Two Rich Women

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction by the author and written solely for enjoyment.

Contains: Foot slavery, lesbian, food play

Two Rich Women: Part 1

The elegant clock on the wall of the 3rd Street Cafe read noon, as two beautiful women, Heather and Diane, sat sipping their cappuccinos. They are both in their early thirties, and dressed somewhat athletically, having just finished playing tennis at the country club. Heather, who is the older of the two (but just slightly), is a stunning woman with dark hair, very close to six feet tall. Diane, stunning and tall in her own right, was a brunette. Both women have the physiques of goddesses. The two women are sipping their drinks, having a few laughs, when the waitress walks up to their table. She asks the ladies if they require anything else at the present time. Diane politely responds in the negative, while genuinely smiling at the woman. Heather smiles at the waitress as well; but a little more devilishly. As the waitress walks away, Heather continues to look at her, grinning. Diane sees this and asks her friend her reasons for still staring at the waitress.

Heather snaps out of it, and looks at Diane. "Hey Di, wanna have some fun?" said Heather as she picked up the drink and put it to her smiling lips.

Diane knew that those six words have spelled trouble for many a person in the past. She and Heather have been friends since college, and she knew Heather pretty well. She knew that she had a plan in mind to start some mischief.

"Okay Heather, what are you up to now?" Diane asked, somewhat worried. She started to feel bad; for whom, she was not sure. But someone was going to get it.

The waitress was making her rounds again, and was soon going to be near their table. Since the two women were sitting across from each other, Diane had her back to the waitress, and did not see her approaching. "Watch this," said Heather, as she grinned deviously.

The waitress got within feet of their table. Suddenly, Heather's grin turned to a look of frustrated worry, and she let out a loud "Damn it!" as she began to look to the floor near her and Diane's table. This caught the waitress by surprise, who at first thought the loud remark was directed at her. Other people in the cafe, which was not too crowded, turned to look as well. She asked Heather what was matter, and if she could help. Diane was beginning to wonder at this point what was up as well.

"I dropped my lousy contact lens on the floor somewhere under our table. I just can't find it." Heather said this while still staring at the floor. Diane had a confused look on her face.

"Heather, you don't even wear gl..." Diane started to say, until Heather stopped her cold, with a piercing stare (and a slight grin). Diane just shook her head at her friend. She knew that it was best to let Heather's gag run it's course.

Now she knew whom she was feeling sorry for. The waitress started looking at the floor as well. She was not carrying anything, so her hands were free. She bent over slightly, placing her hands on her knees, and said to Heather "I'll help you look a bit, maam."

Then strangely, as soon as she said this, Heather stopped looking for the contact lens on the floor, and began to focus her attention on her instead. She crossed her legs, left over right. Her white tennis shoes slowly swung back and forth. She spoke to the waitress, who was focusing on the floor and not her. "Could you look REAL close. It might have even rolled under the table..."

She at first looked at Heather, then around the cafe. No one was really looking at this scene anymore. She seemed apprehensive to have to get on her hands and knees to search for this woman's lens. Heather stared right back at her, "I would really appreciate it."

Hesitantly, she simply responded "Sure. No problem, maam." She proceeded to get down on her hands and knees in front of the table of the two women. She looked for about a minute all around the floor, near the tennis-shoed feet of these two athletic, rich women. All the while Heather simply stared at her, grinning, as the waitress looked for her contact lens. The waitress did not see this: all she saw was Heather's dangling tennis shoe coming within inches of her face as she searched. Heather picked up her glass, and sipped her drink. Here she was, sipping cappuccino, casually crossing her legs, as the waitress was on her knees before her. It was an interesting sight. The waitress, still searching the floor, says "Maam, I don't think that I'm gonna find it..."

Heather quickly jumps in. "Could you look really close. Those things are clear and transparent, after all. You might have to check near the table leg. I'll move back a bit." She did move back, but hardly enough to help.

Nevertheless, eager to please the patron, the waitress remained on her knees, checking more. She ended up on her belly, searching for the clear contact lens. Thinking that it might blend in with the floor, she tried to put her head sideways and parallel to the floor, to try to notice any difference that might be the lens. As she did this, Heather enjoyed it more. Seeing her lying flat on the ground in front of her seemed so natural to her. Diane on the other hand, rolled her eyes. She tried to get Heather's attention to end this, but Heather grinned, and quickly waved her off. Heather was now moving her tennis shoes closer and closer to the waitress's head. At one point, she had her legs crossed, and her foot hanging over her head. Heather then spoke. "You know what? I bet that I stepped on it, and that darn thing is stuck to the bottom of my shoe."

When she spoke, the waitress looked up from the floor, and saw Heather's shoe close to her face. "Well, is the lens stuck to the bottom of my shoe?" Heather asked the waitress, who was still on her stomach in front of her. She then smugly, like he was some sort of non-human, placed her foot within a half-inch of the waitress's upturned face.

"Uh, uh, no maam. I, I don't see anything..." was all that she could stammer out.

She was shocked, and embarrassed, as all she could see was Heather's rubbery tennis shoe sole in her face. Then, to add to her humiliation, Heather placed her tennis shoe right on her face, and said, "Are you SURE. Take a closer look..."

The young girl was in such shock that she froze. Here she was in the middle of the cafe that she worked at every day, now suddenly on her stomach having a woman she did not even know, placing her tennis shoe on her face.

Diane had seen enough. "Heather, you're so silly. You didn't even bring your contacts today..." Diane said, looking at the waitress, then back to Heather. She tried to muster a strained smile, to try to ease the situation for the waitress.

"Heather. Hea-therrrr..." Diane said again to her friend, who was so into what she was doing, humiliating this girl, that she was almost in some kind of dominant trance. She moved her foot slowly from the waitress's face.

