I stood in the middle of the room, feeling completely naked, even though I was wearing simple black shorts and a T-shirt. My stepmother's command rang in my ears: "Wait. And behave yourself." Svetlana, my stepmother, sat on the sofa like a queen on a throne. Her legs, tanned and well-groomed, were gracefully crossed. On her feet were open-toed sandals with sky-high heels, accentuating every curve. Her pedicure was perfect, a blood-red polish, like drops of fresh blood on marble. She sipped her martini, her eyes sliding over me coldly and appraisingly. The door opened, and she walked in. Svetlana's friend, Veronica. I'd seen her a couple of times—tall, with shoulder-length dark hair and a piercing, predatory gaze. She was wearing a form-fitting black dress, and on her feet were the same sky-high stilettos, black, with pointed toes. “Veronica, my dear, come in,” Svetlana said languidly, without moving from her place. Veronica looked me up and down, a slight, mocking smile touching her lips. "So, Svetlana, is this the very... project you were talking about?" "Mmm, that's it," Svetlana extended her hand and pointed to the space in front of the sofa. "Come here. Kneel down." My heart was pounding somewhere in my throat. Humiliation and heady excitement mixed into a cocktail that made my head spin. I silently sank to my knees on the cool parquet floor. The carpet had been removed—apparently on purpose. "Veronica doubts you're truly useful, my boy," Svetlana spoke softly, but every word was spot on. "She thinks you're just a spoiled brat. I've decided to prove her wrong. To show her your… true talents." Veronica sat down next to Svetlana, leaned back on the sofa, and crossed her legs. A sharp black stiletto heel dangled a centimeter from my face. I could smell the leather and polish. "Well, slave boy," Veronica said rudely, deliberately condescendingly. "Svetlana says you know how to behave. That you know how to serve. Really?" I nodded, unable to utter a word. "We can do anything with words," Svetlana snorted. "Prove it. Take Veronica's shoe off. And show her how much you appreciate the beauty you're allowed to behold." With trembling hands, I reached for her foot. Veronica didn't help, only looking down at me with undisguised curiosity and mockery. I felt the warmth of her skin and removed my shoe. Her foot found its way into my palm—well-groomed, with a high instep and the same impeccable pedicure, a deep burgundy. Her toes were long and graceful. "Kiss," Svetlana commanded, her voice growing harsher. "Every finger. Every millimeter. Make her feel like a goddess." I leaned down. My lips brushed against her ankle bone. The skin was soft, almost velvety. I could taste it—the slight saltiness of the day, mingled with the sweet scent of cologne. I moved to her fingers, weaving my lips and tongue between them, conquering every inch of her territory. I did it with slavish devotion, completely surrendering to the humiliation. It was both punishment and the ultimate reward. Veronica moaned softly, her breathing deepening slightly. "He really is diligent," she whispered to Svetlana, but loud enough for me to hear. "Now it's my turn," Svetlana said. She held out her foot to me. The process was repeated. I removed her sandal and immersed myself in worshiping her foot. I kissed her heel, ran my tongue along the entire length of the sole, and then reached her toes again, licking away invisible specks, paying tribute to the luscious scarlet color. They whispered and laughed at me—quietly, obscenely, appraising my technique, my servility. Their laughter stung more than any insult. I was a thing, an amusement. "I think he's earned the right to more," Svetlana said, placing her hand on Veronica's knee. "What do you say? He'll serve us both. At the same time." Veronica grinned. "Can he handle it?" "We'll check." Svetlana got up from the couch and came over to me. She grabbed my hair and pulled my face to her crotch. She was wearing a dress without panties. Right in front of me was her pussy, already wet, with a neat strip of hair. It smelled like her—tart, sweet, mature. "Lick," she ordered. I stuck out my tongue and touched her labia. She shuddered and gripped my hair tighter. I began working my tongue: broad strokes across her entire slit, then focused on her clit, moving it in quick circles. She moaned in earnest, her hips beginning to thrust toward me. At that moment, Veronica came up behind me. She squatted down, hugged my chest, and her fingers reached for the clasp of my shorts. "And this modest guy is still wearing his clothes," she whispered in my ear. My shorts and underwear fell to my knees. Her hand grasped my cock, which was rock hard and throbbing with every touch. She began jerking me off, in time with the movements of my tongue on Svetlana's pussy. It was surreal and incredibly hot. I licked one woman while the other masturbated my penis. Their moans mingled into a single symphony of debauchery. "Enough," Svetlana suddenly growled. She pushed me away and turned to Veronica. "Lie down. His face is waiting for you." Veronica eagerly sank down onto the carpet, spreading her legs. Svetlana forced me down between them. "Finish her off. Make her come. Or else it'll be worse for you." I buried my face in another woman's flesh again, this time a different one. Veronica was more sensitive, screaming loudly and twitching as I ran my tongue over her swollen clitoris. Her juices flowed down my chin. Svetlana stood above us, playing with her breasts and watching with imperious satisfaction. Suddenly, Svetlana pulled me away from Veronica, who groaned in displeasure. "He's had enough for today. He still needs his reward." She pushed me onto my back and sat on top of me, not on my hips, but higher. She hovered over my face, her pussy right above my mouth. "Come on, slave. Come yourself, looking at what you've been putting up with all this for." Her words were the last straw. Veronica's hand squeezed my cock again, her movements becoming quick and precise. I looked up at Svetlana's puckered anus, at the wet lips of her vagina, and felt her scent and taste on my lips. My body tensed, and with a low groan, I came, powerful thrusts, sperm splashing across my stomach and chest. There was silence, broken only by our heavy breathing. Svetlana slowly rose from my face and stood, looking at the result. Veronica licked her lips with interest. "See? A hard-working boy," Svetlana said, turning to her friend. Then her gaze fell on me. "Now... Clean up after yourself. Lick it all. Clean." She wasn't joking. Her eyes were cold steel. Still shaking from my orgasm, I submitted. I propped myself up on my elbow, leaned over the puddle on my stomach, ran my hand over it, and licked up my own semen. It was the salty, bitter taste of complete submission. I licked it all up, every last drop, to the sound of their laughter—now benevolent and satisfied. "Good boy," Svetlana drawled, running her fingers over my cheek. "You can go now. Await further instructions." I crawled into the kitchen like a beaten dog, leaving the two of them alone—two satisfied goddesses discussing their new, devoted slave.