Five quick taps of her sharp red nails in unison dug my mistake deeper into my psyche. I thought she already started rolling. A sigh followed up with a "Hey guys," answered that question. "Natalie here." I lay beneath her gargantuan rear, smothered against her pillowy ass. The string tied around my arms is gradually digging into me. No doubt, I'd have more marks than these after this. "Much to my disappointment, but... not so surprising, I guess... my dumbass subby hubby here deleted my story!"

She pulled me from between her cheeks. Not quite me directly, but the pencil she had me tied to, dangling like bait over a pond. I was already bruised, battered, and dried with my own blood from her relentless beating at my less-than-normal size. I coughed through the pain she put me through, blood dribbling down from my mouth. "I'm sorry," I quite literally cried, "I'm so sorry!" I knew damn well not to ask for help. Not since the last time. ESPECIALLY not on YouTube.

""So, little subby hubby," Natalie swung me in front of the camera, "What are you gonna do to make it up to, not only me, but ALL of my devoted subby fans?"

"Anything!" I pleaded into the internet, "Please goddess, I will do ANYTHING!"

"Maybe I could see you to the highest bidder..." she so dangerously thought, twisting the pencil to coil me up against it, then dropping me down to nearly give me whiplash.

I wept at the thought of being with anybody other than my wife so worthy of worship. "Please, no!" I bawled, not a care in the world wide web that saw me. "I want to serve YOU, goddess! Please!" She brought my closee to her face, stone cold. "I worship you! I worship you, I worship you, I worship you!" with the last "you" barrelling off into greater tears of desperation.

"So he worships me," Natalie continued, looking into the camera, "but goes and deletes my work I so graciously made him slave over." In a fit of pent up rage, she swung the pencil to smack me against her desk.

"Fans," she continued, "lurkers, wannabe slaves, fellow dommes, horrified onlookers that clicked just a little too far down YouTube's rabbit hole... my stupid little subby hubby goes through hell for me. He begs for the solid underside of my shoe, not for his pleasure-- not even for mine at times-- but to prove his devotion."

An ankle boot clicked on the desk, fresh from her wonderful bare sole. Natalie balanced the pencil to keep me dangling in there, just barely touching the bottom. Enough that I couldn't reach the decadent, holy ground this goddess walks upon, but swealter in its leftover heat. I so eagerly took in as deep of breaths I could.

Her soft, hypnotic hand covered the opening of the shoe to muffle the sound of the outside world. "Folks," Natalie spoke into the web, "I struggle to find something that will genuinely punish my hubby anymore. He wasn't always so eager to sleep the night away in my little chocolate rosebud," (she added a giggle in post), "he once hated the food I chewed and spat back at him for his daily meal," (she giggled in real-time, here), "years ago, lil' subby would have NEVER thought he'd find himself two-inches tall licking the grime beneath my toenails--" as part of goddess' weekly pedicure procedure, "--let alone BEG me to LET him do it. I've so quickly and successfully warped this once-dignified man into the most humbled and debased subserviant husband, that I would be in jail were it not for the marital agreement we based Terms & Conditions off of." Natalie took a sip of her wine, but cut it from the final version of the video. "I'm at my wits at end with punishing him."

The fully edited version of her video cut to her BMW pulling into the plaza that housed a local sex shop. "So I had to get creative," she dubbed over the clip of me shaking in the backseat.

She segwayed scenes through a shot of her eyes looking through the rearview mirror at me, asking "Ready, subby?"

We wrote these things in Terms & Conditions. That's all it was; a story. Behind the screen, we kept our arraingment private-- as private as it could be plastering it all online. It's easy to debase yourself for all the world to see when your neighbors don't know, when employers don't know, when store clerks don't know. The secret was equally kept for her professional life as it was for me.

But then-- as you know, dear reader-- I fucked up.

My goddess dolled me up, like she had me write about, dressed me as her maid, like she had me write about, and shrunk me to two feet tall, like she had me write about. Little did I know how much of it was a threat.

Shaky hands clicked the door handle while a quivering voice answered "Yes, goddess."

I stepped out of the car, and clicked my uneasy heels in to the sex shop. It was a slow day, thank god, but I still turned heads. I kept telling myself they didn't recognize me, but some did. Some had to. I saw it in the way they stared, and didn't look away.

The strap on in my hand looked comical at my size. No doubt people laughed. Then came the greuling part.

I turned to look out the storefront to find Natalie watching close. There was no avoiding it.

I found the nearest worker, like she told me to, and asked her, like she told me to, "Excuse me, ma'am...," I tried for that dainty, girly tone she had me write about, "Where can I find your..."

The woman didn't look amused, "What?"

"Chastity devices?"

I swear to god she knew... because when I asked, before she answered, she looked out the window at my goddess, then back at me and smiled before pointing me in the right direction.

And of course, given my adjustable size, she told me to buy the smallest one I could find.

At checkout, the clerk couldn't stop looking over at my goddess and back at my pathetic form. She had to ask; "Are you?" but pasued before trying again, "Are you the guy from pursuedsub?"

"Y-" my face blushed to match my makeup, "Yeah..."

She roared with laughter. I panicked, forgot my change, and ran to the car.

Natalie locked it, only presenting her hand to take the shopping bag and demand, "Change."

I stood silent and ashamed.

"You didn't get the change?"

"N-no, godde-"

Before I could finish, she demanded, "Go in there, say you're sorry, and ask for thr change." She cherried the top, "With a pretty please."

The clerk never took her eyes off me; hands at her side laughing as I returned to ask for my change.

It hung between her fingers, just out of my reach. The woman made me jump for it until I fell on my ass. She stood there lauging hers off.

"Hey," a dominant voice shut the store up; my divine goddess of a wife, "Leave my subby hubby alone, and give me MY change back."

The clerk was equally star-struck, and embarrassed. Natalie took the change and shrunk me down to less than an inch in front of everybody in the store. With a swift kick I've grown so fond of, her brown flat popped off. She didn't look at me, but I knew who she was talking to when she said, "Get in."

I obliged, taking note of the black toe prints I looked forward to lapping up.

I'd never been put into chastity before. Hell, I thought the devices were a myth until I met Natalie. Now I found myself trapped in one; the smallest size they had-- some days embarassingly too big, other days pathetically small. The reality took only a day to settle in, that she was not going to let me cum. So quickly did I yearn for stimulation; the kind I'd get rubbing against her toes when she took me to work with her at the tip of a heel, or humping her in worship traversing her panties throughout the day to spread her pleasure, or the little dribbles she so less than forced out toying with me against her divine like a sweet candy sucker.

Natalie later admitted that, "I don't have it," with a mocking laugh, in regard to the key.

I felt broken, sick at the possible reality of never, ever cumming again. "You don't...?"

"Nope," she said so matter of fact, "Mom does."

My jaw dropped when I heard that. Again, this was merely something she made me write about. I had no idea it'd turn into a threat. My mother-in-law, my keyholder. The one small step to release I so desperaty yearned for.

"D-" I didn't know where to start, "does she know?!" I asked in reference to our far below the standard for a nuclear family.

"Of course she does, dummy," she said with the utmost seriousness, "She's like, almost always the first one to watch my videos."

Every video Natalie made flashed through my head as if I'd just died, and it was my life. As far as I was concered, it was now. The first time I caught a wiff of her divine foot fragrance, and the update of that one where I (so whole-heartedly) proved my love of the scent; the time I BEGGED soak in her holy bathwater before draining; the time she made me sing "I'm a little teapot," for ten hours; ... the laundry day video... I shiver at the thought of Heather (her mother) watching those. Was it in delight? Disgust? Regret for her blessing in our marriage?

Natalie left me with an ultimatum: If I EVER want to cum again, Natalie will unlock me (with the spare key she fibbed about not having) if anybody has an archived copy of Terms & Conditions they would be willing to send us at pursuedsub@gmail.com

Please. I am BEGGING you, if you have it. Because the alternative to my sexual freedom is to convine my mother-in-law, Heather, to (as Natalie put it) release me. I have no idea what to expect with the latter option, and I dread it; choking on humiliation.

