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Subject: CMoon Story Repost - Secret Slave
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A CMoon story

Do not read if under age.


SECRET SLAVE


I worship females 

I have always worshipped females; it is probably the reason that I am still
 single, at 38.  No girlfriend has ever truly been able to live up to my ideal
 - they have all seemed to want a strong man to lean on.  I want a strong
 woman, a woman who will walk all over me. So, even though it seems they don't
 want to be worshipped, I worship women in secret, from afar. Especially high
 heeled women.

I have found that there is no place better than shopping centres to spy on
 pretty young women with the most sexy and provocative feet and shoes
 imaginable. This story is one of my best experiences.  The incidents I
 describe are all true and did happen to me.
  
One Saturday, I had arrived at the shopping centre as usual at about 11am.   I
 find Saturday's best for my plan, although I only 'get lucky' once every three
 or four months.  However, the anticipation thrills me, and it gives me the
 opportunity to practice what I preach - the worship of the female form.   
At first, I parked near to an entrance with a good view of the rest of the huge
 car park, so that I could clearly see everyone who parked their cars there,
 and even if I could not see them, they eventually had to walk past me to enter
 the complex. On this occasion I was lucky.   A red Honda parked in a secluded
 spot at one end of the car park, and two young women got out of the car.  From
 their dress, I gathered that they were well off, and obviously dressed to show
 their prosperity.  

The driver of the car was tall, and had on smart dark suit pants and a white
 lacy blouse, underneath a dark blazer. She had long blonde hair that fell
 loosely around her shoulders and she clutched a designer black leather handbag
 in one hand, and her car keys in another. Her friend, with raven-dark hair,
 donned a similar black "power suit", although she wore a knee-length
tight skirt.  Both women's faces were powdered and pampered to perfection. They
 were both quite young, I would guess between 22 and 25 years old.  They were
 both gorgeous, but, for a submissive guy like myself, their crowning glory was
 their shoes.  

The blonde had a pair of black, leather shoes, shiny patent leather, with a 
toe that came to a sharp point.  They had a very sexy heel, about 4 inches
or so long, tapering into a cruel spike.  She wore sheer, dark nylons below
her trousers, giving a full view of the top of her feet and her beautiful
ankles.  She seemed to have an air of sophistication about her.  Obviously she
 was well used to both money and power.  I was sold.  I wanted more than
 anything to walk up to this woman and kneel in front of her and kiss her feet
 and shoes. 

Her friend was just as sexy, wearing open toed high heels of around 3 inches
high.  The shoes had high insteps, she wore tan nylons and several painted
toenails showed themselves through the front of her shoes.  She also wore a
 gold "slave" anklet. I immediately started snapping away with my little
 camera, wanting to secure a permanent reminder of these two beauties for
 myself.  They got out of the car and headed into the shopping centre, no doubt
 headed for the upmarket boutiques.  It was just after 11.30 am.  Luckily, the
 space opposite their Honda was empty, so I parked and noted the licence number
 in double-quick time.  Then I ran to the mall entrance, so I could follow the
 two young goddesses.

They were walking about 20 yards in front of me when I entered the mall, and
 were chatting animatedly to each other.  I caught up to about 3 yards behind
 them and eased my straining cock out of my jeans.  It now pushed against my
 light jacket, hidden from the world at large, but separated from the women of
 my fantasies by only a thin veil of fabric.

By now I had caught a whiff of their perfume, subtle and expensive and entirely
 suited to them.  I followed them around the mall, pretending to myself that I
 was their slave, brought along to carry their bags but otherwise ignored.  My
 eyes roamed over their bodies, the way the brunette's skirt swirled around her
 nyloned calves, how the blonde's hair hung over her shoulders, and how her
 perfect bottom swayed before me.  Mostly, though, I stared at their heels,
 such sexy, dominating shoes they wore.  I wondered if they even had a clue of
 their effect on me.  In my imagination they sternly told me to wait for them
 outside certain stores (those with only one entrance/exit) while they shopped.
  The most embarrassing was outside Victoria's Secret, as I felt looks of
 curiousity from passing females at this pathetic male who was obviously too
 afraid to enter the realm of womankind. 

When my "mistresses" sat for a coffee a few hours later they leaned close to
 each other and began to giggle.  My heart leapt, and my face turned red.  Had
 I been spied, and were they now laughing at having snared such a pathetic
 specimen with their beauty?  It seemed that they kept stealing glances at me,
 and when they left I remained where I was for a short time before returning to
 my car. They had made me, deliberately or not, feel an inch tall, and how I
 loved them for giving me that.

