Dose of Maya Ch. 15

Chapter 15: Cost of Freedom

September 5,

I write this because my mistress wanted me to write this. Let's call it a slave's diary. She wanted me to write what I felt. "In the future, when you become who you really are, this will help you look back at your growth," my mistress had said to me. I already know who I really am. A pathetic slave who is just supposed to be used by my mistresses. Maybe someday I will look back on this and tell my mistress that she was wrong. But how can my mistress be wrong?

Dear future me,

Let's reel back and get you up to speed. A week ago, my mistress and I ran away from my other mistress. She already found work here and said to me that I don't have to work. "I'll take care of you, my pet," she said. I love it when she calls me her pet. I so want to be her pet. Sometimes, I bark at her making her laugh. That laugh is the most beautiful laugh I've ever seen. Doggie, if you ever read this again, go bark at her and see how it feels.

Back to the topic, we moved to her new house. She didn't help me unpack at all. I had to do every minute thing. She sat there on her couch and directed me to do stuff. She looked regal like a queen ordering me around. 'This, put it there. Clean it, stupid.' This is not me complaining because I want to do every little thing for her. I wanted to do everything because maybe I needed a distraction from my thoughts.

My mistress left her boyfriend for me. Yeah, you might not still believe it, you pathetic slave. Maybe you have convinced yourself that wasn't real. But believe me, because I was there, she did leave Master Harry for you. I wonder what she saw in me. And that was not the shocking part, she said she loved me. Now, I look at her sleeping on the couch as I write this. That beauty of a mistress loves me. And I love her with everything I have.

But I have to tell you, how afraid I am of Mistress Maya. She would kill me if I ever go back or make me wish that she would just kill me. Even thinking about her beating me senselessly made me shiver, but I am horny for that beating. I think I'd go back if she even flicks her finger. But I know I don't want to leave Mistress Samantha. Oh God! How can I decide between my mistresses? Especially, a slave like me who is not even capable of thinking. Mistress Maya is correct when she said that thinking is not for slaves. But God and my mistress are forcing me to think. I don't know what to do.

"Come here," she called me after I completed the work. I crawled to her like a proper dog, though I've to tell you that I'm ashamed for thinking of a reward. Because she said she'd reward when we get here. But I work for the pleasure of my mistress, not for the reward it earns. I do hope you've grown and don't think about rewards very much.

"Take off my boots," she ordered after I was near her feet. I unlaced them and pulled them off quickly. The very familiar sweet scent of her booted feet wafted to me. I breathe in utter jubilation. But I was surprised to see her bare feet coming out of that boot. Her bare feet were slick. They gleamed and glistened with sweat. I look up to see my mistress smiling at my expression. "Even though you enjoy licking my boots, I noticed your happiness when you lick my barefoot. So, I made you a treat," she said to me.

"Mistress, you are above noticing what your slaves like. I like what you want me to like." Even as I said it, I was elated knowing that my mistress noticed my interests. That is stupid, I know. Of course, she knows what I like because she loves me. As much as I hate God for asking me to choose between my mistresses, I am grateful that he made me a slave to my Mistress Samantha.

"Go on, take a whiff," she said nodding toward her boot in my hand. I placed the boot on the ground with reverence. I lowered my head as if I were bowing to a beautiful goddess before me and pushed my face into the boot. The hot fumes touched my face and the fragrance of her sweaty feet caged in her shoes, which smelled like vinegar, barged into me. It smelled like heaven. As I breathe more, I notice my eyes closing and my pupils dilating. I am greedy for her scent. So, I didn't stop myself from smelling her shoes. What stopped me was the prospect that the other shoe might lose its scent the more I smelled this one. I begged my mistress for her other boot. She teased for a bit not allowing me to smell it. I thrust my face into it when she finally waved her acceptance. It smelled the same.

I looked up at her when I was done with her boots, watching hungrily at her feet. She sat cross-legged on that couch. She moved her foot to me. I opened my mouth to take it in but she put it under my nose laughing at my eagerness. I already wanted to lick it but my mistress wanted me to smell her feet. So, I did what my mistress wanted. Her big toe was on my upper lip and I took a long whiff to take in her scent. I continued to do so until she finally shoved her foot in my mouth. I started sucking her toes, multiple at a time. She moaned with my sensual touches. And I moved to lick her feet. The saltiness of her feet covered my tongue. I sucked and drank the traces of her sweat. My body pulsed with pleasure. I tried to bring my hand to my dick.

