112 Gate Street

" Attentive young male required to serve at elegant social

gatherings for women. Call 555-4656 to arrange interview. "

What a peculiar ad! I had to check twice to make sure this was still the help wanted ads, and not the adult personals. But sure enough, there it was. I was looking for a job trying to get my foot in the door installing networks, or as a unix guru, but the job market was pretty tough, and I was willing to try most anything. I had already stooped to applying for - and been turned down for - a position managing a software store, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to take a long shot- If it ended up being a weird phone sex service or something, at least I’d have an amusing story to tell my friends.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number, and was soon greeted with a simple " Hello? " from a female voice. I explained I was calling in reference to the ad in the Tribune, and wanted to know what exactly the job in question was about.

" Can you come in for an interview this afternoon? " she asked. " We really need to find someone for the position in a hurry. " What the hell. I made an appointment for 2 PM, and was given the address of a residential home not too far away. I recognized the address as being in a fairly affluent neighborhood, and as I drove to the interview some time later, I found my suspiscions were correct - 112 Gate Street was a huge, relatively new house, right on the water. I parked my car in the wide driveway, walked up to the front door, and rang the bell.

The door opened a moment later, revealing an attractive, slender woman in her mid-late 30’s, with a short black pageboy haircut, white silk blouse, long, flowing skirt, and expensive jewelry.

" Hi, " she said, inviting me in. As I entered the foyer, I was impressed by the stained glass inlays and wooden parquet tile on the floor. A fresh wood smell was strong in the air, and everything in the house seemed perfectly immaculate.

" Thanks for coming out on such short notice, " she apologized. " By the way, I’m Deborah. "

talk? " She led me down a short hallway into a cozy little lounge, which held several chairs and small couches, arranged in a loose circle. As she walked, I noticed she was wearing a pair of high-heeled mules (the sort with no back) over stockings; the effect was very sexy.

with my resume and other information, took off my suit jacket, and draped it on the back of one of the chairs.

" I have to admit, " I explained, " I’m not quite sure what exactly you’re looking for. The woman I spoke with this morning didn’t really tell me much, but just scheduled this interview. " As she perused my vital statistics, Deborah seated herself, inviting me to do the same. She stretched her legs out on a footstool and closed the folder.

" So, Sam, tell me about yourself. " I started in with a brief run-down of my schooling and professional experience, when she interrupted me with a raised finger. " No, I mean tell me about yourself as a person; I have all of that other stuff here. " Hmm, likes to paint, strange sense of humor, likes jazz. I gave her a brief sketch of what I was like as a person.

" What about your sexual fantasies? Tell me some of them. " A subtle shift had come over Deborah’s mood; she was still friendly and outgoing, but there was an agressive intensity there as well.

interesting things. " I was totally off guard now. " You seem like a creative young man. "

" Um, I don’t know... " I mused uncomfortably. After some thought, I decided that if this was some sort of weird sex scam, I would just get up and leave when she asked for my credit card. However, I was interested to see where this was headed. " I guess I’ve always had a fascination with films where men are kidnapped or controlled by women. I always had a penchant for those ‘captured by Amazons’ movies when I was a kid. " Deborah had a very satisfied smile on her face, and she leaned back, interlocking her fingers.

" I’m going to be very up front with you, " she explained, looking at me with a calculating gaze and an amused smile. " I’m not an employer per se, but neither am I a prostitute or a policewoman or a psychotic killer. You can get up and leave if you’d like, with my apologies for having wasted your time and offending your sensibilities. " She paused long enough for me to decide I wasn’t going to storm out before continuing. " Or, you may come sit at my feet, in which case I expect you to start kissing the bottoms of my shoes. " I glanced around the room speechless, unsure how to react. On the one hand, maybe Deborah was some kind of crazed psychotic. On the other hand, I could not deny the stir of excitement that began to brim when thinking about her suggestion. Finally, hoping that I wasn’t the target of some hidden camera or something, I slowly and nervously rose from my chair, walked across the room, and seated myself cross-legged in front of Deborah’s footstool. With one eye upon her extremely self-satisfied smile, I brought my lips to the sole of her mule, and kissed her shoe.

