Fetish Story - Ms. Elizabeth Hurley and Posh

Life is a strange thing. Looking back I can remember a string of events that took place when I was 16 that was really quite odd, now that I think about it. Five years later the whole things seems almost surreal. I remember the day that set things in motion quite clearly. It was a warm, sunny Saturday in Manchester (England) and I had gone to the lake to do some fishing. After an hour with moderate success -- nothing big enough to take home -- I had gotten a snag on a big branch out about twenty feet. I pulled and pulled, side to side, but couldn't get it out. I eventually yanked the rod so hard that the end snapped. Great! Now I needed to buy a new rod, and they aren't cheap. So I gathered up my things, picked up my bike, and headed home.

We lived in a tiny house in an expensive area. I guess we were the poorest family in the area. A few stars lived in the area including the very successful pop star known as Posh. I rode down the dirt path toward the street, and when I pulled out onto the pavement I saw Mrs. Posh. She had just come home from the stores and was carrying in arm loads of bags. She looked up and saw me and smiled. "Hi Mrs. Posh," I yelled. She liked to be called by that title. I was hardly in the mood to smile, but Mrs. Posh always made me smile. She was such a beautiful woman with a real fun personality. "Hi Philip," she replied, "Hey! Can you give me a hand with these bags?"

I turned back toward her house, dropped my bike and fishing gear and took a few bags into the house. I didn't mind helping Mrs. Posh, but I kept thinking about my broken fishing rod, and the sadness was apparent. "What's bothering you Philip," She asked. We had finished bringing in the bags at that point, and so I sat down at the kitchen table and told her about what happened at the lake and how fishing season had just started and I was low on money. She listened sympathetically, and then said, "Hey! I've got an idea. I always need help with work around the house on the weekends. Why don't you come by for a few hours next Saturday and work for me. I'll pay you $5 per hour. Whaddya say?"

"Sure," I answered. I could use the money and Mrs. Posh was always fun to be with.

"Great! Then I've got myself a slave," she said with a smile. I'll see you next Saturday at 10:00 in the morning.

"OK" I said, walking out the door. "What did she mean by slave?" I thought to myself. Whatever, at least I'll make some cash.

One Week Later

I rode my bike up her driveway, dropped it next to the sidewalk, and knocked on the front door. I heard the click of her shoes on the hallway floor, and then the front door opened.

"Ahh, my slave-boy is here," she said. "It's good to see you. I hope you're ready to work, because I plan to get my money's worth."

Mrs. Posh was always pretty, but today there was something even more special about her. Maybe it was the friendlier, almost flirtatious way she treated me. She was about 5'4", roughly two inches shorter than me, and slim. She had long dark hair and dark eyes. "Posh" was her stars name. She looked more Lebanese, but with white skin. She was wearing dark tights with a big T-shirt, and black pumps, with about a 2-inch heel. Mrs. Posh was the type of woman who always wore heels.The first thing she had me do was move some firewood in the back yard and clean out the gutters. She was doing some work inside the house at first, but then came outside to watch me up on the roof. I was working up a sweat emptying the leaves into a bucket. She sat down on one of the patio chairs and watched me. I looked at her, and she smiled at me. Then I saw her light a cigarette and settle comfortably in the chair. Her legs were crossed, left over right, and she was bouncing the left foot up and down, her shoe dangling from her toes. "This is the life," she shouted up at me. "It's good to have someone else do your dirty work." I smiled back at her, and continued working. She continued sitting there, smiling, smoking, and bobbing that foot up and down.

Finally I finished and came down the ladder. She told me to go in and wash up, she needed my help with some work inside the house and didn't want me to get her house dirty. Her house was always impeccable. After I finished washing my hands, arms, and face, I came out of the bathroom and met her in the family room. Despite the fact that she had two sons, this was not a typical family room. It was beautifully designed and full of artwork, fine furniture, and expensive little statuettes on the book cases, in addition to a state-of-the-art entertainment center. Mrs. Posh told me she needed me to vacuum the carpet and pick the dead leaves off the plants while she did the dusting. When I finished vacuuming, I turned off the machine and turned to look at her. She was staring up at a bookshelf looking perplexed. She reached up but couldn't quite reach the exquisite jade elephants on the top shelf.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"No," she answered, "I don't let anyone touch my elephants, and the footstool I used broke last week. Actually...yes you can help. Come here!"

I walked over, not knowing what she wanted me to do.

"Lie down here, will you, on your stomach. Yes, like that. No, a little closer to the wall."

I could only guess what she planned to do, and I was surprised at myself for complying without hesitation. She then kicked off her shoes, revealing a pair of beautiful feet in nylons. Her toenails, which were right next to my face, were a perfectly pedicured black. She stepped up onto my back. I felt her go up on her toes, and then come back down on her heels again. "I got it," she said. But then she didn't get off. She was standing there dusting it, while still standing on my back. I felt her go up on her toes again, and then back down. She had put the first one up, and gotten another. And she was still on my back dusting. At that point I remembered seeing about 8 elephants on that shelf, and she spent about 30 seconds on each one. The pressure of her standing on my back didn't hurt, although it was a little uncomfortable. She would move around a little, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, humming to herself as if she were standing on the floor in the room by herself. I couldn't believe it. I was laying on the floor as this woman's footstool. She didn't even seem to be acknowledging that there was a boy right there under her feet.

After a couple of minutes of this, we both heard a car coming up the driveway. Mrs. Posh moved a little to the side to see who it was, which meant she had to shift her weight over, placing one foot on my butt as she craned her neck to see out the window. All I could see was an ant's view of the room and her pink pumps roughly 12 inches from my nose.

"Now who drives a Jaguar?" she wondered out loud. "Oh! It's Elizabeth Hurley. Good, she must have my dress she borrowed." She paused and must have looked down at me. "Oh, she is going to love this," she said, and wiggled her toes on my back and butt, as if to remind me that she knew she was standing on another person. The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Posh yelled, "Come in!" as she repositioned herself, turning around to face the room, she had one foot on my upper back and the other she brought around and placed squarely on my face, which was turned facing the room. She struck a casual pose and waited for Ms. Elizabeth Hurley to come in. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley came in the front door, and seemed more concerned with finding a place to put the dry-cleaning than looking at her friend. I could see her, sort of, as one side of my face was mashed into the carpet, and the eye on top had its vision somewhat obscured by Mrs. Posh's toes draping over the front of my face. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley was a little older, maybe 35. She was obviously well-to-do and seemed a little annoyed about having to bring her friend her laundry. "Victoria, I am not your maid, so please find someone else to pick up your dry-cleaning from now on," Ms. Elizabeth Hurley said somewhat coldly. She put the clothes on a chair and turned to look at Victoria -- so that was Mrs. Posh's name. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley had shoulder-length blond hair, a fit body, that still looked very feminine, and a little too much make-up. She didn't even notice me lying there.

"Victoria, do you have those pictures for me to look through?" she asked. "I wanted to look at them today if you have the...." She saw me. She just stared, looking rather confused, and then slightly amused.

"Oh, Elizabeth, I see you've noticed my new slave-boy. He's great. He does whatever I tell him and he only costs five dollars per hour."

Ms. Elizabeth Hurley was still speechless. Slowly a smile spread across her face. "That is great. But I'm jealous. Considering what I pay my help, I don't get that kind of commitment. I certainly can't walk all over them, well, not literally anyway," she remarked, laughing after her last comment. "I would love to have one of those. I would love to be able to look down and see another human being lying under my feet, completely devoted to obeying my tiniest whim. That is great!"

"Well, knock yourself out. My home is your home, and my slave is your slave. 'Tee-hee' Far be it from me to keep you from doing what you want." And with that, she stepped down off of me, walked across the room, and sat in a large leather easy chair.

"Well, all right," replied Ms. Elizabeth Hurley, and she walked across the floor to where I was lying. I was still completely silent. I didn't know what to do or think. I was always taught not to talk back to adults, and Mrs. Posh was also my employer today. What could I say? Would they get mad at me if I protested? I was so shocked I just lay there. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley walked up to me, and I looked up at her, with my face still on the plush white carpet. She was wearing a green dress with black leather boots on her feet. She looked at me for a second, let out a slight chuckle, and then stepped up on my back. She was a little heavier, but still, it wasn't really painful. But then immediately she got off again. "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do this right," she said. "Roll over, boy!" she told me. I slowly complied, not wanting this wealthy, imposing, demanding woman to get mad at me. I settled down on my back this time, and she immediately stood up on my chest. Now, unlike my back, this was more uncomfortable, even a little painful. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley saw the discomfort on my face and smiled down at me. What a smile! It was a look that said - I own you.

"Fun, isn't it," I heard Mrs. Posh remark from across the room.

"Oh, yes, very much so." At this point, Ms. Elizabeth Hurley stopped looking at me and looked up at her friend again. She seemed to have forgotten all about me as they started their conversation about the pictures again. Looking up at Ms. Elizabeth Hurley, trying to keep my stomach muscles tight, she seemed completely unaware that I was there. She flipped her hair back out of her face, gestured with her hands, and shifted her weight to stand more comfortably.

After about 5 minutes, Mrs. Posh must have looked down at me. "Ms. Elizabeth Hurley, maybe you'd like to sit down. His face is a little red, and I do need to send him home alive."

Ms. Elizabeth Hurley looked down at me looking annoyed. "All right, but one final thing." She looked me in the eyes, and with that same authoritarian voice said, "Stick out your tongue." With a look of fear in my eyes I slowly complied. Once my tongue was out, she gave me that same evil smile, picked up her left foot, placed the heel of her boot on my tongue and slowly pulled it across my tongue until I had licked the entire length of the sole of her leather boot. I could feel small bits of dirt on my tongue, but mostly the humiliation of having just licked the sole of this woman's boot clean. She placed that foot next to my head, and repeated the same thing with her right foot. I felt paralyzed: with embarrassment, with fear, with humiliation. I just lay there as Ms. Elizabeth Hurley walked over to the chair next to Mrs. Posh's and sat down. I heard Mrs. Posh giggling again. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley fell into the chair with a sigh, and with a tone of contentment remarked, "That was the most satisfying thing I've done all week. I used to do that to my little cousin when we were little. Our families would go on vacation to a cabin by the lake in Michigan when we were kids. He and I were told to play together. After swimming we would walk around the lake together. There was always an area which was like a small pond of mud.