As is my habit, I now settled down to wait for their return.  But first, I
 began to prepare myself, hoping against hope that things would go just
 perfectly now.  I slipped out of my jeans, and now only wore the modified
 panty-hose, with a small hole cut out to release my penis.  I had also
 completely shaved my entire pubic area in deference to women, as only real men
 deserved pubic hair.  Last, out came my handy bottle of vaseline (never be
 caught without it!)  Now all I had to do was wait. 

Soon, I was rewarded.  From the front entrance, I could see my two beauties
 appear, done with their shopping, heading for the car. They were walking
 slowly, talking to one another.  The blonde was swinging two Leggett's bags in
 her hand, and still seemed amused from earlier, as she was smiling a lot. I
 grabbed a bit of vaseline and rubbed it against my aching penis, that had
 remained at attention throughout. I masturbated slowly, not wanting to blow my
 load before time, I had to wait for the perfect moment. I felt on top of the
 world, humiliatingly dressed in ladies panty-hose, watching two beautiful
 women in sexy high heels walk towards me. I had no idea if they would see me. 

Usually, women would walk past, get into their cars and drive away without even
 seeing me less than a few yards away from them, almost naked, masturbating
 while looking at their beautiful legs and shoes.  Normally, when they have a
 female companion, they practically ignore anyone in the vicinity, and the
 sight of a man sitting in a car in a busy car lot is not exactly unusual.  And
 from the waist up nothing was unusual.  If only they knew what was happening
 below!

My car windows are slightly tinted, so that might have something to do with it,
 but all they would have to do is recognise me as the pervert from earlier and
 they might come over to give me a piece of their mind.  I longed for that
 moment, as much as I feared it.  What would a superior young lady think, when
 she found a pervert jacking off wearing ladies panty-hose?  However, the
 blonde woman reached the car first, stopping at the trunk to put her parcels
 in.  She was still speaking to her friend, and through the half opened window
 I could hear them.  From this little conversation I learnt that the brunette's
 name was Paula.  

By now the excitement of the moment was really hitting me, and I reached over
 and grabbed one of my "props".  Over the years I have collected a small stash
 of shoes from various beautiful women I have known, girlfriends, friends,
 sister's friends who stayed over for the night etc.   This particular shoe
 belonged to an ex-girlfriend who had left me when I continually asked her to
 handcuff me to her bed for sex. I'm sure she enjoyed it the first time, but
 seemed unable to accept it as part of a permanent relationship.  It was a
 black high heeled shoe with open toes and heels, covered with a velvet
 material. It smelled delicious and I rubbed it over my t-shirt covered chest,
 then under my t-shirt, against my nipples, while I rubbed my cock harder and
 harder. The blonde closed the trunk lid and started to walk towards her door
 while Paula walked around the other side to her door.  She leant over and
 fumbled with her lock.  She was slightly crouching, trying to fit her key into
 the door, her back turned to me. Her heels were slightly raised and I could
 see her exquisite ankles and feet clearly.  I fired my salute to them right
 then, knowing how far out of my class the two beauties were.  How they would
 have laughed at my self-degradation had they seen me.

I hurriedly cleaned up as they started their engine.  If my luck held out,
 there would be much more in store for me.  The Honda drove slowly past me. It
 could have been then that she saw me, I saw her clear blue eyes flash on me
 for just a second, but there was no sign of recognition.  The effect on me,
 though, was almost another orgasm, as I felt that I just didn't matter to her,
 much too trivial a person for her to bother about.

I followed them with discretion for 15 minutes or so, and was delighted to see
 them pulling into a driveway outside a large, luxurious house in a select
 suburb.  So this was where the blonde lived.  I watched the ladies carry their
 shopping into the house, once more marvelling at their sexual power over me,
 and wishing I could be inside to greet them, on my knees in a cute maid's
 uniform.  I noted the address and went home to pay them more tribute.

Over the next week I 'staked-out' the house, and was delighted to find that
 things were even more perfect.  I had imagined that the blonde inhabited the
 house with her husband, but it seemed that Paula shared with her.  They both
 worked all day, leaving at around 8.15 am and returning at 5.30 pm or so.  I
 readied my plans for the following week.

I was watching as they left the next Monday.  Dressed in my disguise as a
 gardener, I was able to break into their house with ease, and set to work. 
 Trembling with excitement, I opened my case and stripped off my clothes,
 putting on the uniform of a french maid that I had brought.  Black stockings
 were held up by a lacy black garter belt, and a sexy black matching bra and
 panties set was donned.  By now my aching cock was straining at the leash, but
 he would not be allowed relief until it had been earnt.  Then my 3" heels (I
 find it difficult to walk in anything taller, being a mere male), my black
 dress, and a little white apron.  I painted my fingernails red (matching the
 toes I had already varnished), then found a mirror and applied my feminine
 make-up.  Red lipstick, applied liberally, in turn matched the nail varnish.
 When I looked the part, I put on my girlish wig and pinned on the final part
 of my uniform - my little frilly hat.