The rush was terrific; this truly was like something out of my fantasies, and when Deborah offered an approving nod to continue, I abandoned myself to covering every inch of both soles with tiny, excited kisses. After a couple of minutes, I paused, unsure of how to continue.

" Let me set you straight on a few things before we continue. First, if you expect sex, or the chance to see naked women, you can just get up and leave right now. " She paused for a moment, during which I made no motion to move.

" I enjoy having some of my friends over for drinks on occassion, and we have become accustomed to some rather unusual entertainment at our little parties. It is a wonderful luxury to have one’s feet tended to by a servient male. It is enjoyable and relaxing. I am having such a party this evening, and I require someone to fill this role. Do you think you would be capable of serving me in such a capacity? "

Deborah, although " Ma’am " is acceptable as well. If I am satisfied with your ability to serve my feet, you will be taken on in such a capacity on a day-to-day basis. In either case, you will of course receive no pay. Should I decide to take you on as my servant, your living expenses will of course be taken care of, but in either case, you are of use only if your desire to serve me is sincere. "

" Yes Ma’am. I would love the chance to serve at your feet, Lady Deborah ". I was filled with numerous intense emotions, but the strongest was the desire, both sexual and emotional, to offer myself in submission to this beautiful, powerful woman.

" Excellent, " she replied, looking very satisfied indeed. " For a start, you may remove my mules and massage my feet. " As I took off her shoes, I dared a quick kiss to the underside of her sexy stockinged toes, and then set to work rubbing her feet.

Lady Deborah went on to explain to me that there were certain rules of conduct that I was to obey at her gathering. I could agree to obey them without question, or I could leave then and there, never to return.

" You will be the only male at the party, " she explained, " and you will be on your hands and knees the entire evening, naked except for a nylon mesh panty. " She paused for a moment to gauge my reaction, which was a silent nod with just a moment’s hesitation.

" At no point will you make eye contact with myself or any of my guests. In fact, you will keep you eyes at all times upon the feet of the woman whose presence you happen to be in. That means you’re not to even glimpse at their legs.

" At all times, you will keep your face as close as possible to the feet of the women whom you are serving, but on no account will you touch them or their feet with your hands or face unless specifically told to do so. " I instinctively lowered myself so that my face was scant inches from Lady Deborah’s stockinged heel.

" Speak only when spoken to, " she continued, " and when possible, limit your response to ‘Yes Ma’am’ or ‘No Ma’am’. When a more lengthy response is called for, you will address all women as ‘Lady Ellen’ or ‘Lady Rebecca’ and soforth. Needless to say, you are expected to obey all orders without hesitation. Is all that understood? "

and swear to willingly submit to any punishment whatsoever should I be displeased with your performance for any reason. " I took a deep breath, swallowed nervously, and swore my complete submission without a second thought.

" Excellent, " she replied with satisfaction, withdrawing her stocking foot from my face, slipping it back in its mule, and standing. " Now report to the kitchen; there are several hours before my party, and I’m sure my housekeeper Hollyanne can put you to work doing chores until then. "

I watched with a stunned expression as Deborah walked off, disappearing up a flight of stairs. I was unable to believe what had just happened to me - it all seemed both too good and too strange to be true. Deciding not to dwell on things, however, I followed the noises of pots clinking to the kitchen.

Hollyanne was a girl who looked to be in her early-mid 20’s, with bright, curly red hair, freckles, and full lips, in an expression which somehow was endearing and stern at the same time. She wore a simple black dress, a white apron, and a plain pair of black lace-up shoes over tan stockings. She was busy tossing a salad, and did not seem aware of my presence at first.

" Hollyanne? " I suggested. She looked up suddenly, with a very angered, irritated expression. Putting down what she was doing, she paced across the room to where I stood, and without warning, slapped me quite hard, twice.