"Oh, oh my God. Di, you're so right" Heather then began to smile. She looked at Diane and winked; she then looked at the waitress, who had finally gotten up off of the floor, and was dusting herself off. She managed to let out a whisper of a "What?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Heather looked up at her, from her seated, cross-legged position, and sipped her drink. "Oops. Sorry." She said as she grinned devilishly at the waitress, who was more in shock than angry. She seemed lost and confused, until Heather simply dismissed her with a cold "That will be all..."

As the waitress left, Heather looked at Diane, who was already looking at her, shaking her head from side to side. "Heather, why do you do those things? You.." The ringing of the cell phone in her gym bag cuts Diane off.

She reaches in the bag, retrieves the phone, placing it to her ear. After a really brief phone conversation, she hangs up the phone, replacing it in her bag.

"What's up, Di?" Heather asked.

"That was my assistant. My pedicure has been cancelled for today. Guess I don't have to rush home and shower before my appointment" Diane says as she places her cell phone back into her purse.

"Oh, you could've just gone straight there. I'm sure that he wouldn't have minded a little feminine musk." Heather says, grinning at Diane. Both women laugh.

Diane scrounges up her face a bit though. "I'd at least have to wash my feet first, after our workout and all. I bet they STINK" Diane says, looking down at her tennis shoes. Her legs are crossed now.

Heather puts her cup down. She begins to lightly run her index finger over the rim, staring at it. Her legs also crossed, she grins evilly. "Since you're free now, why don't you come over to my place, and I'll have Marie tell you first hand."

"What are you talking about, Heather?" Diane asks. Heather looks up from her finger on the cup. "Marie, my maid, you know. I can have her get down and smell your feet, tell you if they're okay or not. Then next time you'll know if you have to rush home and bathe before going to the salon."

"Oh come on, Heather. You wouldn't do that?" Diane almost can't believe her ears. Heather grins. Diane speaks again - "Would you?"

Diane always knew that Heather had a dominant side. After all, it was her who made all of the pledges to their sorority bow down and kiss the feet of the sorority sisters back in college. And, she did just wipe the sole of the tennis shoe on the poor waitress's face not even 10 minutes ago. Although somewhat shocked, for some reason Diane was not surprised.

Heather spoke up. "Sure. I make her kneel and smell my feet all of the time now. And pretty much whatever else I want..."

"Heather, no. Please tell me you don't," says Diane, giving her a frown, albeit somewhat friendly.

"What?" is Heather's comeback, simply smiling.

"She's a servant. She's there to do what you order her to do." Diane still looks at her, slightly frowning, in that sort of shame-on-you manner.

"It's not like she's a slave. She does get paid..." Heather is very sure of herself, and her side of the argument.

Diane stares at her friend, still quiet. "So Diane. Are you coming over?" Heather asks devilishly.

Diane knows that if she goes over there, Heather will make a spectacle of and humiliate that poor girl just because she came over. "No. I think that today I am going to have to decline."

"Oh well," says Heather dejectedly, as she finishes up her drink and places her cup on the table. "I'm all done. Are you ready to hit the road?" Diane also finishes up her drink as well. She places her cup on the table as well, and starts to gather her belongings.

"Yeah. I'm ready to go." She reaches for her purse. "I'll cover the tip this time."

As she says this, she eyes the poor waitress on the other side of the room. She's going about her business, but it is obvious to Diane that Heather really intimidated and embarrassed her. She never came back to their table, either. Diane smiles at her as she leaves a crisp, twenty-dollar bill on the table for her. It's the least that she could have done for not stopping Heather sooner, before she had her on her belly before her, wiping her foot on her face in the center of the cafe. She nervously smiles back. "Yeah she got her good," thought Diane.

As they left the cafe, both of the beautiful women garnered much attention. They were both so beautiful and refined, the few men that were in the cafe stopped and stared. Heather, turning to see the waitress, gave her a wink as she grinned at her. She quickly turned away from her, and faced the floor. The valet soon drove up in Heather's shiny, silvery BMW Z3 roadster. She had driven the two of them to their tennis workout this time. Heather handed the more than pleased valet a twenty-dollar bill, and both women got into the sports car. Soon they were off. While they drove, Diane looked over some paperwork from her bag, and spoke to business associates on her cellular phone. At one point, Heather had to stop abruptly, forcing Diane to drop some of her papers on the floor by her feet. "Oops. Sorry, Di..." said Heather.

They continued their trip. A short time later, the BMW pulled into the huge circular driveway of Diane's estate. She gathered her bag, hugged Heather, and got out of the car. They wished each other well, and said that they would call each other later. Heather soon drove off; Diane entered her huge house, and threw her stuff on the floor near her couch. Later that day, as she was going through her paperwork, she realized that some very important documents weren't among them. She began to worry, and tried to remember where they could've been left. Then it hit her: they might have fallen in Heather's car, and she may have not picked them up. She called Heather. "Know what Di, I'm not sure. I'll have Marie go out to the car and check. Hold on."

Diane could hear as Heather put the phone receiver down, and ordered Marie out to the car. About a minute passed. "Yep, you sure did leave some paperwork on the floor of the car, Diane." Diane was relieved.

"Thank God. I need that paperwork for a case I'm working on. I'll be over later to get it. Thanks, Heather."

"No problem. We'll be waiting for you," said Heather.

Diane heard a faint giggle from Heather right before she hung up the phone, but really thought nothing of it at the time. She was so happy that she had found her documents. Later that day, around 5:30, Diane's Rolls Royce pulled up to Heather's estate. Since she was going to have dinner with some old friends in a couple of hours, Diane looked casually stunning. She wore an ankle-length dress, with some heeled, black mules. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she carried her handbag in her hand. She parked her car right behind Heather's BMW, and got out. She headed for the front door. After arriving at the front door she pushed the doorbell. A few seconds later, the huge door slowly opened. Marie, Heather's young maid, stood in the doorway to greet Diane. "Evening, Miss Diane. Miss Heather is expecting you. She's in the lounge."