I know I meantioned earlier, she'd kill me if I asked this, but...

Somebody please help me...

Lipstick gave my lips that pop to stand out bright for all the world to see. The blush on my cheeks make an accurate mask, displaying my humiliation to those around me. My two foot size keeps me reminded of my place; below my goddess. I've not been released from chastity for weeks now, probably over a month at this point. It's so wonderfully terrifying knowing the power my beloved wife has over me. While the lack of release hurts to nearly no end, it reminds me of the woman I serve. This is for her-- for her to punish me and remind me of what she's capable of.

"Are you ready?" Natalie asks, looking at me from her vanity mirror after dolling me up in my maid's uniform.

"I-if you think I am, goddess."

She pinched my rosy cheek, "What a sweetie. Alright, let's go. My guests are waiting."

I was visibly shakey, anticipating what was to come. In honor of my punishment bringing my servitude to the physical public eye-- rather than the online public's eye-- Natalie decided to throw a little soiree. Not that I don't believe my goddess deserves a party in her honor-- she absolutely does, tenfold! I've just never publically displayed my servitude toward her... in person that is. It's easy to hide behind a username on a screen and debase myself in front of people I don't know, people I'll never meet; but I know these women. Most of them are entirely unaware of mine and Natalie's marriage agreement as goddess/slave.

She guided me through the house, her palm pushing me along, giving me nowhere to turn back to. We made it to the archway that lead to her living room. I was still out of sight at this point, but one step closer and I'd be revealed. I froze in my tracks in an alternative to the fight/flight response. I heard the chatter, the gossiping, the laughing... the excitement. It sounded like an army of women in there, ready to embarrass me.

"Come on, subby," Natalie teased, "they're waiting for you."

Despite the humiliation, I want nothing more in life than to obey my wife, my goddess. With her nudge, I proceeded.

The room filled with laughter, and far too much noise to differentiate the voices in the room.

"Ladies," Natalie introduced me to the sectional couch full of women, "meet my subby hubby."

Before me sat Ashley-- Natalie's friend from high school, Rachel-- a coworker, her sister Taylor, her aunt Valerie, and of course-- to my demise-- my secondary keyholder; Heather, her mother.

"Oh my gosh!" her sister Taylor shouted, "He makes such a cute girl!"

"I love the little maid outfit," Ashley added.

"I'd tell him to get on his knees," Valerie held back laughter, "but I don't think it'a necessary at his height!"

"Or lack thereof!" Heather added to Valerie's mocking.

"How'd you get him like this?" Ashley inquired, "I'd kill to turn Richard-" her drunk of a husband- "into my personal maid!"

"I think my son could use a bit of this style of discipline too," laughed Rachel in all seriousness.

"So, Nat," Valeries started, "how'd you do it?"

"Well," Natalie lifted my skirt to reveal my chastity device, "the way to a man's heart is through is stomach. But the way to a man's will is through..."

The women roared in laughter.

"Do you ever let it out?" asked Heather.

"To wash, yeah," Natalie answered, "but he hasn't been allowed any release otherwise."

"That's so wonderfully..."  Taylor started.

"Evil," Valerie smiled, finishing her sentence.

Natalie put her hands on my shoulders and spoke into my ear, "Now subby, tell the nice ladies what I taught you to say."

I gave a red-faced smile, a curtsy, and said, "Natalie's shrunken-subby-sissy-hubby at your service," so delightfully, surpressing my embarrassment.

The women couldn't contain themselves, laughin at me to the point of tears. "You..." Ashley fought through hilarity, "You really DO have him wrapped..." she laughed more, "Wrapped arohnd your finger!"

"He really does do whatever she says," Heather added. "It's so entertaining watching him. You've gotta see some of these videos." She used her phone to cast a clip of me cleaning Natalie's shoes with my toothbrush. Laughter ensued, and did so further when Natalie came into view and had me scrub her bare feet with my brush.

"He still has that toothbrush," Natalie remarked. She's right. And I wouldn't trade it for the world.

From there the women started a marathon of Natalie's YouTube channel. I acted as the servant I am; fetching drinks and snacks, blankets and pillows, giving shoulder massages and foot rubs. I even filed some toe nails for them. When idle, I knealt at Natalie's ottoman, revelling at my goddess by planting kisses on her feet, mindful of any spots of lint or dirt to lick up as she lounged on her throne. The women cooed as I ran my tongue between her toes, summoning a relaxed hum from my beautiful wife. Some pictures and video were taken by the various ladies. I couldn't stop it no matter how much I wanted to.

"Keep that up," Natalie commanded as I pressed into her sole with my tongue in circles. At my two-foot size, her ped mre than covered my face.

"Does that feel good?" Rachel asked, curious.

"Oh god, yeah," Natalie didn't hesitate to answer. "It's like a very personal, intimate foot massage." My heartrate dreadfully rose at the possibility that became reality when Natalie offered, "Want one?"

I kept my attention on my goddess' holy feet, ready to obey but truly loathing the offer. I hoped Rachel would see my focus and concentration on my wife and not want to interrupt, but alas she obliged. "Oh, yes, please! she politely accepted, not speaking to me, but Natalie.

I kept lapping up my wife's foot, pushing back the inevitable only a moment further until she commanded, "Subby."

"Yes, goddess?" The women squealed nearly every time I uttered my mantra.

"Go give Rachel some personal attention," Natalie directed with a snap.

Despite my internal hesitation, I promptly stopped, "Yes, goddess," and crawled over to Rachel with a "Thank you."

Rachel placed her feet on the coffee table and I got to it. "Oh my," she cooed, "This..." she sighed in pleasure, "This IS nice."

"Anybody else want one?" Natalie offered, nobody actually acknowledging me for consent.

My services were shared in a landslide among the women. I thanked them at the end of each tongue massage.

"Do they all taste good?" Valerie inquired when I started with her.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered not honestly, "Thank you."

"Is the flavor different for everybody?" Natalie inquired, as I've never licked any other feet but hers.

"I think so," I mumbled with my tongue still out. Between laps of Valerie's sole, I added-- soon to regret, "The flavor's usually more prominent when I'm smaller. But I'm pretty sure I can taste the differences at this height."

"Really?" That's when Natalie got the great idea, (great in the context that all of my goddess' ideas are great), "Think you could tell who's feet belong to who by flavor alone?"

The ladies giggled at the thought. I answered, as I never ignore my goddess, "Um... maybe..." still sliding my tongue between her toes.

Without any second thought, Natalie shrunk me further, and pulled up a chair to the coffee table. The women laughed devious, evil laughs. The scent of their feet surrounding my two-inch body became unavoidable-- not that I would despite my dislike of the stench.

"Close your eyes, subby," Natalie commanded, to which I obeyed.

"Shouldn't we blindfold him?" Taylor eagerly asked.

"That's not necessary," she's right, "My subby hubby would never disobey me," it's true. "Isn't that right, subby?"

"Yes, goddess. Of course, goddess."

My face must have shown my disgust at the intensified smell and flavor. The key to really getting a clear, defined taste was between the toes. While I've never taken part in licking up any feet other than my wife's, I was not an amateur when it came to the anatomy of feet and their relation to my senses.

"Look at him go!" Ashley laughed as I correctly matched the various women's foot flavor to its source. They laughed as I crawled, eyes closed and tongue poking out, seeking the closest foot.

"He looks so lost," Taylor laughed, nearly in tears.

"Well, subby," Natalie congradulated, "I have to say, I'm honestly impressed."

"Thank you, goddess," I so gratefully kissed Natalie's feet in appreciation.

"How about we up the ante?" Heather suggested.

"What'd you have in mind?" Natalie played in, curious about her mother's offer.

