The Goddess saga

mistress standing in the corner

From the steel door archive

Mistress Lust

Goddess is waiting in

The memory haunted him, coming back at the least appropriate moments. He kept seeing the tight stretching of spandex across her nipples, the stains, the smell of her all mixed up and mingled with the way she had treated him. Just thinking about it made him hard. He knew that she was right about him. He was a liar and a cheat, whore bait. His desire and need for punishment grew.

Days and weeks passed. He caught himself staring after women on the street, trying to find her. His wife noticed his pre-occupation and grew bitchy and mean. What little sex life they had ended. With every infraction, he felt worse. He began making an effort to show his wife more attention, more care. She grew more suspicious, seeing his efforts as evidence of a guilty conscious. And, she was right too. He felt trapped. He didn’t argue when divorce papers were served, didn’t fight over the unbalanced settlement which left him in a small apartment alone but finally free. He knew he had never deserved his wife, a part of him had never been there for her.

Months passed with the need growing until he could resist it no longer. He drove down into the land of darkness and shadows to find her. The streets were alive with the nightcrawlers, street people, coke heads and the walking dead. He drove deeper until he was within the grim handiwork of industrial buildings surrounded in razor wire and decorated with gang graphics. His presence in the seedy underworld frightened and shamed him. It’s a suggestion of sudden violence and raw danger intrigued and terrified. But in its heart, he knew that she reigned. He turned the final corner and pulled his car to the curb.

Garbage and debris blew about in tiny gusts. He could not see anyone but felt the presence of watching eyes when he got out and locked his car. It was risking everything to be caught in such a place, but he couldn’t turn back. He walked over to the door his palms sweaty, knees weak, pulse racing.

There was a small buzzer box instead of a doorbell. He pressed it and waited. It was at that moment that he realized she might not be there. Or worse, she might be with someone else. He flushed. Half turning to go when the doorlock popped.

He waited then made the choice, no voice had invited him inside, but he had to go. He pulled open the heavy door and entered the dark space. The door banged shut behind him. He walked forward to the second door only to find that it was locked. He waited. Nothing happened. Deciding he had made a mistake he turned back to the outer door only to discover it was now locked too. Trapped.

“Hello?” His voice echoed hollowly in the untidy space. He frowned.

Silence answered him. He began to grow more and more frustrated.

“Hello. Remember me? I need to see you!” His voice was too loud and he hated the sound of desperation which had crept in.

“Strip Pig!” The voice blared from unseen speakers.

He cowered. After nearly a minute he began to strip. There was nowhere clean to place his clothing so he stood naked holding the small pile in his arms. This was not at all what he wanted.

“Pigs don’t have clothing. Get rid of them.” The too-loud metallic voice punished him again. He raced to place the pile in the cleanest spot.

“On your knees and show me your worthless offering!” The order plunged him to his knees on the filthy floor.

“Please. I need to see you! I left my wife, she was too good for me. You were right, I am scum. She got the house, the kids. Please…” The cold air against his naked skin made him tremble. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Show me your offering SCUM!” The voice grew harsher, more terrible.

He lifted his semi-hard cock into his hands, holding it, offering it. He heard laughter.

“You pitiful worm, such a humiliating little cock you have. You will pay double just to be allowed the priviledge of licking filth from my shoes.” Her laughter made him cringe.

“There is a slot in the wall. Place money into the slot until I tell you to stop.” There was no negotiating with the voice. His only alternative to obeying was to leave. He frowned but scurried to his pants to pull out his wallet. He folded bill after bill and shoved them through the slot. His need increasing to desperate levels as his wallet emptied quickly.

“Please…please! I must see you!” He began to beg as more money disappeared into the slot.

“On the floor Pig. On your belly.” He tossed away the nearly empty wallet and got down onto the floor on his belly as ordered.

“Crawl to the door and clean the floor with your disgusting body as you do.” He began to crawl, pushing dirt and debris ahead of him into a pile. He was a filthy disgusting pig. When he reached the door he was panting, sweaty, the dirt sticking to his skin.