" No man in this house will ever dare address me by my first name like that, or look me in the eye. You will call me Ma’am, and keep your eyes lowered in my presence. "

" Yes, Ma’am, " I apologized quickly, lowering my eyes. " Lady Deborah told me that you would give me chores to do to get ready for her party this evening. " It suddenly occured to me, that despite her angry tone, this was the woman I had spoken to on the phone this morning.

" Henceforth, " she explained after a moment’s pause, " you will present yourself to me naked, and drop to your knees in my presence. You will show me respect, and you will obey me. " Without further prompting, I undressed on the spot, folding my clothes in a somewhat neat pile, and somewhat awkwardly knelt at Hollyanne’s feet, my hands folded in my lap.

" Kiss the hem of my apron, " she commanded, and I obeyed, bending down submissively. When I arose, I remembered to keep my eyes lowered.

" Good, " she decided. " Now everything is ready for the party, but you can scrub the kitchen floor. There’s a brush and bucket in the cupboard. "

" Yes, Ma’am, " I acknowledged, and set to work. It took nearly an hour to clean the floor of Lady Deborah’s large kitchen, while Hollyanne took a break, sitting on a stool in the corner, reading a magazine and nibbling at a snack. When I at last finished, I knelt at her feet once more and awaited further instructions. She seemed to think for a moment before speaking.

" I think the soles of my shoes are dirty, " she remarked. " Lick them clean. " Although Hollyanne’s work shoes were anything but sexy, I soon grew excited and erect at being made to lick the feet of such a beautiful woman. Being naked, I could do nothing to hide this, nor did I try. Her shoes really weren’t that dirty - she obviously kept Lady Deborah’s house immaculate - but I eagerly licked their rubber soles all the same, happy to serve her, or anyone else my new Mistress instructed me to.

Hollyanne grew tired of having her shoes licked after a while and set me to work polishing silverware, sitting crosslegged at her feet as I did so. After doing this chore in contended silence for about an hour, she instructed me to rise.

" I need to serve Lady Deborah her dinner, " Hollyanne explained, " and its time for you to clean yourself for the party. You can take a shower downstairs, but don’t you dare even think about masturbating. " With that, she softly swatted my stiff cock with the magazine she held. She pointed me in the direction of the stairs, and as I descended, I found the bathroom and shower without difficulty. I took a long, warm shower, which gave me oppurtunity to air out my thoughts a bit. Was all of this really happening to me? Apparently. Could I really go through with it? Yes!

When I finished drenching myself, I wiped myself with a fluffy towel, and noticed that several items had been set out for me while I cleaned myself: a disposable razor and can of shaving cream, a toothbrush, a comb, a stick of deodorant, and a small garment which was of the same general construction of an ultra-tight speedo swimsuit, only with a thong back, made of the see-thru material of which stockings are made, in the same dark tan color. I realized this was to be my " panty " for the evening, and while I felt a slight bit of humiliation at the prospect, I donned the garment. It was quite snug, but not really uncomfortable. It tightly gripped my cock and balls, and if anything, seemed to make my erection that much more prominent when it returned shortly thereafter. I put this out of my mind as I set about grooming myself. Since I hadn’t been given instructions to shave any unusual areas of my body, I only used the razor on my face, taking care to look well-groomed and immaculate. I checked myself in the mirror one last time, adjusted my erect cock in its tight nylon panty, and returned upstairs.

At about seven that evening, when Lady Deborah expected guests to start arriving, she ordered me on my hands and knees in the foyer, to welcome her friends as they arrived, and to take off their shoes for them if they wished. While I certainly had a general idea of what was expected of me, I nonetheless had very little idea of what the evening would hold.

At ten after seven, the first guest arrived; she apparently was on good terms with lady Deborah, as she did not knock, but merely entered. I was almost caught by surprise, but when I heard the door open, I leapt to attention, my eyes upon the pointed toes of the black and whie spectator pumps which stepped onto the wooden parquet tile of Lady Deborah’s foyer.