To get across it there was a narrow walkway, but it still required you to walk over about four feet of mud. I would force him to lie down in the mud so I wouldn't have to get my feet dirty. At first he would lie on his stomach, and I would always make a point of stepping on the back of his head before getting to the other side. I just loved the look on his face when he would pull it up out of the mud, crying. Later I would make him lie on his back, and would usually stand on his stomach for a few minutes, his body sinking into the mud. Finally I would agree to get off him only if he would stick out his tongue so I could clean the bottom of my bare feet. I'd always make sure he got cleaned up in the lake before we went home, and I told him that if he told anyone, I'd hurt him really bad. He never said anything. It was the funniest thing, the look he would get on his face when our parents would tell him to go play with me. He looked so pitiful and I would just grab him by the hand and say 'let's go!' I'll tell you Victoria, I sure didn't think when I got up this morning that I'd get the chance to make another boy do that today."

They both laughed, as I still lay there in disbelief.

"Oh, slave-boy," Mrs. Posh called, snapping me back to reality, "run along to the kitchen and get us two glasses of iced tea, with ice." I jumped up and trotted into the kitchen. As if in a trance I poured the two glasses of tea, and then took them back into the family room, stopping only briefly to look at my tongue in the hallway mirror. When I came back, both ladies were talking about the work I had done that day. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley looked up at me with a look that suggested she was impressed with all the work I did. I could do more than just serve as her footstool and foot-cleaner. I actually felt a sense of pride as Mrs. Posh praised the good work I did around the house. I handed them their glasses which they took without so much as an acknowledgment. I felt like a piece of furniture, or a servant who was considered less than human. I felt like a slave.

Ms. Elizabeth Hurley looked at me and remarked, "I'll tell you what, boy. You come work for me next weekend. I'll pay you twice what Victoria pays you, but you'll work for me twice as hard." It wasn't a question. It wasn't a business proposition. It was an order. I just muttered, "OK."

Ms. Elizabeth Hurley shot me a hard look. "First lesson, boy. You will address me as 'madam.' I am not your friend. I'm not even your employer really. I'm...your owner. When you are on the clock with me, you belong to me. I’m a beautiful model and you are just an ordinary member of the public. Is that clear?"

"Yes, madam."

A smile lightened up her face, "Good, and if you get tired of calling me madam, you can always refer to me as your goddess." Both ladies chuckled.

Mrs. Posh spoke up, "Well, Philip, don't just stand there. Show your new goddess some proper respect. You should at least be on your knees before her." Again, they both laughed. It now seemed they were going to try to outdo each other.

Ms. Elizabeth Hurley said, "Actually, I prefer him to be completely prostrate before me. He should be as low to the ground around me as possible."

Mrs. Posh was determined to outdo her friend. "Well, as long as he's lying flat on the floor, we might as well elevate ourselves above him as much as possible. Slave-boy! Lie flat on the floor here in front of our chairs, with your face up again."

I crawled over to them, and turned over onto my back. The two ladies seemed convinced that this was the best way to demean me the most and elevate themselves the most. And so Mrs. Posh placed both her feet right on my face, while Ms. Elizabeth Hurley stretched out her legs, crossed the right over the left and rested them squarely on my crotch, so that her left heel rested squarely on my young manhood. Mrs. Posh slid her feet back and forth, going opposite directions at the same time right over my face and giggled once again. The two ladies sat there, sipping their tea and talking, with me, a young boy of 16 serving as nothing more than a place for them to rest their feet; two nylon-covered feet on my face, and a pair of black leather boots resting on my groin. And what could I do but rest there, unable and unwilling to move.

Finally, Mrs. Posh got up and went into the other room. She came back with a manila envelope which she handed to Ms. Elizabeth Hurley. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley thanked her for the pictures, whatever they were, and stood up to go. She fished her keys out of her purse, and without even looking down, stepped up onto my chest with one foot, placed the other squarely on the side of my face, stepped up onto my head, and then walked right off again, having just used by chest and face as if she were stepping over some steps. She walked to the door, turned and said to Mrs. Posh, "Alrighty then, I'll see you next week. Don't forget to bring the boy." And she was gone.

I lay there for another minute or so until Mrs. Posh called me. "Hey slave-boy, I'm not paying you to just lie there. Get up! Take these glasses back into the kitchen and then you can go. I'm going upstairs to take a bath. I'll leave the money you earned on the table."

I picked up their glasses while Mrs. Posh went upstairs. I took them into the kitchen, walked back into the hallway where I saw $20 on the table by the door. I picked it up, stuck it into my pocket, and went out the door. As I rode home I kept asking myself, "Did that really happen?" It all seemed so strange, so embarrassing, so odd, and yet I knew I would be back next week. I seemed powerless to tell these women no, or to disappoint them. One more week and I'd be back, but this time we'd be going to Ms. Elizabeth Hurley's house. Good grief! What was I going to have to do then?

One Week Later

The next Saturday I was again riding my bike to Mrs. Posh's house. I got there right at 10:00 as per her instructions. She had called the day before and left a message with my mom. She had told her what a good, little worker I was, and that I should be there again at 10:00. Just like the week before, I pulled into her driveway and left my bike on the grass. I knocked on the door and heard Mrs. Posh call, "Come in Philip!" I went in and sat down in the family room, on the same chair that Ms. Elizabeth Hurley had been sitting in the week before. I strained to see if I could see an imprint in the carpet from my body either below the chairs or by the bookcase. The carpet was so plush and new that no imprint would have stayed long. I heard the click, click of heels on the stairs and turned to see Mrs. Posh coming down the stairs. She was wearing an attractive black pantsuit with black patent-leather pumps with heels probably about 3 1/2" high. She had clearly made herself up to look nice, not like the week before.

"Are you ready to work today?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," I replied with a slight, nervous smile.

"Good, because your goddess will be here soon." She giggled a little, thinking of her friend Ms. Elizabeth Hurley as the goddess of this young boy.

Soon there was a knock at the door. I had been daydreaming as Mrs. Posh had finished getting herself ready. She told me to answer it, and when I did, there was a woman standing there I had never seen before. She was about thirty, relatively attractive, wearing what looked like a man's suit with a black cap over short blond hair. I didn't know who this was or what to say, but fortunately Mrs. Posh shouted over my shoulder, "Oh, hi Vivian, we'll be right there."

Vivian answered back, "Yes ma'am, whenever you're ready." Then she looked at me with a sort of sympathetic and yet amused grin on her face and turned to walk away. What I hadn't noticed was that a stretch limo had pulled up in the driveway. Aha! Vivian is a chauffeur, and she must work for Ms. Elizabeth Hurley. "Good heavens," I thought. "Ms. Elizabeth Hurley must be loaded."

Next I felt Mrs. Posh lightly slap me in the back of the head and say, "let's go!" as she walked out the door ahead of me. I shut the door behind us and followed her to the car. Vivian held the door open, and Mrs. Posh ducked her head and climbed in. I had never been in a limo before, and so I approached it hesitatingly. Slowly I looked inside and stepped in. My eyes were still adjusting from the sunlight, and so it was hard to see who was there, although I heard Ms. Elizabeth Hurley's voice and could see the outline of her body.

"Oh good," she remarked, "The boy is here. I was afraid he wouldn't come. He just loves to be around his goddess, doesn't he." She laughed.

I wondered why she always talked about me in the third person, as if I wasn't worth the time of conversation. She only seemed to speak to me when she wanted me to do something. All she would say to me were the orders I was expected to obey; and that's what I always did, without question. Why?

Ms. Elizabeth Hurley was also more dressed up today, although I don't think she had ever dressed casually. She wore a beautiful silk ivory-colored blouse, a well-tailored black skirt, tan nylons, and a pair of bone white heels - high heels - with a sort of snake skin pattern and square toe. I was sitting in the back seat with Mrs. Posh while Ms. Elizabeth Hurley was reclining on the seat on the side of the car. As the car got underway, Ms. Elizabeth Hurley turned to me and asked, "You are going to be our obedient slave again today, aren't you?"

It wasn't really phrased like a question, but I answered, "Yes, madam," anyway.

"Good, then you know what I like you to do, you know, to remind both of us who is boss." She settled back in her seat, crossing her left leg over her right, and cocked her ankle so that she was showing me the sole of her shoe.

I looked at her with a bit of shock on my face, and then I turned to look at Mrs. Posh, who was smiling again. Mrs. Posh then said to me, "Go on, it makes her feel young again." And both women laughed. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley looked at her friend with a mock look of disdain, pretending to be mad at the friendly joke about her age. Suddenly the car was very quiet and both women were looking at me, waiting. I gingerly got down on my knees, placed my hands on the floor by her feet, and lowered my head. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley relaxed her ankle a little, which meant that I was going to have to get even lower to fulfill her demand. Finally my head was almost on the floor of the car. I stuck out my tongue, and with one long swipe ran my tongue along the sole of her shoe. There was no dirt on this shoe. It was a fairly new shoe, and the leather bottom still had writing legible on it. I felt as low as a person could be. What could possibly be more humiliating. At least the last time I had been passive, sort of stuck. All I had done was stick out my tongue, but this time I had deliberately lowered myself to the floor and of my own free will licked the sole of this rich lady's high-heeled shoe.

