Involuntary Servitude Pt. 01

(Author's Note:- This story is a celebration of female domination and male humiliation. If you do not enjoy the concept, please pass on reading it, and forego adding lame comments in defense of manhood.)

Tim is an average chap with below average ambitions. He knocked around at various jobs working in supermarkets, delivery services and as a landscaping laborer. He would have liked to have a girlfriend, but didn't earn enough to hold onto the women he dated. The fact that he lived rent-free in his widowed mother's basement didn't impress the women he tried to attract. Plus it had a depressing effect on his mood and outlook, rendering him even less attractive to the young women in whom he was interested. He knew he had to change his lifestyle --- to break away into a new situation, but he didn't have the money to move to in any kind of living quarters that would constitute an improvement. His lack of ambition and skills seemed to have him locked in. An ad he saw in the employment website sounded a little peculiar, but caught his imagination.

"Seeking strong young man to help a couple of women with household chores and maintenance work at a rural homestead in Alaska. Room and board, necessities and travel expenses provided."

Tim let his imagination run into implausible fantasies involving the otherwise unappealing position. Besides the idea of getting free room and board, he liked the idea of moving far away to an area about which he had only limited, unrealistic and somewhat romantic notions --- Alaska. It was still the USA, so the relocation wouldn't involve major readjustments. Furthermore, he was intrigued by the mention of "a couple of women" in the ad. He knew how to carry out household and even outdoor chores from his varied, if unrewarding job experiences. But he smiled inwardly with speculative optimism as he wondered what side benefits might go along with working for the "couple of women" in whose employ he would find himself.

So after mulling over the prospects and getting up the courage to do so, he answered the ad, got a positive response to his reply, and gleefully received the one-way plane ticket to Anchorage Alaska. After packing his winter clothes he bid good-bye to his mother who happily received the news that he was going off on his own without acquiring any but the vaguest details of the situation into which Tim was putting himself.

Tim couldn't sleep through most of the cross-continent flight and arrived sleep-deprived and bleary-eye but anxiously looking forward to meeting with his new employers. When stepped off the plane and out of the terminal he waited briefly at the appointed spot where he was to meet his transportation. A mud-spattered SUV with oversized, off-road tires pulled up and the female driver summoned him to hop in.

"Hi, I'm Tim," he announced as he got into the front passenger seat. He noticed that the driver was a large woman with a hard face, a pug nose, cropped, blond hair and rugged, hard look. The next thing he noticed was that she had a huge bosom that tented out her sweatshirt and that caused he oversize, pendulous breasts to rest upon the lower part of the steering wheel. He didn't find anything else about her appearance to be attractive, but the size of her rack more than made up for his otherwise negative assessment of her appearance. In a lightening fast flash at the speed that only human thought can achieve, Tim thought as only a man could --- about how he looked forward to working around and stealing glances at those huge breasts; and he even wondered if, after a long time he might develop a cozy relationship that would end up gaining him access to them. All these weird and implausible thoughts raced through his mind in a fraction of a second. His reverie was interrupted by a call from in back of him. He made no reply.

"Hey, you." Turning to the sound of the voice he noted that In the back seat was a beautiful but disheveled teenage girl, with a short crew cut that had left only a shallow fuzz on of platinum, bleached hair. She had on false eyelashes and excessively mascared eye makeup. She was wearing large hoop earrings and sported a one-sided nostril ring. Her mouth, rimmed with dark, magenta lipstick, was set in a tight smirk as she regarded Tim who had turned around to notice her.

Again he repeated, "Hi, I'm Tim."

"No shit," was her scornful reply.

Her mother, the driver, spoke as she continued driving. "That there is Alex," she said. "Don't you get any ideas," she went on, shocking Tim with what seemed a weirdly inappropriate introduction. "She don't like men. Get it? You can call her 'princess.'" Tim fell silent and confused.

As the SUV left the airport and entered the highway, the driver gunned it, bringing the speed up to 80 mph. After a few minutes, severely sleep-deprived and lulled by the hum of the heavy-tread tires on the road, Tim put his head back and nodded to sleep. As he eventually began to awaken, he noticed that an hour and a half had passed on the car's LED clock. He figured that it translated to more than a hundred miles from the airport at that speed.