Then I set to work.  First, the dusting, and armed with my feather duster I
 covered the house from top to bottom.  I cleaned the light fittings, washed
 down the kitchen tiles, and swept the floors, vacuumed the carpets and rugs,
 did the dishes.  All the time I was aware that here I was, a feminized man, a
 male maid, cleaning house for two of the most delightfully sexy young girls I
 had ever seen.  My penis was screaming for attention, and I could have jerked
 off time after time, I was so aroused.  But I knew my Mistresses would deny me
 if I was working under their supervision, so I denied myself on their behalf.

A common falacy is that women are clean, tidy people.  I have found from
 experience that they are, in fact, just as messy as men.  And so it took me
 the best part of 4 hours hard work to thoroughly clean their home.

At last, the basics done, I could start on the "fun" jobs.  I had a light lunch
 around 1 pm, touched up my makeup, and began on Paula's closet.

First, I made sure her clothes were all properly hung up.  I lingered over the
 outfit she had worn in the Mall, kneeling to softly kiss the hem of Paula's
 skirt, and rubbing my nose over the back, where her bottom would have pushed
 against. I could smell her.  Then, still ignoring my raging erection, I
 started to clean her shoes with my tongue.  I had to take great care not to
 leave my lipstick on them, but it was a deeply fulfilling task.  Of course, I
 cleaned the soles also, and breathed in her foot odour deeply through excited
 nostrils.

When I was satisfied with Paula's closet, I turned to her drawers, sorting out
 the soft jersey's and blouses.  I saved her underwear drawer for last, and had
 to stop several times as I was about to come inside my panties without even
 touching myself!  Her underwear was wonderfully erotic, sexier than I had even
 dreamed.  Skimpy, lacy bras, satin panties, basques, garter belts, stockings. 
 I drooled over them all.  When I had sorted them all into neat piles in her
 drawers I approached her laundry bin.

Now, I normally don't do my ladies laundry.  Not only does the washing and
 drying machines make a noise that could alert a neighbor, but it also makes it
 too obvious to my "Mistresses" that their home has been breached.  But I do
 like to clean their panties in my mouth!

Mistress Paula's panties tasted exquisite.

At last Paula's bedroom was complete.  It was now 2.30pm, and only the
 mysterious blonde goddess's bedroom remained.

I took another moment to freshen up again (more lipstick, more perfume) and
 entered the final place of worship.  There's something so very special about
 ladies bedrooms - when I secretly enter one for the first time, in my ladies
 maid outfit and ready to clean, I feel such a powerful thrill of
 submissiveness.  

Again, I began by tidying up the dressing table, bedside table, and clearing up
 things the young goddess had left lying about.  These ladies really could do
 with a full-time male maid, I thought.  From correspondence left opened on her
 bedside table I discovered the blonde's name was Karen.  But when I opened
 Mistress Karen's closet, I discovered something even more exciting.

At first it was a leather skirt, then another.  A few leather jackets, a pair
 of leather trousers.  High heeled leather boots.  Wow!

I began cleaning them all with my tongue, and half-way through I made the real
 discovery.

Hanging on a hook at the back of her closet.  A long, lethal looking leather
 whip.  And a black strap-on dildo!  Oh, how I fought against coming inside my
 frilly panties there and then.

My heart was beating furiously as I realised the relationship between Karen and
 Paula.  Lovers!  Perhaps even Mistress and female slave!!  Yet, how could the
 messy house be explained.  Perhaps she was only a "love slave", in the
 bedroom.  How my mind buzzed with excitement.

Of course, the black dildo was lovingly and submissively cleaned by my mouth,
 my red lips and yielding tongue.  And while I was cleaning Mistress Karen's
 dildo (cleaning Mistress Paula's juices, perhaps?) I had the most powerful
 orgasm of my life, soaking my panties with cum.  All of my painted fingers
 were wrapped around the dildo, my lipsticked lips wide around the cock, which
 was several inches deep in my mouth.  My nylon covered knees knelt on the
 bedroom floor, in the proper position for a male maid worshipping his
 Mistress's cock.  I had come without any manual stimulation at all!

I made sure I finished all my tasks before taking my leave.  A pair of panties
 from each Mistress was the only souvenir's I allowed myself (how they would
 tease me in the months to come).  Their home was left spotless behind me.

That was two weeks ago.  I can't get them out of my mind, and feel compelled to
 contact them, to let them know it was me who cleaned their home.  And to offer
 my services to them, permanently.  I don't know if they'd immediately report me to the police.  That's the worst they could do, I suppose.

But if they accepted me as their sissy slave?!  

Ah, that would surely be heaven on earth.


THE END



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