"Next!" she ordered, and crossed her legs the other way. I repeated the action with this shoe as well, feeling utterly and completely debased. But at least the ritual was over. "Actually, boy," she continued, "just stay there and keep licking. It gives me quite a rush to feel your little tongue lapping at the bottom of my shoe. I can feel it all the way through the leather on my foot. It's like I have a little doggy down there, licking my feet. How sweet. Of course I wouldn't allow my dogs to lick my shoes. I treat them with more respect than that." And so the rest of the trip involved me lying on the floor of a limousine, with my tongue lapping the soles of a pair of high-heeled shoes, while another woman would occasionally poke me in the butt with the heel of her black pumps, just to see me jump a bit.

I could tell we were getting near our destination. The limo was slowing, and the ladies were looking out the windows. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley turned her head to look at something, and by turning her body was now pressing her foot down on my face. Not only couldn't I continue licking her shoe, but I couldn't move my head. Her foot was pressing down hard on my cheek, mashing it to the floor of car. Once again, she must have been aware of what she was doing, but seemed completely unconcerned. She continued to look, pressing her leather shoe onto my cheek, and surely by this point leaving a mark.

We had indeed arrived at our destination. We were at Ms. Elizabeth Hurley's house. Vivian parked the car and came around to get the door. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley had turned back around but kept my face pinned to the floor. When Vivian opened the door she could see the situation clear as day. She had to check herself to keep from laughing out loud.

"Do you like my new footrest, Vivian," Ms. Elizabeth Hurley asked. "All the high-society ladies have one these days," she quipped.

Vivian replied, "Yes ma'am, he's rather nice. I'm sorry for laughing, ma'am, but I think that is hilarious. I would love to be able to have someone to step on. You must feel like you're on top of the world."

"Oh, I do. But don't worry, I'll let you try sometime. Every woman should have the opportunity to feel like a goddess. I just like to do it every chance I get."

All three of us got out of the car, and Vivian walked with us to the front door of the house. Ms. Elizabeth Hurley led the way. I say it was a house, but the word mansion would more accurately describe it. A beautiful old stone mansion, two stories, but very expansive. There was some construction work going on, and so there were sawhorses and tape blocking the way. An alternate route was necessary to get to the door. As we walked around one of the hedges, Ms. Elizabeth Hurley suddenly stopped. "Wait," she said. With that, she extended her left index finger. As I looked first to her finger, with the emerald ring and red nail polish, and then to where she was pointing, I noticed she was smiling. She was pointing to an area where the walkway was being reconstructed. They had torn away the cement leaving a bear patch in the ground. What's more, the last three days of rain had turned it into a muddy mess. "Oh Victoria, I can't resist. I'm sorry, but I just have to do this."

Mrs. Posh sighed and chuckled. "Go ahead," she said, "but I'm going inside." And she turned and went in the house, shaking her head and laughing.

Vivian stayed with Ms. Elizabeth Hurley with a slight smile on her face that indicated she didn't know what was being talked about, but she was trying to be polite.

"Vivian, you're going to love this. Boy! You know what to do. Get in there, and face down. And don't worry about your clothes, I have other clothes for you to wear today anyway. My friends will not see you in those wretched things."

Again, I couldn't believe what I was doing. It was as if my body started moving without waiting for my brain's OK. Besides, what were my options, yell at this lady and have no idea how to get home. I didn't even know where I was. And so into the mud I descended. Soon I was just lying there, arms bent by my head, with my head looking up across her estate.

Soon I felt one of Ms. Elizabeth Hurley's high-heeled shoes digging into the back of my thigh. The pain seared through my leg and then lessened as the other foot went up on my butt. She steadied herself, and then moved onto my back. "This is the life!" she yelled, as she stood atop my back, completely victorious. Her heels dug into my back, and she began to bounce up and down a little. "I am a goddess!" she laughed. "Well, there's only one thing left to do now," and with that she move up further on my back. I felt her weight shift to one foot as the other came up over my head. She steadied herself on a nearby branch. I was waiting for the inevitable push of her foot that would send my face into the mud. I even took a deep breath in preparation, in case she decided to keep my face pressed into the mud, relishing the feel of my skull under her expensive leather shoes. But there was a pause.

"Oh, I think I've outdone myself," she giggled. "I never even thought of this before. Boy! Open your mouth, wide!" she ordered. I couldn't believe it. Was she serious? The pain was getting intense, and so I complied in order to hurry up the situation. She asked Vivian to check and make sure my mouth was open, as she couldn't see from her angle. Vivian was almost peeing herself from laughter but managed to confirm that my mouth was indeed open. With word from Vivian, Ms. Elizabeth Hurley position her foot over top of my head, and slowly pushed my face into the mud, my mouth wide open, taking in the muck from her walkway. With my face firmly squashed into the mud, she began rocking her foot back and forth, making sure that she got as much as my face covered as possible. Finally, she ground her foot back and forth as if she were putting out a cigarette. The whole thing was surreal. I could not really be here, could I? Suddenly I had an image of what this looked like: A young 16 year old boy, laying face down in the mud, his clothes filthy, and his mouth full of the same mud. And, at the same time, resting on his head was a bone white high-heeled leather shoe, that probably cost $300/pair. Its owner was an extremely wealthy woman wearing beautiful, expensive clothing. Her foot, so delicate and perfectly pedicured, I'm sure, was pressing down though this shoe onto this boy's head, as her slight ankle, adorned with an elegant anklet, rocked back and forth, grinding this boy's face further into the mud, while she remained perfectly unsoiled by standing on his prone body. Like I said, it was surreal. The pain, the discomfort, the humiliation all seemed disconnected, as if they were happening to someone else, but I new that was me, being ground into the mud by this haughty bitch.

Without another word, she brought the other foot up onto my head, so that she was standing full-weight on the back of my head, which was possible since my head was anchored into the mud, remained for a moment, and then stepped off the other side into the grass.

I slowly raised my head and spat out some of the mud. "Vivian," she called, "take him in the back way and make sure he gets cleaned up and into those clothes I arranged for him."

As I lay there, Ms. Elizabeth Hurley turned to go in the house. Vivian called after her, "Ma'am...uh, well, uh, may I?" she asked sheepishly, looking down at me.

Ms. Elizabeth Hurley laughed out loud, harder than I ever heard her laugh before. "Of course!"

With that, Ms. Elizabeth Hurley disappeared inside the house. Immediately I felt a pair of flats walking up my legs. Thank goodness they were flats, I thought. She climbed up onto my back, saying to herself, "This is great!" She slid side to side, jumped a little in the air, and even stamped on me a little. I was so completely drained of any fight that might be left in me, I just lay there, my face resting sideways in the mud.

Suddenly I felt one foot disappear, and the other foot get lighter. Vivian had partially fallen off. "Oh crap!" I heard. She stepped back up onto my back with both feet, moved up closer to my head, and with the right foot that had fallen in the mud, she wiped it back and forth on my face, trying to clean off the mud. Then she started to giggle. "I love this," I heard her say, and she proceeded to grind the side of my face into the mud the same way that Ms. Elizabeth Hurley had done with the back of my head. Finally, in imitation of Ms. Elizabeth Hurley again, I suppose, she brought up both feet onto the side of my head, stood there a minute or so, and then stepped off onto the grass. She had made the crossing as well.

Finally, she said, "OK. let's go. Time to clean up."

She said this as if nothing had happened. I was amazed again. It was as if just a minute before she hadn't been standing on my face, pushing it into the mud. Now she told me to come along like we were friends going to a party.

I pulled myself up, sore and completely a mess, and stumbled after her, around the back of the house to the servant's entrance. "A servant," I thought, "now that's a step up."

(Sorry... i found this story unfinished... An adapted story by Vanity, based on an original story by "Duffy"... I founded this fantastic and unfinished story, at the Internet archives, "2001" of the old "The Mousepad forum" when stories deleted after 20th page)

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The Foot Worshiper

I grew up a pretty athletic kind of girl, always playing a sport, always wearing sporty clothes. I even got into College on a sport scholarship. College was a real eye opener for me. My roommate Mary in my freshman year was a real girly girl, always dressing very fashionable and sexy. I loved it. She was a very social girl and went to parties all the time. One night she was getting ready to go to a party and she invited me to come along. ‘I have nothing to wear” I said to her. “Well that’s not a problem” she answered, “You can borrow some clothes from me.” As she sifted though her wardrobe, she passed me a little black dress and a pair of red heels. She herself had chosen a tight top that exposed her mid riff, a tight pair of jeans, and some tall black leather heels. As she sat on the edge of her bed, I watched as she slowly pulled a pair of skin colored pantyhose over her feet and up her legs. I watched her intensely, as the see through hose wrapped her lower body and held her tightly. I was somehow turned on by this and couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.

She looked over at me and caught me watching her, unaware that I was liking it, she thought that I was wondering why she had the hose on so she explained to me that it was much better than going bare foot and that socks would just look bad. She then reached into her dresser drawer and threw a pair over to me. “Here, try it.” She told me. I picked them up from the pile that they has landed in on the floor and pulled them over my feet and up my legs slowly just as she had.

Once we were both dressed and ready, we took off to the party. The party was a lot of fun, Mary had a lot of friends and she introduced me to them all. We stayed there for a long time and drank like College girls and got really silly. But the real fun happened when we got back to our room.

The walk back had hurt my feet as I was not use to being in heels. When we walked through the door the first thing I did was kick them off and flop down on the bed. I began to wiggle my toes as they dangled off of the bed, trying to work out the kinks. Mary came over to me and took my foot into her hand.

“This helps.” she said as she began to massage my foot. Her soft hands felt incredible on my aching feet and as she rubbed them I let my body go limp and enjoyed it. She lied herself on the bed beside me, her feet ay my head and my feet at hers, as she continued to rub. I could smell the leather from her shoes on her feet. The smell was so strong. I had to get closer to them. I turned sideways and grabbed her feet in my hands, returning the favor and rubbing them for her. My fingers slide up and down the arch of her foot, up to her pretty little toes and in between them and then back down to her heel. The more I rubbed her feet, the more I could smell them, they were amazing and it was getting me really wet. “Wow, you are very good at this.” She said to me “I feel so good right now, almost orgasmic” she told me. Just hearing the word “Orgasmic” sent waves to my brain and within seconds I found myself sucking on her toes as she lay there and moaned softly to my tongue on her feet. I sucked on her toes until I was so wet that I had to do something about it. Mary followed my lead and began to lick my feet. Dancing her tongue in between my toes and then sliding it up and down my soles.