"How much farther do we have to go?" he asked. The driver paid him no mind but continued looking straight ahead as the vehicle barreled down the highway. A few minutes passed and he repeated the question.

"Who are you talking to?" asked the busty, indifferent female.

"You, uh...who else could I..." was his embarrassed and confused response.

"First of all, you never call me 'you.' Is that understood? You call me Madam. That's the only thing you ever call me. Understand?"

"Okay," Tim replied.

"No! Not 'okay.' It's 'yes, Madam.' Get it? Let me hear you say that. Say 'yes, Madam.' "

The words stuck in his throat and he hesitated, embarrassed and confused, as if he were being asked to sing or dance on command.

"What are you waiting for?" asked the virago woman without looking his way. He was grateful that she didn't turn to stare directly at him with that hard, scowling look that seemed to be permanently on her face. "I said, let me hear it."

"Yep...I mean yesss...uh...yes, Ma- ma-...Madam."

"That's better. Good boy, Timmy. I'm going to call you Timmy. Keep that in mind. You're never to call me anything else but Madam if you know what's good for you. But it's okay if you make a mistake. I know a million ways to fix your mistakes. You'll learn."

From in back the teenager or young woman giggled derisively.

Tim fell silent, his head filled with swirling and contradictory thoughts of these women, their harsh treatment of him, the driver's oversize boobs, the snotty twenty-something with the shaved head and her mocking laughter. Turning toward the window he stared at the monotonous landscape of evergreen trees that were almost a blur, speeding past at this breakneck velocity. Once again, he fell into slumber.

When he awoke much later it was nighttime. The SUV was now slowing down as it hobbled over a twisting and muddy gravel and dirt road. Finally it came to a stop in front of a large, luxurious log cabin. The car came to rest at a shed where several tall red cans marked 'gasoline' were stacked.

"Get out and I'll show you how to fill the gas tank," said the driver as she stepped out of the driver's door. Tim opened and stepped out on his side.

"Go take the gas cap off, why don't you," commanded the woman. Now, outside the vehicle he could see that she was at least six feet tall in well-worn, high-heel and skin-tight, above knee boots over faded, also-skin-tight jeans. She had a surprisingly narrow waist that was partly hidden behind her massive, pendulous bust. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head in an impatient, arrogant pose. Tim found the gas tank cap and unscrewed it.

"Now the funnel," said the boss lady, rolling her eyes as if fed-up with Tim's hesitancy. He looked at the stack of gasoline cans and sitting on top was a metal funnel. He took it and into the gas tank's mouth he inserted the funnel. Boss lady took one hand off her hip and pointed with it at a red gasoline can. Tim followed her finger to the can and knew what to do, lifting it to the funnel and carefully pouring all five gallons of its content into it. into it.

"And another," spoke the lady in the boots. Tim took a second and then a third can, filling the SUV's tank with fifteen gallons in all. Meanwhile the shaven-head, skinny twenty-something daughter, Alex, stood by, watching and giggling at his every move.

The front door of the cabin opened, and out stepped a strikingly attractive, middle-aged woman - wearing a wide, buckskin headband - with jet-black hair that poured over her shoulders and down her back in remarkable straightness. She had a pretty face with small, regular features, and appeared to be perhaps partly of Asian or indigenous ancestry. She held a rifle loosely by the gunstock.

"Is this the new help?" she asked staring at Tim who was rubbing his hands together to wipe away at the grime left by handling the gasoline cans.

"Yep," answered the boss lady. Alex took the couple of steps up to the porch where the black-haired woman was standing, planted a quick kiss on her cheek and entered through the front door, leaving Tim with the two mature woman who continued to look him up and down.

"Well come on in," said the lady still standing on the porch. "Go get washed up and I'll show you what to do. It's suppertime." As she turned to re-enter the cabin, Tim noticed she was wearing an ankle-length gown of soft, clingy material that fit her slim figure like a full-body, "wife-beater" tee-shirt, snug around her hips, buttocks and thighs, but looser around her narrow waist and lower legs. Tim followed her, his eyes locked on her buttocks which the fabric embraced in smooth roundness. She pointed to a sink and soap.

"Once your washed, go to that cabinet there and get what you need to set the table for three with plates, knives and forks."

