Part 3================================================

"Hi, Mike!," she said as she plopped her beautiful little body into the overstuffed chair in front of my desk. She propped her feet up on my desk, ankles crossed, and waggled the soles of her ankle-boot stilettos at me. She was wearing a short pleated skirt and matching gray jacket with a red blouse. "From now on, Mike, on days that I'm in the office, you'll wait for me to show up at quarter-to-six. I'll have your orders from Martha. And when I show up, you'll be down on your knees waiting to worship my feet and lick the soles of my shoes until I give you her written orders. Then, I'll usually leave. So..." and she pointed at her boots, "Get busy."

I circled around my desk and knelt at her feet. I began to work on her dirty boot soles with my tongue, sucking up and swallowing the dirt and dust layered there as she smiled and watched. When I finished, she handed me a note, handwritten on a yellow "post-it" paper square. She stood up and left the room, reminding me as she exited "Quarter of six, every day I'm here, be ready for me by closing your office door and kneeling by this chair to await worshipping my feet and receiving Martha's orders. If I'm not in the office that day, just go home to your Mistress."

The busty redheaded 18-year-old girl left my office, closing the door behind her, leaving behind the traces of her delicate scent. I could still taste the sludgy grime of her boot soles in my mouth as I watched her leave. I turned my attention to the note she'd handed me.

It was from my Goddess, Martha. It read as follows:

"Day Six of Thirty.

Pick up My dry-cleaning at Werthers, pay for it.

Get Me a copy of Cosmo and a box of Tampax Light Days

tampons. Then go to the Mall and find a pair of shoes for me, size 5, that you would like to worship when the week of foot-denial is over, which will be two days from now, on Sunday. Be at my door, kneeling with these items, by 8PM.

--- Goddess Martha"

I did the first two errands, then drove to the Mall, which is where I'd first met Martha on that day eighteen months ago. As I bought the tampons I pondered whether it was her "time of the month" and whether I'd have any duties related to that. At the Mall, I walked immediately to the finest shoe store, knowing that there was a display of shoes there that I'd seen that combined my two biggest fetishes; they were combination sneaker-heels. The shoes had canvas tops and rubber soles, but also had three-inch heels. Totally sexy. I bought six pairs in six colors, all size five for my Goddess's feet.

I knelt on her front stoop and rang the bell of her condo at 7:55 PM with the purchases set before me. As required, I stared at the floor until she answered the door. Then, my gaze went to her bare feet. Her glossy black nails reflected the light above the doorway as another pair of bare girl-feet appeared beside Martha's. It was the pink and pretty peds of my boss's daughter, young Heather. She wiggled her toes. Martha spoke. "Oh, do we have a night planned for you, Mikey-boy. It's Friday. You're ours all weekend. On Monday when you're driving to work, you'll be on Day Nine of this test month. If you make it. Heather and I have some plans for you."

I continued to kneel, staring at her perfect feet as my mouth watered. To my right sat a shopping bag filled with the six shoeboxes holding the brand-new pairs I'd bought for her. To my left, a smaller bag held her tampons and and magazine. Her dry cleaning hung from a hook in my car, visible through the rear window.

"Bring in the dry-cleaning and hang it up in my closet upstairs. Then, meet me in the downstairs bathroom with the Tampax and the magazine. Kneel in front of me. I'll be on the toilet waiting for you."

I retrieved her clean clothes from my car and brought them upstairs. I opened the door to her walk-in closet and relished the enriched scent of my Goddess that wafted from this little room. I hung up the bundle and brought the small bag containing the tampons and Cosmo down to the first-floor bathroom. Inside this pink and purple chamber I found Martha sitting on the toilet that faced the door. Her short denim skirt was around her bare ankles and her little feet were crossed with the slightly dirty soles facing me. She was wearing a tight yellow tee shirt with a cartoon picture of Tweety Bird smiling at the world. Her legs were slightly spread, revealing her bare little pussy. A white string protruded from it.

Heather was sitting on the vanity to my right as I knelt. Her grimy little bare feet were dangling a foot above the floor and she wore a huge grin as well as a pair of tight old jeans and a green and yellow peasant blouse. Her red hair was tied back into two pony tails that hung over her huge round eighteen-year-old breasts.

When I was on my knees before my toileted Goddess, she lifted her legs and placed one foot on each of my shoulders. "Hi, slave," she began, "this weekend, it looks like both Heather and I have gotten our periods. So we're going to test just how devoted you are to me. What level of grossness can I subject you to, and will you take it for me? That's what I want to test you with. You're going to spend the rest of today, all day tomorrow and all day Sunday being tested by us as our menstrual slave as well as our regular slave... but we're going to think of the grossest things we can do to you and laugh while you do them. Oh, and we're going to punish you a lot, too. And, before I forget, you're not going to be allowed to come. As a matter of fact, no coming for you until this thirty day test is over."