It felt amazing and without even realizing it I had slide my hand down into my soaking wet pussy and I was rubbing gently at my clit. I wasn’t sure if Mary had noticed me masturbating and I didn’t care either. It felt so fucking good. I continued to paw away at my wet pussy until I came all over my fingers with my toes in Mary’s mouth and the smell of her hot sweaty feet by my nose. We must have fallen asleep drunk some time after I came, because the next thing I knew I was waking up with Mary’s half naked body lying beside me, her at still at my feet. I wasn’t sure if Mary had even remembered what had happened the night before, after all she had drank a lot, but if she did she never ever mentioned it and neither did I. After that night I realized that I had a fetish for feet, especially feet in pantyhose. I wore them all the time, loving how they felt hugging my body. I graduated college and went on to get a very good job. I worked in an office and was thrilled about that. It meant I got to dress up and wear hosiery every day. Some people dressed a little more casual, but I loved wearing my pantyhose and stockings with my heels and loved to show them off in short skirts all day long.

One day I was in the photocopy room and in walked Troy. He was a funny guy, always kidding around and laughing. No one ever really took him seriously, but we all loved having him around. He was an awesome guy, but you just knew when you saw him he was going to say something silly and try to make you laugh. So I was very shocked when he walked into the photocopy room and had a very serious look on his face.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked him

“Nothing, why?”

“Well because you walked in here without a smile or a joke. That is not like you.”

“Just not having a good day I guess.”

“Awww. Do you need a hug?” I smiled at him and asked in an attempt to cheer him up a bit.

“Yeah” he said, “A hug might help, it definitely can’t hurt.”

I reached out and hugged him gently. His arms felt really good around me. I felt my body involuntarily sink into his and then I felt his hands slide down my back slowly until they were resting just above my ass. I loved the way it felt but my better judgment made me pull away from him. After all he was a co-worker and we were on office time. But that I think was also exciting me. He grabbed my hands as I pulled away and pulled me back into him. This time he didn’t hug me, he kissed me. I kissed him back briefly and then said to him, “What are we doing? We can get into big trouble if we get caught.”

He picked me up by the waist and sat me up on the counter, ignoring my comment. He ran his hands up and down my leg, feeling my silky smooth stockings as he leaned in and kissed my neck. Goosebumps formed all over my body and I could feel the heat in between my legs. He then turned and walked out of the room, leaving me there completely turned on and wanting him badly! I kept horny for the remainder of the day. Feeling the heat and smelling my pussy was driving me crazy. I couldn’t wait to go home and make myself cum. I packed up my brief case, turned off my computer and raced for my car in the parking lot. I got in my car and was about to pull out of my spot when I saw Troy. He was walking in my direction, so I made it look like I was adjusting things and hoped he would stop at my car. Just as I hoped, he did stop. I rolled down my window and he leaned in,

“Where are you headed to?” he asked.

“Home.” I replied

“Do you have things to do?” he then asked.

“No.”

“Do you want to do something with me?” he said.

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“Just follow me” He answered

He got into his car and drove off. He drove carefully so that I could follow him. We drove around for about 20 minutes and then pulled into the parking lot of a nearby motel. He got out of his car again and walked over to me. I rolled down my window, my heart pounding in my chest and hardly able to speak as I was filled with anticipation. “Wait here, I will be right back.” He smiled and said. I could see the look of horniness on his face as I am sure he could also see in mine. Only minutes had gone by and Troy returned waiving the key he had in his hand at me. Of course I knew what this meant and got out of my car and followed him to room 21. He opened the door to the room and as soon as I stepped in and shut it behind me he grabbed me and threw me up against the wall. We kissed passionately as our hands caressed each other’s bodies. Troy reached around my back and lifted me up, holding me against the wall as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

He started to suck on my neck and I could hear his breath in my ear. I leaned back as he continued to lick his way down my neck to my shoulders. He was pulling at my blouse with his teeth and without any hesitation I ripped my blouse open for him to access my perky round tits. His lips surrounding my nipples felt incredible and they were fully erect within seconds. As I rested pinned up against the wall I could feel Troy’s cock busting in his pants. I was dying to see what he felt like. I lowered my legs and he released my thighs so that I was now standing. I took him by the hand and led him over to the bed. We stood at the edge of the bed and kissed a while longer. I could feel myself filled with desire for him. I pushed him down onto the bed his legs hanging off the edge. I stood over him, with one leg on either side of him. I reached down and unzipped his pants, pulled them and his boxers down to the floor around his ankles. His cock was rock hard and sprung out tightly up against his stomach. I reached down and gripped his shaft firmly into my hand, slowly sliding it up and down.

As I continued to jerk him, he reached his hands down and began to run them up and down my silky smooth legs. His finger tips tickling up my thighs. As he reached the top of my stockings, he slid his finger inside, rubbing it in between the sheer material and my warm leg. He grabbed me by both my thighs and pulled me forward. I landed on the bed over top of him. My warm pussy pressing down onto his firm cock. Only the thin layer of my lace panties between us. He reached up and cupped my breasts, kneading them in his strong hands as I gyrated my hips and rubbed my crotch all over his. I felt a rush of heat over my body and instantly reach down and pulled my panties over to the side. Then I grabbed his cock and placed it up against my pussy. I pressed down and took him in slowly, first I felt the tip of his cock part my lips and then I felt every inch of his shaft fill me. I sat straight up and looked down at him as I fucked him, my tits bounced joyously for him to watch. He reached up and grabbed them, holding them in place as I slid my slippery pussy up and down his shaft, slamming down on him and slapping his balls off of my ass.

I leaned forward over him and he grabbed my waist, flipping me over onto my back and pounding his cock into me HARD. I gasped as my body jolted forward with the force of his thrusts. My body began to quiver with delight and shake with orgasmic pleasure. Just as I was about to cover his cock with my hot juices, he pulled out and crouched down, placing his mouth over my cunt and slithered his tongue smoothly in and out of my soaking hole. He continued to rub his fingers around my pussy as he licked down to my inner thighs and further down my leg. I could feel the heat through my stockings as he worked his way down. He then took off my heel and began to rub my feet, holding them up to his face as he smelt and licked my pretty little toes one by one and then up and down my sole. He grabbed my legs and pushed them back, my knees pressed back against my ears and my and pussy tilted up ward for him to penetrate deeply. As he once again entered my welcoming pussy, I reached down and grabbed the trim of my right stocking and yanked it off with one swift motion; I tore it off myself and held it over his face. With each hot and heavy breath that Troy took he could smell the aroma of my hot sweaty leather clad feet. Arousing him to a whole new height.

“Ohhh FUCK yea! Holy God baby that’s it, yess just like that!! I screamed out.

As he tore into me, the bed jumped away from the wall with the power of his thrusts. I began to pant as he brought me to a full orgasm, my cum gushing out all over his glorious cock. When I was done and lying there practically life less, exhausted from one of the greatest fucks ever, Troy slid my stocking over his cock and began to stroke it as I watched. Slowly I crawled up on all 4’s in front of him. I surrounded my lips around his tight balls and flicked them with my tongue as he continued to stroke his cock. Slowly my mouth moved up his shaft, licking up and back down the underside. My teeth pulled the stocking off. I wrapped my hand in it and caressed his balls with it as I sealed my lips around the tip of his cock and took him in deep in my mouth.

“Ughhh, Ughh ,Aghhh!”

Troy moaned out as he rocked his hips back and forth. Pumping his dick into my warm wet mouth. I opened up the back of my throat as he plummeted deep. Hot streams of his sticky cum shooting down my throat. His hand gripped the back of my head as he dumped the last of his load and I swallowed it up. He flopped down on the bed beside me. We both laid there in sheer ecstasy. Eventually we got up and went our separate ways home. I still wear stockings and pantyhose to work every day. Troy and I still get together once in a while. I think the fetish that we share will always be special to us both. And every once in a while I slip him a pair to take home for himself!

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Teacher Foot Worship

Hello this is my 2nd Foot Worship story. To keep yourself from getting confused please read How I Became Her Slave. This happened at school and I was very shocked who, what, when, this happened. Also in the story I am 19, and the teacher is 32.

As you know I serve my sister who became my mistress in my last story. I was 18 at the time and I was still in high school. I just started to be true. Now being a slave and all is ok but my mistress 

allowed me to joing one club. So I found a club at the high school to sign up for. It was the drama 

club. Now our high-school is tiny with only about 300 kids so when I signed up for drama a big suprise was coming my way.

When I went into the drama room no one was there. I looked around and I saw someone there crying. I walked up to her and asked, "What's wrong mis?" She looked up and said, "Well I was crying because no one signed up for drama." "Well I did" I looked at her and gave her a brief smile. "Well with only one person in drama I can we can get to know each other a little better." She smiled. "Sure," I said. As we talked I kept looking down and her pumps with her nyloned feet. The Drama Teacher (I will protect her name). She is about 6ft 2in. Stern figure and size 6 feet. I could fit her whole foot in my mouth. Since it was 2pm I wouldn't have to go until 5pm because the teacher expected a lot of people and she wanted to talk to us. Well after me and the teacher talked for a while she said she was tired because she had been walking all day preparing for the class. I commented on how her nylons looked good with her shoes. "Thank you, these are knew" She said happily.

"I understand that you must be tired, I mean you made this room look so alive." I responded. "Thank you I can't wait to get home at 5:30 so I can relax." She exclaimed. Now it was 3pm right now so I still had 2 hours left. my mistress knew about this so she arranged my services to her to fit both our needs. So I asked my teacher, "Could I give you a foot massage, maybe that will put your mind off your troubles for now?" "That would be excellent." I pick up her right leg and took off her high heel. I started massaging her feet the real way someone would and after about 15 minutes I took her other foot and massaged that one also. "Oh my gosh that feels sooooo good" My teacher commented. "I'm glad I could help." It was now 4pm. I still had another hour to go.

