Femdom: Toledo

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We finished our lunch, which was splendid, but I have to admit that I was uncomfortable throughout. My glans and balls itched with heat so that I could not sit still, and constantly wriggled in my chair. Worse still, the Spanish Fury still waited on our table, and every time our eyes met there was a different expression on her face. It varied from broad smile to dark and furious, so most of the time I did not know where to look.

The Fury would always serve Andrea first, and always with a smile that was more like that of a close friend than a relative stranger. It was clear that when Andrea gave me to The Fury so that she could have her fun, and when The Fury disciplined me as a favour to Andrea, they had developed some sort of unexpected sistership. When The Fury eventually served me it was as though she were merely dumping food for a pig, her disdain could not be misunderstood.

Finally, after we had finished our meal, Andrea caught The Fury's attention and wiggled her hand above her head as though signing the air. The Fury nodded, and came to the table a short while later with the bill, which she automatically presented to me. I paid with my card, then slipped 30 Euros from my wallet and left it flat on the table.

Andrea looked at me quizzically. The meal was not too expensive, but 30 Euros was a generous tip for lunch, tasty and memorable though it was, and we were not rich people. It looked as though Andrea was deliberating as to whether or not to chastise me there and then, but at the same time not wishing to insult her new friend by reducing the value of the tip. However, immediately after handing me the credit card receipt and slipping the cash into her pinafore, The Fury took a note from the same pocket and handed it to Andrea. "If you wish," she said.

Andrea read the note and suddenly flashed The Fury a wicked smile.

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We spent the afternoon exploring more of the wonderful city of Toledo, discovering that one can spend a whole day there and never see the same thing twice. We did not visit any of the museums, though I would have liked to, as Andrea thought it would be too tiresome after a full day roaming over cobbled streets.

At around 6 in the afternoon, we had another coffee in a small square near the cathedral, shaded by the tall stone walls of the surrounding buildings, then wandered away from the touristic centre. Suddenly it seemed like Andrea had abandoned our habit of wandering aimlessly and letting the streets choose our path, seeming instead to have a destination in mind, leading me through a labyrinth of narrow alleyways and steps, twisting and turning as we descended slowly from the heights of the city centre. Then Andrea consulted the piece of paper, and I knew that she had a plan.

Finally we rounded a corner and doubled back on ourselves, through an archway and into a dead-end alley. From here, the path rose slightly again, but the surrounding buildings gained in height too, forming an ancient urban chasm around us. When we finally reached the end of the Alley, the door before us, large as it was, seemed secret somehow, hidden in the depths of the canyon, and there, sitting on the few steps that ascended to the great door, and which seemed to sag with the age of centuries, we found The Fury and another young woman.

As we approached them I suddenly felt some sort of suspense. Playing with Andrea was always fun and exciting - she knew what I liked and what I didn't, my floors and my ceilings, but now I felt like she was veering off track, testing new waters, playing with fire, and I felt almost scared. I knew her intimately too of course, but I always thought of her as a little enigmatic, like there was another room to her dungeon that she kept secret and hadn't invited me to yet. It felt almost dangerous, and I found that quite erotic.

The Fury had changed out of the strict white blouse, black skirt and chunky square-heeled shoes of the restaurant, and wore a short, black, loose and airy dress instead, fastened about her waist with a broad black belt, buckled at the front with a circular clasp. Her eyes were even darker now, decorated with crisp eyeliner and coal-black mascara. She looked more womanly now, still young and wide-eyed, but showing off her shapely body with a confidence that only women who really know the minds of men possess. She sat sideways on the step so that we could see the profile of her dainty bosom as we approached. Her friend, a sun-bleached strawberry blonde with dark roots, sat beside her in a short, blue and white floral dress, belted around the waist and with her bare feet on the dusty slabs.

We walked up close to the ladies and greeted them politely. They each tried to look stern and disinterested, but somehow I could tell that both of them were very pleased to see us.

"Good afternoon Ladies," I said, cautiously.

The Fury looked up at Andrea and gave her a broad, welcoming smile. "I'm glad you came," she said in her heavy Spanish accent, loaded with Latin lust.