The door lock clicked open. He lifted his head. The door opened. The sight of her almost made him cum. She seemed even taller from his position of abasement at her feet. Black spandex stretched tightly across every curve and arch. A double chain belt connected by ornamental handcuffs dangled from her waist. Her hair rose off her face big and full looking more like a lioness mane with shadings of red mixed into the gold. Long garish earrings brushed the tops of her shoulders. Her lips were full and deep red, eyelashes heavily layered in black mascara, shades of gray layering upward to perfectly arched brows.

“Eyes down animal!” Her voice drove his face into the floor.

She reached over to a coat rack mounted on the wall and pulled down a very wide spiked metal dog collar. She leaned down and wrapped the collar tightly around his neck. When it was secure she attached a cheap metal leash to it. Without comment, she turned and with a harsh tug made him crawl behind her on his belly still pushing the pile of filth in front of him.

The sight and smell of her so close were tormenting. He kept sneaking glances up at her ass swaying above him. He longed to worship her darkest recesses, be forced to service her in utter humiliation. The imagery kept his cock partially hard which was painful dragging along the floor. He moaned and grunted but was too afraid of being dismissed by her to complain.

She led him past the area he remembered into a second room which was completely empty except for a ring on the floor. He crawled toward it his anxiety growing with every step. When she reached the ring she pressed his face into the floor using her high heeled shoe against his neck. Without comment or discussion, she connected the ring directly to his collar.

“Get your ass in the air, knees together.” He forced his ass up, trembling. She unhooked the leash and looped it around his knees, it tightened painfully. Then she attached the open end to the same ring. He could not lift his face from the floor and the position held his ass high and his knees tightly together.

“What are you?” Her voice whipped. The smell of her and the slight touches of spandex against his skin hardened his cock further.

“I am a man…” His answer dwindled.

“Are you? A man isn’t collared is he?” She laughed.

He squirmed. “No…no.” He tried to remember how she had made him crawl. She was right, men didn’t wear dog collars. Men didn’t crawl through the filth.

“You will call me Mistress Lust. You will beg to live in my garbage. Beg to wear that collar about your neck. Beg to scream for my pleasure. You will come to this place 3 times each week and eagerly beg to pay to be in my presence. In this place, you are nothing, a worthless sewer rat, hypocrite, slut, without honor, unworthy of fucking a chicken. You will learn to jump on command and beg to be allowed to shoot your worthless seed. Your body is not yours and will be punished and used in any way that brings me pleasure. If you are ever late upon arriving or fail to obey you will be caged and punished, reduced and humiliated until you will beg to lick my toilet clean. Every waking moment of your life will be filled solely with how you can please me.” Her words terrified him almost beyond reason. A part of him still told him that she was just a common whore but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t escape her power.

“Do you agree to this animal? If you don’t you may run away now, find some rubber toy to fuck your little cock into but you will never be allowed to return here.” It was an ultimatum. He cringed against the collar if he accepted he knew he would never be able to go back. He would be used, humiliated, shamed. After his experience with her the first time he had begun to explore the darker side, the perversions, trying to understand his terrible need. From what little he had learned he knew she had offered him no limits, no choices, no safety. He should leave. Should find someone safe. But it was Her. There was nowhere to run from her in his mind. He was long ago lost to Her.

His voice was shaky when he answered. “I agree… Mistress Lust!”

She walked away from him, then returned with a black hood. She forced it down over his head. It was made of spandex, it stretched and tightened across his nose, his mouth in the only opening. He felt his body spasm. How had she known his obsession?

Something narrow and hard probed at the opening to his ass. He moaned, trying to evade it. It pushed inside of him, the first thing to ever enter him there. He froze, afraid. After a moment the narrow probe withdrew.

“Open your mouth animal.” He instantly obeyed.

“Clean my cane!” The order horrified him. He could smell the odor, knew where it had been, knew what she demanded of him.

“Now!” The cane pressed against his resisting lips. He began to pant but forced his mouth to open.

“Lick, clean, suck!” Her voice grew more firm. Tears filled his eyes, his lips closed over the dirtied tip. It was the ultimate humiliation he had ever experienced. To his shock he felt his cock start to throb. He felt the remainder of his manhood slipping away, this was his place, at her feet. He knew she had every right to use him so. He knew that he adored her because she WOULD use him so. Never let him get away with his nastiness. He began to willingly suck, every molecule in his body focused on pleasing her.

