Julianna Part 3

I awoke with a foot grinding in my face. Julianna was standing above me and smiling down at me. She was still nude.

"Wake up, slave," she chirped, "You've got breakfast to cook."

She kicked the blanket off me. The smile left her face and her eyes narrowed.

"What's this?” she asked, pointing her big toe to the dried cum on the blanket.

"I--I couldn't help it," I stuttered, "I was so horny. I needed relief."

Julianna was genuinely angry.

"Get on your knees, NOW!" she ordered.

I obeyed. She put her hand under my chin, forcing my face upward. She lowered her face inches away from mine. When she spoke her voice was low, almost a whisper.

"You've committed your first mistake,” she told me. “When I tell you to do something, you do it. When I tell you not to do something, then you do not do it."

"But my balls were…” I tried to explain.

SMACK. She slapped my face with such force I fell over. I could not believe the force of the blow; the room was spinning and I actually I checked to see if she had loosened any of my teeth. Julianna rolled me on my back with her foot. She put her foot on my chest and leaned her weight on it. Her eyes narrowed again when she spoke.

"I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses,” she sneered “This is not a damn game. If you're not serious about this commitment, then we'll end it right now. Am I understood?"

"Yes, mistress," I responded.

"Then get your ass into the kitchen and cook my breakfast. I want scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee. You’ll serve it to me in here. I'll deal with your punishment later."

"Yes, Mistress,”

She took her foot off me and climbed back into bed.

Moving as quickly as possible, I padded out into the hallway and down to the kitchen where I began preparing my wife’s breakfast. After brewing a fresh pot of coffee, I poured a cup for my Mistress and added the appropriate amounts of cream and sugar. Next I prepared a silver tray, added a single red rose-- one that I had selected from the garden-- and carried it into the bedroom.

As I served her breakfast, Julianna seemed like she was in a better mood. At least I hoped so. I could still feel the sting in my cheek. I would have never guessed she was so dominant. I actually feared her a little bit, not that she would lose control and injure me, but that she would totally break me and really enslave me. But wasn't that what I wanted? Now that I could see it could actually happen, it scared me. I was confused, and I sensed that's exactly how she wanted me at this stage.

After I had served Julianna breakfast, I started back to the kitchen to fix some for myself.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Julianna.

"I was just getting some breakfast for myself, Mistress," I answered.

"I still haven't forgiven you for cuming without permission," she said. "Kneel beside the bed and don’t forget to keep your eyes where they belong. You’ll be eating my leftovers this morning."

I passively knelt beside the bed, and Julianna extended a foot from beneath the covers. I kept my head bowed and my eyes on her lovely foot.

Once she had finished her breakfast, Julianna told me, “Now you may have your breakfast, slave.”

After my wife was through eating, she placed the plate on the floor. There were some scrambled eggs and a piece of half-eaten bacon remaining. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Julianna placed a foot in the plate and began mashing the scrambled eggs. The sight of them squishing under her foot and oozing between her toes was truly exciting. I always did have something of a crushing sub-fetish, too.

"Eat hardy" she laughed and thrust her foot at my face.

I began hungrily licking the eggs from the ball of her foot and from between her toes. Eating my breakfast from Julianna’s feet thrilled me; it was the most delicious meal I had ever eaten.

"Are you enjoying your breakfast, slave?" Julianna chuckled as she continued to work her feet into and over my mouth.

“Oh, Yes, Mistress,” I mumbled incoherently with a mouthful of delicious toes.

Julianna returned her foot to the plate and again rubbed it slowly against my lips and tongue. She repeated this until the eggs were gone. Then, she grasped the piece of bacon between her big and second toes and held it to my face as I nibbled on it. When Julianna was finished feeding me, she had me lick the plate clean, too.

“I didn’t save you any coffee,” my wife told me, “so I guess we’ll have to improvise.”

Julianna slid her bottom little farther off the bed and held the empty coffee cup between her open legs, an inch or two from her vagina. I watched in awe as my wife urinated into the cup. Then she handed me the cup. It was warm and nearly full of her golden pee.