"It's lovely to see you again," Andrea declared in response, the warmth between them rekindled in mere seconds. The blonde girl smiled too, her cheeks dimpling slightly and her eyes squinting as she looked up at Andrea. Then Andrea slipped her hand into the pocket of her shorts and drew out a piece of paper. She handed it to The Fury, who read it aloud in Spanish (of which I understand very little), then the two girls looked at each other as if they were speaking telepathically. Finally, the three of them stared intensely at me. The smiles were gone from the faces of the Spaniards, who looked stern and devilish instead, whilst Andrea looked like she was going to burst with excitement.

For a brief, tense moment, I found that I really didn't know what to do next. Finally though I was relieved of the responsibility to act as the blonde spoke to Andrea. "He will make it worse by not paying proper respect," she said, her accent as thick as The Fury's, her voice just as youthful.

I looked at Andrea, and her simple nod was enough to assure me of my duty. I got onto my knees immediately while Andrea glanced quickly and nervously at the doors and windows that opened into the street. They were all closed, their yellow-painted, black-studded shutters sealed to keep out the heat of the day. My bare knees scraped and bruised as I shuffled the short journey to the feet of The Fury. I glanced at Andrea one last time to check that she was still happy, then bent low so that I could place a delicate kiss on the bridge of The Fury's foot.

This was the first time in my life that I had kissed the foot of anyone other than my Madame's, and it was a treat beyond my wildest expectations. Her skin, having been confined by her heavy, formal work shoes all day, smelt of sweat and leather and, ever-so-slightly, of the delicate perfume I had smelt on her in the restaurant toilets. I paused for a moment to absorb her scent, then continued my worship, kissing her skin with wet lips so that I would taste her better. She lifted her foot from the stone step, and, with toe of her other foot, kicked off her espadrille. Now her shapely young foot was naked before me, and I took it in my hand and kissed it passionately, cleaning it with my mouth, licking between her toes, lapping at her musky sweat. As Andrea watched on, I passionately mouthed this other woman's foot, and grew hard in my pants. Finally, The Fury lifted her foot higher and presented me with the sole of her beautiful foot. "Clean it!" she demanded without any hint that I might have a choice.

In this new, more elevated position, my eyes were level with the hem of The Fury's loose dress. In my peripheral vision I could see the olive skin of her firm thighs disappearing into the shadow beneath the dark material, and it took all my willpower not to be enticed to look directly in that direction. I looked up at her face to see that she had a look of insolent superiority, then averted my eyes from her blistering gaze to kiss the thick, hot skin of her sole, wetting it with my saliva so that I could clean and taste her properly. Whilst I did not particularly want to clean the feet of anyone with my mouth, I got the feeling that although Andrea was a kind and caring Madame, she had something to prove to these Spanish girls, and I wanted beyond anything to make her victorious. I kissed and licked with painstaking care and passion, showing the young señoritas that I was well trained and knew my place below women.

Eventually, when The Fury was happy with my worship she offered me her other foot and I repeated my attention, diligently kissing and licking until she was clean then, finally, she put her hand in my hair and manoeuvred my head towards the feet of her friend.

"Present yourself to my friend Julia," she commanded.

"Señorita," I said humbly, "I am your servant, may I honour you?"

Julia looked down on me, the expression on her young face equally as superior and insolent as that of her friend. "You want to make my feet dirty with your repulsive mouth?" she hissed.

I stammered, attempting to prepare some grovelling defence or persuasion, but Julia quickly leant down to pick some gravel from the dusty street. Holding the palm of her hand out, she presented it to me.

"Lick it!" she commanded.

I put my face to the palm of Julia's hand, but found it difficult to stick out my tongue to collect some of the grainy dirt, until I heard the voice of my love shatter the tense silence.

"Hurry!" she barked, "We haven't got all day!"

I obeyed, placing the flat on my tongue on Julia's outstretched palm, and feeling the rasp of the grains as I lapped. There was nothing appealing in this act at all, nothing that I found sexually exciting in any way, but to acquiesce to such a demeaning command, to display my subservience so thoroughly before these three superior women and humiliate myself so completely was certainly one of the most erotic experiences of my life and, finally, I was rewarded by the rapturous sound of Julia reflexively and sweetly giggling.

