Drawn to the Flame Ch. 04

I understand. She's done her work on me, so I am willing. Ready and eager to submit.

I clear my throat, my gaze fixed on a spot on the floor, unable to meet Frank's questioning gaze. "I'm..." I begin, then falter.

I gather myself, and try again.

"Frank, I'm Holly's foot slave," I say, in a voice that is basically a whisper. "I'm her lesbian pet. Her cucked maid. She's the better woman, and she can have you if she wants. And I'll... I'll accept being put in my place. Serving the couple."

I look longingly at Holly's boots.

"She always gets what she wants, after all."

"Uh, I..." Frank's eyes dart between Holly and me. He's clearly trying to decide if we're serious or not, and if yes, what he's supposed to feel. Anger, betrayal, weirdness, embarassment... acceptance?

Arousal?

"Since when?" He asks, and then, with a shake of the head, "Is this a prank?"

"Since only recently," I whisper, "and no. I know you've been chatting to her too, Frank. That's okay. I won't stand in your way."

Frank walks up to me, trying to look me in the eye. I can see the conflicting emotions playing out across his face, the way he's trying to channel them, to find an appropriate response to such an unexpected situation.

"Jenna, do you..." he asks, but before he can finish, Holly stands up, draping her arms across his shoulders.

"Oh, she's already admitted it," she says, grabbing his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Besides, it's me you should be asking now. She doesn't matter anymore."

I see Frank hesitate. He looks at Holly, then at me. Then, back at Holly.

And that's when his decision is made.

"Does she... really like it?"

My heart sinks. Holly has manipulated me into a position of complete irrelevance in the space of seconds. Frank's still reeling from shock, and already he's talking about me to Holly as if I weren't in the room.

Holly looks deep into his eyes, an evil glint in her gaze.

"I'll show you."

***

We put on a show for him.

Say what you will about the weirdness of the situation, but Frank is a foot fetishist, just like me. And Holly's been teaching me tricks, all this time, precisely in preparation for this moment.

My slutty maid outfit clinging around my curves like a lover's embrace, my legs folded beneath me as I kneel on the floor, I throw myself at Holly's feet like a trick-turning whore.

I suck each toe individually - the sweaty taste is gone, thanks to the tongue bath I provided earlier, and any remaining toe jam has long since been scooped into my mouth - but this hardly matters to my devastated cuckquean brain, which is completely fried at this point.

What matters is the show.

I close my eyes and stretch out my lips into a little O, every muscle on my face distending and relaxing as I bob up and down Holly's toes with enthusiasm.

I want Frank to picture the world's most luxuriating, grateful blowjob as he watches me make out with my Queen's feet. To drive the point home even further, I keep my hands obediently behind my back, even though my sex is on fire by now.

The slutty moans coming out of my mouth only intensify as I start taking Holly's toes two at a time, then three.

"Look at her," Holly tells Frank. "You'll get your turn with my feet, of course." I can almost feel her wink as she says this. "But this little bitch... She's never getting off her knees ever again."

"I had no idea..." Frank says, breathless.

"I did," Holly cuts in. "I'm doing you a favour by breaking you up, really. You're mine now, boy. And as for her..."

Holly's other foot descends possessively atop my head, driving me down just as the foot I was worshiping thrusts upwards. I open my mouth as far as I can, taking her foot inside like a champ.

As Holly's foot directs my pace, I start fucking my face on the foot in my mouth, making wet, squelching, slurping, gagging noises that qualify and cement my new status in the household.

"She's never getting off her knees again."

***

I hear the sounds of Holly and Frank having sex through the walls.

This is nominally my apartment, but I'm not allowed in the bedroom anymore, except to clean it when they aren't around.

Holly has relegated me to the couch. Demoted me to being the hired help. I can't use the bed even when she's not around, when I have the place to myself.

It's important to enforce the divide between people who actually own the place, and the household servitude, as she explains.

I dress for work to the sound of their pleasure, the pleasure I am denied. Save for worshipping Holly's feet and sucking Frank's cock, I'm not allowed stimulation. I haven't come in three weeks.

When I return later tonight, I will have to shed these work clothes for my maid uniform. And if I do a good job... and Holly is feeling generous... and I make a sufficient donation to her PayPal...

Then maybe I might even get to cum.

The thought alone is enough to make me grunt softly. The next eight hours at work are going to be hell. But every penny I earn goes towards my Masters' household. I owe it to them.

Their little, slutty, maidified, cucked worker bee.

I pack my lunch, ready my bag, and grab my coat. Before leaving, I throw one final, longing glance at the closed bedroom door, far down the hallway.

I believe in earning what you have.

And for better or worse, I've certainly earned this. A life of sexual frustration and subjugation. A life of being second-best to this better woman. A life of foot-related and domestic servitude.

A life spent... serving the flame.

Thanks for reading Drawn To The Flame! It was a request, and I had a lot of fun writing it. We might be done with Holly and Jenna, but there's so much more to come from me, believe me. See you on the next one!