Marie struggled to make eye contact with Diane, who smiled at her and said, "Hello there, Marie. It's good to see you again."

Marie offered a simple "Yes, maam," in reply, and showed her in.

Diane thought this to be odd, as she had visited Heather many times, and seen Marie often, and had even engaged in witty conversation with her on occasion. Something had changed her, and Diane wondered what, despite being in a hurry to get her documents and leave. Marie was about five foot, three inches, and had shoulder-length brown hair. She was of petite build, and although cute in her own right, was no match for the beauty and height of Diane, or her employer Heather. Marie was also dressed in the traditional black and white "French maid" uniform, complete with the white, cloth "tiara" headpiece. As they walked down the hallway, Diane, in her heeled mules, towered over the tiny maid.

Soon they entered the lounge where Heather was. Heather sat in a very comfortable looking, large, plush chair. She was wearing a sort of beige camisole. As she sits in her chair, she is reading a book. She is resting her feet on a footrest in front of the chair. She is sitting very comfortably, with her long, slender delicious legs extended in front of her, the left ankle over the right. Her feet are bare.

"Hey Di! I was wondering when you'd finally show up," said Heather as she placed the book down on her lap. Diane thanked Marie for showing her to the lounge, and expected her to leave. But instead, Marie just stood by the doorway, her head bowed down, her fingers joined together behind her back. Diane sat on a couch near her friend Heather. As she sat down, she noticed Heather wiggling her toes, and flexing her soles. With each movement, she looked more and more like Cleopatra on her throne. While Diane spied her friend, Heather grinned at Marie.

"Marie, darling. Fetch us some drinks." She then turned to Diane. "You will have a drink, won't you, Di?"

Diane figured it wouldn't hurt to have one. "Just a quick one. And only one," Diane added, smiling at her friend. Heather continued to flex her soles and stretch out her toes on both her feet. She then placed the right ankle over the left.

"Guess who's getting married?" she asked Diane.

"Who?" answered Diane.

"Charles and Claire!" Heather shouted.

"No way," was Diane's response. Both women giggled.

"How in the world did that happen?" asked Diane. Marie walked back into the lounge, carrying two drinks. She handed them to the rich ladies, never making eye contact with either of them. This concerned Diane; Heather on the other hand, seemed to revel in it. Marie then went to stand in the doorway again, in the same exact "ready-for-your-next-command" pose that she was in before. Then Diane watched as Heather uncrossed her ankles, and placed her long, lovely bare legs, and feet, side-by-side. All the while, Heather looked at Marie, with an evil grin. Then, it hit Diane. She recalled the conversation the two of them had in the café earlier in the day: about how she had her maid do all sorts of humiliating things. It occurred to her that Heather just couldn't wait to have Marie on her knees, in front of her, doing God-knows-what.

Diane, not being a big fan of this, started to feel uncomfortable, as she knew what was eventually going to happen. She put her glass down on the coffee table in front of her. "Hey, you know what. I've really got to be going. Could I get the paperwork now, Heather?" Diane asked, while scooting to the edge of the sofa, and starting to grab her handbag.

"Di, don't be silly. You've barely started your drink, and we just started our gossip. C'mon, sit and chat for a bit." Heather smiled at her friend, and gave her a pleading, innocent look.

"She's so fake, sometimes," thought Diane as she put her handbag back down, reluctantly picked her drink up, and sighed under her breath.

"Just for a little bit" she added.

"Good. Thanks, kiddo." was Heather's next phrase. She then sipped her drink. "So tell me about Charles and Claire."

Diane merely wanted to get the conversation started and over with before Heather had Marie doing anything embarrassing. But as soon as she started to speak, Heather snaps her fingers at Marie, who jumps, startled. "Um, yes Miss Heather." Marie walks from the doorway to Heather and stands before her, head bowed.

Heather simply says, "Down," and Marie kneels before her. Diane looks on in amazement, and embarrassment. "I'd like a massage, Marie," Heather says as she flexes her soles and toes inches from the face of Marie, who is on both knees in front of the footrest.

Marie raises her hands to her mistress's feet, and begins to gently massage them. Heather smiles sadistically at her. "So, um, about Charles and Claire getting, um, married," Diane says nervously. She now has a lump in her throat.

She is trying to avoid looking at Marie massaging Heather's feet, instead focusing on Heather. But Heather is more preoccupied with Marie. "Um, wait Di. I'm sorry." Heather says to Diane without taking her eyes off of Marie. Heather then speaks to her maid. "Marie, no, I want you to massage my feet the NEW way that I told you."

Heather then grins more evilly than ever before. She winks at Diane. Diane, a few feet away, is wondering what could this "New" way be. Marie is now clearly hesitant. She looks up from her boss's feet. She sees the contempt in Heather's eyes. She slowly swings her head to the side to look at Diane, who looks at her back. Marie speaks: "Are you sure you want me to do this now, Miss Heather? I mean, uh, you have a guest and all." Marie is practically pleading with her employer.

"Nonsense, Marie. By all means, go ahead. Diane is not a guest. She's like family." Heather grins at Diane as she says this. Diane grins back at her, more nervous than ever. She is wondering what the hell is going on. "Snap to it, Marie." Heather quickly claps her hands at the poor maid.

"Yes, Miss Heather," replies Marie.

"MISTRESS." Heather says, staring intently at the maid.

"Yes, Mistress," Marie follows. Diane watches as Heather slowly licks her lips in excitement. She wiggles her toes as Marie holds both of Heather's feet with both her hands. Then, Marie takes her hands from Heather's feet, and places her palms on the floor in front of her knees. She is now on all fours. Now, Marie's face is inches from Heather's bare feet. Heather flexes her soles in anticipation. Slowly, sensually, Marie crawls a bit forward, and starts to gently place her face in the soles of her mistress. Heather is smiling wickedly, as Marie moves her head in every possible direction, massaging the soles of her employer's feet with her face. Heather is loving it. Diane turns red in embarrassment. She can't believe that Heather is doing this. "A foot massage with the face. Pretty original, huh?" Heather says to Diane.