I had barely removed the dirt from Julia's palm and begun to taste her salty skin when I became aware that The Fury had stood up beside me, and I felt a broad collar being fitted around my neck. It was loose while she threaded the buckles, but was soon tightened severely, taking my breath away and sending me tumbling into subspace. I luxuriated in The Fury's brutality, feeling the leather around my throat, and trying hard not to flinch in order to demonstrate my unequivocal compliance.

With a tug on my collar I was directed to crawl forward. I heard the heavy wooden doors of the building creak open, climbed the rounded, worn steps, and crawled over the threshold into the house. Beside me, I could see the casual rope-soled espadrilles of The Fury as it was she who was holding the buckle of my collar tightly and walking me like a dog about to be disciplined. On either side of us I could see the walking boots of my beloved Andrea and the bare feet of Julia, marching me towards an unknown fate. Had I been naked, my cock would have been slapping against my belly as I crawled, solid as it was.

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Inside the building it was dark. I crawled perhaps twenty yards, along a corridor of cool, worn, smooth tiles, and into a room that felt cavernous by comparison, though with my neck in the collar at the hand of The Fury, I didn't have the ability to look around much. The air here was cool, and scented by a fire that flickered somewhere in my peripheral vision.

Finally we reached a table, and The Fury instructed me to stand by tugging the collar upwards harshly. Now I was able to furtively look around a little, and try to make some sense of my surroundings.

The table was long and rectangular, and seemed to be the centrepiece of a large, softly lit room, but it was impossible to tell without looking around properly and, for some reason, that was something that I didn't dare to do yet.

Resting on the table, and attached below it somehow by iron chains, were two shackles which Julia proceeded to fasten around my wrists after deftly tugging my tee-shirt over my head. Meanwhile, The Fury came in close behind me, her crotch pressed against by bottom as she reached around, unfastened my belt and flies, and scooped my shorts and boxers over by hips. I automatically lifted one foot and then the other, allowing her to remove my clothes completely. The sensation of being so roughly undressed by her, being naked in the presence of these ladies was mind blowing. My naked cock momentarily stood to attention before being pressed between my tummy and the table top as The Fury knelt down behind me, spread my legs, and shackled my ankles. In hind sight, I really should have understood then that their expertise proved that I was in the hands of two women who had done this many times before. All the while I looked down at the old grain of the table top, but when I was finally secured, The Fury spoke again, "You may look at this place around you."

I was relieved to be finally able to look around. Most of all I was a little panicked at not knowing where Andrea was, and I wanted to know that she was still close-by and willing for the Spanish girls to play their game with me. I saw her standing a few paces to my left, watching intently with a hungry, excited look on her face, and I knew that she was happy to observe how the young women treated me. At the same time though, I could sense that she was now merely an observer, she could have stopped the game if she wanted, but for now The Fury was in complete control and master of my fate.

Next, I looked around the room. It seemed to be a square, around eight meters in width, around which balconies gave a view of the table to which I was shackled - not unlike the restaurant where Andrea and I had first met The Fury. A small fire glowed in one corner of the square despite the hot weather outside, probably to keep the chill from the air in this room which I thought must be a dozen meters into and below the plateau of Toledo. I noticed that the fire had scented the air with that familiar, comfortable smell of burning dried wood and resin.

Looking forward, I could see that there were no lower balconies on the wall to the head of the table, just a few steps that spanned the width of the room, rising to a wide stage in the centre of which was an ornate, golden throne upholstered with purple material. On each side of the throne there was a door, and above it a huge motif carved directly into solid rock. It was a double headed eagle, the tail of which was a horizontal and vertical cross, and I was certain that I had seen it somewhere before.

"You like this place?" The Fury asked. She was stood before me and to my left, close to my outstretched arm, whilst Julia stood in the same place on the other side of the table.

"It's magnificent!" I admitted.