Once he had done as told and watched the three females serve themselves the meals from the stove, Tim stood by, dumb and waiting for instructions.

"Get yourself a dish and utensils. You know where they are, and sit yourself somewhere on the floor. Maybe in that corner. Put you plate on your lap or on the floor. Whatever suits you. And be quiet, and stay out of our way."

"Wow!" Tim thought. "This is crazy. I'm getting treated like shit." But he was hungry and did as he was told. All three women looked his way obviously amused. The blond, boss lady spoke up.

"Anytime you think you can improve your circumstances, just ask."

Tim was utterly confused by the remark.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if I could take my supper seated on a chair," he declared.

"...seated on a chair, Madam!" replied the boss lady, echoing his comment and adding the correct way of addressing her.

"I'd appreciate it if I could take my supper seated on a chair, Madam," he replied embarrassedly.

"Now let's hear you put in your request."

"May I have a chair to sit on, Madam?"

"Say 'please' little man."

"Please."

"Please, what, Timmy? " With that reply, the three ladies began to laugh scornfully.

"May I please have a chair, Madam," was Tim's attempt to enter a final plea.

"Not now. When we're finished here, then you can bring your dish off the floor and sit on one of the chairs and take you supper. For now, just be quiet and wait until we've finished our supper," she said with a superior attitude. "Meanwhile, why don't you come over here on and start licking my boots why we finish eating?"

"What the eff...!" Tim began to say, but cut himself short.

"You were about to say something, Timmy," asked the boss lady sarcastically. Tim bit his lip and remained furiously silent. "No? Well, there's no need for you to say anything unless you are given permission from now on. Anyhow, you can't talk and lick my boots at the same time. They need a good tongue bath." With that, the other two women chuckled and stared at Tim's sad face. Tim was flummoxed, but he felt compelled by his helpless position to cooperate --- in effect to obey. He took his paper towel napkin in hand and knelt at Madam's booted feet. Glancing up from below he beheld - from below - the protrusion of her sweatshirt by the undersides of her huge breasts. And an enticing sight they made! He then bowed his head down and began to - at first kiss - and then lick her black leather boots.

As dirt and grime accumulated on his tongue, his spit it out and wiped his tongue on the paper towel. He felt anger at what was being imposed upon him by this woman, but at the same time he felt excited by the prospect of winning her favor and, perhaps benefiting - sexually, at some near future date - by it. He was surprised and a little ashamed to feel a tingle in his penis as a result of his position at the feet of a powerful, cruel and arrogant woman. The more he thought about it, the more his penis responded until he had a full, uncomfortably stiff erection as he continued his task.

When the ladies had finished eating, chatting and laughing it up at Tim's expense, they rose from their chairs. madam picked up one booted foot to inspect it.

"Well, it's at least better than before, but you'll get better at boot-licking as time goes on," she declared with a smile. "Now clear the table, do the dishes. Alex will show you where to put them away, and then you can bring your dish over to the table and eat.

As he went about cleaning up, occasionally rinsing his mouth with water and spitting into the sink, Tim's head was spinning. "What the fuck did I get myself into!?" he thought. "I've got to get out of this situation. Tomorrow I'll tell Madam that I quit and want to go back East." Just gazing at a woman with big tits didn't seem anywhere enough reward for this horrible predicament.

While these thoughts ran through his head, Alex re-entered the kitchen with an announcement for Tim.

"My mom wants you in the living room."

Still shaking his head with bewilderment, he followed her into the spacious, rustic parlor where a brick fireplace was flickering -- both lighting and warming the room. The two older mature women were seated on comfortable leather easy chairs. Alex went to a server table where all sorts of liquors and wines were standing.

"What would you like, Timmy?" asked Madam. "Go pour yourself a drink. You look like you need one." Tim quickly and eagerly complied. A square bottle of Jack caught his eye and he headed straight for it.

"Give him a glass," Madam ordered Alex, and she handed him a tall, 12 ounce tumbler. He poured enough whiskey to fill the tumbler about halfway.

"Take a seat," said Madam, the boss lady. "How do you like your situation so far?" she asked. Before he could answer, she went on with a wry smile.

"I saw you had a hard-on when I made you lick my boots clean. Don't be embarrassed. You loved it." With that the dark-haired woman chimed in, "Yes, he seemed to love it!"