She paused as she watched my face eagerly for any reaction. I was careful to display only a smile as I contemplated the upcoming weekend. I felt there was nothing she could order me to do for her that I would refuse. I wanted to have her move into my house and take over my life so badly that I would do anything at all she said to do, and would take any punishment or humiliation she could think of. I just knew this.

She continued. "After this weekend, there will still be twenty-one days left in the test month. And if you get through all of those days as well, then I'll be moving into that big empty house of yours and you'll be my slave... and we'll get back to what I like to do... use you, own you, control your life, fuck you the way I like to fuck my slaves. Remember?"

"Yes, Goddess," I replied.

"I like to fuck my slaves while I spit in their face. I like to fuck tied-up slaves and torture them. I like to tease them and beat them and hurt them, and know that they love me for degrading them. You want that again, right slave?"

"Yes, yes, Goddess," I replied again, vigorously nodding assent to her seated form.

"Then let's get started with this weekend. The first thing you're going to do is get your face between my knees while I use the toilet. Take nice deep breaths. Heather is going to video this for posterity. "

I scrambled forward on my knees and put my face down between her warm smooth thighs. She pushed my head down further, then clamped tightly so that my ears were clasped by her inner thighs just above her knees.

"Hands behind your back, slave" she ordered, and I did so. I felt the thump of Heather's feet hitting the cool Mexican tiles of the bathrom floor as she hopped down from the vanity. She handcuffed my wrists deftly, and then I felt the cool sole of one of her bare feet on the nape of my neck. She pressed down firmly. My cock grew to full hardness inside my jeans as I breathed deeply from the dark toilet bowl that my face was trapped within.

My Goddess began to pee in a huge rush. It sprayed directly onto the top of my head and my forehead before running down into the water a few inches below. Droplets splashed up to soak my face as the hot piss bubbled into the porcelain bowl. The rich aroma of Martha's strong urine filled my nostrils.

As she finished urinating, she emitted a strong blast of gas. This was followed by the thick stench of her shit as she began to defecate into the darkness. I felt her muscles contracting and loosening as she dropped a turd into the bowl, and then another quick pair. The aroma filled my senses as I breathed in the concentrated gasses. She finished with a dribble of loose shit, and then sat with my head sealed between her thighs for nearly a minute as I breathed. The scent did not at all disgust me; as the contents of my Goddess's bowels, her shit was sacred to me and the scent a huge turn-on. My cock swelled maximally, pressing against my jeans almost painfully, as I relished this intense humiliation.

Both girls giggled as they watched my eager acceptance of this debasement. Eventually, Martha released my head from the vise of her thighs and she stood up. She wiped her ass with a wad of Charmin, tossed the soiled tissue into the bowl so that it landed a few inches from my nose, and repeated. This second wad landed so that the slight smudge of her brown stain was face up before my eyes. Below the water's surface I saw the three dark-brown turds laid by my Goddess. The water was now a cloudy brownish-yellow.

Martha now spoke again as I knelt on the floor in my jeans and tee shirt, hands cuffed behind my back. "Now, Heather has to go. Then, she's going to tie you just like you are to the toilet, and you're going to stay that way in the dark with the bathroom door locked behind you, and you're going to breathe in our shit and piss stink for four hours. After the four hours, you're going to be freed for a minute so that you can strip, and then you're going into the bathtub. Heather's going to shackle you there on your back, and she's going to use a big ladle to scoop out the stuff in the bowl and dump it on your face. And we're going to let you lie there all tied up in the tub for a while with our piss and shit on your face. Does that sound good, slave?"

"Yes, Goddess," I eagerly answered.

"Then, she's going to come back and let you take a shower... we want you not to stink when you perform menstrual service for both of us."

Martha paused here as she let that sink in. I imagined I would be replacing their tampons.

"So, anyway, slave, enjoy the next four hours on your knees in the dark, tied with your face in my toilet bowl smaling me and my friend's shit and piss." She giggled and padded out of the room as Heather seated herself on the toilet. I breathed deeply the scent of the redhead's vagina and caught a glimpse of her fringed mound and its protruding string before her clamping thighs cut out all light. Her piss soaked my hair and her shit filled my sense of smell as she voided herself.