"Think he can bring us our shoes? No eyes, no taste, only smell." Heather's fingers touched each other at the tips, hand to hand, like some devious villain.

"Oooh!" the women cooed, Ashley adding, "I love that."

"What do you think subby?" Natalie asked, "Think you can do it?"

I far too proudly met my knuckles to my hips and declared, "I know I can!"

"Oh my, what a confident little nose on this one!" aunt Valerie added.

"If you're so confident, how about a little wager?" Heather offered, revealing the key to my freedom on a chain hung from her neck, once hidden under her shirt.

"Is that...?" Rachel guessed, inaudibly.

Heather nodded her head to indicate; yes... this was the key to my chastity device.

The women laughed. Taylor turned to Natalie, "Why does mom have that?"

"That's just the spare," Natalie explained. "I needed somebody to keep the extra one, just on case."

"Oh my god," Ashley remarked, "that's too funny."

"So how about it, subby?" Heather offered further, "Guess the shoes to the right feet and I'll unlock your little dicklet."

There it was: my window to freedom. Maybe not indefinite freedom, but it would give me the release I so desperately longed for.

"You're on!" I agreed, far too confidently, warranting a dirty look from my goddess that made me correct my response to, "I-I mean... yes, ma'am."

Natalie, as giving and gracious as my wonderful wife is, grew me up to a foot tall; just enough height to efficiently move the shoes around.

"Alright sissy," Heather started, phone in hand to keep time, "Five minutes to pass." That wasn't part of the deal going into it but I wouldn't dare protest my own mother-in-law. "Eyes closed... Ready? Set? Go!"

With my eyes closed, I went at it. The shoes were in the foyer, so maneuvering from there to the living room made for some good laughs amongst the women as I bumped into walls and tripped over what-not.

I took the first shoe I could find; a tennis shoe, it felt like. Taylor was one of the few that arrived initially wearing socks, so I figured it had to be her. I took a deep wiff to make sure. Thinking back to the taste game moments ago, the combined scent of all the women made a cloud of smell that fogged up my memory. No tasting allowed in this game, both to my fortune and unfortunately. I had to make my best guess here, so I dragged the tennis shoe into the living room, getting the shoe caught on who-knows-what and fumbling with my eyes closed, and tried to match the smell to the right foot. I heard the snickering above me as I blindly traversed my nose amongst the women's feet placed on the ground from the couch. When I thought I found the right foot, it was back to the pile.

Next I found a leather shoe. It felt like a high heel, open-toed. I carried this one back, draped in my arms like the typical husband carries his wife on their wedding day (which was not the case for mine). The ladies got a kick out of the size of the shoe compared to me, nearly the same. In the background, a fitting video from Natalie's YouTube of my initial hesitance in any foot stuff with her, and my regrettable disgust at what became an intoxicating perfume to me over the years.

I proceeded to the feet. If I was right in my first assumption, I could rule Taylor out. The women cackled as I brought the heel to my face for a whiff; the shoe engulfing my head. The smell seemed to match Rachel's, which made sense as she came over straight from work, both her foot and the shoe smelling fresh.

I placed it clumsily, knocking it down. An "Ahem," from somebody let me know to set it upright. So I fumbled back with my eyes closed, feeling the empty ground for the shoe.

After fixing my mistake, it was back to the foyer for another round. The next shoe I snagged was the other tennis shoe, so I promptly (and blindly) delivered that one.

On my way out of the living room, Ashley chimed, "Didn't even have to sniff that one, huh?"

My pride answered for me, "No, ma'am," as I pranced back to the pile, getting better and walking around with my eyes closed.

The next challenge was a sandal. The stench aired out without anything to keep it in, so it wasn't too smelly. I buried my face deep into the sole and huffed, loudly.

Natalie poked her head through the doorway, "Hey," he barked, my head firing up, "Do that out here. We wanna watch you do it."

"Yes, goddess," I responded. I frantically dug through the pile for the second sandal to avoid taking two trips, and brought the pair back.

Picking up where I left off, I pressed my face into the rubber sole of the sandal, hard enough to make an imprint. I wouldn't have know this with my eyes closed, if not for Valerie laughing, "Oh my gosh look how desperate he is! Look, you can see his face where he pressed in!"

I didn't have much to go off of. Unfortunately (oddly enough) these didn't have much of a smell. So I browsed my options for the least smelling foot. This is where I came to a hurdle. The pattern of feet in a row messed me up. I found a foot that was far less stinky, but the next foot stunk... then the one after that didn't. It was like two women had two different feet on one body. Surely, they were messing with me, I could tell by their snickering. But without anything but my nose, I had to make my best guess, so I chose the first scentless foot to my left, then the one next to it.

My chest pumped at the freedom at stake. The idea of finally get some kind of... ANY kind of stimulation on my yearning member. I hoped I could pass this test.

The next pair I found were a set of high heels; stilettos, leather, kept in pretty good condition aside from the crusted insole. I took two trips to deliver them, and confidently found the matching smell with ease.

My final option should be easy. Only one woman left, so only one pair left. Much to my demise, something I didn't take into account, the pile was kicked ontop of Natalie's pile of usual footwear by the door. So now came the ultimate test of my devotion; differentiating between Natalie's heavenly aroma, and the scent of another woman.

Sure enough, my love for this goddess was triumphant, and I was able to dig out a pair of suede boots that did not belong. I had to drag them one by one at my size.

I needed a closer smell in the boot. So much to the ladie's enjoyment, and much to my deterrence, I crawled into the boot to reach the bottom for a whiff. The women laughed in my struggle to back out.

"He's like a cat in a bag!" laughed Taylor, who picked the boot up, sending me headfirst into the moist insole.

"Knock it off!" Natalie said, playfully, "Only I get to fuck with my hubby, unless I let you!"

Taylor dumped me out of the boot. When I caught my balance, I crawled to the couch dragging one of the boots. I felt around for the last pair of feet and delivered the boot.

Upon bringing the boot to the last pair, I caught a quick wiff and realized... these weren't the right shoes... or the right feet? I didn't know for sure.

I stood there so still before Ashley spoke up from the other end of the couch, "What's the matter, little subby? Cat got your nose?"

Without a response I buried my face into the toes before me and took a deep breath.

"Uh oh," laughed Valerie, "I think he's second guessing his decision."

"Doesn't matter," Heather said, bluntly, revealing herself as the woman who sat before me, "That's..." she counted the last second, "time."

"B-b-b-but... b-b-but..." I wimpered, eyes still closed.

"I'll be nice to ya," Heather laughed, placing her gargantuan foot on my tiny face, "I'll count that pair as delivered."

"Th-thank you ma'am," I said so graciously as I kissed her feet in gratitude. "How'd I do?" I kept kissing, "Please, PLEASE tell me I did it. I need to get out of this thing."

The women laughed at my desperation, calling it cute.

"Well, subby," Natalie started, "open your eyes."

I opened my eyes to find... just how wrong I was. "No..." I whimpered, "No, no, no!"

I was so off. Some of the shoes didn't even match, some were Natalie's even.

"Aw," Heather sarcastically cooed, "poor thing." She slid the key back under her shirt, "Guess you won't be getting that release after all."

I crawled to her, kissing her feet and so desperately hugging her leg, "Please Heather, please... I've gone so long without... without...,"

"A deal's a deal, son," my mother-in-law shrugged. "Now, run along and refill my beverage for me, will ya?"

I stood, defeated. Not that I wasn't defeated before; dressed as a sissy little maid, acting as a servant for my beautiful wife's party. To the kitchen I went for Heather's drink and returned.

From there, I was placed on my hands and knees as a foot rest. Natalie saw the defeat in my eyes. My wonderful goddess... I hoped she cared at least somewhat. "You're really bent up about this, aren't you?"

I answered so sweet and dainty, "I just really... REALLY want out of this, goddess."

"Well then," Natalie stated so matter of fact, "next time, don't delete my stories!"

"Yes goddess," I nearly wept.

