Part 54 (2/2)

They didn't understand why, but they understood their orders. They all nodded. Christi walked over carrying a huge plate of pancakes. She dropped them onto the middle of the table and looked at me.

”I can sit at the table?” she asked meekly. I nodded to her and watched as she settled her gorgeous bare body into the chair opposite me. ”Why?” she whispered.

”Because you cooked. And those look delicious,” I grabbed myself a plate of the pancakes. She tentatively reached out to take her own. Her eyes were a bit frightened, not sure why she was the only one given a chair, feeling a little awkward to be put into a special position. She almost looked like she'd prefer to be kneeling on the floor with the others. She carefully pulled a couple of pancakes from the serving plate and waited. The other girls were looking up expectantly from the floor. I nodded to them and one at a time, they rose and carefully carried a plate and their food back to their kneeling positions. After the girls were settled, I poured some syrup onto my food and began to eat.

I heard a small voice, Jane's, speak from the floor.

”Sir?”

I looked down at her small body, kneeling. Her face looked up at me. ”Can we eat as well? Please?”

”Of course, eat. It's excellent.” I'd forgotten that at breakfast their tradition was to seek permission to eat. I still wasn't completely used to their submission, even though I'd been the cause of it.

Amy spoke up quietly. ”Please sir. I know that we maybe don't deserve it, though I can't imagine why, but can we have syrup as well? Please?”

I smiled. I had been waiting for one of them to ask. I rose from my seat with the jug of syrup and crouched by Amy.

”I could have gotten it myself ...” she spoke quietly.

”You sure you want it?”

Her face was a mask of uncertainty. ”What am I going to have to do to get it?” she asked.

”Nothing.” I smiled at her evilly. She was completely unsure what I had in mind, just that she wasn't likely to enjoy it.

She nodded, probably sorry that she'd been the one to ask the innocent question. But knowing that it was probably far too late to change her mind.

”Lean back.”

”Lean back? Why? Please.” She extended her hands behind her and leaned her bare body back, thrusting out her chest as she was forced into the awkward position.

I carefully poured a line of syrup across the top of her chest. She cried out as the cold liquid hit her bare skin, but she endured it.

”Sit up.” I ordered her. The sticky liquid began to flow down her body, slowly dripping down her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, coating them. She s.h.i.+vered as the liquid slowly dripped down.

She crunched up her face and spoke. ”I. I sort of meant more for my pancakes.” She couldn't quite keep a straight face.

I carefully lifted the jug and poured the liquid into her tangled blonde hair. She sharply moved back, not expecting me to do that, her eyes opened wide. Her quick movement caused me to spill a little onto her thighs and onto the floor. She gasped.

”Amy?”

”Oh G.o.d. I'm sorry. I.” She moved herself back into position, knowing complaint or refusal was useless. I'd just tie her down, not give her her breakfast and pour as much syrup over her as I wanted. She would drown in the stuff if I wanted her to.

”Amy? There's some on the floor because of that.”

She looked down, confused, at the small puddle of syrup by her left knee.

”Don't you think that you should clean up your mess?”

She looked around, beginning to rise to her feet to get a cloth. I touched her shoulder.

”Not that way.”

She closed her eyes. She reached down and extended her fingers, intending to wipe it up onto her skin.

”No fingers.”

She looked at me, finally realizing how she was going to have to do it.

”Please? Don't make me do this. Please? I. I don't want to.”

”Amy.”

”Oh s.h.i.+t. Alright.”

She carefully got to her hands and knees and bent her head. She tried to keep her hair out of the way, but wasn't too successful as she bent her head and carefully licked the small puddle from the floor. The syrup was slowly dripping from her hair and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s onto the floor. She could be at this all day if I wanted. But I stopped her as she began to move towards one of the drops that had fallen from her body. I'd humiliated her enough.

”Knees.”

She looked up thankfully and returned to her knees, kneeling in the syrup drips, but not really caring at this point, as long as I wasn't forcing her to clean the floor with her tongue.

She swallowed and stayed still as I finished pouring syrup over her head. The sticky substance coated her hair, ran down her face, and mixed with her tears. Her sticky hair stuck to her shoulders and her bare back.

”Would you like some on your plate as well?”

She swallowed and closed her eyes. ”You aren't going to fill my p.u.s.s.y if I say yes?”

”If I was going to, you can't do much about it.”

She took a breath. ”This slave would like some syrup on her breakfast. Please?” she begged. If she had to be humiliated, at least she wanted something out of it.

I smiled at her and poured a liberal amount over her pancakes.

”Why didn't you say so?” I teased her.

”Oh G.o.d. You b.a.s.t.a.r.d.” But she was smiling now as well, realizing that syrup washed off. Not like she was ruining her clothes or anything. This was mild torment compared to other things I'd put her through. ”At least I don't have to worry about getting my fingers sticky.”

I moved over to Elizabeth.

”You want syrup as well?”

”Do I have a choice?”

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