"This," The Fury stated grandly, "is Casa Damalegí, the oldest house of female rule in Europe, and men have known the wrath of the better sex here for at least eight hundred years. We have survived world wars and civil wars, the ambitions of kings and the greed of traitors, and whilst the soldiers of the Inquisition were torturing non-catholics up in the castle, we were torturing their priests down here in Casa Damalegí. It means 'house of the Rightful Lady,' by the way, in an ancient tongue of Spanish."

I did not doubt The Fury's story for a moment - the table to which I was secured seemed to be the centrepiece of some sort of viewing gallery, and I could easily imagine men being disciplined here for the amusement of women gathered on the balconies

The Fury, realising my thought process, continued her description of Casa Damalegí. "This place, as you can imagine, is for the humiliation of men under the watch of the gathered Damalegí,"

She directed my eyes to the two doors beside the throne.

"But beyond those doors there are more... personal pleasures - the left leads up to the chambers where corrected men may lie with their Mistresses. As to the right... well it leads down into the catacombs... and I'm sure you can imagine what happens to men down there."

I imagined it, and my cock stiffened even more against the wood of the oak table top. How many men's naked penises had pressed against that very spot?

Now The Fury pulled open a draw beneath the table top and brought out two objects; one I did not see as she handed it quickly to Julia, but the other excited me terribly - a ball gag, pitted with tooth marks. I watched the large blue ball travel towards my mouth, and opened wide in anticipation. Even then, the ball felt too large for my mouth, and The Fury had to rock it up and down before it was firmly jammed behind my teeth. My mouth began to water immediately, and carried the flavour of rubber to my taste-buds. Behind my back, Julia patted something onto my naked right buttock, but with no way of seeing or asking what, I did not let it concern me.

Now The Fury and Julia slowly began to unclasp the circular buckles of their broad belts. Their actions were slow and deliberate, their eyes were on me as though inviting me to participate, passively, in a kind of ceremony. The brass tinkled, the form of their delicate waists was lost, and soon the two girls stood before me with their belts in their hands. They each doubled their leather over, and Julia slapped the doubled strap against her palm with a sharp crack.

I glanced at Andrea to see her watching with excited fascination as The Fury moved to join Julia behind me, out of my field of vision, and suddenly all was silent. I could not see what was going on, so I waited in silent anticipation, my cock still rigid against the ancient Spanish oak.

At last I felt a hand on my buttock. "I warned you today," The Fury said calmly. She sounded stern yet still so youthful, cocky and insolent. She was not much more than a girl, yet I knew what she was going to do to me, and she knew that I was powerless. "But I am not satisfied. Your behaviour towards your mistress is inappropriate. At the restaurant today you dared to look at my body as if I was some kind of sex object - not your superior, but something for your selfish amusement! I can tell you, boy, you are wrong, so very wrong, and I am going to teach you your folly! I am going to beat the stupid conceit of men out of you with my belt! and you will learn that when you called me 'furia' you were not wrong!"

With these words she lashed out, or maybe it was Julia, but the surprise was complete, like thunder in broad daylight. I am not a pain person, I like a game, some threat and tease, but this stroke was intended to hurt me! As the leather cracked upon my backside, the intensity of the sting shot out into my limbs, but I immediately suppressed any response - I knew that these girls would be angry if I made myself the centre of attention.

More lashes came, from one side and then the other. I held my composure for as long as I could, but eventually I began to groan into the gag, saliva pouring from my open mouth. Being completely immobilized made it worse - I strained against my bonds but could not move. I weaved my legs, fruitlessly attempting to turn my backside away from the biting leather. I closed my eyes which somehow made the anticipation of each strike worse as it forced me to concentrate on what was not to be seen, just felt... and it felt as if my backside was treated with hot oil. The leather fell, and it burned until it fell again, then burned more intensely on another spot. I soon lost track of how many belts I had received, or how long I had suffered for these girls. Then they moved from my bottom up my back and down again, bringing agony when the top of my thighs were reached. At this point I could not bear it anymore. I wanted to shout, to scream, to break my bonds like a super hero and free myself. How foolish ones thoughts can be! I wasn't going to free myself, but I managed to scream, a little squeal, and the sweet trill of the Spanish girls' laughter was delicious.