The next thing my teacher said suprised me to the max. "My feet probably smell down there I am 

sooo sorry." she said. "No they don't they smell just fine." I tried to assure her. "If they don't smell 

then put both of my feet on your face and take a deep breath." I picked up her nyloned feet and put them on my face and they smelt awesome. I got a boner from smelling her feet and then my teacher said, "Well then if you like the smell that much I'll take off my nylons." I got even more excited. Once she took off her nylons I grabbed her feet and smelled them like there was no tomorrow. I got every part to. The sole, the heel, even between the toes, and the toes. I was having the best time ever smelling feet like these. Her feet was as good as my mistress's feet.

When it was 5pm I stopped smelling her feet and she said, "I'll see you next class." She gave me a little wink when she said that. So knowing I would get to sniff and hopefully lick her feet next time, I collected my belongings and then headed home where I could continue to serve my mistress.

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Love thy neighbors Feet

Sexually Explicit

Female Domination

Every day Jason watched from his window as she left for work. Jason was thrilled to see her in her waitress uniform. She wore a fluffy white blouse, black pants and the same white sneakers each day. She'd leave to work the brunch shift and work until after the dinner rush. Jason had her schedule down pat. He longed to get up the courage to talk to her. He'd lived across the street from her since she moved in six months ago. But his nerve never allowed it.

Jason was a widower now. His wife had suddenly passed a year ago. Since then he barely left the house. He loved his wife so.

Yet until this red haired woman, who he figured to be about 30 or so, rented the house across the street he just kept to himself. His only enjoyment was getting up early enough to peek at her through the window, and wait for her to come back at night. 

He often wondered how she did it. She lived alone and had rare visitors. She worked long hours and seemed tired; as she should after those long double shifts she worked. She was quiet and attractive. And somehow Jason wished he could get up the courage to finally meet her.

It must have been around noon when a knock came on his door. Jason peeked out the window and saw the mailman on his front step. He opened the door and received a package with the address of the red haired woman across the street. The mailman asked if Jason would give it to his neighbor, as he didn't want to leave it on her porch all day. Jason readily agreed and signed for the package. He went inside and studied the return address, which read, "Happy Feet Inc." This intrigued him greatly.

All through his marriage Jason had served has his wife's foot slave. He found her in collage and soon found himself completely under her feet as her personal slave. Many are the times his wife had him sniff and lick and suck her succulant toes. How often had Jason been made to lie under her chair and masturbate as his wife used his face for a resting place.   It was his life to serve his wife this way. He kept her toenails painted with fresh pedicures weekly. He bought her shoes and always kept them in proper order and well shined. Usually he'd accomplish the shining with his tongue while on his knees before her. 

Jason's wife was not into feet at all when they met. He had to convince her to allow him to be her foot slave. His former wife at first would have none of it. This made Jason want her all the more as to him, she had the perfect feet. They were very shapely with high arches. Size 6 and a half, with perfectly stair stepped toes. When they first met, she'd never paint her nails. Hell she'd never thought of it. Also even in the summer she'd hardly wear shoes that revealed her beautiful feet.

Actually it was after a night of dancing back in her dorm room that Jason first got a good look at them. She had brought him up to her room and after fixing them a drink, she went into the bathroom and came out in a baggy pair of pants, a loose sweatshirt, and barefoot. At first sight of those feet Jason was hooked. It became his mission to be at them any time he could.  Of course he immediately offered to give her a foot rub stating how they must be tired after dancing all night. She refused.

Undaunted Jason kept at her often.

Each time they would make love, he made sure to pay particular attention to her feet. A small kiss here, a touch there but seemingly his wife never took the hints.  It was after a few years of their marriage that she had a talk with one of her friends who set her straight. Once she understood what his infatuation with feet was all about for the remainder of their twenty-year marriage, she tortured and pleased him with her feet. Jason became her total slave and he loved it. In all of his endeavors to keep the foot love alive, he'd often purchased items from the company called "Happy Feet." 

Standing there in his living room, holding a box from this well familiar company for the red haired waitress who lived across the street brought new courage, and an instant hard on to the lonely widower. It was nearly seven p.m. when her car pulled into the driveway. Jason was, as usual standing guard at his post near the window. He watched as her brake lights turned off, knowing that her foot had just left the pedal. Then he saw her door open and waited as she gathered her purse, then swung that lovely white sneaker to the ground, soon followed by the other one. His eyes followed each step as she gingerly walked up the steps to her door and went in. He looked at the box on the table then sighed and looked up through a hole in the ceiling toward Heaven. With a small tear in his eye he whispered out loud, "You said you'd have feet in my face all my life darling, perhaps now you've fulfilled that promise."

Feeling thus assured, Jason gathered up the box and headed toward the red haired woman's house. Upon hearing the soft knocking on her door, the woman opened it. She was still dressed from work, shoes and all, he noticed.  "Hello, can I help you?" she questioned. Jason was astonished to be this close to her. She stood only five foot two, had shoulder length red hair, which he'd usually only seen tied up in a bun. He stammered out his name and held the box in shaky hands to her. She blushed and asked if he could bring the box inside, as if she was too embarrassed to touch it herself.

Jason followed and was led to her living room. "It came today Ms Wells," Jason said after reading her name from the address then continued, "the mailman didn't want to just leave it on the porch and asked if I'd give it to you."

His speech stammered but he kept his eyes lowered as he spoke. "That's very kind of you Sir, thank you," she said not having the knowledge of his name.

Jason felt awkward being much older than her and said, "Oh that's no problem Ms Wells," as he placed the box on the floor beside her feet. "Please," she smiled, "call me Trudy, Ms Wells was my mother." 

She laughed softly as she spoke putting him quite at ease. Then she surprised him by asking, "Won't you sit down I just put on some tea, join me for a cup Sir."  

Jason felt more at ease and said, "Well yes Miss, but only if you call me Jason. I'm already old enough and you calling me Sir and all, well…." She looked him in the face and smiled, "Jason it is then. Please have a seat." Then she departed towards the kitchen, returning with a tray full of the hot tea and some mint cookies. Trudy found it a bit odd to find Jason sitting on the ottoman at the end of the couch rather than a chair but thought little of it as she said facing him. 

She poured them both the tea and sat back trying to avoid staring at the box. As they sipped and got to know each other a bit Jason kept his eyes constantly glued to her sneakers. Trudy kept, quite unknowingly, or so it seemed, rotating her ankles. Every once in a while she would snap her foot downward and make a popping sound from her anklebones. Once while doing this it popped quite loudly and she saw his head snap back. This alerted her that he was paying quite a bit of attention to her feet. Then she blushed again and looked at the box beside him. "Damn," she cussed, "I didn't mean to startle you Jason but my feet and ankles hurt from my long days at work."

Jason turned his head away from her feet and stated that he knew that being a waitress must be hard on her feet. "You can't begin to imagine how hard it is Jason," she moaned. "This is why I decided to try this stuff in that box. I'd give anything to find some relief," then she laughed not wanting to sound whiney to her neighbor. Jason felt as if his deceased wife was encouraging him. He looked at the box and a thought just "came to him" as he said, "Well Miss Trudy, my wife, God rest her soul, used to purchase from this very same company. She found their products to be quite helpful on her feet." 

He could not believe he'd had courage enough to initiate a conversation about feet to this young woman. However, having started it he continued. "In fact Miss, I'd often produce great sighs of relaxation from her as I applied some of their lotions and gadgets on her aching, swollen feet. In time I became quite good at it. At least she seemed to enjoy my meager attempts to comfort her.  Trudy was now quite intrigued. She didn't know this older gent was widowed, not did she think anyone other than her would be familiar with "Happy Feet." Also she was beginning to feel that she might just have found someone to pamper her feet. 

rudy was by no means a foot virgin. She wore a size five shoe and has had many a customer compliment her on the smallness of them. Hell she'd gotten lots of tips from a few regulars who she'd meet in the back room and allow to play with her feet. Men are so easy when it comes to feet. She was not above watching a man crawl to her and serve her at her feet either. She knew full well what "Happy Feet" as all about. She bought the stuff to ensure her feet stayed soft and sexy for the stupid men who would fall at them. The out of state businessmen who came in twice a month. 

It sure wasn't just for the fucking ham on rye! Those truckers who'd have to park their rigs two blocks away, well it was a lot more than the meat loaf and gravy they came for.  Trudy used her feet like the other girls who worked there used their big tits – to make money! It was all a game to her and she was no rookie either. She also liked how this stupid old man was "sneaking" peeks at her shoes. She saw him since he came in his eyes rarely left her feet. Now he's going to make this easy for her, but she would not do the same for him.

Sitting back deeply into the sofa Trudy said, "Your wife was one luck woman Jason. I'd love to have a husband who'd massage my feet for me," then she hooked him deeper adding, "but then he would have to have no sense of scent as my feet get awfully sweaty after working all day."  Trudy laughed to herself as she saw the old fools cock stir at that last remark. "Well Miss Trudy, to be sure some women's feet might give off a certain aroma but that's only if they are healthy Miss."  

"I don't know Jason," she coyed, "I must be pretty healthy then. I doubt that anyone could stand my feet for long without running for the hills." Trudy had to hold back her laughter seeing beads of sweat form on his forehead, and hearing the want in his voice. She crossed her legs right over left and rocked her foot close to his face without touching him.  

Jason was lost to her now. It had been so long since he'd even left his house. He had done nothing but masturbate to his foot fetish magazines since his wife passed. He had no hopes of ever finding another woman to replace his desires for feet. Yet know he was engaged in such a conversation with a woman, a younger woman at that, right across the street from him.  He watched as her sneaker passed back and forth under his nose, nearly touching him. Trudy was baiting the hook now. 

