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TRAMPLE STORIES - TRAMPLING STORIES

  

  

  

TRAMPLE SLAVE

of Miss Tiffany

  

  

  

I arrived at Miss Tiffany’s house at 6pm sharp and waited nervously at her back door. I have never entered the house through the front entrance. In fact, despite spending so much of my time there, I haven’t ever been allowed to visit the upper floor, much less Miss Tiffany’s bedroom.

I was dressed as instructed. I wore a tight black t-shirt, neat new jeans, clean sneakers and a pair of pink lacy French knickers underneath. Miss Tiffany had picked them out for me especially online and quickly ordered me to purchase myself a full set. I own seven identical pairs and must wear one at all times when outwith her presence. I had not been allowed release for more than two weeks now and my cock- Her property- was already beginning to strain against the tight silk.

Miss Tiffany’s maid greeted me at the door with a knowing smile. I tried desperately to avoid staring at her cleavage in her tight uniform as she ushered me in. Miss Tiffany had caught me once, sneaking a peek at her slavegirl’s chest and I had spent the weekend caged in the basement and the following month in chastity.

“Miss Tiffany will be down shortly,” she said as we entered the hall. “You are to remove your t-shirt, place it in the bag with the other items and give it to me.” Knowing better than to question Miss Tiffany’s instructions, even from an intermediary, I removed my t-shirt, placed it in the bag and passed it to her. Glancing into the bag as she received it, the maid could not resist a short giggle. She looked at me, laughed and then abruptly turned and walked up the stairs with the bag. I couldn’t blame her. I had been ordered to purchase a very specific set of items and nothing else from one location, and include a receipt to prove I had not included any other items to make the purchase appear more normal. The checkout girl at the minimart had barely been able to keep it together when she saw it all and I couldn’t even look her in the eye.

With these thoughts swirling through my head I knelt at the bottom of the stairs and stared at the floor. After what seemed like an age, I heard the first click of Miss Tiffany’s heel on the top stair. I tried to breath slowly as the slow, steady rhythm got closer to me. I had to force myself not to sigh with relief when I saw the cute black bows on her favourite pink shoes appear at my eye level. She was in a good mood. Even the threat of a kick to the face was barely enough to stop me from looking up to take in the gorgeous legs in dark fishnets which were now inches from my face. Hurridly, I remembered myself.

“Well. Looks like somebody is happy to see his Princess.”

Her voice dripped down to me like thick honey, but before I could lose myself in it, she delivered a swift kick to my crotch. Taken by suprise, I gasped for air and doubled over. It was only her swift raising of the her foot, so that the toes were at my forehead that prevented me from falling over completely. Her heel was in exactly the right place to slip directly between my lips and into my mouth. Her laugh filled the room.

“That’s a much better position for you boy. Now show your Princess how good a slut you are.”

Still dazed, acting almost on instinct alone, I began to suck on her heel as hard as I could. “Come on bitch, you can do better than that...” Trying desperately not to think about the places I knew the heel had been, I bobbed up and down obediently, slapping my forehead against the flat top of the shoe. The pain was steadily increasing, but Miss Tiffany’s giggles kept me alert to the threat of what would happen if I paused without permission.

“Alright, enough!” And with that, she pushed forward just as her heel was all the way in my mouth, sending me sprawling onto my back. Without pausing, she walked passed me into the kitchen. I crawled hurridly after her.

“You don’t get to just have fun all day, boy. You must earn your keep.” I pranced along at her heel, like a ridiculous parody of a dog, almost running into her when she came to a sudden stop in the kitchen.

“As you can see, the floor in here is disgusting.” She wasn’t kidding, there was muddy foot prints and streaks of grime all over the marble tiles. “Clean.” she said, dropping a little yellow toothbrush in front of me. “Use this and your saliva. A nice spit and polish job. There’s some water in the dog bowl if you dry out that your poor little whore mouth. Have fun slut.”

I listened as the clicks of her heels receded upstairs once more. She hadn’t specified a time limit, but I knew I had better work quickly. I crawled over to the floor by the kitchen door by my dog bowl, spat and began to clean frantically.

Around half an hour later I was still scrubbing. I had barely cleaned a few square feet and my mouth was like sandpaper. I looked over at my bowl, which looked like it was filled with rainwater. I sniffed at it nervously. It smelt weird and I still had cleaned barely a tenth of the floor surface. Furtively, I dipped the toothbrush into the bowl and began scrubbing once more. This way was at least a little quicker. Panicing, I cleaned as fast as I could, almost in a trance.

I had cleaned almost a third of the floor, and the water in the bowl was already filthy. Suddenly as I dipped my brush once more the door was flung open. I had been so preoccupied with the task at hand that I hadn’t even heard Miss Tiffany coming down the stairs. Before I could react, her heel was pressing down on my cheek, forcing my face against the cold tiles.

“Did I tell you you could dip the brush slave?” Her tone was flat, calm. All I could do was wriggle in pain beneath her. “Now your water’s all gross. Oh well, guess that’s your problem.” The enormity of the trouble I was in began to register. “And to think I was considering letting you cum this weekend...”

  
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