Lady Dark Angel and I recline in luxury, sat comfortably and poised, elegantly above Our naked sl*ves. Unfortunately for Our two boys they cannot view Us, thereby missing out upon Our great beauty and Our captivating lingerie. However, Our high-heeled shoes rest prettily on the foot-stool-sl*ves and this more than ensures that We retain full control over the silent sl*ves.

I prove the point rather, by applying My heel into sl*ve G’s thigh. As the heel digs into the sl*ve’s flesh sl*ve G groans in gratitude and reveals his mental arousal. We continue by teasing the desperate sl*ves’ c*cks with Our slim, vertiginous heels: We squash, graze and squeeze the pathetic desires of Our boys and sl*ve G whimpers enough for both of the m*le wretches.

We expect self-control from Our sl*ves and this pair of subs will be hard pressed (!) to provide the required level of sustained stoicism, let alone any dignity and self-discipline. Truly We can all see here why the m*le is inferior to the Female and needs Her training to achieve any sense of civility, decorum and usefulness in the poor m*le’s life.

We remove Our heels and tease the boys with Our feet. Our Nylons move smoothly over the sl*ves’ c*cks, rubbing and stimulated them. Our sl*ves grow, hardening under the teasing; sl*ve B manages to remain silent but poor sl*ve G gasps under the t*rmenting tease. We toy the sl*ves deeper into silence and give them the slightest hope of release as they concentrate on their hosiery-controlled c*cks. Indeed, sl*ve G is told that he must remain silent if he is to have any hope of achieving release.

We could tease for hours, denying, teasing, *dging, denying once more...silky, soft nylon teasing excited c*cks relentlessly. We build the sl*ves’ focus: sl*ve G’s face becomes beatific, as his elation at feeling My feet on his body takes him over, just as I had planned and knew would occur. Our boys hope that today will be their day of release at last; their t*rment is real as Our toes run over the full length of their reddened c*cks.

We vary the delicious sensations to suit Ourselves, using full foot weight on the c*cks, then just the toes to tease with and not forgetting Our b*ll squeezing techniques, squashing their puny globes for Our amusement. Our bl*ck nylons contrast with the vivid red c*cks that We t*rment, turning the c*cks as red as the soles of Our shoes. Our sl*ve G becomes wet and I deny him, resting My feet on him as a human footstool once more and I humiliate him “His horrid c*ck is dripping! I am not touching it again....”

We agree to lock Our boys’ c*cks away until We want to toy with them once more. These sl*ves will remain frustrated, excited and desperate with their c*cks locked back in their cages. The sl*ves will wait for Us, underfoot mentally and physically.

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