Heather is still licking her lips, obviously enjoying having this power over another human being. Heather then turns back to the maid, whose face is buried in her soles. "Deep breaths, Marie. I don't hear breathing. That's an important part of the massage. I want to feel you breathing on my soles and toes." With that command, Marie starts to inhale deeper and louder. She is breathing so loud and heavy, that Diane can hear her. Marie is moving her head up and down, left to right, massaging Heather's soles with her face. Then, to add to her pleasure, Heather begins moving her feet around, totally wiping the soles of her feet on her maid's face. She takes her right heel, and places it on Marie's forehead. She then brings her foot down the length of Marie's face, rubbing her sole hard against every bend and fold of the shape of the face. She even stops when her arch is against Marie's nose, and rubs it roughly onto her nostrils. With her left foot, she covers her entire mouth. Marie is forced to breathe through her nose. Heather simply tells her to "sniff it good." "That's good. Yeah that feels great, slave." Heather now has her eyes closed, and is leaning back in her chair, thoroughly enjoying her "face/foot massage."

"SLAVE! Did you just call her slave, Heather?" Diane says, standing up. "It's bad enough you have her doing this degrading stuff, Heather. But now you're verbally abusing her as well? Where's my paperwork, Heather. I want to go now!" Diane stares at Heather.

"Slip of the tongue. Sorry, Di." Heather then pushes Marie's head away with her foot. Marie then stops massaging the feet with her face, but remains on all fours, her face resting on the footrest, inches away from Heather's feet, awaiting her next humiliating command. Heather, still lounging in the chair, speaks.

"C'mon Diane. Sit down. I didn't mean to call her a slave. It just sort of slipped out, you know. I got caught up in the moment."

Heather then looks from Diane back to Marie. "Marie, KISSES!" With that, Marie, still with her hands and knees on the floor, begins kissing all over Heather's feet. Heather turns back to Diane. "I mean, look at her." They both look at Marie. She is placing the most devoted, open mouth kisses all over the feet of Heather, who again speaks. "She is, after all, like a slave. She has to do whatever I tell her to. Why? Because I pay her to."

Heather looks at Marie, and smiles. Diane sits back down (again ), and looks at Marie, worshipping the feet of her boss. She shakes her head. "Still doesn't seem right, Heather. Can you just get me my documents so I can go? Then you can degrade her all you want, without me around."

"You know, Di. You shouldn't knock it until you try it." Heather grins at Diane.

Diane is beside herself: "I don't believe you, Heather. Didn't you just hear what I said? I don't care for this. At all. I want to leave."

But Heather really doesn't seem to hear what Diane is saying. "Oh yeah. Now I remember. You wanted Marie to tell you if your feet smelled? Marie, crawl over to our guest and see if her feet are bearable enough for her pedicurist to deal with." Heather once again grins wickedly. "And Marie. On your belly."

Marie turns away from Heather's feet to face Diane. Still on her knees, she looks up to Diane. She has the look of a woman beaten; Diane starts to feel for her more. "Uh uh. No way, Heather!" Diane starts to back away from the two of them: Heather in her lounge chair; Marie on all fours beside her.

Marie then gives Diane one last pleading look before she starts to lower herself even more, placing her belly and chin on the floor. She starts to slither like a snake in Diane's direction, ever so slowly. Heather sips her drink while watching this, placing her smiling, triumphant lips upon the rim of her glass. Diane frowns at Heather, rolling her eyes as she moves away as Marie slithers closer to her. But it seems to be backfiring: the farther back Diane moves, the longer and further that Marie has to slither on her belly, prolonging the humiliation at the hands of her sadistic employer, Heather.

Finally, Diane stops and speaks. "Heather, this is ridiculous. Fuck the paperwork. I'm leaving." Diane then tries to step over Marie, to get back to the couch, so that she can get her handbag and exit Heather's hellhole. But there is not enough room between the couch and the coffee table, and Marie is blocking the way, lying there.

As a result, Diane accidentally steps on Marie's back with her heeled mule, and stumbles a bit. Marie groans a little; Diane apologizes. "Sorry, Marie," is all she can get out as she bends down and grabs the couch for support. Her foot is still on Marie's back.

Heather giggles. Diane then falls onto the couch. Marie is now on her belly beneath Diane's feet, like a footrest. Diane seeing this raises up her feet so Marie can get out from under them. But before she can even think about getting up, Heather quickly puts her drink down, puts her feet on the floor, and says, "Perfect! Nobody move." Both Diane and Marie freeze. Heather continues. "Now all Marie has to do is turn over on her back, and she can check your feet for you, Di."

Diane rolls her eyes again. "I told you, Heather. I'm leaving." Diane is still trying to hold up her feet, keeping them away from the maid under them, on the floor on her stomach. "Go ahead and get up, Marie," Diane says to the maid beneath her. Marie turns her head slightly in the direction of Diane.

"If she does, she gets docked a month's pay!" said Heather.

"C'mon, Heather. That's not fair at all," says Diane. She's now straining to hold her legs up off of the maid. Heather continues. "I told her to do something, and she damn well better do it." Heather then sits back in her chair again, replacing her feet on the footrest. She crosses her arms against her chest. She then looks at Diane. "Di. You don't want Marie to lose out because of you, do you?" Heather grins at her buddy Diane.

Diane was in a dilemma all right. No, she did not want Marie to lose a month's pay. But she also did not want Marie to have to humiliate herself on her behalf. Then again, she knew Heather. And she knew Heather was not bluffing. As she had always done, Diane was going to let Heather finish up her "game." She decided that, in some strange way, it was probably best for Marie, to let Marie debase herself this way. "Okay, Heather. What has to happen?" Diane said, dismally.