"I may consider letting you out... for a price," Heather haggled.

"What is it?!" I so eagerly obliged.

Heather shrugged, "A thousand?"

My jaw dropped. She's talking about real, actual money-- which I do not make. "I-I-I don't have that!"

"Well," Natalie started, "Maybe he can work for it." She looked at Heather as if they had a plan

I peered up at my goddess in fear. Such beautifully terrifying power she holds over me. I hate it, but want nothing more.

"How about this," Natalie started, "You already play the part as my live-in little sissy maid. Why don't I rent you out for some house cleaning services?"

The ladies took audible delight in the idea. I sure as hell did not, but as a good subby hubby obliged, "Y-yes, g-goddess..."

"Will it be strictly cleaning?" Valerie inquired.

"Oooh, yeah," Ashley added, "I would LOVE to get another one of those intimate little foot rubs again." She pinched the tongue in my mouth with her toes.

"I'll let you girls do anything you want with him," Natalie offered to my demise, "No marks, though. No actual bodily harm." I feared what my beloved meant by 'ACTUAL' bodily harm.

"Yes!" Taylor added.

"Let's do this," Rachel agreed.

"So a thousand dollars," Heather reminded me, "A thousand dollars and I'll unlock that little teeny clit of yours. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And I think," she added, "as your secondary keyholder, I deserve a greater title than ma'am.'

I looked over to Natalie to figure out how to handle this.

"What did you have in mind?" Natalie inquired, not even acknowledging me.

"How about just mommy? Heather more than suggested in her twisted fantasy for a subserviant son she never had.

Natalie laughed, "I like it."

Heather presented her toes to me from where I sat, and pushed them against my lips. It was then that I noticed she moved her necklace that held my chastity key to her ankle. No doubt, to taunt me at eye level as I begrudgingly sucked her toes, listening to the video of me legitimately squirming for freedom in Natalie's panties, bringing her to climax.

I'd have a lot of work to do if I ever wanted out of this device. So again, please... somebody help me find our old story...

The wood of the study floor no longer felt cold after being held there for so long, pinned down by the slow burning pressure nearing the weight of my goddess wife's body in its entirety. This was her idea of a spanking; so slow and so cruel. Every detail of the print at the bottom of her work flat made its mark on my cheek, and any other exposed flesh of mine revealed from this frilly maid uniform. The most protected part of me feeling the least amount of pain was my chastised member in its plastic prison. As aware as I am that this is a punishment, my dick painfully begs to rise at the sight and weight of my wife's awesome glory.

These were my mornings in chastity, further reprimanded for my wrongdoings with these glacially crushing spankings; this, while she read me off my tasks for the day; cooking, cleaning, pampering, errands, clients... The slow crushing was near unbearable just halfway through these morning huddles of ours.

"Now, let's see what I have planned for you today, my little subby hubby," Natalie sung as I held back painful tears.

It's been far too long since my freedom from chastity. I needed something. Being under her rule primarily calls for me to stand to attention down there between my legs, so these months of sexual tension were hell. "Goddess..." I started sheepishly, tight in my voice from the crushing pain.

"What, subby?" her tone was irritated.

"It's just... it's been so long since I've had any release. I know that punishing me is truly pleasurable for you, and take so much pride in being your ever-so-deserving punching bag-"

She grew impatient, twisting her foot that covered my body, "Spit it out, sissy."

"I-I want to bring you to orgasm!" I begged, "Please. Let me take my time with it and really allow you to enjoy it," she's been quick in her masturbation (with me as her toy) lately. "I'm your sub, goddess! A huge part of this conditioning you've blessed me with is YOUR pleasure! I-I may not be able to cum with you... b-but I don't care so long as I can give you the sensation you're so deserving of! Please? I need some sort of sexual satiation."

Natalie thought for a moment. I think she enjoyed how much I begged to bring her to climax, without my chastity freedom-- the act being my "release." "Sure," she finally answereď, "we can do that. But I'm renting you out to Rachel for free today, then," pushing me further from my goal of a thousand dollars to Heather for release.

I grimaced at my further captivity, but accepted it like a good husband, "Yes, goddess. Thank you." I began kissing her foot as it released me from my pinning to thr floor, and didn't stop kissing until we reached her desk.

Natalie sat at her office chair as I remained beneath the desk. She granted me some height, just enough that my face was parallel to her pubic region beneath the desk. I slid her panties off from beneath her khaki skirt, thanking her the entire time for giving me the much-craved opportunity to pleasure her in worship. She'd been so rightfully angry at me lately, so her masturbation with me was rough and quick.

She lifted her smooth, voluptuous thighs, allowing my arms to slide beneath them, grab the back of the chair, and get pinned by her captive-creating weight. Tears welled up at her strong musk that I felt so blessed to be surrounded by. I only hoped more, "Thank you, goddess,"s would make that clear.

And those tears fell once I realized how painful this passionate oral service made my trapped, chastised member-- blood begged to be pumped, giving my balls that choking blue tinge Natalie loved to summon. When my flat tongue so slowly lapped at her holy pussy, I wept, and shrunk with my weeping; my tongue not leaving her womanhood for a second as my shrinking honed me in on her clit, but also pinned me between her heavenly thighs.

"So," Natalie started, pressing my face deeper into her, "today, Rachel needs her lawn mowed, floors scrubbed, bathrooms detailed... catch up her dishes and laundry while you're there too, m'kay sissy?"

"Yes... goddess..." I let out between laps of my tongue.

"Ashley has you at 11:30," Natalie started.

"But she had me yesterday, goddess," I stated, not complaining but possibly correcting.

Natalie used two fingers to push me harder and silence me. Her thighs gave a squeeze, keeping me from any breath, "Don't question me, subby," how stupid I felt speaking up, "Her husband hasn't touched her in years. She needs your attention, regularly," my "attention" being sexual servitude. "You don't mind being goddess' little whore, do you?"

"Of course not, goddess," I answered, truly wishing to be Natalie's only whore to keep for herself.

"Good boy," she complimented.

Out of a sexual instinct, I began thrusting my locked up dick into her-- my body begging for it to be touched. The desperation added to Natalie's arousal, as evident of the ambrosiac discharge that dripped from her holy womanhood.

"Speaking of regulars," she continued with the list, "aunt Val needs another pedicure this week. She asked me to pencil her in asap, so I gave up your lunch break so you could go take care of her. Sound good?"

I was hesitant, and she could tell I didn't like the idea of having another meal taken from me, as they're spreading further and thinner as we progress into my punishment. But I obliged, as is my duty as Natalie's subserviant husband, "Yes, goddess."

She could tell that I didn't like the idea, deep down. She knew me far too well. "It's not like a don't feed you. What do you want more? Release, or another meal?"

I answered honestly at the time, blinded by my restricted arousal, "Release, goddess. Please."

Her finger tapped the back of my head, "Good boy." She continued with my schedule for the day, "From there... I'll have to see if Valerie will take you to mom's. That way I don't have to get you another Uber," the Uber taken from my paycheck, of course. "We're having dinner there tonight, after you tidy her place up. Val was gonna come anyway, so be sure to ask her nicely to take her to mom's with you."

"Yes, godess. Great idea." I continued to passionately make love to her clit.

"Goddamn..." Natalie groaned, "I swear you've gotten better at that."

My heart fluttered at such an honorable mention, "Thank you, god-" Her finger shut me up.

Natalie's eyes closed as she lounged back in her seat and took the worship she so deserved. "My clients have been pretty impressed with you, subby. You're much more docile and attentive with your little dicklet locked up."

"Thank you, goddess."

"How would you feel about making Natalie's Shrunken-Subby Sissy-Hubby Maid Service a..." she cooed in delight, "full business pursuit."

I didn't like the idea, but knew how to answer, "If that's what you want, goddess."

Her legs crossed, pressing her thighs closer together as she answered, "That's right."

Some time passed in silence, the only sound being the wet licking my tongue performed on her blessed womanhood.