She kept her tease alive by cracking again and again the socket of her ankle. His eyes were focused on her bare ankle sticking out between the hem of her pants and the top of the shoe. Beads of sweat ran down his entire face. It was now just a matter of her reeling him in for she had him now, hook line and sinker.

"Jason," she asked with a soft sexy voice, "I know we've just met but since we are on the subject, and you do seem to be quite interested, would you think me odd if I asked you for a foot massage, so early in our new friendship?" Then she flashed such a baby girl smile down at him, it melted his heart away. If there was any resistance, which of course there wasn't, it vanished. She heard the only words she expected to hear, which was "Yes Miss."

Jason reached for and was granted her foot. He untied her sneaker slowly and grabbed the heel and tugged gently. With a popping sound her foot emerged. The room soon filled with the cheesy scent of her sweaty foot. His nostrils flared which Trudy noticed. She decided to toy with her new footboy. "Do they smell too strongly for you Jason?" she mused. "If so you can stop now. 

Perhaps I've asked too much of you already. Besides I haven't even showered or anything yet and I've been in those shoes all day without my socks. They must reek, I'm sorry. Let's just forget the whole thing."  This caused a pained expression to cross his face.

How could he ever get her to allow him to continue at such a lovely pair of feet? He thought then it came to him as he said, "No Miss Trudy. You have a rather distinct and appealing aroma to your foot Miss. In fact I rather find it quite pleasing if you don't mind me saying so." She smiled and said to herself "gotcha!"

"So you like the aroma of my little sweaty feet do you Jason?"

"Yes Miss I do. It smells quite nice to me."

"Then prove it or I'll snatch my foot away. Hold my sneaker to your face and let me hear you sniff my stinky foot scent deep into your lungs. Do this and you may continue." 

Her tone had become quite authoritative now. She was issuing the final test of his apparent servitude. If he did this, she knew she had him in the power of her feet.  Without comment he obeyed her. His face disappeared deeply into her well-worn sneaker. He held it firmly to his nose and mouth and she did indeed her the old man sniffing her stinky shoe. She laughed, out loud this time, so he could hear her. Then as he continued she said.

"From now on old man, you will daily pamper my feet just as you did your wife's all those years. You will be here at my fucking house each evening when I come home. You will serve my feet and the feet of who ever else I command you to foot slave, got it?"

Jason could hardly peel the inside of her shoe away from his face fast enough to say, "Yes Miss."

"Good boy" she said. "Now put down that damn shoe and lick my foot. I want your slave tongue to bath and sooth it for me."  Jason held her tiny foot to his mouth and began at her heel. His lips puckered as he planted the first loving kiss on a foot since doing so to his wife.  He sucked on her heel and lapped, as it rested inside is teeth. His nose was pressed against her sole. The warm stickiness of it held fast to him. He loved the scent of her tiny foot. His cock grew inside his pants to a girth not long remembered. His tongue trailed to her high proud arch. He licked her sole not up and down, rather from side to side following along each wrinkle.

He let none of her sweat escape his ravishing tongue. She cooed and sunk deeper into the sofa enjoying her newfound slave. Then she gasped for air as his tongue licked the valley between her big toe and the next one. Rather than sucking her toes first, like most men did, Jason went for the tiny morsels of sweat and jam she'd created. This was most interesting to her. "Gather some of my toe jam on your bitchboy tongue and show it to me before you swallow it," she commanded. Jason complied and showed her a tiny speck of her sweat on the tip of his tongue. "Now swallow boy," she snapped, and his tongue snaked into his mouth and his Adams apple bobbed to her command.

After nearly two hours Trudy snatched her foot away from Jason and landed it directly on his swollen cock and said, "I have two feet don't I asshole?" She lifted her still shod foot in the air and said, "Now prepare for a long night of orally pampering my sweaty feet slave." Just before she drifted off to sleep she heard, "Yes Miss," and again felt his tongue do her bidding.

by Stryker

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Foot fetish anonymous

Dr.Anna Scruncher,after regarding me from across her desk for long moments,finally stopped twiddling the pen in her fingers,put it down,and said to me,”I have taken your psychological assessments as far as I can,for the moment.It is now time for you to engage in some group therapy,with people of similar disposition as yourself,who are in the various stages of rehabilitation.Dr.Olga Stern is in charge of these therapy sessions,and you are to report to her at 3.pm. tomorrow (Friday) .I will send for you again,after I have seen her preliminary report.You may go now”,she said,in dismissal.”Thankyou Doctor”,I said,in a cracked voice.I was extremely uncomfortable in the presence of Dr.Scruncher.When she looked into my eyes,it was easy to believe that she was reading my thoughts,as easily as she might read the pages of her favourite magazine.I had been reporting to her for clinical assessment,once a week,for the past month.and I knew that the group therapy class was in the same building,and took place weekly,on Fridays.

2 weeks and 1 day later,the day arrived for my 3rd visit to the group therapy class.On my previous 2 attendances to the session,I had not been expected or asked to say anything.Just to take part by listening to the contributions of the other patients.Now,however,after having settled ourselves,Dr.Olga Stern,and the other 3 men and 4 women who made up our therapy group,looked at me expectantly,and made small gestures of encouragement.A full minute passed,before I finally managed to break from their mesmeric gazes,and was able to say,”my name is david”.Long seconds elapsed,and with the help of the urging,encouraging faces conveying to me their empathy,I struggled,but managed at last,to get out,”and,I have a foot fetish”.

At this admission,they all smiled their congratulations,and broke out in spontaneous applause,as they knew that I had made my my first step,towards rehabilitation.I was not expected to contribute further,that afternoon,just to,as previously,listen to the stories and experiences of the other patients,which would form the basis of Dr.Stern’s clinical assessments on them.Dr.Stern told me,however,that I was to report to Dr.Scruncher on Thursday,and that the therapy group would all be looking forward to my first contribution,next Friday.

Thursday came,and as instructed by Dr.Olga Stern,I reported to the office of Dr.Anna Scruncher.As usual,the moment I sat opposite Dr.Scruncher,my pulse began to quicken.She is a staggeringly beautiful woman.Although she wore sober office clothes,and wore her hair high upon her head,this did nothing to lessen my appreciation of her dazzling beauty.On the contrary,in fact.With her blonde hair piled on top of her lovely head,it only served to reveal her neck,and her small ears,to me,perfectly formed.And there was not a lot she could do,to hide the promise of her busom.However,these wonderful delights,while extremely pleasing to the eye,were not what sent my heart rate into overdrive.What pushed me over the edge,was what was going on under her desk,under her chair.For,Dr.Scruncher was aptly named.She drove me crazy.Every time I sneaked a peek under her desk,when her attention was on my assessment forms,her beautiful feet were playing the most exciting and playful games,with her pumps.She was like a dietitian,tempting her slimmers with hamburgers,pies,sweets,and other highly calorific fare,while,at the same time,exhorting them to control their cravings,and lose weight.”Well,David”,said Dr.Scruncher,her blue eyes sparkling,and it was difficult not to believe that she was teasing me to distraction on purpose,for,although I looked at her face,I could still hear,but I could not ignore,the exciting sound of her feet,manipulating her shoes,and I was distraught,because I could not sit behind her,and watch her amazing floor show,from my favourite angle of view.

“I am pleased with you”,she said.Not as pleased as I am with you!,I thought.”Try and relax,David”,she said,soothingly,and the familiar thrill went through me,when she spoke my name.I think she mistook my excitement for nervousness,a fear of doctors and hospitals,or,’white coat syndrome’.Stealing another quick glance under her desk,and seeing her feet,free of her shoes,and crossed at the ankles,I wished that I could “relax”,right under those sexy,restless feet of hers.She went on,”Dr.Stern is pleased that you have finally come to terms with the fact,that you have a problem,and that you have now openly recognised that fact. She is confident now,of still further progress tomorrow,when you make your first contribution,to the therapy group.” “I shall try not to disappoint her,doctor”,I replied.”I will await with interest,Dr.Stern’s next report.You may go,David”,she said,in dismissal.”Thankyou,Dr.Scruncher”,I said,and my tongue savoured her name,as it longed to savour her beautiful,active feet.

The next day,Friday,I was the first patient to arrive at the therapy group class.,and Dr.Olga Stern was already there,setting up a projection screen.I was about to say hello,when,Dr.Stern,reaching up to undo the screen cover,and standing on tiptoe,gave me a tremendously exciting view of her heels,and,as she reached higher,most of the rest of the soles of her very attractive feet.I was about to knock on the door,when a hand on my shoulder stopped me.It was Jimmy,and it was apparent that he had been enjoying the sight of Dr.Olga’s bare feet,as I had been.Jimmy’s ‘thing’,was enjoying his favourite tipples,usually beer,or wine,from the shoes of his girlfriend.Jimmy’s enrolment to the therapy group was actually at the insistence of his girlfriend,as she was getting fed up of him ruining her shoes.Now,another hand squeezed my shoulder.It was Sammy.Sammy’s ‘thing’,was other girl’s feet,which she was crazy about.She also,was enjoying our naughty peep show.Her eyes were glued to Dr.Olga’s pretty,bare feet,as she stood on tiptoe in her mules,and finally managed to free the projection screen cover,ready for the class after ours.I had the presence of mind to knock,before she turned around,and caught us admiring her best ‘feetures’.

”Ah!”,she said,pleased that we were early.Within a few minutes,all the members of the group were seated in a semi circle,with Dr.Olga facing us.Jimmy sat on one side of me,Sammy on the other,with the other members of the group extending out from them.Then,Dr.Olga Stern said,”David,you have taken your first step on the road to rehabilitation.It is now time to take the next.Would you relate to the group,a profound experience,that has left it’s mark on you?” I looked to my left,at Jimmy,who nodded.I looked to my right,at Sammy,who smiled her encouragement,and,reaching over,gripped my hand for a moment,and it was she who commanded me,”tell us,david!”.Over the previous weeks,I had steadily,and surely,fallen under the spell of Sammy,and I now resolved to tell her,and the rest of the therapy group,my closest,and most cherished secret.