"My God, Diane. You make it sound so bad," said Heather as she grabbed her drink again. "Simply let Marie do what she is best at - worshipping her superiors." Heather sipped her drink. "Marie. Turn over onto your back, now dear." Marie complied at once.

Diane tried not to look at the maid as Marie re-positioned herself beneath her. Diane instead looked at Heather, and spoke. "And then, after this is over, you'll get my documents, and I can leave?"

Heather spoke: "Of course, Di. I promise. And you'll still have time to spare to get to your dinner engagement."

Diane answered with an irritated, "Fine then."

Heather then called out the action as if she was some sort of low-budget porn film director. "Put your feet on her now, Di. No need to keep them away any longer." Diane then let her sexy black mules come to rest on Marie's upturned stomach and chest. As she did this, she tried not to make eye contact with Marie, to even really look in her direction.

Heather was enjoying this intensely. She again spoke. "Marie, remove our guest's shoes." Marie did this at once, placing both of her hands on the heels of Diane's shoes. Her palms grabbed the wooden heel of the mules, as she slipped her trembling fingers in between the smooth skin of Diane's heel and the insole of the shoe. Gently, she removed the shoes from Diane's feet, and, reached over her head to place the shoes out of the way. She then gently placed Diane's now bare, exposed feet onto her chest and held them there. Diane's feet were a contrast in moistness: her bare heels were dry, due to the fact that mules leave the heel exposed to the air; her toes and the balls of her feet, on the other hand, were a little moist and sticky from being covered (and possibly from Diane stressing and sweating about the situation as well).

Heather spoke. "Di, why don't you place your foot on the slaves face?" There was that word again. Diane simply looks at Heather, with a serious look on her face, and says nothing. Heather knows that Di is mad, but will eventually get over it (as always). "Go ahead. You'll LOVE it! I swear you will."

But instead of doing so, Diane just stares at the ceiling, both of her feet still on Marie's chest. "Okay then, stubborn," says Heather, smiling at the scene in front of her. She then bends forward, to look more closely at her maid. "Marie, place Mistress Diane's foot on your face. And sniff it."

Marie then lets go of Diane's left foot, and with both hands grabs her right foot, moving it slowly up to her face. Diane, partially angry, partially in disbelief that she was doing this, looks down from the ceiling. Rather than look directly at what's going on, she instead chooses to steal quick glances at the action. She can't believe it, as she watches Marie move her beautiful foot to rest over her upturned face. The next thing Diane feels is Marie's nose rubbing against the ball of her foot. Surprisingly, it doesn't tickle, just feels weird to Diane. Marie uses the combination of moving and rubbing Diane's foot all over her face, and moving her head up and down, side to side. She sniffs and smells all over Diane's foot; she buries her nose underneath Diane's toes, above the ball of her foot; she traces her nose and lips along the soles of her foot; she even rubs Diane's smooth, delicate heel on her nostrils. Diane, despite her objections, starts to feel slightly aroused at all of this, and lets out a soft, "Oooohhh."

Heather smiles wickedly at the scene. "Yeah, that's it. Worship her."

Marie continues her task. She sniffs all over the sole of the right foot, and sniffs each toe individually. She then takes her time and rubs her nose in between each toe. Diane can't help it. It's starting to feel too good. She starts to stimulate the action by pressing her foot harder onto the maid's face. She can feel the warmth and pressure of Marie's breaths against the sole of her foot, and it feels damn good. She starts to jam her foot into Marie's face, and rub it all over good. Her eyes are closed now. And the toes of her left foot, the one on Marie's chest, are flexing with excitement. "Ummm," she says, rubbing her other foot all over the chest of Marie's maid uniform.

Heather sips at her drink. "Marie, worship both of her feet, now."

Marie then grabs Diane's other foot off of her chest and moves it as well to her face. Now, both of Diane's feet are hovering over her face. She starts to sniff all over the "new" foot, breathing heavily, sucking in all of the heavenly scent. The main concentration of the foot odor is in the toes, and somehow sensing this, Diane moves her foot so that the toes are right up against Marie's nostrils. She is getting more and more excited with every minute. She had no idea that it could feel like this; the sensations of Marie breathing against the soles of her feet; the feel of Marie's warm, flushed face against her soles; and, even more surprisingly to her, the intense feeling of power, as she finally looks down to the floor at this poor girl, this maid, who is lying there having her face stepped on. Heather was right. "Oh God. Heather was right," thought Diane.

Heather was clearly amused. "Enough with the smelling stuff, Marie. Just kiss and worship them now."

The next thing Diane felt was even more of a sensory shock. She felt Marie's moist, warm lips tearing away affectionately at both of her soles. Marie planted the most loving kisses on Diane's feet. They appeared to even rival the kisses that she had bestowed on her employer's feet a bit ago. As the sweet kisses continued, Diane couldn't resist but to help Marie by moving her feet exactly in the spots that she wanted her feet kissed. She was starting to get more than a little excited, and could feel a tingling between her legs. Now, Diane and Marie were clearly working in tandem. Diane would press her heels, soles, toes to Marie's lips; Marie in turn would pull them even closer to her waiting mouth. It got to the point where Marie was practically French-kissing Marie's soles, sucking with her open mouth on various spots, for seconds each. Diane was past the point of no return.

Heather was licking her lips at the action, excited as well. Dominance really turned her on, and she realized that watching it is just as good as experiencing it. She knew that Diane had been brought over to the "dark side," as it were. And she was determined to make it an experience that Di would NEVER forget. Heather then decided to "end this" in her own way. She puts both of her feet on the floor in front of her, and leans over a bit to get closer to the action. Diane's eyes are now open, but she is such in a sensual daze that she really is not aware of her surroundings. Heather simply whispers in a sexy voice, "Marie. Doggy."