She was silent as she proceeded to wipe, stand, shackle and tie me to the toilet. She wrapped a rubber strap tightly around the back of my head and neck and affixed it to the base of the toilet so that my face was inches above the fragrant polluted water within. Unlike my Goddess's dark shit, Heather's was a soft deep golden brown. It smelled more like a rich cheese as opposed to my Goddess's rank sweetly-acrid feces.

Before leaving, Heather dropped the lid of the toilet onto the back of my head, and then she wrapped Saran Wrap around my bound head and the bowl so that every breath I took was drawn from the concentrated fumes of their combined waste within.

She snapped off the lights as she exited, closing the door behind her. For four hours, as my knees progressed through ache and pain to numbness as I knelt on the hard tile floor, every breath I drew was filled with thick female scent.

I stayed throbbingly hard for the whole four hours as I began to sweat. The plastic wrap that encased my head filled with humidity as I breathed in and out, and the bathroom itself was warm.

I was surprised when the lights suddenly snapped back on. The four hours had passed quickly.

I followed Heather's sparse but direct commands until she'd shackled me face-up and nude in the tub to my left. My ankles and wrists were tightly cuffed, and she tied them to heavy towel bars at each end of the large tub. She sealed the drain and then stood between the toilet and the tub with a large plastic ladle. She scooped out a full load from the bottom of the commode's bowl and carefully swung it over my upturned face. She dumped it on my forehead in one quick turn of her wrist. Warm soiled water mixed with the stew of their dissolving shit and piss splattered across my face and ran past my ears and jaw to pool at the back of my head. Ladle after ladle followed until she had completely covered my face and neck with the filthy, stinking contents of the porcelain bowl. My hair was soaked and clotted with the richly fragrant waste. My nostrils were slightly blocked by little chunks of shit. My lips were sticky and I could feel the acid of their urine reaching my eyeballs past my tightly-clenched lids. My eyes watered slightly as a result.

"I'll be back to let you up in an hour, shitface," Heather told me sweetly. She giggled before saying "You look truly pathetic, there, shit-and-piss-face. Enjoy."

She flounced off, leaving me tied in the dark once again. The mess on my face and neck began to dry and become sticky as the hour passed. I licked my lips a few times. I found that the taste was not revolting at all. I found that I actually enjoyed the idea of swallowing my Goddess's and my Goddess's friend's waste. I enjoyed this humiliating and utterly degrading situation. I found that I wanted more.

The hour passed, and once again Heather arrived to move to the next phase of their plans for me. She unshackled me and told me to shower thoroughly, and then to powder myself up with baby talc before coming out to the TV make sure the tub was spotless, and then proceed to the TV room, where they would be waiting for me.

Once this was completed, I found myself lying on my back, nude, freshly cleaned and powdered, with my wrists cuffed to a floorhook above my head and my ankles cuffed together and tied down to another floorhook between them. Under my body a comfortably plush carpet softened my situation. Heather had gagged my mouth with a ball gag, but my eyes were left uncovered and I could see above me where the girls sat on the sofa to my left. To my right was a heavy slate-topped coffee table. The narrow space between these two items of furniture pressed the sides of my bare frame and was traversed by the bare legs of my temptresses as they rested their feet on top of the table. I could see the pale, lightly-freckled kneebacks of Heather and the spotlessly smooth alabaster skin of my Goddess Martha's kneebacks.

Heather sat at the far end of the sofa, and her legs crossed above my crotch. Martha sat directly to my left, and her knees were right above my face. The girls converesed, ignoring my presence, while I silently but breathlessly awaited their next usage of me. Eventually the subject came around to what they were going to do next as part of the promised "menstrual service".

So I ended up using my teeth to extract the soiled tampons from each of their pussies as they squatted above my face. I licked their lips and labia clean of bloody traces. I watched as they inserted fresh tampons into their vaginas. And I lay on the floor as they watched a movie... while I sucked on the two soiled cotton lumps that they had pressed into my open mouth.

At the end of the movie, Heather had me crawl to the bathroom wastebasket and dispose of the now sucked-clean used tampons.

To end the night, Heather and Martha used many feet of thin rope to bind me immovably to the four legs of the coffee table as I lay on my face underneath it. Martha fetched one of her favored sneakers, an old well-worn Chuck Taylor canvas shoe that she loved to wear, and tied it tightly over my face so that my nose and mouth were completely buried inside the loosened opening. The tip of my nose and my lips were pressed against the dirty inner sole of the sweaty, smelly sneaker. For the whole night as I lay bound there in the darkness I drew every breath through the aromatic confines of her old size five. I stayed hard all night even as I eventually drifted to sleep.

In the morning, Day Seven started.