thighs. Her feet are on his lower back. Slavedog is far too panicked, far too scared to death to understand anything at this moment. Alanis opens her legs and pulls him back into the life-saving air by the shock of his hair. She spits her harsh words into his gasping face: 

“You exist only at my mercy, slave. Never forget that. And now, if you don’t want me to drown you like a newborn cat, then think of something to please me again.” And Alanis presses him back under the water. Presses his face against her privates. Closes her thighs around his face. 

Suddenly Alanis smiles. 

She feels Slavedog touching her labia with his tongue. Under water, unable to breathe, threatened with death, trapped by her, he licks her. That’s how it should be. She laughs out loud. She knows that Slavedog can also hear and, above all, feel her laughing at him underwater. He should feel it. Her triumph. She loosens her grip on his mop of hair. She holds his face between her thighs. She enjoys his desperate attempts to give her pleasure. She, who could kill him at this moment. And if it were the last moment of his life, he would only think of satisfying her lust to the last beat of his heart. Her slave.  

When Alanis feels her slave start to twitch because his oxygen supply is running low, she reaches under his chin and lifts his head above the water.

Slavedog greedily sucks the air into his lungs. He breathes in frantically, trying to store oxygen, he coughs, spits, inhales deeply. But Alanis doesn’t push him back under the water. She leans forward and rests his head on her shoulder, she reaches around his body and unties him. She carelessly throws the leather straps away.

Then she pushes him away from her and simply steps out of the bath. The water drains from her clean, massaged, fragrant naked body. She looks down at the trembling, panting slave, who is still squatting in the bath water, not understanding anything and getting up on all fours far too slowly. Alanis snaps her fingers: “How long should I wait, slave?”

Slavedog crawls half-dead out of the bathtub. Although his head is barely clear, he grabs one of the large soft towels with trembling arms and unsteadily gets up on his knees so that his mistress can wrap him in the soft bath towel without too much effort. As gently as possible in his condition, he rubs her dry with the terry cloth. Alanis lets all this happen as a matter of course.

“Did you understand the lesson, slave?”

“Yes, Goddess Alanis,” Slavedog gasps and immediately lowers his head to kiss Alanis’ feet. “Thank you, Godess Alanis, for making me your slave.”

Alanis nods. 

Again she snaps her finger. Slavedog gets into position on all fours in front of her. He is still wet, he is shivering, he is cold, his heart is still pounding after the torture he has endured. Alanis doesn’t care about any of this. She sits down sideways on his quivering back. She points to her panties lying on the stool. Slavedog obediently takes the panties into his mouth. Alanis reaches into Slavedog’s hair and leads him by it like a horse. Slavedog crawls forward. Into the bedroom.

He stops in front of the large bed by the window overlooking the jungle which lies in the dark of night. Alanis gets off him. She points wordlessly at the bed. Slavedog does not think any further. He forbids himself any further hesitation. Any erotic hope. He knows now that he could be wiped out by Alanis at any moment. Just like that. 

He moves to the bed – until he feels a slight blow to his head. “No further. On your back.”

Slavedog turns onto his back. He lies with his upper body on the wide bed, his head in the middle, his feet still uncomfortably on the floor. Alanis binds Slavedog’s wrists to the bed frame with two short steel chains attached to the bed. His arms are pulled extremely far apart. Slavedog barely feels the pain. Alanis looks at her work. She is satisfied.

She lets the large bath towel slide off her body. She climbs naked onto her bed. She stands on the mattress, stands over him. She keeps her balance with her hands on the bedposts. Her two feet are to the right and left of Slavedog’s head. Slavedog looks up at her. He expects every cruelty, but nevertheless: now he is aroused again. Tears well up in his eyes, from excitement and fear. Alanis plays with his head between her feet. She kicks him lightly, left, right. As if his head were a football and she was about to kick a penalty. She lifts her right foot and touches Slavedog’s lips with her big toe. Slavedog immediately opens his mouth and takes Alanis’ toe. He sucks on it as if hoping for mercy and redemption from his Goddess, who can decide over his life and death.

“Well, my Slavedog, can you breathe again?”

“Yemm, Gommm,” Slavedog mumbles barely intelligibly, with Alanis’ toe on his tongue, in his mouth. 

Alanis laughs softly. “Sweet,” she says in a warm voice. She slowly lowers herself to him. She sits down on his chest. His head is now between her thighs. His chin touches her vulva.

“Would you like to give me pleasure, Slavedog?” Alanis asks almost innocently as she slowly slides forward, millimeter by millimeter, onto Slavedog’s face.

“Yes, Goddess Alanis, please let me give you pleasure.”

“Make an effort,” Alanis now says in a thick, sexually aroused voice. She pushes herself all the way onto his face. Her snatch is on Slavedog’s lips. “You won’t close your eyes, my slave. You will look at me the whole time. Like you’re looking at the sky.” 