"And I noticed that you're always staring at my tits," boss lady went on. "Would you like to see them?" Dumbfounded, Tim said nothing.

With that, the big blond stood up, all six-foot of her towering over silent Tim, and reached under the lower edge of her sweatshirt with both hands, pulling it up and off her torso. Her heavy, pale and pendulous breasts swung free, dangling in front of his diminutive figure. He gasped with awe.

"Bet you'd like to get your hands on them," said the smaller, dark-haired woman with a smirk as the blond boss-lady seated herself back down. She walked around behind the seated blond dominatrix and reached with both hands to grasp as much of each of her breasts as fit in her hands. She then began to knead the plump, pale, oversized boobs with loving caresses as Tim stared, shocked and awed at the glorious sight. He took a large gulp of whiskey from the tumbler, then smacked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and exhaled with a a loud, hissing sound. The dark haired woman chuckled softly at the sight of Tim's stunned state.

"Let's see what you've got in your pants," said the trio of women, including eighteen year-old Alex, all said more or less in unison, repeating the words several times. Tim shrunk in his seat, scrunching his lap by raising his knees and sitting forward to hide and protect his throbbing manhood. "Aw, come on," cooed Alex, now with friendly, encouraging tones. Tim took another gulp of whiskey.

The blond dominatrix's already rough features took on a menacing, harsh expression. Her large nostrils flared and the corners of her mouth turned down, exposing her clenched, shining white teeth.

"It's not a request. It's an order. Take your fucking prick out!"

Thoroughly intimidated, Tim unzipped his pants with shaking, tremulous fingers, but struggled to free his unruly member through the open fly of his pants and his underpants. He hands were shaking visibly, which the trio made much worse by berating him for his difficulties.

"What's wrong with you, clumsy?"

"Do you have this much trouble when you have to take a piss?"

"Look at him, he can't find his little pee-pee." This remark sparked laughter from the trio. "

"Stand up!" bellowed the blond boss lady with anger and authority. Tim stood and after much fumbling produced his red-hot, hard and swollen penis which, like his hands, trembled pathetically.

"Now sit back down," the angry dominatrix roared with the same tone of command. He sat and took another gulp of whiskey hoping it would ease his shaking and maybe even calm down his twitching boner.

The dark-haired woman walked over and inspected Tim's upthrust penis, making rude and embarrassing comments to her female companions.

"The head on his thing is almost purple, " she quipped, turn back to address Madam and Alex. "Why don't you jerk it off and relieve it?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"Here?" Tim replied.

"Here use this to catch your stuff, " said young Alex as she handed him a saucer. Tim took it in his left hand and began stroking his flesh-pole. He wished that one or more of these women would pitch in and handle his masturbation for him, but none came forward. So he continued to jerk away, unaided to the amusement and scorn of the trio. He watched intently as Lola, what the woman with the long, dark hair was called, squeezed the luxurious flesh of boss lady's massive breasts, indenting her fingers into their softness causing the areas between her digits to rise up, plump and pale pink. The boss lady, Madam, stared directly at Tim's eyes which were totally fixated on her desirable breasts, smiling a superior smile. Tim's breath came in tortured gasps and he shook as if to undergo a seizure, then let out a loud groan and squirted his seed onto and beyond the saucer. This evoked guffaws of laughter from the three women. Tim collapsed into his seat like a rag doll, still breathing heavily and holding the saucer carefully to avoid spilling the semen.

"Looks like you could use a drink," smirked Madam. She rose and took the saucer from Tim's trembling hand, then raised it up to his lips. He opened his eyes in horror. No, he couldn't, he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't drink his ejaculum.

"Come on. Drink up, Timmy. Little piggy. Little Timmy. Open your mouth," implored the boss lady. Tim turned his face this way and that to avoid the thick, loathsome drink.

"Okay. You don't have to, " she said, whereupon she brought the saucer up over his head and poured the cum onto his upturned face. He was too weak and spent to avoid having it dripped over his forehead, his nose and his cheeks as it oozed down his face to his closed lips and his chin. All three ladies laughed guffaws of mocking laughter and made comments through their giggles.

"Look how sad and stupid he looks," said the twenty-something Alex.

"Come on, be a man," mocked Elvira, the dark-haired witch.