Natalie broke the silence, nearing her climax, "Who's dick is that?" she asked in reference to the one attached to me.

"Yours, goddess."

"Who controls that little dick, sissy?" she asked wanting to hear more of my devotion, and feel more of her control over me.

"You do, goddess."

Her arm covered her eyes from intensity, "Would you have it... any other way?" she asked breathy.

"No, goddess," I answered so eagerly.

"I decide when that stupid little dick gets to cum," she spoke as if talking to herself.

"Of course, goddess."

"Not you," I could tell she was fantasizing in that brilliant mind of hers-- as to what, I constantly yearn to know. "Mine... That dick is mine..."

I kept up my replies, knowing how much she loved to hear; "Yes, goddess."

"I control it..." she was rising, close, "I do..." nearing climax, "I could never... never, ever let you out... if that's what I wanted..."

In fear of the possibility, I still replied, "Yes, goddess."

"Never... ever... ever... get to..." with that, she released, flooding my whole world at my size, "cum... again..." Her voice cracked at the last word, expressed through a half smile that only added to my caged torment.

And oh, the regret I felt begging to pleasure my queen for the sake of MY satisfaction. It's not about MY satisfaction. It's about HERS. Her satisfaction is far more important than mine. That is a fact. But it hurt. My yearning to make love and worship her added to my locked cock's torture, immensly.

As we waited for the Uber Natalie so generously used my maid-earned money toward, I knealt beneath her desk, two-feet tall, giving her feet the worship they so consistantly deserved, before we left for work.

The clicks of her mouse and clacks of her keyboard were the loudest parts of the study. "Wow," she started, looking at her computer screen, "we've got some angry responses to your stupid mistake on giantessworld."

"I know, goddess. I am so stupid. Thank you," I responded so matter-of-fact in agreement with my most recently developed title from her.

"Any luck getting it back?" she asked in reference to Terms & Conditions, swiftly placing her toes on the back of my head and slamming my face into her black flat.

"N-not all of it, goddess," I frantically responded, startled at the sudden shove I took. "I'm sorry. I know. It's taking a while. I'm sorry. I'm stupid. I'm stupid. I'm-"

"I know, I know," she assured as she let her foot up, releasing me, "I know you're stupid."

"Yes, goddess," I picked my head up and continued where I left off kissing; at the impressively high arch of her foot, "So, SO stupid."

"Maybe," she so beautifully thought to herself, outloud, "just maybe this little chastity device will mold that stupid, empty brain of yours." She chuckled, "Maybe it'll fall out. Not like you need to think for yourself. Just obey."

"I would want nothing more, goddess, than to be your mindless drone; frozen in my subserviant, meditative state until I take your command."

Natalie always loved my way with words. It's one of the ways I won her over before I was her sub. She visibly relished at my poetics.

Then I used a word she hated the most, placing my head beneath her foot to spare her the need to smash it down herself when I spoke; "But," then her irritated pressure commenced, "I might need my brain just a little longer..."

The ball of her foot dug into my skull, "And what makes you think that, subby?"

"Well..." I held back my pained groan, "if I can't get the rest of the chapters back," she twisted her foot for added suffering, "could I rewrite the missing parts myself? To the..." I had to pause to take the pain, "best of my... stupid... ability?"

Natalie thought for a moment, keeping my head in place beneath her. When she let up, she gave an answer, placing her foot flat on my face when I rose from the floor. "Okay, subby," she started, typing on her computer, "Go ahead and try to weave it back together."

"Will I be released when it's done?" I asked, desperately.

"Well talk about your future release when it's done." Talk about it? "I'm considering implementing your chastising more regularly."

I froze at the thought. She could tell, through my silence, that I wasn't crazy about the idea.

"What's the matter, hubby?" Natalie made a mocking pouty face, "Don't like the idea?"

Not entirely. But as always, I loved the idea of expressing my obedience toward her. "I... I love ALL of your ideas, goddess."

"Oh!" she feigned her surprised tone, "So you WANT me to keep your useless little dicklet locked up?" Her toes fondled my balls.

"If... if that's what you want," I shivered at the tickling taking place between my legs.

"Good answer," she stated, leaning back to relax, keeping her foot on my balls. "Kiss my leg a bit," she commanded with a finger trailing from her ankle up to her knee. "Go ahead and fill in the spots of Terms & Conditions you're missing. Be sure you ask my readers, nicely, what they miss, and what they want out of it. Natalie switched legs so I coulg give them even attention. "When it's done and caught up-- like I said-- we'll TALK about when we'll let you out of your little dick cage. Just know, sissy..." she lifted her foot, taking me off the ground with all of her strength coming from her glorious ped that dug into my groin as I flopped like a ragdoll onto her shin, "your freedom will be temporary."

The dropped me on the ground, blessing me with added pain to my face as it struck the wood floor. It brought me great joy, and simultaneous fear to answer her, "Thank you, goddess."

Natalie's phone chimed to notify her that my Uber arrived to take me to Rachel's. "Looks like your cab's here," she said. "Remember; tip them half," with my money earned from my maid services, "and curtsy on your way out. Don't take any money from Rachel today, as part of our deal from me allowing you to eat my pussy."

"Yes, goddess," I knew not to think further on how hard she was making it for me to reach that thousand dollars Heather wanted in exchange for my key, "Thank you again, goddess."

With that, I kissed her feet goodbye, and proceeded to the Uber; two feet tall, dolled up as a maid, and hesitantly ready for the day.

I ask you-- dear readers and lovers of my lost story, Terms & Conditions-- to please tell me what stood out to you. What were some of your favorite parts of the tale my wife commissioned me to weave? What would you like to see more of? Please-- pretty please, let me know in the reviews, and (for the sake of my sexual tension) I'll get right on it.

Thank you.

"Wow," aunt Valerie remarked, reading the reviews of my apologetic story posted her in giantessworld, "These people are MAD at you, Cale-- er-- I mean, sissy."

"Yes misstress," I replied, pushing the shallow tub of water to begin her pedicure. It's quite the challenge filling and delivering the tub at my height. "Truly the world knows how stupid I am."

"Oh my," Valerie noticed, "This TraciLynn user..." she chuckled, "Sorry, MISS Traci-- I like the way she thinks." I went to start scrubbing her feet until she put a finger up and the phone to her ear, "Hold on, Caleb."

I remained on my knees before her, waiting further instruction.

"Hey sis," Valerie started, greeting Heather I assumed, "Do you wanna go get a pedicure with me?" She looked down at me with a devious smile. "Yeah, I have him right here... Yeah... I know, I saw it too..." My heart raced at the possibile topics they discussed, "I hadn't read that one... You remember it okay?" There was a long pause before Valerie started laughing, "Oh my gosh! I love that! You want to...? Yeah? Perfect. We'll be right over."

The call ended. I felt her eyes on me but avoided any eye contact. I didn't want to, but could only imagine what their conversation entailed.

"Come with me, sissy," Valerie stood from her seat, "Clean up and get in the car. We're gonna have a little outing... with your mommy."

The overwhelming dread of what was to come never lifted the whole drive to Heather's. For those who don't know, there was a story in Natalie's tale, Terms & Conditions that centered around her (fictional, in that story) mother. Now for the sake of my embarrassment and further punishment, both Natalie's aunt and mother were going to put me through it, bringing this chapter of the deleted story to life.

We picked up Heather, who provided me with some clothes of Natalie's from when she was a child. At the very least, I was happy not to stand out like a sore thumb anymore, despite being dressed in outdated girl's clothes.

Valerie pulled into the mall, and turned her body to the backseat with Heather. Both women had an over-excited smile. I can't speak for Valerie, but I know Heather was excited to have a sweet, wholly devoted son at her side, ready for her beckon call.

"Well son," Heather started, "aren't you gonna get the door for your mommy and auntie?"

I answered how we went over on our way here; "Yes mommy, dearest," and hopped out of the backseat.

I let the ladies out, to which Valerie firmly grabbed my arm while Heather put a harness on me to keep me close by on an extendable leash.

This, to which I replied, "Thank you dearest mommy and auntie," like a good boy.

Heather pinched my cheeks and played with my hair a bit, "I can't believe this is really happening." Me neither. "This is going to be so much fun!" She brought her attention close to my face and spoke softly, "No be sure to be a good boy for mommy, and do everything she says," she slipped the key to my chastity device from her shirt, "And maybe you'll get a reward."

My heart pounded with intense lust over the key. Just a simple little silver key. I was so deep into my chastity that my mind was warped to find attraction in this key.

"Now," with a tug on my leash, and a smile towars Valerie, Heather directed, "let's go!"

We walked into the mall, instantly attracting the attention of the people around us. The snickers and stares belittled me further as I walked close between Heather and Valerie.

Our first stop was for some new shoes, of course. The ladies took a seat, and instantly started with the demands, first from Valerie; "Alright Caleb, go get your mommy and I a new pair of sexy high heels."

"Yes auntie, dearest," I obligied and went on my way to the heels. That is, until I remembered the story I wrote, having to get their shoe size first. I needed that measuring tool.

So I kept my eyes peeled for any strays shoe-sizers, hoping to avoid going out into the store's center where I knew they'd be. When my leash kept me from moving any further, I knew I had to turn back on the route where I found none, and bite the bullet to the stores center for one.

I approached tbe kiosk that displayed the sizers and took two. Much like the story, I was stopped by a worker; "Excuse me young man," the woman started, "only one per customer, please. Also, those are for women's feet!"

"I know," I said in a childlike tone. "It's for my mommy and auntie," I explained playing the part all too well, and pointing to my giddy captors.

The worker waved at them, and further explained to me, "I see. Well, if you don't mind with just the one. I'm sure your mommy and auntie wouldn't mind sharing."

I obliged and returned with the measuring tool. Thanks to my previous writing, I was more knowledgable when it came to shoe shopping. I started with my mommy-- er... Heather-- and removed her tennis shoe and sock. Before placing her bare foot on the device, I had to apply the nylon sock to keep her feet sanitary. On my knees before her, I placed the foot on my lap and reached for the nylon socks nearby.

"He's a natural," Valerie said.

"I know it," Heather said, snapping pictures of me, "Natalie has him well-trained."

As correct as she was, my swiftness was solely to get this over with and get home. I measured her massive foot; 12.5 Wide.

I moved on to Valerie, who wore long leather boots. She leaned over to Heather and whispered something, to which Heather then started taking video of me, and commanded, "Okay son, take off your aunt Val's boot for her." She caught footage of gawkers nearby, watching this son so obediently listen to his mother.

Why she wanted to film it was beyond me until I started unzipping, and the instant boot-stench took over my world. The ladies caught further attention in their laughter at my grimacing face.

"What's the matter, honey?" Valerie started, loudly, "Are aunt Val's feet stinky?"

They were. And it was so unbelievably noticeable. This had to have been the boots, as her feet were fine when I was going to give her a pedicure earlier.

A worker walked by after noticing the smell, "Hi ma'am," the young lady started, "I couldn't help but notice you mention the smell of your boots," she so politely ignored the smell, "Might I offer you this odor exterminating powder for your shoes?"

"Oh no," Heather interjected  "That won't be necessary." I feared where this was going. "My little boy here is a pro at getting the stench out of our shoes, aren't you honey?"

I only nodded my head yes, silently.

"Go ahead and show the nice lady how you do it," Valerie requested, right in front of the worker.

I wasn't sure what they were getting at until I realized how I primarily suck the smell from Natalie's footwear. I held back my cringe at the idea of what these women wanted to put me through.

"Go ahead, sweetie," Heather started, "show the nice lady how good you are at getting the smell out of mommy and aunt Val's shoes."

The worker was far too attentive-- curious most likely. I put my head over the hole of the rancid boot and inhaled.

Valerie gave further direction, "You might have to get seeper in there, Caleb."

Of course, I listened, and pressed my face deep into the boot. At my size, and to my misfortune, I fit pretty well, able to reach my body nearly to the bottom.

"Wow," the worker looked amazed and disgusted, "He seems to... really like doing that..." I did not.

"Oh yes," Heather lied, "he loves it! I catch him taking whiffs after I walk away when I've just kicked my shoes off after work."

"He's sweet," Valerie cooed as my head popped out of her nasty boot, the world around us a bit less smelly because of me.

"That's cute," the coworker responded, unsure of how to really react. "If you need anything else... uh... let me know."

"You got it!" Valerie said as the woman walked away, then turning to her sister asking, "Did you get all that?"

Heather was holding back her laughter, "I never stopped filming!" The women laughed at the proof of my public humiliation.

I measured Valerie's shoe size; 9, and stood to attention, still reluctantly playing the part as their sweet subserviant son/nephew. "What kind of high heels do you want?"

They didn't care, "Something you think will look sexy on mommy and auntie's feet, son," Heather answered innapproriate in her volume.

I took to the heels, finding the first heels in their sizes I could find. I didn't want to think of them as "sexy," so finding a pair that fit their criteria was a challenge.

Two boxes covered my line of sight at my size, and I tripped just as I approached the women.

They held back their laughter as an an onlooker asked, "Are you okay?" Heels scattered about before me, between me and my destination. Of course the good-intentioned onlooker asked, "What are you doing with women's shoes, kid?"

"Th-" Heather and Valerie watched in anticipation as I answered, "They're for my aunt and mommy, over there."

I stood and frantically cleaned up my mess, stammering over to the eager women. The onlooker stuck around ans watched me place the open-toed gray wedge on Heather's foot. They went back to their shopping in disgust. On Valerie's foot, I placed a black strap stilletto.

"Wow, Caleb," Valerie sung, "these are some pretty nice shoes you picked."

"I think I like yours better, Val," Heather stated.

"I actually like yours a lot too," Valerie agreed.

The women turned to me and stared, waiting for me to respond; "Want me to go get you the right sizes, mommy?"

"That'd be great, son," Heather leaned back and presented her foot, "Go ahead and take these shoes off of mommy and aunt Val's feet, and go get us the right sizes."

"Yes mommy, dearest." I obeyed and pulled their shoes off in front to everybody, and placed them in their correct boxes.

To and fro I went, fetching, putting back, resizing, switching out pair after pair of heels, sandals, slip-ons, tennis shoes, boots... and so on. The women had the time of their life pretending I was their little momma's boy, so eager to please her and his auntie however they wanted.

The bags were handed to me, as Heather finished paying and moved over when the clerk handed them off. There I stood at the counter to take these bags of shoes. Heather and Valeries were already pretty fair ahead of me. I felt the pull of the leash as my tiny legs tried to keep up leaving the counter.

To complete the task Valerie initially hired me for, and to recreate the story Heather so eagerly wanted to put me through, the women booked a pedicure appointment. I stood at my "mommy's" side as she sat in the salon chair, and waited for the cringing inevitable.

"Hi ladies," he pedicurist started, "And who do we have here with us today?" The woman looked at me with such friendly eyes. It made me feel sick convincing this woman I was a child.

"This is my son, Caleb," Heather explained, "We're having a bit of a auntie/mother/son day."

"Ohhh, that sounds nice," he nail tech said, "I'm just impressed your mom convinced you to come with her to get a pedicure!"

"Actually," here we go, "my son here wanted to know if you would show him how it's done."

"Really?" the lady beamed with excitement, "Oh my gosh, I would just love to! You want to give your mommy a pedicure?"

I had to keep up my act if I ever wanted out of this cock cage, so I answered, "Yes ma'am."

"Isn't that so precious?" Valerie asked.

"That is!" the tech answered, "How did mommy and auntie get so lucky to have a boy like you, hm?"

"Well," Heather began, "funny you should ask; my son here is mommy's personal assistant."

"Oooh," he lady cooed, "a little employee here at such a young age! "

"That's right," Valerie continued, "He wrote up his own little contract of employment, didn't he sis?"

"Mhm, yup. Caleb here was so eager to become mommy's personal assistant."

"Well," the nail tech started, "Why don't you come on down here and I'll shoe you the ropes on your aunt, you take your mom."

I hesitated until Heather gave a subtle tug on my leash, directing me to the washbin at her feet.

"So first," the tech said, "we're gonna give your mom a foot massage. You ever massage your mommy's feet for her as her personal assistant?"

"Oh yes," Heather answered for me, "Every single day, believe it or not!"

"Every day?!" the tech seemed flabbergasted.

"It's about the only thing he wants to do when comes and visits his auntie," Valerie added.

"What good little boy you have here," the nail tech complimented, "I may have to steal him for myself."

They all shared a hearty laugh, catching the ears and eyes of passersby who turned to see a "little boy" at the feet of his "mommy."

So I massaged away at my mommy's feet, who didn't hesitate to take plenty of pictures and video.

"So what'd your little contract entail as your mom's personal assistant?"

I didn't know how to answer. Audible "Uhh..."s made Heather chime in.

"He's a little shy," she said to the nail tech. "For starters, he cooks, cleans, does all my laundry, yard work..."

"Oh wow, that sounds like a lot responsibility," the tech looked to me in her statement.

"Could you believe she doesn't even give him allowance?" Valerie chimed.

"He told me not to!" Heather explained in her lie, "It's in the contract!"

"That's so amazing," the nail tech cooed as she directed me on caring for cuticles.

"He even wanted a uniform for his new position," Heather added to my pile of embarrassment.

"What kind of uniform did you want?" the tech asked.

I turned bright red as Heather didn't even try to whisper, "He wanted to dress as a maid, believe it or not!"

"A maid?!" The tech didn't help. Heather confirmed it right then and there.

"Isn't there a costume shoppe in the mall somewhere?" Valerie asked.

"Oh yeah," the nail tech confirmed. "You can probably get costumes for cheap right now, out of season."

"Really?" both my caretakers deviously replied. "We'll have to go check that out," said Heather. I shivered at how much this played out similarily to Terms & Conditions, and dreaded the awfully humiliating costume shop scene.

The nail tech walked me through all the steps to a good pedicure-- nothing I didn't already know. I could give a pedicure at two inches tall. I give them weekly for MY goddess wife.

"How about you go pick out a nice color for your mommy and auntie?" the nail tech directed.

The kind woman directed me to the glass counter where a diconnected college student worked the counter, chewing gum and flipping through a magazine.

"Hey, Dolly," the nail tech caught the girl's attention, "this little boy here would like to pick out a color to paint his mommy and auntie's toes with." She was so direct and clear in her request.

Dolly, the clerk, leaned over the counter to see me. She chortled at my height and demeaning request. "Okay momma's boy," she said without a mocking tone (though I still felt it), "What color do you want?"

I stammered and turned to Heather and Valerie, seated and waiting, "What color do you want?"

"What was that?" Heather responded with her eyes expecting more.

I knew what she wanted me to say; "Wh-what color do you want... mommy, dearest?"

The clerk could hardly contain her laughter, that bottled up hilarity only filling more when Heather answered, "Pick one that you think will look sexy with the shoes you picked our for aunt Val and I!" She was well aware of her choice of words.

A lump in my throat housed further humiliation, as I stuttered picking, "Th-that one," with my finger on the glass.

"Which one?" Dolly responded, keeping her composure.

"Th-that..." I had to actually decide; the color nearest to my finger being, "p-purple one?"

"What was that?" Dolly continued, mocking me, "You want to paint your mom's toes purple?"

I could tell she was just making fun of me, but for the sake of Heather and Valerie's amusment, and for the sake of my release from chastity, I played along, "Ye-yes ma'am. And my aunt- m-my auntie's."

The clerk took the purple nail polish from the cabinet and handed it off to me, "Here you go, momma's boy."

"Than- Thank you, ma-am," I said giving a mild bow and promptly returning to Heather's feet.

The nail technician walked me through this knowledge of painting nails that I was already a professional at, given my years serving my one TRUE goddess, Natalie. Dolly took a few pictures of me debasing myself in public before ending her shift. Thank god she was gone.

I finished both Heather and Valerie's pedicure-- clear coat and all, in an impressive time in my "mentor's" eyes. "You should take MY job!" the tech teased, "You're a natural!"

Heather and Valerie laughed, "Don't think so," Heather explained, "Caleb said he wants to be mommy's personal assistant forever and ever." She caressed my arm and looked me deep in my uncomfortable eyes.

"For the rest of your life," Valerie added, "Right, Caleb?"

I held back a deep sigh and responded, "Yes auntie, dearest."

The three women cooed at my maternal loyalty.

"Now," Heather added, "how about you blow on mommy and auntie's toes so they dry off quicker, and we can get some lunch before we go to the costume shop to get you your own little maid uniform?"

She sounded far too excited, but I was expected to match it, promptly taking to my knees at the ladie's feet, and gently blowing on the wet polish on their toes.

"See how eager he is?" Valerie pointed out to the nail tech.

"That's so sweet," the tech cooed, "I'll give knock half off of this appointment, since mommy's little personal assistant took care of half the work for me."

"Well we very much appreciate that, thank you!" Heather responded with such gratitude. "Maybe we can send him back to give YOU a pedicure as thanks!"

"Oooh," the nail tech teased as she rung up our bill, "that sounds nice! I'll have to give your mom a call to book you for your services."

And with that, Heather really shared her number with this woman, no doubt to find a time I might come and humiliate myself further.

We took to the food court where, much to my dismay, I received no food-- already missing lunch for this outing when Natalie penciled Valerie's pedicure into my schedule over my lunch break. The ladies ate and had me sit on the ground at their feet, giving my aunt Valerie a foot massage for the public to see.

"You want a bite?" Valerie offered.

To which I ecstatically replied, "Yes auntie, dearest!"

She picked me up and set me on her lap-- not quite what I was expecting-- and proceeded to spoon feed me her soup she ordered.

"There," Valerie spoke softly, "that's a good boy. Eat up." I took another bite she offered, "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you auntie, dearest."

"Good boy," she responded.

"That won't fill him up, Val," Heather remarked, "You need some of what mommy has, don't you son?"

Any offer for more food was met with a yes from me. Heather directed me to her lap, and I excitedly opened up for a bite.

"No, no, dear," she said, stopping my eager streak. "You don't get to eat mommy's food," she opened up her blouse to take her breast out... in public... catching everybody's attention, "You want some of mommy's milk, don't you?"

To my surprise and horror, nobody stopped her from revealing her bare breast to the food court. I'm sure they knew what this motherly woman was up to, so they found it best not to intervene.

But as the number of watchful eyes increased on us, I knew I had to take action fast before somebody approached us. No doubt I'd be punished severely if Heather's plan to further my humiliation was squandered. So I closed my eyes, pretended nobody was around, and wrapped my little lips around her tit.

"That's a good boy," Heather cooed, petting my hair and caressing me like a baby, "Suckle mommy's nipple and get that sweet, delicious milk."

Valerie kept her composure, holding back her laughter as I sucke away at Heather's breast. She took her phone out to collect some evidence of my public humiliation, being breastfed in public like a baby-- a child rather, visibly too old to be breastfeeding. The act added to the ruse I put on for the world to appear as Heather's good, obedient, loyal, little momma's boy.

To my dismay, we were approached by an all-too-curious onlooker. "Excuse me," the woman sheepishly opened with, "Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but notice how obedient you have your son. You must be a fantastic mother to have your son act so well behaved in public!"

Heather blushed at her compliment, "Thank you, ma'am." She turned slightly to reveal me to the woman as I pretended to breast feed. "Look Caleb," she said as she looked down at me against her bosom, "this nice woman said you're well-behaved. What do you say?"

I popped my mouth off of Heather's nipple, only for a second to respond, "Thank you, ma'am," then get back to sucking Heather's breast.

"I have to ask," the curious woman prodded, "how did you raise your boy to be so obedient? Mine's a nightmare!" she laughed, somewhat fake.

Heather looked at Valerie and smiled, both devious in their expressions. She waved the woman to come closer for a secret, and told her, "Chastity," blunt, and straight forward.

"Really?!" the lady barked in shock.

"Oh yeah," Heather explained further, "If you lock 'em up down there," her finger tapped the prison my dick stayed trapped in, making two audible taps for the woman to hear, "they're yours."

"You don't say," the woman said, finger to her chin, legitimately considering putting her son into chastity.

"It's true," Valerie added, "He was a little troublemaker before she locked up his little..." she caught herself before saying anything too outloud in a public setting, "well you know," and laughed. "Caleb here is quick to do whatever it takes for us to unlock him."

"Oh, I bet, " the lady agreed.

"The hard part was getting it on him," Heather noted.

"Nothing a bit of Benadryl didn't solve!" Valerie added.

The three women laughed at my situation.

"I'll definitely have to try that out on my son," the woman said.

"I'd definitely reccommend," Heather said as she slipped the key around her neck out from her shirt, "Little Caleb here would do anything to have momma's key to his weewee, wouldn't he?"

I wanted to tear up, but kept my composure. The mocking and restraint on my member really began taking a toll on me. As much as I love obeying my wife, my only freedom being through obedience is not ideal.

The curious onlooker continued her trip, leaving us to head over to the costune shop I so dreaded. I followed Heather and Valerie into the store with their bags of shoes in my arms.

I was alarmed to find the clerk not paying attention when she first asked "Can I help you?" looking down at her magazine.

It was Dolly from the nail salon, working a second job here at this costume shop. Great.

Heather and Valerie nudged me to the counter, "Go ahead sweetie," Heather pushed, "Ask the nice lady what you want."

When I entered Dolly's line of sight, her eyes went wide and her lungs held back laughter. That laughter seeped out just a hair when I asked, "I... I'm l-looking for a-a m-maid's costume."

"Is that so?" Dolly remarked.

"Well," Valerie felt the need to add, "uniform would be a better description. He won't be wearing it as a costume."

"No?" Dolly questioned, short in her response as she held back her laughter.

"No, no," Heather explained, "little Caleb here signed up to be mommy's personal assistant. And part of his contract states that he has to wear a maid dress as his uniform."

Dolly teared up at then hilarity of the unbelievable situation, "Is... is that just when he's on the clock?"

"Well I'm not sure," Heather remarked, turning her attention to me, "What did you mean when you wrote it into the contract sweetie?"

I stood there unsure of how to answer. This whole thing was a lie anyway. Couldn't I just answer how I wanted instead of how I KNEW she wanted me to?

I took too long to answer, so Valerie chimed, "I don't think there's much 'clocking out' for personal assistants, is there?"

"Oh!" Heather agreed, "Y'know I think you're right. Maybe he should get a few for the week."

"I mean," Valerie continued, "it only makes sense to have him in uniform at ALL TIMES if the woman he 'personally assists' is his own mother, right?"

"Yeah, you make a good point," Dolly added, "I think we might have a good selection for your little assistant to choose from."

From there, Dolly excitedly guided us through the aisles of costumes. She took us from the cheaper section and brought us to the back, where a wide variety of high quality costumes-- er-- uniforms could be found.

"Well kid," Dolly presented the selection to us in the women's aisle of the store, "take your pick."

"I think," Heather interrupted, "I should be the one who picks. After all, I AM your boss, right son?"

And of course, I answered, "Yes mommy, dearest," like a good little boy.

I took a seat in my assigned waiting room, leash connected to something outside of it, while the three ladies took their picks for cute little maid outfits for me to wear. I heard the clerk, Dolly, say something about make up, so I assumed to have that become a part of my getup. No wigs, according to Heather, who said, "He still wants to be a boy." Such a minute, yet significant addition to my embarrassment; showing the world that I am indeed a boy dressed as a girl.

Heather and Valerie came in the fitting room with hangers of maid dresses filling their hands-- enough selections to curtain a whole house.

"I'll pick out some nice makeup for him," Dolly announced from outside my fitting room.

The ladies hung the dresses on the walls around me, closed, and locked the door with a devious smile, commanding only one word from Heather; "Strip."

Hands shaky, I took my clothes off to let these women have their way with dressing me. Upwards of twenty dresses were forced onto me, birthing opinions from the women to decide my wardrobe;

"Too long."

"Not frilly enough."

"Not girly enough."

"Don't like the headpiece."

"TECHNICALLY too short," pertaining to a dress that didn't even cover my chastity device.

"Try these heels with that one."

"Keep the apron."

"Love it."

"Hate it."

"Perfect..." in regards to the uniform I would wear out.

I emerged from my borrowed closet in a bright pastel yellow short-skirt maid's dress with a petticoat underneath to puff the skirt out more, donned with a frilly white apron centered with a pink heart embroidered at the chest, topped with a headband carrying an outlandish matching bow on my head.

"Well?" Valerie sought the approval of the store clerk, Dolly.

"I love it," she answered, hand on her mouth to hold her laughter. "Mind if I make an addition? Free of charge?"

"Absolutely!" Heather obliged, without my approval of course.

Dolly took the apron to sew a message for me to display to the world:

MOMMY'S
LITTLE
MAID BOY

Just another indication to the world that, yes, I AM a boy, dressed as a maid... a maid for his mother.

"Perfect!" Heather shouted upon the final knot tied to my back by Dolly.

"Now..." Dolly approached as Valerie set a chair behind me, pushing me into it and raising it far too high for me to comfortably jump off of, "Hold still," and began applying foundation to my vulnerable face.

"More blush," Heather suggested.

"Yeah," Valerie agreed, "Some nice rosy cheeks that just POP!"

"Good idea," Dolly agreed, applying enough blush to add to, yet hide my humiliation. "And now," a stick of deep, bright red lipstick pointed at me and approached, "the finishing touch."

"Ohmygosh," Dolly took her phone out from her jeans' back pocket, "I NEED to get a picture of this. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Heather obliged as she and Valerie took their phones out too, "Let's have a little photoshoot."

This photoshoot took place in the display window of the costume shop-- per Dolly's suggestion and approval, having ME-- the little two-foot tall girly maid-boy-- maneuver the adult-sized mannequin off to the side.

And there I stood, for all of the mall to see, at a window specifically designed to be the focal point of the costume store. Of course, in that half an hour photo shoot, I became the spokesperson-- the face of this costume shop... "So give it your all," Dolly commanded, in a serious tone.

My stock pile of model poses lacked in my mind. The ladies had to demand-- er-- suggest different poses for me:

"Over the shoulder."

"Use your hands."

"Up against the wall."

"Hands on your hips."

"Pouty."

"Poutier!"

"Smile."

And they closed our photo-op with one last example of my obedience to my "mother." Heather stood with me in the display window and presented her foot to me in the new pair of heels she bought. "Let's see how well that lipstick stays on. Go ahead, Caleb. Show these nice people how you greet your mommy."

I looked around to see all the cameras and eyes on me-- not only from the store, but from onlookers holding up their phones outside the glass. Of course, with all this evidence to reach Natalie, I obeyed, "Yes mommy, dearest," and lowered myself to my knees to kiss her feet.

"Look at that!" Valerie pointed out Heather's kissed foot, "No lipstick stains!"

"Only the best," Dolly said.

This was our last stop at the mall, though Heather and Valerie were eager to parade me around; her little loyal maid of a son, leashed to his mother to run to her side for any beckoned call. Of course, I walked in front as they filmed and took photos of me out in public. Occasionally I'd hear, "Oh son!" from behind, prompting my usual reply for everybody to hear:

"Yes mommy, dearest."