Don't Be Nice To Me

The wet, squelching sound of my slavish mouthfucking fills the silence. It's a wordless agreement that I'll be giving up my career, right alongside my condo, my clothes, my orgasm, and my dignity. That I will take all these things and pile them at Anastasia's feet, where they deserve to be.

Anastasia pushes her foot deeper down my throat, her head thrown back as she enjoys my desperate gluk gluk sounds while I try to take it all.

"And there's one more thing."

I look up at her, never letting up on my attempt to choke on her beautiful foot, clean it of its sweat. I blink away the tears running down my eyes, waiting for my new owner's words.

The new mistress of the house.

"I will never, ever suffer the indignity of asking you for money, ever again," Anastasia says, and I swear the words go straight to my clit, making me whimper and moan like a bitch in heat. "I shouldn't have to ask. It's my money, not yours. I want it. All of it."

She looks down at me again, her green eyes shining with an intensity I've never seen before.

"You want real, Olivia?" She asks me. "This is how it becomes real. This is how it stops being a game. If you're rich, you always have resources. You can always walk away, move somewhere else, start over. But if you give it all up to me... if you end up owning nothing, not even the maid uniform you're wearing..."

Oh god. Oh god.

"Then you really are mine," she says, her words a whisper laced with her own arousal. "Then you really have no escape. No option, no plan B, no fallback. No choice but to serve me as my maid, and hope I don't throw you out, toss you away like a broken toy. Then you really have to put in an effort to please me, and worship me every minute of your miserable life."

Her foot drives deeper into me, her toes now tickling the entrance to my throat, as her sharp, clever eyes meet my own dumb, slutty, teary ones.

"That's how it becomes real."

The truth is, I am so devoured by my own arousal, by my own addiction, that I would give up everything to make this come true. What use do I have for the normal world, when debasement can make me feel like this?

Where else will I get this rush of adrenaline, this insane and uncontrollable arousal?

All my neurons are firing at once, every muscle in my body is spasming and twitching. I've never felt so alive.

With tears running down my cheeks, and Anastasia's toes breaching my throat, I nod, and accept my final enslavement.

Anastasia looks at me with such a regal air of superiority that she looks like a painting. Then, her feet push downward, meeting no resistance, one cheek pressed against the cold marble floor. I suckle submissively on Anastasia's left foot, while the right foot digs heel-first into my other cheek, squeezing me deeper against the ground, where I belong.

I squirm and thrash under her feet, but it's only for show. She has me now. This is my unconditional surrender.

And it feels divine.

For a second, a vivid image burns itself into my brain. Me, destitute, penniless, a maid in truth as well as name. Spending night after night in the laundry room, spending day after day on hands and knees, scrubbing the floors by hand.

My hands, my knees and feet, raw and callused from the work, while Anastasia's remain pristine, soft and pampered. All her friends, joining her here to socialise and have fun together, relishing in the wealth that used to be mine... and laughing at the maid who's kneeling under the table, moaning sluttily around her feet in gratitude at her own social demotion.

That's when the orgasm hits me, a hammer on a pane of cracked glass. I moan and shout in loud, worshipful despair around Anastasia's foot, my body twitching and shaking as the pleasure courses through me in waves.

It's the best feeling in the world, and I know that -- like a true addict -- I will pursue it for the rest of my days, with all my will, with all my might. And each and every time, it's going to cost me more than the last.

And it will always be worth it.

THE END