“Well, go ahead, slave,” she laughed. “Drink it!”

I gingerly raised the cup to my lips, but gagged at the overpowering smell.

“Bottoms up!” Julianna giggled, and extended a beautiful foot to tip the cup upward, using her sexy toes to steady the cup until she was satisfied that I had gulped down every last drop of her piss. The flavor of her urine was pungent and briny, and left a strong aftertaste in my mouth.

“Tell me, slave, how do you like the taste of my piss?” Julianna laughed. “Do you like it as much as you thought you would?

“Yes, Mistress,” was all I could manage to say, although I was actually undecided.

“Good,” she chuckled. “From now on, I intend to use your mouth for a urinal whenever the urge strikes me.”

“Clean me,” my wife demanded, grabbing me by the hair and pulling my head between her legs.

I did as Juliana ordered and lapped up the remnants of piss from her labia. I loved the thrill of performing such a demeaning service for her. Julianna was enjoying herself,
too-- so much, in fact-- that she had me perform the task until she reached climax.

After I had cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, Julianna had me give her a pedicure. As usual, I started by preparing a warm basin of water for her to soak her feet. Then, I used a pumice stone to remove the dry skin on her heels and soles, trimmed her toenails, and painted her toe nails. She chose a dark red color of polish. I finished the pedicure by massaging her feet with moisturizing lotion.

“I spent quite a bit of time on the computer while you were out of town,” Julianna told me as I massaged her feet. “I checked out all the domination sites you’ve been looking at and followed links to a few other sites that appealed to my fantasies as well. I even contacted a professional dominatrix to get some tips. She was very helpful and even suggested a local shop that sold bondage gear.”

In preparation for her week of dominance, Julianna ordered me to accompany her on a shopping spree. I followed Julianna around the leather boutique and carried the items she selected. She chose leather wrist and ankle restraints, a dog collar and leash, a ball gag, a black leather paddle, a riding crop, a vibrator, and a twelve-pack of batteries. The sales lady was dressed in sort of a Gothic style, with had jet black hair, pale skin, heavy eye makeup, dark red lipstick, and a number of facial piercings. She was undoubtedly into the BDSM scene quite heavily.

“I caught my husband jacking off this morning,” Julianna told her with me standing meekly at her side with an armload of merchandise, “Do you have anything to help him break that nasty habit.”

The sales lady looked at me and smiled in amusement. Julianna’s boldness stunned me, and I blushed with shame. I looked around and saw several people, men and women, staring at me and chuckling. I trembled with ignominy. The sales lady assured Julianna that she had just the thing to keep me from pleasuring myself, and showed her a male chastity device. My wife was impressed with the gadget and added to our purchase, along with a padlock. The total bill came to nearly $500. When we left the store, I was still blushing with shame.

We then stopped by an import store where Julianna purchased three little bells. My wife explained to me, right in front of the male clerk, that she would always keep a small bell at her fingertips. Whenever she rang for me, I was to immediately stop whatever I was doing and kneel before Julianna to receive her instructions. She might order a drink, demand a foot massage, or send me on an errand. The clerk chuckled; he did not seem to realize that she was serious. Nonetheless, I felt a bit embarrassed.

Our next stop was a swimsuit shop, where Julianna picked out a white string bikini and went into the dressing room to try it on. The thing was tiny and I doubted that it would fit, so was I really surprised when my bikini-clad wife came out to get an opinion. The bikini did absolutely nothing to conceal her shapely body. For all intrinsic purposes she was nude, expect for the little strings and tiny pieces of material about the size of silver dollars. The lush hemispheres of Julianna’s 38DDD breasts jiggled with each step she took and seemed about to burst free from the threads that restrained them. The bikini bottom was a patch of material that barely covered her mound and formed a camel toe. Julianna turned her back to me; the thong of the bikini bottom was wedged deep between her crack, and her beautiful ass cheeks were fully exposed.

"Isn't it sexy?" she asked me.

"It...It sure is," I stammered. "Are you actually going to wear that in public?"

"Of course," she smiled pompously. "I look great in it."