“Dr.Olga”,I began,diffidently,and nervously.”I have this story,to tell the group.When I was about 21,I was working as a luggage porter in a holiday resort hotel.Most of the staff had ‘live in’ accommodation at the hotel we worked in.It was hard work,but,it being a holiday environment,with it’s laid back,relaxed atmosphere,working there was not the same drudge like existence as being employed in a dreary warehouse,or monotonous production line in some soulless,dingy factory.I am a shy person,and I am always backwards in coming forwards,where the girls are concerned,and one day,when one of the waitresses at the hotel where I worked,Dawn,while discussing the male staff with the other waitresses right in front of me,having eased off a shoe,to flex and scrunch the toes of an aching foot,and looking me straight in the face,and seeing me watch her do this,(and not for the first time,either),she said to the other girls,”David is quiet”.I did not understand what she meant,until years later,but it was perfectly clear to her friends;if you are looking for some real man action,there is no point looking at David. Did she intuit that submissiveness,and servility were inherent to my nature?Did she know that I longed to serve them,and their tired,hard working feet?If so,why did she not command me to serve them,when in the certain knowledge that I was not just ready and willing to obey their commands,but was desperate to?Desperate to massage and pamper their needful,deserving feet.And,to those who would demand it of me,to worship their feet,with heartfelt devotion..Why did not they make good and proper use of me?Why did they not make it my sacred duty,to become their foot servant?Oh!,if only,if only. They had a need,and I had a need,to satisfy that need.

At the hotel,in our off duty hours,we sometimes played table tennis,which I enjoyed very much.I worked a lot of 8-11, 6-11, split duties,and,it was coming back to the staff quarters after one of these morning duties,that I came upon a game in progress. Jane,one of the very attractive waitresses,was playing some one I had not seen before.It was a young Malaysian waiter,who had just started work at the hotel.I watched Jane,enjoying the aggressive movements of her lithe,voluptuous little body,her sexy feet flashing at me,as she went for her winning shots.Then they switched ends,and I found myself standing behind not Jane,but the Malaysian waiter,and I thought about standing behind Jane again,but I did not want to draw attention to myself,by making myself so obvious.So I stayed put.However,before long,I found that I could not divert my attention from his flip flopped feet.I found myself entranced,watching the way his feet moved,in his flip flops,as he played Jane,who I had almost forgotten existed,so focussed was I,upon his feet.I loved his bronzed skin tone,and his legs,I noticed,were more shapely than those of many of the girls.It was a physical effort for me,to look away from those golden feet.That’s a guy,you are looking at,I admonished myself,severely.He won his game against Jane,whom he had already become great friends with,as it seemed he was already very popular,and made friends very easily.I had just returned from getting changed into my shorts,and,having just beaten Jane again,he turned to me,smiling,and said,”fancy a game,David?”.Wondering how he knew my name,I said,”sure.ok”.We went on to enjoy several very close games,before it was time to get showered,before reporting to the hotel for our evening duties.

The following day,I was in my room,when there was a knock at the door.It was Jane,and I was delighted when she asked me if she could come into my room to watch a T.V. show.Of course,this was more to do with the fact that I was the only member of staff in our accommodations who had a T.V. set,rather than any interest,other than as a friend,that she had in me.Nevertheless,of course,I more than readily agreed to her request,as it meant that I could enjoy Jane’s wonderful company.But,and to my initial annoyance,she was in the company of the Malaysian waiter,and before I could say anything,he smiled at me,as Jane led him past me,and into my room.Jane grabbed a couple of spare pillows from a cupboard for them to sit on,and watch T.V. The T.V. though,did not hold their attention for long,and I could not concentrate on it either,for they were having a playful ‘battle’,with their bare feet,and when suddenly,they placed the soles of their feet together,I thought I must faint,at the exciting,magnificent sight of it,and I longed to put my face between their golden bare feet.They stayed like that,for long,delicious moments,pushing and pressing,testing each others strength,and,I imagined,enjoying the exquisite sensations,of the other’s bare feet,pressed against their own.All too soon,the ‘battle’ was over,a truce called.They bid me good night,and I was left alone,tormented by those lingering images.Then,I was struck with a painful pang of jealousy,as I heard the door to Jane’s room,which was above mine,close,and the sounds of laughter,and happy conversation between Jane,and the Malaysian waiter,drifted down to me from above. That night,sleep was a long time in coming,as I thought I heard my name mentioned,several times.

The following day was my day off,but,the weather being poor,I was in my room,reading,when there was a knock at my door.Thinking,and hoping that it would be one or more of the waitresses and chambermaids wanting to watch T.V.(that T.V. was worth every penny I paid for it!),and being far from averse to this,I quickly got up,and opened the door. But,who should be standing there,in his inevitable flip flops,but the Malaysian waiter. “Hi,David”,he said.”Jane told me it’s your day off.It’s my day off,too,and I wondered if you would like some company? I thought maybe we could watch T.V. Or something”.Shrugging off my disappointment that it was not,after all,any of the girls,I said,”why not?,come on in.” After putting the kettle on to make us some coffee,I turned around,to find that he had taken my place,and made himself comfortable at the head of the bed.Bloody cheek!,I thought,but said nothing,and,grabbing a spare pillow,I made myself comfortable leaning against the wall,further down the bed.Drinking our coffee,and talking,I found that I enjoyed his company,as he talked of his life back in Malaysia.After we had finished our coffee,I put the T.V. on,and we settled down to watch it.I did not notice,when he slipped off his flip flops,and stretched his legs out towards me,on the bed.The first I knew of this,was when I felt his bare foot,on the side of my face.The ball of his foot,and his toes,pressing my cheek.I cannot describe the feeling of intense shock,that I felt.My first instinct,was to grab hold of that offending foot,and angrily cast it from me.How dare he! How dare he,place his foot,plant his foot,his MALE foot,on my face,like a comfortable,favourite resting place? But,I did not act on that instinct,finding,incredibly, that I was being governed by a far more potent imperative.And I knew instinctively,that to throw that foot from me,would be to throw away one of the most intensely charged experiences of my life,as I was caught,ensnared,in the vice like grip of a mind shattering excitement,and of a fearful and dangerous,but exquisite,anticipation.So,instead of casting his foot from my face,I did nothing,but to thrill,to the sensation of his foot,and it’s gentle pressure,on my cheek.It felt as though a mild electric current was being transmitted from his foot,to my face,and I did not,could not,move.Neither of us said a word,for what seemed to me,many minutes,such was the tension.Eventually,I turned my face towards his face.And his foot.At such close range,I had no defence.Amazed,enthralled,enraptured by such beauty,and quite beyond control now,I stepped into the abyss,and there was no turning back.As his eyes held mine,and would not let go,I kissed his foot tenderly,passionately.Then,insanely,for this was surely some kind of madness.The feel of his foot on my lips,on my face,all consuming.After a while,he told me to lie down on the floor,and I obeyed him.He then sat on the edge of my bed,and placed both of his feet on my face.I could not believe this was happening to me.I never knew such pleasure,such wonder,before,and I seethed,with the emotions that I never suspected existed. Those toes! Those heels! Those soles! The sight! The feel! The smell! The taste! And it did not matter to me then,that it was a man,who had conquered me,so emphatically.All that mattered,was that I be allowed to worship those beautiful,captivating feet.And to be captured,by them.

Much later,it could have been hours later,I don’t know,such was my overwhelming desire for those feet,we both lay back on the pillows.In some distress,I was still trying,and failing,to come to terms with the fact,that I had been so totally,and utterly ‘mastered’.By a man.And that was it exactly,I now realised.This Malaysian waiter could become my Master,should he wish to rule over me.I would not have believed this possible.But it had happened! And the clock could not be turned back.But,I realised,I did not want to turn back the clock,and though I was ready to beg to become his foot slave,that was not necessary.

For,now we talked,and he told me he was gay,and that he thought that I was,too,having sensed an interest from me.I told him that I was not.I asked him if he had realised that I had a ‘thing’,for feet,when he and Jane had been putting on such a splendid show for me,and had he come to my room with the intention of ‘seducing’ me,with his feet.? He said it was obvious to him that I liked girls feet,but that he was far from sure that I would like his feet,him being a man.”Well,you know now,don’t you?”,I told him.He said,”what happens now,then,David?”.”I don’t know”,I said.”I am not gay,and it is not fair that only one person gets something out of a ‘relationship’,is it?”.”But I enjoyed it too,David.I loved the way you made my feet feel,the way you made me feel,knowing I was giving you so much pleasure,and knowing that I have this incredible power,over you”.I smiled at him.”You are just saying that”,I said.What I read,in his hurt expression,proved beyond any doubt in my mind,that what he said to me was true.That,he did love having me at his feet,watching the awe in my face,as I worshipped them. I smiled my apology at him,”I am sorry,I do believe you,and it means more than I can say,to know that you enjoy it too.But,that is not enough.You are giving me everything I need,what I crave most,while you yourself are left unfulfilled.” After a moment he replied,”you can make it up to me,David”.”How?”,I asked.”If I respect that you are not gay,can I sleep with you in your bed,so that I am close to you in the night,and so I am not lonely?”.I was more than a little shocked,at his proposal,and,sensing my discomfiture,he repeated,”I will respect that you are not gay,David.I promise”.Unable to speak,I nodded my agreement.He shared my bed that night,and for the rest of that Summer season.It was a small bed,but I did not find the experience unpleasant,and thought it a small price to pay.Oh!,what it was to worship those feet,after his long,tiring evening shift in the hotel restaurant.I was in heaven,and so was he.Just before sleep,he would lie on his stomach,with his fabulous golden feet dangling over the edge of the bed,and I would never tire,could never seem to get enough of,kissing and licking those objects of my all consuming desire.This need,that could not be denied.And his moans of pleasure,was the music that I longed to hear,for I knew that I was giving,as well as receiving.His delicious,golden feet became my drug,and the more I got of them,the more I needed them.I was hooked.By a man! I could still hardly believe it,but there could be no denying it,and I asked myself,is it really so wrong?

