Chapter 4

A week had passed since the incident at the tattoo parlor and Sara’s body was healing nicely. The girls had left her alone all week, this being finals week, and Sara was grateful for the time to allow her new artwork to heal. She was still sore from the piercings and tattoos but the pain was negligible now.

Today was Friday and Sara was terrified as she knew all the girls had morning finals and after that would be free and clear for the next 3 weeks of Spring Break. The problem for poor Sara was that her husband was out of the country setting up a new overseas headquarters for his companies call center. John would be away for almost a month and had left 2 days ago. Unfortunately for Sara, her owners knew her husband’s schedule all too well. They were looking forward to torturing their slave for the next 3 weeks. Each of the four girls had told their family and friends they were going away for spring break when in fact the plan was for them to spend that time at Sara’s home using and abusing her all they wanted.

Sara paced the floor obsessively watching the clock in fear of the time when her sadistic owners would arrive. Sara had been warned to be ready for the girls at around 5pm as that was after each of them had finished their last final for the semester. The girls had told their slave to be waiting on her knees in her little, French maid’s costume by the front door at exactly 5 O’clock. It was now ten minutes till five and Sara was a nervous wreck. When this had all started Sara knew she had several opportunities to save herself by just letting the girls turn her in or by confessing to her sins herself. But Sara was a coward at heart and she’d allowed things to progress to the point of no return. Her career, her marriage, and her freedom all hinged on keeping silent now and obeying every command given by her 4 owners. They had plenty of video and photographic evidence now of Sara in every possible compromising position and had even taken video of Sara seemingly accepting money in exchange for sexual favors from the girls. Of course the girl’s faces were hidden in every picture and video so Sara was rightly screwed.

Sara glanced at the clock again and noticing the time was now two minutes till five she quickly fell to her knees by the front door folding her hands in her lap with her head down, eyes on the floor. Sara knew she looked ridiculous in the silly maid’s outfit. With its push up bustier her breasts were on full display showing both her piercings and tattoos. She already felt tears forming in her eyes as she looked at the twin soccer balls adorning her tits. Further down Sara could see a third soccer ball bearing another of her tormentor’s soccer numbers and could feel the ring piercing her clit. The skirt she wore did little to hide her most private places and she knew that kneeling in this position her ass was well on display, especially considering the thong she was required to wear. Her stockings were immaculately centered with the seams perfectly bisecting the backs of her legs leading down to the 5 inch, black, stiletto heels she wore.

Sitting in this position made Sara painfully aware of the too big plug in her ass. The plug was a constant irritant to her as she was forbidden to ever remove it longer than it took to relieve herself or to be fucked.

Glancing at the clock again Sara saw it was now two minutes after five and she began to shake in fear knowing her torment would begin soon. By quarter after the hour Sara was starting to feel pain in her legs from kneeling for so long. By half past her knees and shins were sore from prolonged contact with the cold floor and her ass was aching from pressing down on the plug.

Six O’clock came and went while Sara stayed in her assigned position fearing the terrible retribution she would face if the girls even suspected she had moved. By half past six Sara was feeling humiliated beyond belief at the knowledge her fear kept her on her knees in her own home. The middle aged coach was ashamed of herself but also too weak willed to move an inch. It was at this time Sara heard laughter and footsteps approaching her front door. The abused woman tensed up and waited in dreadful anticipation for the sound of a key in the door’s lock.

The door opened wide and Stacy, Kelly, Lindsey, and Rose all sauntered in to Sara’s house as if they owned it the way they owned her. The girls were all laughing and joking with each other and paid no attention to their kneeling slave at first. They all walked right past Sara and made their way into the living room where they relaxed on the couch and loveseat. Sara knew better than to move without orders and knelt at the door shivering in fear.

After a few minutes had passed Stacy began tapping her leg and calling out to Sara as if she were calling a pet dog. “Here slut! C’mon slut!” the young girl called out to the ringing laughter of her friends. Sara crawled obediently to the living room and knelt in front of her owner, Stacy, with her head bowed.

Stacy reached down and patted Sara on the head saying, “Good slut, that’s a very good slut”.

The humiliated coach said, “Thank you Miss Stacy, I love being your pet slut”. The words were automatic but were said with a forced passion Sara knew was expected or she’d be punished.

“I don’t care if you like it or not slut. Now we have a big surprise for you tonight you nasty cunt. You’re going to give us all pedicures! Isn’t that fun?” Stacy said with a smile.