With that "command," Marie stops kissing all over Diane's soles. She then takes Diane's right foot in both hands, leaving the left to rest on her neck. Then, she sticks out her tongue, and proceeds to lick and lap at Diane's sole like a doggy. Diane is in ecstasy now. This feeling is far more intense than she had ever felt before. Now, in addition to the tingle that she felt earlier in between her legs, there is wetness. She is extremely turned on now. The maid then grabs the other foot, and starts to lick it like it's the best ice cream cone in the world, alternating between the two feet.

"Good doggy," says Heather as she smiles, watching Diane's ecstasy and transformation unfold. Marie then stops lapping the soles of her new Mistresses feet, and instead begins to execute long, sensual strokes along Diane's soles with her wet, moist tongue, going from heel to toes, and vice-versa. Diane is going nuts now. Marie continues, holding both feet together in her hands, and licking the undersides of all ten of Diane's toes, from pinky toe to pinky toe, in a sort of six-inch semi-circle. Diane can't take the excitement any more. Her eyes closed, Marie's tongue all along the bottoms of her feet, she starts to moan.

She has her hands on her thighs, her fingers outstretched in tension. Then, unexpectedly, involuntarily, she moans once again, and says, "Oh yesssss, that's it. Lick it, slave." Somewhere deep inside, she is shocked at what she says, but is too excited to recant it, or care.

Heather smiles, but it is more of an expression of surprise. "Lick it slave, indeed," she says as she leans back into her chair, and sips her drink. She is giggling at her friend now. Marie's long tongue strokes are starting to take their toll now on Diane, who starts to shake a little. She begins to buck her hips rhythmically. She grabs onto her thighs tightly, leaving wrinkles and sweat on her dress. It's all she can do to keep from fingering herself in front of Heather and her maid. She starts to vibrate violently, and leans back on the couch. She moans and repeats "Oh Yes," and "Oh my God" over and over, in rapid succession.

"Oh my, I think she's actually cummming," thought Heather, watching this unfold. And as Marie licked and sucked between Diane's big and second toe, that's exactly what Diane did.

She let out a load "Ohhhh," that vibrated throughout the lounge room and the hallway outside of it. Diane then just sits there, laid back on the couch, her feet on Marie's face. She shakes every few seconds, her eyes closed. Marie is planting soft, post-orgasm kisses on Diane's feet. Diane tells her to stop. "Yeah, you can stop now, Marie," adds Heather (who actually has a slight stain on her panties as well).

Marie stops, and rests Diane's feet on her neck and chest. Heather then speaks to Marie. "That'll be all, Marie." Marie then starts to get up. Diane moves her feet off of Marie, and comes to recline full spread on the couch. Diane then gets all the way up off of the floor in between the couch and coffee table. She starts to head for the doorway, her head held down.

Heather, wicked as ever, speaks to her maid. "Uh uh, Marie. Not so fast. What do you say to our guest?"

Marie turns back to face Diane, her face still held down. "Thank you, Mistress Diane, for allowing me to worship you," said Marie. She then turns and exits.

Diane is speechless, lying on the couch with her feet up. Her feet are glistening and shining from all of the attention. As she is starting to recover from her arousing experience, a little bit of guilt is starting to set it. She knows not what to say to Marie, and opts to say nothing. Heather on the other hand, is never at a loss for words. "So, tell me, Di. Was I right? It felt good, huh?"

Diane, opens her eyes, and swings around to rest her feet on the floor. She is at first hesitant, then speaks. "Well, um, I really hate to say it. It was very exciting. And it was a different feeling..." She starts to gather her shoes with her feet. "It did feel kind of, great..."

She does not know what to say, due to the odd combination of guilt, and sheer pleasure. She slides her exhausted feet into her sexy black mules. She finally just smiles at Heather. "Let's talk about it some other time," is all she can say.

Heather smiles back at her. "Okay Di. We'll leave it at that. This time," says Heather, grinning.

Diane gathers her handbag. "Um Heather. My paperwork that I came here for..."

"Oh yeah, Diane. Of course." Heather then reaches to her side, to a wooden table beside her lounge chair. She picks up the book that she was "reading" when Diane first arrived. She places the book on her lap, and opens the book to the page where her bookmark is.

Only it's not a bookmark at all. Its Diane's documents that she needed, only folded. "Here you go, Di," says Heather as she hand the paperwork to Diane. Diane slowly takes the paperwork from her friend, staring at her meanly the whole time.

"Heather, you are such a sick bitch. You mean to tell me the papers were RIGHT THERE all along?"

Heather simply smiles. Diane lets out an exasperated chuckle in return, and smiles at Heather in that "you've-got-me-again" manner. She turns, handbag and paperwork in hand, away from Heather, towards the door, and starts walking to it. "Talk to you tomorrow, Di," says Heather loudly, as Diane exits the lounge and heads down the hallway toward to front door.

Diane neither turns back to Heather nor answers her. Heather grins, then sips her drink. Waiting by the front door is the maid, Marie, to show Diane out. She looks down, never making eye contact with Diane. "Have a good night, Mistress," is all she says.

Diane stops, and raises her arm slowly, possibly to place her hand on Marie's shoulder, then stops mid-height, before ever making contact. "Marie, I.." is all she can get out. Diane frowns a little. The maid opens the door, then is motionless as Diane puts her arm back down. Diane is again at a loss for words, and simply decides to just leave. She exits Heather's mansion, hearing Marie softly close the front door behind her. She gets in her car, and starts it up. She sits and thinks for a bit. Quiet. She then gets out her cell phone and dials. "Hey. Yeah hi. You know what? I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight... yeah, I know. Let's reschedule, okay? Great. Bye."

Diane then puts the phone away, and starts to drive her car off of Heather's estate. As she drives, she is deep in thought, reexamining in her mind the events that transpired that evening. As she heads back home that warm summer night, she finds herself once again feeling aroused, unsure if she will be able to keep this experience a one-time affair.