Finally,at the end of that momentous Summer,sadly,we said our goodbyes,and he returned to Malaysia,and that was the last that I saw of him,and his wonderful feet.I just hope that when he looks back on that golden Summer,that he remembers it with memories that are as happy,and filled with wonder,as mine are. And that,Dr. Olga,is my story”.Dr.Olga,and the members of the therapy group,had not said a word,during my recital,and they all regarded me silently,each with their own thoughts.Sammy was first to react.She held my hand,and looked into my eyes,a deep understanding there,and remained silent.Jimmy also stayed quiet,but nodded his encouragement to me. Then,after a little trouble clearing her throat,Dr.Olga said,”thankyou,David,I think that is a most satisfactory conclusion,to todays therapy session”.

I attended the group therapy sessions for another month,making several more contributions.By the end of that period though,Dr.Olga Stern’s attitude towards me,had altered drastically.”David”,she now began,sternly (it seemed that she,too,was aptly named),”I am loath to use the word ‘incurable’,but,I fear I may have to make an exception,with you.I have now no option,but to recommend your discontinuance,from my group therapy sessions.You are a disruptive influence,and are having a negative effect on the other members of the group,and have already caused serious setbacks to the progress that some of them have strived so hard to achieve.I will make a full report to that effect,and Dr.Scruncher will take over your case from here.You are to report to her next Thursday”.

Upon leaving Dr.Olga’s therapy class for the last time,Sammy,whom I had told all about Dr.Anna Scruncher,accosted me,and said,”David,would you like me to come with you,next Thursday,when you report to Dr.Scruncher?”,offering me her moral support,or so I thought,then.”Oh,yes Sammy,thankyou.I would appreciate that very much”,and I was overjoyed,that I would be in the lovely sammy’s company.

The following Thursday,accompanied by Sammy,it was with some trepidation that I knocked on the office door,of Dr.Anna Scruncher.Knowing it was me,she called,”come in,David”.When we entered,I said,”this is Sammy,doctor,my friend from the therapy group.I’d like her to sit in with me,today”.Rising from her seat,Dr.Scruncher said,”David,I am sorry,but I cannot allow it,these assessments are strictly confidential”.”But,I know it can only be bad news that you have for me today,Doctor.I need Sammy’s moral support.Please ,allow her to stay”,I pleaded..Before Dr.Scruncher could reply,Sammy picked up a spare seat,and,saying to Dr.Scruncher,”I’ll stay out of the way,Doctor,you won’t even know I’m here”,she went and placed her chair directly behind Dr.Scruncher’s seat,about 5 or 6 feet back,and,with a mild shock,the real reason for Sammy being here today,dawned on me.Dr.Scruncher said,”well,it is highly irregular,but,in the circumstances,very well,then.” Dr.Scruncher then began,”I have here,in front of me,Dr.Stern’s latest report on you,David,and,I am afraid,that it does not make for very good reading”.It was not long,as I knew it would’nt be,before I heard the familiar,exciting whisper and rustle under the desk,as Dr.Anna Scruncher unconsciously slipped out of her shoes,and began to play her unknowable feet games.(Unknowable to me,but not to Sammy).Sammy’s face had gone very still,and her body had gone rigid,and I was in no doubt,as to the focus of her concentration.The sexy music of Dr.Anna’s shoeplay,was a perfect accompaniment to her sweet voice,as she went on,”the only option left open to you now,David”,she said,with a fresh burst of secret activity under her desk,(secret to me,that is,but not to Sammy),as though she relished imparting such bad news to her patients,”is hypnosis”.But,Sammy was no longer listening.Her eyes were bulging out of her head with shock and disbelief,like a cod,still surprised at being caught.As Dr. Scruncher said this,her whole body was moving,rocking slightly,which indicated a frenzy of movement of her feet.Looking to see Sammy’s reaction to this,I found that her face had vanished from view.At that moment,a very curious expression came over Dr.Anna’s features,and,for long moments,she became very still,and looked straight at me,but she was’nt seeing me.After what seemed like many minutes,Dr.Scruncher looked down,and behind her,and so did I.And,what a sight it was! Sammy,on the floor,had the whole of one of Dr.Scruncher’s bare heels in her mouth,and was sucking on it,in sheer ecstasy.Stunned into immobility,Dr.Scruncher could do nothing about this,for long moments,but to just behold the incredible sight.When eventually she did try to extricate her heel from Sammy’s hungry mouth,Sammy fiercely gripped Dr.Anna’s ankle,to prevent her.Dr’Scruncher then reached down with her hand,and with great effort,she managed to pry her heel out of Sammy’s mouth.”Well!”,exclaimed Dr.Scruncher,who had broken out in perspiration,from the strain of freeing her heel from Sammy’s greedy mouth.Sitting down again,she said,”I have never known such”,and that was as far as she got,for Sammy had pounced,and was again devouring her heel.Now,beyond control myself,I joined Sammy at Dr.Scruncher’s beautiful feet,and taking the whole of her other heel in my mouth,Sammy and I looked into each other’s eyes,joined,in our ‘brotherhood’.I had not felt such a powerful compulsion to worship feet,since my Summer with the Malaysian waiter.

This,also,was a need that could not be denied,and my worship of Dr.Anna’s foot,was fevered,and frenetic,and I surrendered,abandoning myself to the fantasies I had about her,without a thought to any possible dire consequences.I licked the sole of her foot,licked between her sweet toes,sucked them one by one,then filled my mouth with them.And all the while,Sammy mirrored my depraved actions.At first,when Dr.Scruncher made not the slightest effort to free herself from us,and did not speak,I thought she must be using this experience as a part of her clinical analysis.But,after 10-15 minutes,I began to suspect another reason,and I lavished her foot with long,deep,adoring kisses,as did Sammy.Eventually,in a breathy,husky voice,Dr.Scruncher said,”do I need to call security,now,or will you resume your seats again,facing me?”.Sammy and I both obeyed Dr. Scruncher,immediately.After contemplating us both for two full minutes,she said,”well,I think it’s back to the drawing board,for you two”,and dismissed us both.Outside Dr.Scruncher’s office,Sammy informed me,”I will not undergo hypnosis,David”.”Neither will I,Sammy”,I assured her.She looked at me thoughtfully,for a few moments,then said,”you know that my foot fetish preference is for girls,don’t you,David?”.”Yes,Sammy”,I replied.Sammy then continued,”for some time now,David,I have been looking out for a suitable footboy.He would have to be compliant,totally submissive,servile,and he would have to obey me,in all matters.His purpose in life,would be to serve me and please me.His place,would be at my feet,there to cater for my every whim.

His life,would belong to me,to rule and to dominate.In short,he would be my devoted slave”.Then,looking into my eyes,Sammy asked me,”are you that footboy,David?”.So that there could be no mistaking my reply,I got to my knees in front of her,and pressed my lips to the tops of her toes of one foot,and then again,to her other foot.Then I said to her,still kneeling,”I am your footboy,Miss Sammy”.”Get up,david”,she ordered,”and come with me”.Miss Sammy knocked on the door to Dr.Scruncher’s office,and,upon being told to enter,Dr.Scruncher’s face registered it’s surprise at seeing us,and she quickly slipped her feet back into her shoes.”Oh!”,she began,”I have here your appointment forms,for your first hypnosis therapy sessions.As you are here,you may have them now”.At this,Miss Sammy stepped up to Dr.Scruncher’s desk,and informed her,”david and I are discharging ourselves from the therapy clinic,Doctor”.”I strongly urge you to reconsider”,advised Dr.Scruncher.”You are clearly not in a fit state to be released into normal society”.Miss Sammy did not reply to this,but instead turned to me,and commanded,”come,david”,and we left her office.In the corridor,Miss Sammy ordered,”on your knees,david”.When I complied,she ordered,”kiss my toes again,david”.I obeyed my Mistress,and did not remove my lips from her toes,until she said,”kiss my heels now,david”.When I had taken up the position she had instructed,she looked behind and down at me,and,elevating her heel just enough to allow access to the bottom of her heel,but so that I still had to grovel,it was just then,that Dr.Anna Scruncher stepped out of her office,and froze in her tracks,as she beheld the unlikely tableau before her.Not missing a beat,Miss Sammy said,”I promise you,david,today is a day you will remember for the rest of your life.You have given yourself completely into my service,and that will not go unrewarded.My girlfriend is waiting in my apartment for us,and I am still bubbling over with excitement,and desire,after what happened with Dr.Anna”.”So am I,Mistress”,I replied.To Dr.Scruncher,Miss Sammy said,”thankyou,Doctor,for all that you have done for myself,and david”,and the double meaning,was evident in her voice,Still struck dumb,Dr.Scruncher could only watch,as Miss Sammy ordered me,”you may get up now,david,you have a very busy evening ahead of you”.

When we got to her apartment,Miss Sammy’s girlfriend let us in,and I recognised her as one of the girls from the therapy group.”This is Miss Sadie,david.Sadie,this is david,my footboy”,said Miss Sammy,by way of introduction.Miss Sadie beamed a wonderful smile of pure delight.Then,Miss Sammy commanded me,”lie on the floor,there,david,on your back”.And so,I lay along the length of the sofa.Then,slipping off their shoes,my two new Mistresses stepped onto my stomach,then stepped onto my face,their final ‘stepping stone’,to the sofa.Then,settling themselves comfortably,they both placed their bare feet on my face,and Miss Sammy commanded me,”kiss our feet,david”.As i obeyed,they sighed,with their sense of well being,and with the sheer pleasure of having me so totally in their power,and,between their passionate kisses,they dipped their toes into my mouth,for me to suck,and they leisurely discussed the many ways,that I could serve them.

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