" Debbie! " the voice called out (Lady Deborah was off fixing herself a drink at the moment). A moment later, the owner of the pumps thrust one shoe in my face; I quickly got the message to take off her shoes. She wore tan stockings with toe reinforcements beneath, and seemed to pay no mind to me other than presenting me with her other foot once the first was unshod. I grew excited to be so close to her nylonned toes, however, and my cock quickly sprang once more to erection as I studied her maroon-painted toes from close up, catching a tantalizing trace of her feet’s sweet perfume.

The woman (who I learned was to be addressed as Lady Patricia) casually exchanged pleasantries with Lady Deborah for a moment, before the two of them went down the hall to sit in the parlor. Soon, the both of them were gone, having treated me as if I were never there to begin with. I did not complain, but dutifully placed Lady Patricia’s size seven pumps (Gucci leather) on the low shelf which had been provided for the purpose. I dared a sniff of the insoles before returning to my prostrate post by the door.

Lady Ellen was the next to arrive, some five minutes later, dressed in grey silk slacks and black leather flats with gold buckles. She did not wear hoseiry, and my erection returned with a vengeance as she casually presented her petite feet to be bared, announcing her presence to her friends down the hall. Her toes were unpainted but obviously pedicured, and I came close to orgasming in my tight little panty as she absent-mindedly wiggled and flexed them, inches from my face. Judging by her skin tone and accent, Lady Ellen was Hispanic or southern Italian, and while I longed to glance at what was undoubtedly a very beautiful face and body, I nonetheless felt truly priviledged to be so close to her gorgeous size fives for a few seconds before she too left to join the conversation, never paying me direct notice. I lingered for several seconds to worship the feel and scent of her elegant Anne Klein flats before neatly lining them up on the shelf.

Over the next fifteen minutes, the final guests arrived. The first was dressed in a long, flowing skirt, bare legged, wearing casual canvas espadrilles with rope soles. Upon baring her feet, I was surprised to find them slightly dirty, with the barest hint of a callus on either big toe. Otherwise, her long, slender toes were immaculately polished in soft pink.

" Would you like to kiss my toes? " I was startled for a moment that this woman was actually speaking to me, but I responded without hesitation, and with great excitement.

" Yes Ma’am! " She gave permission, and I enthusiastically placed my lips hungrily upon the tops of her toes several times. Her feet were somewhat large (later inspection of her espadrilles placed them as size 10’s), but they were quite attractive and well-proportioned, with long, muscular toes and high arches. After several seconds, she gently drew away her foot. I continued to tremble in prostration, eyes upon the floor, unsure of what to do next.

the floor.

" Thank you, Lady Cynthia, " she corrected. " And always be specific when giving thanks to your superiors. " Though she was probably no older than her mid 30’s, Lady Cynthia addressed me in the tones with which a young child would be reprimanded. She spoke slowly and firmly, but with a gentleness in her voice. " And eyes upon a woman’s feet when in her presence - not looking at the floor. "

" Yes, Lady Cynthia, " I apologized, humbly and sincerely. " Thank you, Lady Cynthia, for allowing me to worship your toes with my lips. "

" You are an eager servant, " she decided. " You’ll do your Mistress proud once you’ve been properly trained. " I silently beamed at the compliment. Without further ado, Lady Cynthia padded down the hall. I sighed quietly both with sexual arousal and with honest pride at having pleased the Lady whose espadrilles I now bent to worship with a reverent kiss.

Five minutes later, Lady Deborah’s two final guests arrived at the same time; I heard their laughter as they approached the house, and was ready and at attention when the door opened. Lady Julie was an attractive oriental woman (my eyes accidentally caught a glimpse of her face before lowering my gaze to her feet) in a slim navy dress, opaque white sandalfoot stockings (the sort without toe or heel reinforcments), and low-heeled navy pumps. Her feet were unusually slender, but very attractive. As she presented them for me to bare, paying me no direct attention, I thrilled to the scent of her shoe leather mixed with a flowery perfume which she must have applied to her ankle; the effect was intoxicating.