“Oh yes Miss Stacy! I would love to pamper your beautiful feet Ma’am! I’m not worthy of such an honor and feel privileged to serve at your feet”, Sara said knowing exactly how her owners liked to be addressed.

“Good” Stacy continued, “Now crawl your fat ass upstairs and get everything you’ll need to give us all a world class, spa level, pedicure. We all decided to take a nice long run after our tests today and our feet are just nasty. We’re all tired and sweaty and need special pampering from our little piss-breath slave”.

Sara knew better than to stall so she hurriedly crawled out of the room and up the stairs toward her bathroom. She gathered everything she could think of including pans for water to soak each girl’s feet, nail clippers and files, a pumice stone for calluses, nail polish and several towels.

Sara knew from experience how to carry multiple items while crawling and stopped in her room to fetch the special harness Stacy had made for her. It consisted of three cords with alligator clamps at both ends of each string with a special made leather pouch that attached to one end of the cords. Sara connected the clamps to the leather pouch and piled all of the materials onto the improvised container. She then carefully clipped one end of the first cord to her right nipple ring, the second to her left nipple ring and the final clamp to the ring piercing her clit. When she rose to all fours, Sara now had a carefully loaded and balanced hammock swinging below her. The weight of her burden pulled hard on her nipples and clit but Sara knew better than to cry out in pain.

The abused coach crawled slowly down the stairs feeling every movement as a shocking pain to her most sensitive regions. As Sara entered the living room she saw her tormentors relaxing and chatting away as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Sara knew the pecking order better than anyone and crawled over to Stacy where she waited for the order to begin the mean girl’s pedicure. Stacy instead propped her legs up on Sara’s back and said, “Start with Kelly slut, I want you to do me last so I can relax for a while”.

Sara whimpered an obedient response and began unloading her burden with one hand while balancing on the other to keep Stacy’s feet from falling from their perch on her back. Sara was trying her best to begin caring for Kelly’s feet but her position on hands and knees while acting as Stacy’s footstool made it very awkward and after several futile attempts the poor older woman was near tears fearing punishment. The girls all laughed at her pathetic behavior and finally Stacy said, “You are such a useless old whore, can’t you do anything right? Get up on your hind legs like a good dog and put my precious feet in your tit sling you moron”.

Sara hurried to obey and crawled to retrieve her dreaded tit sling. It was a torturous device of Stacy’s creation that consisted of a series of pre-tied elastic bands that fit snugly around each of Sara’s bruised and stretched out breasts. The bands fit tightly at the base of each tit causing them to balloon out comically from her chest. The twin bands were connected by a patch of soft leather that hung down between Sara’s hugely distorted breasts and made a perfect sling for her owner’s feet.

Stacy sighed and placed her feet roughly into the sling allowing all the weight of her feet and legs to pull down on her pet’s tits causing the poor older woman to gasp in pain. Though tears filled her eyes Sara knew not to cry out and accepted this new torment with a forced smile.

The poor coach then reached out and brought Kelly’s sweat soaked, stinking right foot up to her face so she could begin massaging it with her lips and tongue. She licked in long strokes from heel to toes pausing to kiss the sole once every third trip up the sweaty foot. This was the preferred method of worship the girls expected and Sara knew better than to deviate from it. She continued licking and kissing the girl’s foot until she no longer tasted any dirt or sweat, then moved on to sucking each individual toe, being careful to swallow any toe jam she encountered along the way.

After nearly 15 minutes of tongue worship Sara knew it was time to begin the pedicure. She reached down to pick up the pumice stone and began brushing all the rough callused spots on Kelly’s athletic foot. This was the favorite part of the ritual for the girls and they all watched in horrid fascination the display their pet put on for their amusement. They had taught Sara the proper way to buff the rough, dead skin from their feet and it never ceased to amuse them how far the coach had fallen. The older woman debased herself fully by lifting the girl’s foot up over her face and as she ran the pumice stone over it the flakes of dead skin fell into her open mouth like gentle, disgusting, putrid, stinking snowflakes. The girl’s laughed and laughed as the tortured coach brushed dead skin from the haughty girl’s foot and allowed it to fall into her mouth as if she were a baby bird waiting for its supper.

When the offered foot was smooth to the touch Sara brought it down to her lap and smiling at the laughing girls made a show of swallowing the foul detritus she’d accumulated on her tongue. She knew to make sure it looked like she was enjoying the finest meal as she’d been taught.