Goddess Valentina – Best Goddess!!

Archive for the ‘Slave Stories’ Category

Whilst looking through some old files I came across this amusing little story that My fat cunt little moneyslave slimey had written for Me…presumably a fantasy about Me and not bad apart from the fact I wouldn’t be seen dead delivering fucking catalogues and actually going door to door!…hahaha…nor would I ever call the little pathetic, drunken, maggot fucker ”sir” or act like I was inferior to anybody…but you get the drift…enjoy and I will get him to write the next part soon…;)

A Night At The Opera

I don’t usually notice beggars – they are everywhere after all, and well, why would someone as beautiful and as powerful as me give such lowlife a first thought, never mind a second? However, there was something about this one – the whine in his voice and the scars on his face that seemed vaguely familiar. It troubled me so much during the performance of the opera, that I almost chose the wrong caviar at the interval. Then, have way through the final act it came to me: of course, it was slimey.

I don’t recall his original name, but I do recall when we first met. I had hit some hard times and was distributing catalogues door to door – you know the kind, the ones that have wonder cleaning products and gadgets in them that you post through the letter box and collect a few days later to see if there are any orders – usually there aren’t. Anyway, one night I had had a bit too much to drink and thought it might be a hoot to deliver them to all those extremely posh places round Mayfair. Why not? Presumably, they need cleaning products too?

I had been defiant when I delivered them, but felt a little sheepish about collecting them on the specified day – a Thursday. However, I reminded myself there was no reason I should feel less than them, so instead of wearing the jeans I might have worn normally, I dressed in my interview clothes – a smart tailored suit with short skirt, darks stockings, high heels and a white blouse that set my complexions of beautifully. I felt like a million dollars, but little suspected I was about to make a million dollars too.

I went round a range of houses – going up those distinctive white steps, mostly to find that no one had left anything out until I came to one, which had left the order book on the step. I bent down to pick it up, amazed that anyone had been so courteous by now, when the door opened and there was slimey!

He looked at me bowed before him and immediately apologised: “Oh, I’m sorry Miss, I … er… I didn’t realise there was someone at the door. Please forgive me?” I looked up and he seemed genuinely sorry and embarrassed, as if he felt he had had no right to open his door while I was there. I smiled, and looked at the order form, which was blank. “It looks like I don’t have anything you want, sir” I said.

“Oh, don’t you?” he stuttered, turning a bit red. “ I am so sorry, what is it you are selling again?”
“Cleaning products – but you don’t seem to need any.”
“Don’t I? Oh… er… really? Em, maybe I was bit hasty?”
“Hasty, sir?” I asked, realising that he was having second thoughts – possibly about cleaning products, or more likely about how he could do something to please the beautiful woman that had called on him. “Would you like me to come inside and explain to you just what it is we have to offer you?”

I struggled to hold back a smile as he reacted as if I had offered to suck his cock. “Oh yes please” he spurted. “That would be so kind of you – if I wouldn’t be holding you back, I’d appreciate that so much. Please come in.”

He led me to a lounge through a house of expensive belongings, all looking just a little bit shabby – clearly the house of a single man who appeared to have more money than sense – inherited, of course, rather than earned. He sat on a sofa and I sat beside him, cross-legged so that my skirt ‘accidentally’ revealed my luscious legs. To explain my sitting so close to him I said “I think it would help if we looked through the catalogue together.” And so I sat beside him, knowing his eyes were fixated on my black-stockinged knees, his nose was fixated on my perfume and his brain was fixated on his stiffening cock – the perfect way for me to do business.

Soon, he was telling me he wanted to buy everything in the catalogue, but the only problem was that he didn’t know how to use all these wonderful things. So, I told him I would love to show him – but that would take up so much time, that I couldn’t do my current job and I had rent to pay. He immediately came up with a solution. He said: “Look, this house is too big for me anyway. Why don’t I give you a job teaching me how to use all these cleaning products and you can stay here, so you don’t have to worry about paying rent.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, so I reiterated: “You are asking me to show you how to use cleaning products so you can clean your own house and you will pay me for this service and provide me with accommodation?”

“Yes mistress, I mean Miss” he said.
“How much would you pay me? After all, that’s a pretty special task you are asking for. You aren’t looking for a cleaner – you are looking for something more than that, aren’t you? In fact, I am beginning to wonder if you are being truly honest with me. Tell me, what do you really want?”

I fixed his eyes with a stare, and allowed my shoe to dangle. I could see his face burn red, the sweat form on his brow and his eyes look to the floor. “It’s okay” I said “Don’t worry about asking for what you really want – I have seen a lot of life – I am pretty unshockable.”

He looked at me desperate to tell me what was on his mind. I smiled, and he spilled the beans: “I am so sorry, Mistress, I know this will sound really sick – but you are so beautiful that what I would really like is for you to move in with me and allow me to clean house for you and be your servant in every way.”

I laughed: “Really, that sounds like a really interesting idea, but it could never be. How could I give up my home and move in with you? What if you tired of me? I’d be back on the street, wouldn’t I? I know you say that would never happen, but how could I be sure?”

He thought for a moment as I raised my leg and rested my high heeled foot on his knee. “I know!” he declared. “I could sign the house over to you – that way you would know you are secure and that there is no chance of me ever throwing you out.”
“I don’t know.” I responded, “That doesn’t seem right.”
“On please, please Mistress, please let me sign my house over to you – I know you are not well off and might worry about appearances, so maybe if gave you £50,000 to yourself as well then you would let me sign the house over to you?”
“£50,000? Do you really think that’s sufficient for a woman in Mayfair to live off? I would have thought £250,000 would be closer to the mark.”

He was practically crawling on the floor before me as he begged: “Oh yes, please forgive me Mistress – you are so right, please let me give you a quarter of a million and my Mayfair House so that I might be your slave.”
I smiled, and asked: “Yes, but are you sincere?”
Almost crying he beseeched me “Yes, I want nothing more than to be your slave.”

I beckoned him over and lit a cigarette and I stubbed it out all over his face so that my name was visible for all to see. After that I said “Okay, maybe I believe you”.

TO BE CONTINUED