Lady Rebecca was even more stunning. Dressed in a rayon or silk floral print skirt, her bare legs tapered down to the most erotically pedicured feet I have ever seen. She wore strippy, thin-soled thongs of silver-sheened leather, and her smooth, long toes were adorned with bright, glossy red polish. Her toenails, however, had been allowed to grow a good quarter inch beyond normal, where they were elegantly rounded. It was obvious that it would have been quite difficult to wear anything other than thongs or sandals, but the effect was teasingly exotic and overpoweringly sexy. My hands literally trembled as I slipped off Lady Rebecca’s thongs, barely resisting the urge to touch and kiss her overwhelmingly erotic feet. Neither woman interrupted her conversation long enough to acknowledge my existence, and both headed down the hall to join their friends as soon as I had taken off their shoes.

Two minutes later, I heard the voice of Lady Deborah, my Mistress, calling me into the parlor. Dutifully, on hands and knees, I crawled the twenty feet of hall and entered the room where the ladies had assembled, my eyes lowered to the carpet. Lady Deborah clapped her hands briskly, and I crawled obediently to her stockinged feet, until my face was perhaps six inches from her smooth, nylonned heel.

" Would anyone like a foot massage? " Lady Deborah asked casually. All of the women expressed mild interest, and I was told to first sit at the feet of Lady Julie. Lady Julie placed one stockinged foot in my hands, and then seemed to forget about me, discussing fashion and gossip with the others. I was only too happy to be left to my devices, meditating on Lady Julie’s white opaque stockings as I kneaded her lovely arches and stroked her petite toes. I wanted badly to kiss her silky foot, or feel her toes brushing against my cheek, or rub them against my straining erection (which no one seemed to pay any heed), but I was quite content simply to massage such pretty feet.

After about ten minutes, Lady Julie withdrew her foot and placed its counterpart in my hands to rub. After a short while, she decided she had had enough, and I was told to crawl to Lady Patricia’s foot. Her legs were stretched out on a footstool, and her stockinged soles were in clear view.

" Rub my feet, " she instructed sternly, and I obeyed, pleased to be able to study her soles and the bottoms of her reinforced toes so closely. Additionally, her stocking feet had a sweet, meaty smell, barely noticable, but sublimely arousing at this close distance. I was in heaven, rubbing her arches and balls of feet with my thumbs, squeezing and flexing her toes gently.

In time, I was sent away to tend to Lady Ellen’s bare toes, followed by a brief massage of Lady Deborah’s stockinged peds. Over the next hour or so, I made my rounds of each of the womens’ feet at least once. As the evening grew on, I was permitted greater liberties with some of the women - Lady Rebecca allowed me the priviledge of worshipping her pedicure by kissing her glamorous toes, and Lady Cynthia later decided her soles were a bit dirty, and ordered me to wash them with my mouth. Throughout all of this, however, little real attention was paid to me, and none whatsoever was paid to my straining, perpetually stiff cock, trapped in the transparent panty I had been made to wear. Lady Deborah herself seemed more interested in observing me than in having me serve her directly, however; I gave her only a single foot massage all night.

As the evening grew late, and Lady Deborah and her guests grew relaxed and giddy, they began becoming slightly more playful in teasing me with their beautiful feet. At one point, Lady Rebecca had me lie on the floor and give her soles a really thorough massage with my tongue. After at least half an hour of constant licking, she got up and Lady Julie took her place. She instructed me to lick and kiss the nylon soles of her sandalfoot stockings, and I became aroused as I stared at the way the wetted nylon clung to the curves of her foot and the soft wrinkles of her sole.

I grew more and more intoxicated, losing myself utterly in such tasks. As I continued to lick Lady Julie’s sole, Lady Patricia placed her stockinged feet on my chest, ordering me to massage them, one at a time. Still, little attention was paid to my labors, though I felt I would soon explode from sensory overload.

For at least an hour, probably longer, I stayed in this posture. Occassionally, the women would switch off places, but for the entire time, I constantly used my tongue to lick at the soles of one pair of feet while my hands massaged another pair of peds. I lost track even of which feet were which, until it all dissolved into an unending stream of beautiful feet which I was made to worship, each foot divinely sexy in its own way.