“Ymmp, Gommp Almp,” Slavedog mumbles, his lips pressed to Alanis’s sex. Alanis smiles and strokes Slavedog’s marked forehead, his hair, “Get to work, slave.”

Alanis lifts her buttocks a few millimeters, enough for Slavedog to open his mouth. His tongue licks gently over his Goddesses labia. Then the tongue dips into the dark, wet grotto and goes in search of the treasure. It finds the clitoris, circles it lightly, sucks harder, licks, holds on with gentle pressure, plays around it, doesn’t give up the treasure…

Alanis moves on his face, rhythmically, slowly at first, while her slave looks up at her as ordered: “Yes… This is your place… Slavedog… for all eternity… Your head and your tongue between my legs… and your soul in my hand… That’s it… When I am not feeding on you, you will service me in any way possible… If you can’t breathe, it doesn’t matter… Come… I want to feel your tongue up in my throat… Yes…”

Alanis rides Slavedog’s head. She grabs his hair and rides his tongue. For minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty. Slavedog almost blacks out, his vision crushed between her powerful thighs, his tongue desperate not to let up, not to disappoint the tyrant, while her hands tear at his mop of hair, she guides him viciously. She is everywhere. He doesn’t dare blink, because Alanis wants to see his tear-blurred gaze as she rides his face to orgasm.

With a long moan, Alanis reaches her climax on Slavedog’s face, unleashing her lust in endless minutes.

Slavedog doesn’t dare stop licking as Alanis’ movements become calmer and her breathing deepens. It is only when her thighs press imperiously against his temples that he realizes he should stop. Nevertheless, Alanis remains sitting on him. It seems like another half hour before he hears her say:

“Open your mouth.”

Slavedog opens his mouth. He feels and tastes the warm stream pouring into his mouth. “Drink it. Every drop.” Alanis eases herself into his open mouth. Slavedog tries to take it all in. His eyes fill with tears again. Alanis looks down at him, smiles, caresses his sweaty hair as she slowly eases herself into him with pleasure: “I love your desperate look while you serve as my toilet. Get used to it. Learn to do that. That’s also part of your service as my body slave, Slavedog. My little toilet. Now lick me nice and clean. Be a good, well-behaved toilet.” 

Weeping, Slavedog licks the last drops from Alanis’ sex. Alanis enjoys the sight. It is the ultimate humiliation. She has marked him. Her possession. For good.

At last, Alanis climbs down from his raped face. 

“Your face is a battlefield, slave,” Alanis laughs, smiling happily. She strokes his hair, caressing him like a lap dog.

Then she stands up and pulls on her light silk nightgown. She releases Slavedog’s arms. She points to the huge golden birdcage standing right next to her bed, which Slavedog has long since seen. Slavedog, completely exhausted and close to fainting, crawls into the tapered cage, which has a large ring attached to the roof so that the cage can be hung from the ceiling. But now the cage remains on the floor, next to Alanis’ bed. Because she likes it that way.

Alanis closes the door of the cage when Slavedog has squeezed himself in. Then she opens a smaller flap in the top half of the cage. “Face here,” she says. Slavedog moves his face towards the open flap. That’s what the flap is for. For feeding. Or for further humiliation. Alanis pulls her panties over his head, as announced, so that Slavedog has the scent of her sex in his nose all night long. Alanis laughs at the sight. “That’s nice,” Alanis says with a smile and holds out her hand to Slavedog. Slavedog licks her fingers. “It might be a little uncomfortable. But I don’t want you to fall fast asleep. You’re there for me. Even at night.”

Alanis lies down on her bed. She smiles at Slavedog as he crouches in the bird cage, his face half-covered by her panties pressed against the opening.

“You look sweet, my strange little bird. My Slavedog. You’ll smell the scent of your Goddess and will look at me. All night long.”

Alanis stretches out her leg and touches Slavedog’s lips with her foot once more in farewell.

“Do you now know what it means to be my body slave?”

“Yes, Goddess Alanis.” Although being in the cage just for one minute, every bone in his body begins to hurt. Slavedog almost longs for the time when he lived in Alanis’ shoe cupboard.

“Then you know what I’d like to hear to fall asleep, eh?”

“Yes, Goddess Alanis,” Slavedog replies.

Alanis smiles. She stretches like a little girl, wraps herself in the big, warm feather blanket and turns out the last glowing lights in the entire bedroom with a switch.

But Slavedog murmurs softly, very softly, like a prayer, his prayer: “Thank you for making me your slave, Goddess Alanis… Thank you for making me your slave, Goddess Alanis… Thankyou for owning me, Goddess Alanis…”

The beautiful Goddess Alanis gently falls asleep and enters the colorful realm of dreams.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED