Tula�s Trick is a revision of an earlier effort. I
shall be posting it here on the asstr ftp server, in
sections. This work is copyright, by me, Kurtuk
Caddington of www.kurtuk.net
It can not be reproduced in any other context or
medium. It should not be saved in any permanent
archives, and should not be transmitted elsewhere in
any from.
-----------------------
Tula�s Trick-1 (MF, Md, MC, Humil, Bimbo, Slave)
By Kurtuk Caddington.
Mira and Tula were kneeling on the tiles of
the washroom. The girls had begun their chores at
first light as usual, after washing themselves.
Clothes washed, floors mopped, toilet scrubbed, they
had knelt to clean and polish Master's boots.
Mira looked down, at the boot clutched
between her thighs. It was a large heavy boot, made of
a black alligator leather that had been well broken in
and seasoned over time. There were wrinkles and crease
all over it were Jason's foot had moved in and with
leather, molding into it own shape. Mira ran her hand
over the expensive animal skin, bending down again
down to smell the faint but distinctive scent that her
Master's foot had left inside the boot. Her face
flushed and breath quickened she felt the tips of her
fingers move over the ridges of leather.
She shook her head, trying to focus, arms
aching, knees sore from working all morning with Tula
washing Master�s clothes, and then scrubbing and
mopping toilet floors in the apartment. After the
boots were done, she and Tula had to work in the
leather room. There was a lot to do.
Boots were the hardest, because Master�s way was
so complicated. Mira breathed deep, remembering he was
right in his whim, hands going unthinkingly to the
slim, steel collar on her neck. She nodding to
herself, pulling off the thin, soaked boot wipe that
was wrapped around the bottom half of her long, thick
black hair, she squeezed the dirty brown liquid from
it into the bowl beside her. Then she moving her
fingers through her wavy hair, she tried again,
futilely tried to unknot locks, matted with the mud
and dirt from the boot. Grinding her teeth with
frustration, she sighed. Bending low, gathering her
hair into a wad she stuffed it again into rectangular
sack that was the boot wipe.
Mira still remembered shuddering in disbelief
when her training mistress had told her and other
slave girls, fresh collared, chained and kenneled
together, in the Pens of Kabilia, that they were to be
'hair' and 'mouth' trained. All Kabilia girls were,
Mistress had said, snapping her supple switch on her
palm.
Up until then what she had learnt in the pens,
was just what she had done in her father�s hut, in
their village when she had been free --cooking,
cleaning, dusting, washing and sewing, for him and her
brothers. She had been half terrified of being sold as
a slave, when harvests failed again, but half eager to
leave the hunger and mud of the farms, for the
apartments of the city, where he was sure, she�d be,
after she caught a handsome Master�s eye. But she
hadn't quite understood what it meant to be collared,
to be a slave, before it came to the boots. She had
been shocked at first at what was required of her, and
had refused. But after she had slapped a few times by
her mistress, who�d then touched her collar, making it
sting, and after being well and solidly beaten by pen
Master, she�d bent to her task. After she had done so
once to their satisfaction, she had been put in a bare
isolation pen, and had been ordered to clean boot
after boot with her hair, for hours and days on end.
She would go to sleep at night in the pen, naked save
for the collar around her neck, clutching the boot she
had been cleaning to her pert breasts, unmindful of
her hair still tangled in its lacings. On the fifth
morning, having woken up at first light, almost
unthinking she had started licking the boot she had
slept with, trying remove a minor blemish on its side.
Just then her whip mistress walked in to the pen. Mira
had looked down in humiliation as her mistress first
laughed at her, then said derisively, "You�re learning
what you are aren�t you, my dear." The Mistress had
touched her collar again, and Mira had felt flash of
humiliating heat deep between her thighs.
Mira felt the sweat build over her lip as she
remembered, and her thighs moved against the leather
that was between them. She gathered the strands of her
hair together to twist more grimy liquid from her
locks into the bowl. She bent forward as she did so;
the liquid was oily and felt sticky if it fell on her
body. Already her inner thighs, which she used to grip
the length of the heavy boot as it lay on the floor,
were greasy and dirty with the used cleaning liquid.
All the other cleaning was done now, and the house
rule was that she wasn't allowed to wash or wipe
herself until Master called for his cleaning-fillies
in the evening. And if he didn't, because he was out
for a day or two, spearing alligators in the marshes,
which was his living, or felt like going out to the
taverns with Master Marcus, then the gong didn�t sound
in the evening. She and Tula would spend a long
evening, sweating over the alligator skins that Master
had left in the tanning room, stretching, beating, and
seasoning them, until their arms arched, and their
back were sore. And all they were allowed to do, after
that was to crawl onto the straw of their kennels,
unwashed, going to sleep with the dirt from the days
cleaning still stuck to their bodies. Mira felt quick
flash anger wash over her again, as she remembered
this rule. She hated the smell of marsh mud on her
hair and thighs, and really ached to wash off the
sedimented sweat and dirt on her body at the end of a
long day.
"Oh no, Mira, of course not. Master doesn�t
allow that. I told you like when I explained all the
rules girl!" Tula had smirked and then giggled when
Mira had asked diffidently at nightfall after her
first day in Master�s kennels. The girls were at in
the washroom, soaking the boot and floor wipes they
had used all day with hot water, suds bubbling up a
small bowl, with the special soap that was for that.
"We only wash ourselves, if Master calls us out of the
kennels, to him." Tula touched her collar softly, with
her finger tips, and nodded, her lips parting
slightly, breath quickening.
"But� please Tula, I don�t understand� we are
washing the boot wipes!" Mira hit her small clenched
fist on her thigh as she knelt.
"So?" Tula looked at sharply. "Feeling bitchy
over that?" she added that pushy tone Mira hated
coming back into her voice.
Mira nodded, fingers going to her collar, thumbs
rubbing slowly, helplessly, only half conscious of
what it was doing to her. Her thighs widened as Tula
went on.
"It is easy to understand, silly. We are going
to use the boot wipes and every thing tomorrow right,
for cleaning and all?" Tula waited for Mira to nod.
"So we wash them now, and they dry in the night. We
are not going to be used tonight, so we only have to
wash in the morning to be clean when we work. It is
such waste of hot water and soap to wash us again and
again." Tula nodded as if this was obvious.
"Yes sister." Mira agreed, the point sinking in,
her eyes wettening.
One half of the boot finished, Mira straightened
up again, face hot, a new dampness in her upper
thighs. She glanced at Tula not wanting her to see her
flushed, sweaty face. That would make it so much
worse; it was one thing to feel this humiliating heat
while performing this servile task, but it was quite
another to have to the blond bitch see it. Tula had
been with Master for a whole year, and she seemed a
perfect slave to Mira; she both despised and envied
her. Shuddering softly, Mira watched Tula polishing
the other boot, which had already been cleaned.
The wax polish, which came in small cubes,
had to be warmed slightly before being applied. Now
this could be done in a bowl of warm water, but that,
Jason said, just wasn�t right; he felt it reduced the
luster it gave the boots in the end. He was in the
leather trade, and his boots were an advertisement.
Tula, like the girls he�d bought before from Kabilia
were mouth trained, so that it was easy to teach her
to warm the wax cubes in her mouth, sucking and
tonguing them until they were soft wads. Then her
mouth, wet with saliva mixed with the slowly melting
polish, to would be ready to shine the boots.
Tula held her Master�s other big boot, soles
up, carefully in both hands. Stretching her neck
forward, she was attentively and slowly sucking and
licking the toe of the boot with her full lips and
broad tongue. Mira shook her head at Tula's eagerness.
'Oh, God,' Mira thought to herself, 'doesn�t she know
the difference between a cock and boot?' But Tula,
Mira knew, like the boot she was sucking on, was a
well broken in, well-trained slave girl. She lived for
her Master.
Mira could see Tula trying hard to
concentrate on polishing the boot itself. Yesterday,
after an hour of work Tula had accidentally rubbed her
big breasts on the wet polished boot, and had had to
start over, making Mira laugh. Today, she was being
extra careful to keep the boot away from her body, and
her light, shiny blond hair that floated over her eyes
and face.
Tula stopped when she saw Mira eyeing her
critically.
She lowered the boot from her mouth, pouting
her lips as she sucked on the wad of polish in her
mouth. She moved it around, as if wanting to say some,
and then after almost stopping herself, said in a
rush, breathlessly. "Mira? Mira-girl? Do you think I�m
getting� like� getting like fat?
"Well..." Mira started, surprised. All slave
girls worried about their looks constantly, and kept
checking each other out, talking often about their
weight, but this was first time Tula had brought it
up. And Mira had never thought of Tula as fat --
really well curved, but not fat.
Mira paused, and then plunged in slowly
"...maybe you are getting a bit heavy and loose." It
is not that easy to say, at once." She slanted her
head slightly to one side. "Isn�t your belly sagging,
though?" She asked innocently, as she bent down to her
task, seemingly unconcerned with Tula�s reaction.
Stuffing her hair back into the cloth bag, and then
dipping it into the clear tub of boot wash, Mira bent
forward at the waist, to clean the boot that lay
between her thighs. Jason had been in the marshes the
day before so the treads on the boots were caked with
mixture of mud, sand and pebbles. Mira rubbed her hair
mop slowly and firmly over the sole of up turned boot,
feeling the grime loosen with her long nails, and the
flat of her fingers. The tip of her tongue peeked out
of her soft lips, as she concentrated on soaking her
hair with the dirt from the boot.
Tula put down the boot she was polishing,
rested her palms flat on her wide spread thighs, and
looked down at her naked belly and navel. "You think
so?" She asked sounding puzzled and worried at Mira�s
comment.
"Well, you asked, didn�t you?" Mira shrugged
and sounded annoyed. Then, more kindly, as if trying
to make amends, she looked up quickly, "Maybe it is
fine, girl. I don�t know--me, I always can tell by my
belly rag. If I�m getting fat or bloated it is harder
to tie the ends together in the morning, and it feels
really tight and clingy all day, like a hand is
gripping you." She gestured with her hands. "You know,
like a collar." She explained, touching her snug
collar again, lightly, with her index finger, thighs
parting as she shuddered.
------------------------------------------------
---------------------
Tula�s Trick is a revision of an earlier effort. I
shall be posting it here on the asstr, asstr.m ftp
servers, in sections. This work is copyright, by me,
Kurtuk Caddington of www.kurtuk.net
It can not be reproduced in any other context or
medium. It should not be saved in any permanent
archives, and should not be transmitted elsewhere in
any from.
1