Days oddly went bye with almost no communication between Heather and Diane. Heather left a short voice mail one day about this invitation they received and that was it. Diane loved what she experienced at Heather's house and deep down was eager for more, but she also had this lingering guilt and shame and confusion that perhaps was keeping her from begging Heather for Marie's service again.

The memory of Marie's tongue on her soles, Marie's sucking of her toes, Marie's tongue between her toes haunted Diane in bed, in the shower, and at work. She wondered if Heather was playing some game with her, expecting her to do something first. It'd be like Heather to do that. But Heather was busy sometimes and maybe she was making too much of it. Diane tried hard to push all these sorts of thoughts out of her mind and focus on work and the rest of her life. Why wasn't she phoning Heather she wondered sometimes? It was almost as if part of her didn't want to hear from Heather again, but that wasn't the case truly, not at all. She was just very confused and not sure why.

Then one day, this time of confusion and hesitation and suppression ended. Heather called.

"Hey Di, wanna have some fun?" Heather said devilishly.

"Sure Heather, what were you thinking?" Diane asked cheerily but curiously.

"I was thinking of hitting the tennis courts, I could use the exercise, you in?" Heather asked innocently.

Diane was a tad surprised, it was as if last week didn't happen almost. But this was fine and Diane said yes.

They played a long afternoon of tennis and chatted about everything except Diane's orgasm that Heather witnessed last weak. It was fun, like old times. It was a nice day, hot and they worked up a sweat.

Just when Diane thought last week wouldn't come up, Heather said, "Di, you know I haven't forgot about last week and I hope you haven't. Would you come back to the house with me for dinner? Marie and I have a special dinner prepared for you."

"Okay Heather," Diane answered almost relieved.

The drive to Heather's estate tickled Diane's imagination. She could feel a tingle all over her body. When you exercise, the brain produces endorphins that stimulate the release of sex hormones. Diane was excited, excited for her feet. She hadn't washed in days, which was a new behavior of hers. And she had been wearing these socks all week and just played an afternoon of tennis. She knew her socks and feet stank bad, she could smell them in the car even.

Heather was a lifesaver Diane thought. How could she have hoped to keep away from whatever awaited her in that house? The temptation was far too much. Marie was too much. Diane knew now that domination was an irresistible drug. You can't quit it. To have another person sniff and lick and suck your disgusting feet so loving was a rush beyond description. It's the ultimate thrill of power over another human.

"Evening, Miss Diane," Marie, french maid uniform and all, greeted when the door opened.

Marie escorted them to the small dining room table (the table can be expanded out for large parties). They didn't remove their tennis shoes or anything. Heather and Diane sat across from each other, east and west on the table.

"Di, we're going to have fettuccine alfredo I ordered from Bruno's. I want you to go along with what Marie and I planned for this meal. Don't fight anything, just go along and give in and have fun. You have to trust me, and no questions. Okay?"

"Yes, ok," Diane responded, her attention peaked. She could hardly hide her excitement.

Marie came out the kitchen with their plates of alfredo and then went back into the kitchen while Heather and Diane ate for a bit and chatted and gossiped.

Ten or twenty minutes elapsed for eating until Marie came out of the kitchen again carrying the whole large tray of fettuccine alfredo Heather ordered. Diane thought Marie was going to offer them more (but she was stuffed), but Marie instead went to her knees at the head of the table between the two women and crawled under the table with the large pasta tray.

Diane was confused and uncrossed her legs under the table, planting both shoes on the ground. She sensed the fun was to commence. Diane felt Marie unlacing her tennis shoes. Diane had no idea where this was heading at this point. She almost asked but then remembered: no questions asked.

Marie started prieng off Diane's shoes. That tingling sensation was back for Diane, her body was anticipating sexual pleasure. It was sexy just to have someone remove your shoes for you, especially when you knew this person was your slave already.

Now Diane's sweat damp feet were flat on the tiled floor. Diane wondered if they would leave damp footprints. Then she heard the sound of sniffing. Marie was sniffing her socked feet. Deep nosy inhales. It was so hot. The smell of the feet waffed up from the under the table and Diane and Heather caught the whiff. The unpleasant smell was pleasing in this domination context, intoxicating to both Diane and Heather. This is was how they wanted their feet and socks and shoes to always smell now.

"They smell good Marie?" Heather asked.

"Very good, thank you mistress," Marie responded with genuine conviction.

"Time to eat your dinner doggy, finish sniffing and get on with my plan," Heather ordered.

Diane could feel her socks being slowly removed as Marie held her icky feet up in the air off the ground some. Then Diane heard the tray slide a bit under the table.

Then Diane felt quite a sensation. Marie dropped her feet down on the something very warm, a bit hot. Diane realized it was the fettuccine alfredo her feet rested on. She was shocked. She was confused. Isn't this gross? Wrong? Feet didn't belong there. Sweat and toejam and stink resting on top of the fresh spaghetti. Was this Heather's plan? What is wrong with her? All these thoughts maybe briefly crossed Diane's mind until she felt those tingles more, because the pasta felt good under her feet. It felt really good in fact.

"Ready mistress," Marie said from the under the table to Heather.

Heather leaned in and said, "Di, you can't hide how good it feels. Now I want you to push your icky sticky feet into that warm pasta and let it massage your feet and let those noodles get between your toes."

"You have to mix it all up for Marie's dinner, ok?" Heather asked as she pushed a glass of wine towards Diane's inert hands flat on the table.

Diane was already in a stupor, overwhelmed by the sexual excitement and could barely blurt out, "Yes Heather, yes I will."

Diane lifted her knees and pointed her feet downward and very gradually slid them in the warmish hot fettuccine. She closed her eyes and leaned forward it felt so good, felt so utterly wrong. Heather watched her intently as she sipped her wine, so happy with her latest domination scheme, her latest corruption of Diane.