"No," I heard my mistress say. I looked up at her still licking her feet. "If you want to pleasure yourself, strip first and let me see you."

I stood up and hurriedly stripped down. I went down on my knees again after throwing my clothes to the side. I'm buck naked with my erected shaft in front of her. I started licking her soles from her heel to the toes and brought my hand to my crotch. "Spread your legs," I heard her say as I started rubbing. I spread my legs to put on a good show for her. She switched her legs, and we were both moaning after a few seconds. When my moans grew louder, she kicked me in my nuts and laughed. It stung but nothing is unbearable for my mistress' enjoyment. She kicked me multiple denying me an orgasm during that time. But she would also ask if the kick hurt me. She is a kind mistress. I sucked on her toes when I felt I was handling a mountain of pleasure. I started rubbing furiously for a quicker finish. I saw she was smiling at me. I know she wanted to kick me again but I sucked her toes more reverently and pled with my eyes. I prayed she would understand me. Thankfully, she didn't interfere and I came. I sucked in another breath. The white liquid sprayed on the floor. She stood up taking her feet from my mouth and moved into her room.

"Clean up your mess before making dinner," she said to me. I dreaded the thought and bent to lick my mess. But before the tip of my tongue touched the floor, I heard her say, "Ugh, you don't have to lick everything, do you?"

"I thought you wanted to clean my mess, mistress," I said turning toward her.

"Yeah, clean with a cloth. Why would I want you to lick your own come?"

"I...," I stopped and I didn't know what to say, "I think it is because of those erotic stories, mistress. In them, the mistress makes the slave lick everything. Even this," I pointed to the floor.

"I read them too," she thought for a moment and said, "Do you like to lick it clean?"

"I like what you like, mistress. If you want me to, I'll lick."

She smiled and said, "We'll try that another time. Now, clean normally." I cleaned it with a cloth and went to make dinner for my mistress.

After moving day, things were plain and simple. I wake up and make breakfast for her. And when it was time for me to wake her up, I'd kneel at the end of the bed and start licking her beautiful feet. She would turn on her bed for a few minutes. I lick her feet until her soles are completely wet with my saliva. Then, she gets up and her aura fills the room. Her radiance overshadows the morning sun itself. She would, after that, freshen up, bathe, and go to work. I stay all alone in her apartment thinking these horrible thoughts of Mistress Maya. I would clean, of course, to keep me from thinking too much but how much work can distract me. I suffer throughout the whole day, and it only changes when she returns home. I lap up at her shoes because she likes it when I do it. Then the night comes, and I make her food and massage her feet until she sleeps. I had to beg her to allow me to do that. She let me have my own room. I wish I could just sleep at her feet or just beside her feet on the cold hard floor. But she doesn't see the reason. I'm imploring her every day for her permission to sleep near her feet. Maybe, you already are sleeping at her feet. If you are, I'm jealous of you, future me.

September 7,

Dear Future Me,

I write this because my mistress wanted me to write this. She told me that I don't have to write it every day. I could just write when something important happens and my future self would like to know how I felt in the moment. You probably guessed by now, that something very important happened today.

I entered her room carrying her high-heels while she was getting ready to go out. I knelt beside the stool where she was sitting and doing her lipstick. She was so beautiful. I could only imagine what it must be like to be that beautiful. I could imagine everybody wondering what was her touch like. I could imagine everybody wondering what it would be like to be loved by her. But I know all of that. My mistress loves me. And the love is as beautiful as her. I touched her feet and immediately felt the rush of that sweet pleasure. I gently put her shoe onto her feet and strapped it. I looked up again to see her putting on her earrings. I took another shoe and put it on. While I was strapping the little buckle of her high heels, I heard a bark. I look up to see her smiling at me through the mirror. She barked at herself again.

"Mistress?" I asked.

"Yes?" she smiled.

"What are you doing?"

"I am barking at myself, doggie," she emphasized that word and continued, "I wanted to see how it feels." I was confused at first but realized what she was talking about.

She read the journal entry I wrote. Oh, no. I was embarrassed and immediately cringed under her sight.