Eventually, one of the women decided it was getting late, and the party began to break up. Lady Deborah sent me off to the foyer, to tend to the shoes of each guest as she left. I wanted to whimper in agony from the sexual tension I felt, but somehow managed to obey. My cock was rather sore from having been erect so long, and several spots of pre-cum stained the front of my panty. I was surprised that I was able to even move without the shifting of the tight nylon triggering a monstrous orgasm.

I knelt dutifully by the door for a couple of minutes until Lady Deborah and Lady Julie padded down the hall. I fetched Lady Julie’s navy pumps from the shelf and reverantly placed them upon her narrow, beautiful stockinged feet (which still looked wet from my earlier licking).

obeyed without hesitation. She hugged Lady Deborah and left, and soon the rest of the women bid my Mistress farewell in turn. After putting each woman’s shoes on their feet, I was allowed to bow and give thanks for being allowed to worship them over the course of the evening. Each woman allowed me a final kiss to the toe of her shoe, while Lady Rebecca permitted me to pay court to her stunning pedicure one last time that night with a gentle kiss to her beautiful sandalled foot.

When all of the guests had left, Lady Deborah turned to head upstairs, clapping her hands briskly for me to follow. I eagerly crawled behind her, and soon arrived in her bedroom; a huge, elegantly decorated chamber with a king sized bed, a dresser, vanity, and stereo console.

" Take down your panty, " Lady Deborah instructed, seating herself at the vanity. My pulse quickened as I obeyed, and I was relieved that the shifting of nylon over my cock did not make me orgasm. With my panty down around my knees, I bowed my head to Lady Deborah’s stockinged foot, gazing attentively at her pretty toes.

" You served me well tonight, " she mused, " and I have decided that you will continue to serve me as my personal foot slave. " I felt an indescribable feeling of joy as she voiced this decision. She rolled down her stockings as she spoke, and for the first time, my eyes fell upon Lady Deborah’s bare feet, in their soft, milky-white glory.

" To make this official, and to allow you to express your devotion, you will offer up your sperm to the sole of my foot. " I shifted in excitement, my heart pounding furiously.

Without further prompting, Lady Deborah extended her feet, and I instantly set to work performing this task. Lady Deborah carressed my face with the smooth toes of one foot while permitting me to fondle the other as I shamelessly masturbated for her. Somehow, probably due to my nervousness, it took me a full three minutes of excitedly rubbing my cock before I exploded, spraying gallons of thick gooey semen upon the perfect sole of Lady Deborah’s foot. I moaned loudly, covering her other foot with intense, wet kisses, finally collapsing at her feet with trembling exhaustion. I looked up to see my semen dribbling down the wrinkles of Lady Deborah’s footsole, and sighed with utter bliss. After a moment, she stood and moved over to her bed.

" You may sleep at the foot of my bed tonight, after you clean up after yourself. I think I’ll also let you worship my mule tonight. " I managed to raise myself to my hands and knees, slowly regaining my composure, and wondered what to do with the nylon panty wrapped around my knees.

reading my mind. " In fact, you will never remove them without express permission, for any reason. " With a sigh of resignation happy, contented resignation - I obeyed. Lady Deborah indicated a box of kleenex on the vanity, which I used to mop up the stray bits of come which dotted the floor. I was told to close my eyes and bow my head to the floor as Lady Deborah changed into her nightgown. When allowed to open them at last, I found she had placed one of her elegant mules at the foot of the bed. As she climbed under the sheets, she pointed at the shoe, silently commanding me to take my place curled up at the foot of her bed, holding her lovely shoe close to my face. Though I had only a thin rug beneath me, and neither pillows nor blankets, I felt totally comfortable, smiling contentedly.

" Sleep well, " she advised, turning out the light. " You have a busy day tomorrow. " As I gave one last tender kiss to the sole of her mule, I drifted easily into sleep. I could hardly wait.

NOTE: All comments, suggestions, etc. are welcome c/o this email address. Requests for reposts or mailings probably will be ignored, since I don’t keep copies of the stories on my unix account...