Tarnished Goddess

He cruised down the boulevard slowly, his eyes alert for just the right one. His car wove among the lights and shadows of yellow-orange garish street lights. Too bright neon signs flashed and trashed with their promise of titillation and obscure pleasures of the flesh. The homeless shuffled along, eyes too sharp in the ever-hopeful anticipation of a target, a mark for the drinking of. The street corners were ripe with activity and he slowed eagerly, scanning the high heeled, miniskirted denizens of the dark for just the right one…

They flowed toward his car like a tide of cheap trinkets. Their clothes too tight, eyes too brittle. He looked and rejected. Too short, too tall, too skinny, too fat, too much hair, too many tattoo’s. He sighed, returning his attention to the boulevard again. Behind he could see them flipping him off, he shrugged.

The next corner beckoned with its promise. He slowed again. One of the more aggressive stepped in front of his car bringing him to a halt. Even at that distance, he could see the unmistakable tracks on her arms, the telltale hollowness of addicted need in her desperate eyes. He waved for her to move. Another tapped on the passenger window. He frowned, she wasn’t right either.

He forced his car away without bothering to stop. He passed the next corner and the next before his eyes caught at a tall woman striding along the sidewalk. Her walk was pure attitude, that fuck you walk that parted the throngs of people that haunted the streets at night. He watched her for almost a minute, riveted by the nasty aggressive presence she exuded. At the next available spot, he pulled to the curb. Several females swarmed his car. A mark.

He shook his head and pointed at the woman just coming abreast of him. One of the females said something to her before turning away to seek her money elsewhere. She approached slowly, the remaining women scattering before her. For a long moment, she stood before slowly leaning down to rest her forearms on the window rest. In one hand she dangled a cigarette, impossibly housed in one of those old fashioned holders. He eyed it uneasily.

“John, Joe, Asshole… Are you a police officer, or involved in any ongoing investigation or sting to which your attention to me is for the utilization of information or to implicate me in any crime of any kind, shape or form?” She assaulted him with her voice before flicking ashes onto the seat. He stared at the shiny spandex stretched tightly across her tits, arms barren of track marks.

“No.” He shook his head.

Her eyes were that turquoise blue shade of cheap contact lenses. Blonde hair that didn’t move in the night air tufted high atop an overly done face. Every detail had been carefully exaggerated. Nothing could hide the lethality of her eyes. He knew instantly that she was the one.

She took another long drag. Then without further comment, she pulled open the door and climbed inside. The outfit she wore was in two pieces, leggings slippery and tight, halter with gapped lacings to offer glimpses of the flesh beneath. On her feet were clear acrylic platform pumps which buckled garishly at the ankles. He grinned.

“Drive. I don’t do no in-car blows.” Her voice whipped across him, no attempt to seduce him at all.

He drove for several blocks, following her offhand directions. She would engage in no further conversation. He finally pulled up to the curb of a rundown warehouse. She climbed out of the car without comment and walked toward a battered, graffiti written metal door. She pulled out a key and opened the deadbolt. Without comment she led him into the darkness of a narrow hall.

“Don’t even think about hurting my asshole, I got this place wired and if you wanna lose a permanent hunk of your cock, you just do anything weird and see how fast I make you scream.” She shoved open an inner door which opened upon the inside of the large space.

He looked around uncertainly. That it was a living space he could easily see. However, the view was limited by screens which allowed him only to see a sheet-covered mattress lying on a platform and two chairs. She turned and faced him.

“5 bills for round the world, 3 for rock and roll, 1 for off the lizard. Extra for kink.” She turned and tossed her tiny bag onto one of the chairs. “In advance, in cash.”

He nodded and pulled out a hundred. She took the bill and walked over to shove it into a small slot in the wall where it disappeared from view. He waited nervously, his eyes lingering on her appearance.

She turned and stared at him for a long moment. Then she got out another cigarette and slid it into her holder. It was a wicked sight, the smoke curling up to veil her eyes slightly. She seemed to make a decision.

Her movement toward him was stern, he swallowed. With the heels, she stood level or even taller than he was. He waited for her to indicate how she wanted things done. She halted perhaps two feet in front of him.

“Strip!” Her voice snapped, the cigarette flickered.

He almost drowned but did begin to remove his pants. She watched, her toe-tapping restlessly. They dropped around his knees.