She turned and laughed at me and said, "Are you embarrassed, doggie?" Even though I was, I was thrilled to hear her call me a dog.

"Yes, mistress," I lowered my eyes.

"What? Are you shading your eyes from my radiance that can overshadow the sun itself?" she said softly. I cringed again. She lifted my chin to meet her eyes and raised her eyebrows. Before I could say anything, she continued in a sincere tone, "I won't read it again. I just wanted to make sure that you were writing it. I couldn't stop myself after reading a couple of lines. But I promise, I won't read it again."

She doesn't have to promise anything. She can do whatever she wants. But I found myself saying, "Thank you, mistress."

She took her other earring and started putting it on, "I have to say, though. It was cute, Joe."

"Thank you, mistress," I bent down and kissed her feet. I wish she could wear boots or even stilettos. With high heels like these, everybody could see her toes. It makes me jealous. But I'm not here to decide what she can wear, right? I'm here to serve her. Just as I was kissing her other foot, I realized something horrifying. I jerked up to face her.

"What happened, Joe?" she asked with concern.

I gulped, "If you have read it, that means you read about Mistress Maya."

"Yes," she said softly.

"I am scared, mistress."

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," she said. Even though as scared as I was, at that moment, I felt relieved. Even not afraid. But she didn't stop there. "Joe, did Maya ever say to you that you don't have to think?"

"Yes, mistress," I said proudly, "She taught me that thinking is not for slaves. It was mistress' duty to think and mine was to obey and follow."

She cocked her head and I could see her sympathy towards me. She cupped my head and kissed me on my forehead. "Don't believe that, okay? From now on, thinking is also your duty."

"But mistress, a slave like me makes mistakes if I'm not told what to do."

"Mistakes are how we learn, Joe. Don't worry, we'll start with very small things. From tomorrow, you'll make breakfast before asking me the previous night," she said. A chill ran through me hearing her words. "You're a good cook. I really liked everything you made. I'm sure I'll continue to like it. It will be easy to decide what to cook, you know."

"Yes, mistress," I agreed reluctantly. I was still daunted by the prospect of deciding her breakfast every day. But all my worry withered away when she kissed me on my cheek. I smiled at her and thanked her.

September 10,

Dear Future Me,

I dreamt of Mistress Maya. It was a nightmare. She said that I betrayed her trust. I think I did betray her because she said that I was the bravest man she knew and I left her. Another time she said, "Will you spoil me with good times and leave me to my mediocre life again?" And what did I do? I left her. I am scared because Mistress Maya beat me almost to death in the dream. The scariest part is I enjoyed it. I wanted her to beat me. Even thinking about it makes me hard. I wish Mistress Samantha would beat me to quell my desire. I've been imploring her to hit me but she keeps rejecting it. Maybe I should make some mistakes and that would provoke her to beat me.

September 15,

Dear stupid fucker,

I write this because my mistress wanted me to write this. I made the most regrettable mistake in my life. Before I tell you the stupidest thing, let me tell you the good things that happened in the past few days. Turns out I am capable of thinking. I not only made breakfast but also every meal without asking my mistress'. Unless she wanted specifically something then she ordered me to make that dish. I successfully begged her to let me sleep near her feet. My mistress being herself, didn't let me sleep on the hard floor. She bought a thin mattress to cushion myself on the floor. See, this is the same kind Mistress you screwed over. Well, there is no point in dragging further what happened yesterday night. Let me tell you all about it.

I was making dinner. I watched her sitting near a window looking all sad. There have been moments like these in the last few days when she looked gloomy. Obviously, she was thinking of Master Harry. I don't like to see her like that. While I successfully begged her to reconsider my sleeping situation, my imploring for the beating was always turned down. I was left with no option but to make some mistakes intentionally. She didn't recognize most mistakes. And the ones she recognized, she just brushed them off. I had to be bold. So, I dumped more salt into the meal. I tasted it and it was horrible to eat. I did this, thinking certainly this would lead to punishment. After setting the table, I called for her.