Diane flexed her toes and moved them slowly threw the pasta, enjoying the sensation of noodles getting caught between her toes. Where was this her whole life? Her panties were so wet, the intensity so strong. She didn't even notice or care about the glass of wine Heather tried to give her. Her hands were still pressed flat against the table and her eyes were still closed. And she moaned softly as Heather smiled and watched. Heather knew exactly how great it felt, how intense it felt, the first time especially so.

Finally Diane opened her eyes and noticed her mouth was open and she closed it and saw Heather there smiling deviously. Diane knew she was hooked, knew her life as she had known it was gone. She knew Heather had won, Heather got what she wanted: a partner in wickedness. Diane smiled at Heather.

"It, it really is a rush Heather, my feet feel so good. I, I was wrong to fight all this. I know that now," Diane stammered.

"It's ok, Di. It took me time to graduate to all this myself," Heather responded.

"Domination is a growing process, a journey, an evolution," Heather continued.

Diane finally regained a little composure and took the wine glass and leaned back and sipped it while her feet and toes continued to explore the contours of the long fettuccine tray. The pasta was still so comfortably hot, soothing her feet after their confinement in those tight tennis shoes. She peaked under the table and admired the sight of pasta up to her ankles in the tray. With all the time women spend in heels despite the discomfort, this is a godsend. Physically, psychologically...this gross domination of the food and Marie was exhilarating.

Marie was on her knees under the table still, entranced by Diane's feet in the fettuccine alfredo. Diane felt it was time for Marie to eat her dinner.

"All right doggy, time to eat your meal," Diane said sadistically as Heather grinned even wider.

Diane pulled her feet from the bottom of the alfredo tray and leaned back and stretched her legs out and gently rested her heels on top of the pasta, with her toes turned up so Marie could get her mouth on them. Marie moved eagerly and leaned her head in and starting sucking her sick meal from Diane's toes. Diane leaned her head back and moaned. It felt especially good because Diane could feel the noodles being slurped out from between her toes. This was so wrong, yet so very right. Diane could feel Marie's tongue snaking between her toes, licking out the sauce and whatever other gunk was in there. Marie's face soon became covered in food. Heather peaked under the table at times to watch the debauchery. Diane was in heaven though. Now she felt Marie sucking hard on her big toe and then the others. Marie licked her soles. Diane even lifted up her feet at times so Marie could lick her heels clean. Or so Diane could force her toes into Marie's mouth. Now Marie had her whole mouth around Diane's foot as Diane moaned and moaned. She wiggled her feet in Marie's mouth, feeling around in there as Marie's tongue massaged some of her sole. Marie did the same to the other foot.

After more time doing all that, Diane just pulled her right leg from under the table and rested it on the table and told Marie to sit at the head of the table and keep licking and sucking. Heather seemed especially delighted with this evil creativity and they shared many smiles and laughs and talked a bit more. Eventually Diane put the other foot on the table too.

Eventually Diane was satisfied enough with Marie's worship and Heather told them it was her turn. Heather told Marie to wash her face and bring out the dessert. Marie came out with a large 12 inch apple pie and set it in front of Heather. Marie brought no plates, no forks, just the pie.

"Sorry Di, this pie is for Marie, she purchased two pies though and we can eat ours later. But now, it's time for Marie's dessert," Heather informed.

Diane suspected what was coming. But Heather kind of surprised her by standing up and stepping on her chair and then onto the table. The dining room was so large and that Heather wasn't even close to the ceiling or anything like that. Heather ordered Marie to sit in Heather's chair. Diane was to watch Heather from behind as Heather slowly unlaced her tennis shoes and removed them. Diane could smell Heather's socked feet instantly and enjoyed the dirty pungence.

Then Heather slowly removed the socks that stuck to her feet. Diane thought about how lovely her feet were. Heather had Marie remove her one toe ring and lick it clean. Now that was gross, Diane smiled as she watched on. And then Heather teased Marie some by caressing her toes over the pie before stepping her right foot into the pie, leaving enough room for left foot. It sounded like Heather softly moaned or sighed, but Diane couldn't be sure which. Diane was memerized by the sight of Heather's foot in the pie, the pie filling oozing between her toes, Heather lifting her foot in and out a little. Sometimes pie crust was stuck to Heather's sole when her foot came up. Diane thought of that gross toe that wore the toe ring, that grimy toe caked in pie. It was such a hot thought.

Heather put her left foot in and had the same sort of abject fun. Getting her foot all around that pie tin, catching apple slices between her toes. Marie was just as hypnotized by Heather's play. Marie sat there with her shoulders slouched, her hands in her lap, but watched intently, yearning for Heather's feet it seemed.

Finally, Heather extended her pie-covered right foot to Marie's face and ordered her to eat. And boy, did Marie eat. She licked and sucked so sensually at Heather's feet as Heather moaned and cooed. Heather had her lick her soles, lick her heel, her ankles, everywhere. It was a sight to behold. A sight Diane knew she would have to replicate someday.

Heather sat down on the table eventually, her back near Diane, and let Marie lick and suck her feet further as they extended from the table slightly in front of Marie. Eventually Heather was satisfied. But she shocked Diane further by removing her tennis skirt and panties the rest of the clothes and having Marie eat her out right there on the table. Diane pulled her chair round front facing Heather and Marie and watched the glorious sight and fought of the urge to play with herself mostly. She knew her turn was next. Heather would tell Marie to put some pie down there and Marie took her hand and picked up some gobs of pie and did as she was told. She loved eating that pie from Heather's cunt and clit.

After her orgasm, Heather laid back exhausted on the table and slowly gathered herself and rolled off. Diane climbed up and did much the same. At one point though Diane grabbed some pie with her hand and rubbed it all over her chest and belly and made Marie lick it all off. It was so hot, so much fun. The smell of apple pie and sweaty sex was a beautiful combination.

After Diane's shaking orgasm, Heather and Diane showered and put on pajamas and ordered Marie into pajamas to cuddle with them in bed. No more sex, no kissing. Both women just snuggled into Marie, enjoying her warmth, her comfort. And they all fell asleep.