“All the way!” Her eyes narrowed. He pulled them free to stand naked from the waist down, wearing only socks and shoes. She shook her head. He frowned, very slowly he removed his shirt, socks, and shoes. She looked at him from head to toe.

Reaching down she lifted his semi-soft cock in her hand. Almost negligently she tapped the ashes off her cigarette so that they fell across his flesh. He flinched although the ashes were not more than warm where they touched him. Her long painted fingernails plucked at the skin of his cock sending shivers throughout his body.

“Pitiful penis!” There was mockery in her voice. The disdain in her tones. He squirmed but didn’t pull away from her touch.

“On your knees you disgusting worm.” Her voice rose.

He hesitated before dropping to his knees on the dirty floor. It left him at her crotch level. He could see stains on the spandex, smell her rich odors. She toed his bouncing cock with her shoe.

“Get your hands behind your back scumbag and worship the Goddess!”

He stuck his hands behind his back then hesitated. What did it mean to worship the Goddess? A hand in his hair drove his face to her street dirtied shoes.

“You aren’t fit to lick my shoes you little wormy pig.” The pressure against his neck increased until his mouth was against the plastic.

“Get busy.”

He flushed, then opened his mouth to lick the filthy shoe. It tasted awful, smelly garbage smells and tastes. He stopped wondering what the hell he was doing. Her hand-knotted in his hair reminded him.

“I said to get busy cleaning the Goddess’s shoes you pitiful whore bait!” Every word was a slap. He knew either he accepted what she was wanting to do or he left. He felt the hardness of his own cock and knew that he wanted exactly what she was doing. He lowered his mouth to clean her shoes, licking and sucking until they are shown as bright and shiny as her spandex did.

“Much better!” She grabbed him by the hair and forced him over onto his back. “So, you thought yourself worthy of tasting even me, the least of the Goddess’s?” Her laughter mocked him further.

She forced his head back, then lowered herself to sit on top his face. He was smothered in the ripeness of her scent and the mixed and mingled scents of others. He knew his own disgust and repugnance. She rubbed the scents across his face through the fabric. Marking him as the usage toy of a female. He moaned. She settled pressing the moist fabric of her spandex catsuit crotch down over his nose and mouth. You will lick and suck the cloth and beg to come.

He felt the fabric straining across his mouth and nose like a mask so very tight and hard to breathe through. He opened his mouth and sucked as hard as he could feel her long sharp fingernails plucking at his exposed nipples. She began to grind her crotch into his face painfully her hands moving down his body to his rock hard cock.

Using just her fingernails she lifted his cock to meticulously pinch every millimeter of skin. He writhed and groaned under the torture feeling the moisture of her pussy beginning to seep through the seams as she grew excited by what she was doing to him.

“You come seeking some worthless slut to service your pitiful urges, someone to hit and bleed while you drive off to your wife and kids and fake ass religious promises. Pond scum.” Her fingers twisted his cock. He screamed into her crotch. She became more excited and the pressure intensified making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

He could feel his need to come building with every sarcastic word she uttered. Every profanity and the demeaning thing she said. He was pond scum, lying to his wife and church. He wanted and needed to be punished and used by as she said a ‘Tarnished Goddess’. Even the lowest of females was miles above him.

He began to beg and plead for her to allow him to come. His body humping and grinding in the filth of the floor. She took one hand and twisted a nipple harder and harder while telling him to buck and fuck like the worthless animal he was. He obeyed helplessly until he was thrusting with every ounce of strength in his body. His screams of need filled the seepage stained spandex stretched taut across his mouth.

“Cum you garbage licking fuck face!” The words burst through him. His cum squirted and splattered to coat his stomach, legs and even the floor beside him. He grimaced at the painful contortions, the combination exquisite. When he had finished she rose from her position to press her shoe into the slimy mess he had left. Then she forced his mouth open with her fingers and made him lick and clean the disgusting mess from every inch of her shoes.

When she was finally satisfied she ordered him to his feet in dismissal. He trembled when putting on his clothes, knowing she had not given him permission to clean himself. She sat in one of the chairs and watched him impassively. When he was fully dressed he knelt before her, pulled out his wallet and offered her another hundred. She laughed softly before tucking the bill into the crevice between her tits.

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