She settled on the table in the same mood. I served the dinner on a plate before her. My anticipation grew as she mixed the food with her spoon. She recognized the saltiness the moment the spoon was in her mouth. Her eyes went wide and she spat out the food onto the table. She looked at me angrily and slapped me with her left hand. "Stupid, can't you cook? This is salty," she stood up pushing her chair back. She slapped me again. And I smiled. I know I should've feigned innocence but I couldn't control my excitement. She raised her hand to slap me again but stopped in the mid-swing.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked. I didn't know what to say. I just made some noises. "Fucking idiot, you did this on purpose, didn't you?" she caught me. I wanted to hide from shame but I just lowered my head.

"You did this because you wanted me to beat you," I nodded and murmured my apologies. "I will teach you a lesson," I looked up with hope. She smiled and said, "Not the one you want but the one you need."

She sat down pulling the chair towards her. And to my horror, she started eating the meal. I reached for the plate to push it away but she sternly said, "Don't touch it," I knelt and begged her to stop. She just sipped some water to wash the salty meal down her throat. I could see she was struggling to eat it but kept on it anyway. I started crying realizing what I'd done. I bent down and licked her feet and continued begging her to stop. I felt no pleasure while licking her feet for the first time in the past few months. Because the saltiness of her socked feet reminded me of what my mistress was going through. But the scale at which my mistress was tasting the salt was much higher. I pleaded my mistake and screamed for her to stop. When that didn't work, I banged my head on the leg of the dining table a couple of times. She just placed her foot on my head and pinned me to the ground. I could hear the chewing sounds. I stayed there helplessly pinned to the ground while my mistress was going through hell.

After a few seconds, she spoke, "Stand up and move back." I did as I was ordered. "Stay there, don't move, and just watch me," she ordered. I just watched in shock as she swallowed the salty food. She made faces while eating it. It felt like my chest was on fire when I saw her gulping it forcefully. I couldn't bear the discomfort she was facing because of me. After a few minutes, the plate was empty and she looked at me. And when she spoke, the world crashed down on me.

"So, this will happen again if you make further mistakes." I stood there looking into her eyes, sniffling and tears running down my face. I couldn't move, not even to wipe those tears away which were blurring my vision. She drank some more water keeping those hard eyes on me. "You make a mistake and I'll be the one to suffer. Will you let your mistress suffer for your selfishness?"

"No, mistress. I will never make a mistake again."

"If don't clean my shoes or do my laundry, I will wear those muddy shoes and stinky clothes anyway and embarrass myself. And you'll be the reason that your mistress gets embarrassed," she said softly.

I found some strength in me to move. I wiped my tears, fell down at her feet, and clutched them to my chest. "No, mistress. I'd never do that. Forgive me, mistress. Please," I begged. I just wish I'd never made that mistake. It happened because I was entrusted with thinking. This would never have happened if my mistress ordered me to do the thing. Maybe, that's why Mistress Maya wanted me not to think. See, how grave a mistake I've made.

September 16,

I'm sorry Mistress.

I woke up sweating. It was a nightmare that petrified me. I remember being tied to a cross with leather straps, and swollen lashes covered my body. I could see Mistress Maya sitting cross-legged on a couch blowing out a puff of smoke that she took in from the cigarette that she held in her leather-gloved hands. She was draped in a full leather outfit. A black leather jacket covered the white shirt that was snuggling to her upper body and tucked into her black leather pants. She was wearing thigh-high boots with metal spurs attached to her heels. She swung her leg and stood up. Her heels clicked as she slowly walked towards me. The metal sound of her spurs and the clickity clackity of her heels aroused me. Afraid as I was, I couldn't help but feel that sweet sense of pleasure. But it was a lot less than I expected and I also couldn't feel any erection.

I looked down at myself. To my horror, I couldn't see my balls. An involuntary sound left my mouth and I heard a giggle from my mistress. I looked up and gaped at her. Seeing my shocked face, she laughed hard as if she hadn't laughed like that in a long time. I wanted to cry and couldn't. Because I was happy that I was the cause of amusement for Mistress Maya.

"You finally noticed it, huh?" she said stifling her laughs. I couldn't respond. How can any man respond to a loss like that? "I wanted to take that off too," she pointed to my shaft. I gulped and shivered at her words. She clicked her tongue, "Doctors nowadays, eh? They said it would make a difficult urinatory system." She cleared her throat and continued in a mocking tone, "Let me quote him. If it isn't mandatory, I strongly advise against it, Ms. Payne."