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My Service To Women, Part 1
Published on Saturday, October 11, 2014

This story was submitted by Toeman 53.

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Deep inside the BDSM style bar is a back door. Standing in front of the door is a man. He is not smiling nor participating in drink or sex. He is tall, muscular and seemingly uncaring. A tall beautiful blonde strolls into view. She stops and looks straight through him. He flinches. The woman points down. The large man quickly kneels. With deceivingly gentle hands, the man cradles and lifts her right foot. His lips reverently touch the tip of her shoe. He stands, turns to open the door and welcomes her.

There are warm lights all around in various colors. Lush carpet engulfs and comforts every foot. On the walls of three sides of the room there is a bar. Each bar is different in design. Music plays from each one softly. Whichever bar you choose, you only hear the music it plays. All drinks are free. Soft drinks, bottle water and coffee and such are also plentiful. Assorted snacks and fruits abound.

 
BAR ONE
The bar is long on the sides and shorter at the ends. The seats resemble curved love seats suitable for comfortably accommodating two. At the foot of each seat is an opening. The person seated here may extend a foot, or two, through the opening to “stretch one’s legs” if it were. This is the place which the blonde woman went to.

She was dressed for business. A long mid-calf bright red dress, six inch black heels and no stockings, made an impressive sight. As a bartender brought her usual beverage with a wink, a video screen popped up before the lady. She sipped through a straw as she viewed the various faces slowly crawling across the screen. Male, female, couples, young, older, black, white, all races with the same pleading eyes. She loves those people and their pleading eyes with soulful pleading, constantly pleading for feet to adore. She needs these people waiting just inside the opening at her feet. A warm feeling begins at her lower tummy area.

She picks up the headset beside her. Selecting one slightly interesting face, she slides her legs up to her calf through the floor opening. Her seat lays back. She now uses the built in head seat, volume controlled, which only she and the one at her feet can hear.

Those faces from the screen are of slaves. Slave is an ugly hateful state of being, unless, you choose to be one. In this world, at this club, in this bar, at this time, the slaves do, so much more than anything, choose to be one. These particular slaves, although probably having been through several unpleasant sexual experiences, endured such just for a few mere moments of sexual bliss from a lovely female foot. Sometimes just for the simple promise of her feet, with a dubious smile.

Foot fetish. There I said it! The demon of all wickedness, so some say. We need not list the litany of sexual persuasions here. These slaves have a foot fetish. That is the part of a woman’s body which most excites them. Everybody responds differently to each part of another’s physical appearance. Foot slaves, perhaps only being five percent of sexually active people, are as varied as everyone else. So, dear one, whatever floats your boat may sink someone else’s.

As the blonde’s two legs rest comfortably on the soft opening, she crosses her ankles. Suspended in air, a shoe pops off a heel and dangles off toes. At this time, a black man crawls to her feet. He is naked, head bowed, kneeling at her dangling shoe. She lowers her ankles letting the heel stay just above his lips. His eyes widen but he dare not react for fear of her disapproval and removal of her most cherished feet. He can’t see any more of her except these lovely shiny black heels and the beautiful high arch supporting one of them. That’s all he wants to see. This is exactly the reason he became a foot slave. The sad thing about being a foot slave is the level of difficulty involved in finding women who enjoy having their feet appreciated.

"You may kiss my shoes slave," she softly hisses.

"Thank you Princess,” he responds. Princess is the name slaves must use unless/until told otherwise.

His lips kissed the spike heel of the dangling shoe. Just that little touch caused it to slip off her toes and fall. With cat like reflexes his large hands cupped and cradled the falling shoe. Being careful he raised the shoe to his face. His nose went into the toe end of her shoe as far as possible. She smiled as she watched him deeply inhale her scent. It somewhat reminds her of an animal sniffing the scent of its territory. She also noticed a slight twitching in his groin area.

Using the bare toes of her foot she caressed his face. A sudden hiss was heard from him. He laid down her shoe and turned his face full up towards the sole of her foot. She responded favorably, rubbing her high arch sideways over his lips and nose. His nostrils flared as he sucked air through them. Her scent was of expensive leather mixed with a faint lilac scent. The combination worked excellently on her. The complete softness of her foot thrilled him.

The shape of it was perfect. The sight of her every toe in perfect formation to the other made him swoon. Her exotic nail coloring was both expensive and enticing. Not a mark or blemish to be found on her foot. Perfect submission to her wonderful foot was about to be experienced. A personal dedication to and welcomed reception of oral attention to feet occurs when two people attain sensual bliss from it being achieved.

She slides her foot from her heel to the ends of her toes, the length of his face. He kneels upward awkwardly to increase the pressure of her foot on him. The next time she pauses her foot, heel an inch from his lips and whispers, “Out,” and he extends his warm, moist tongue.

A warm spark slides up her leg to her G-spot. She knew it would. She knows anytime a slave licks her feet she’s helpless. It’s undeniable. The tongue licking starts and her sensuality takes over. She slowly slid her heel over that warm welcoming mouth of his. That feeling of power warmly began to engulf her. The emotions of being wanted, needed, desired by another is, intoxicating. She knows that right now, that power to deliver fulfillment or withhold passion from the slave would be hers; if only she wasn’t currently receiving a constellation of sensuous pleasure to which power SHE now surrenders.

She slouches to raise her dress above her waist. She kicks the other shoe off. Her hand gently caresses a breast. She pushes the slave to a seating position. “Lick.” Next his tongue swiped each sole sideways as they would glide up his face. His lips paid foot oral homage. Soft slave kisses accompanied each lick. The passion of his being was released through him to her lovely foot. To be experiencing the fulfillment of a place beyond fantasy is beautiful. A foot slave’s one desire is to share the warm, sensual, sexual emotional high with one who receives the tongue, just as much. If, that same shared pleasure ever happens, it amazes and well pleases them both.

She points her toes downward. His fingers lightly grasp and spread her little and next toe. He stares deep in to the valley between them. His tongue slides slowly between her toes and lovingly licks. She shudders. Her hand strums her moist lips. He laps like a hungry puppy. His warm wet tongue bathing such a tiny space. Paying attention to detail to this, and every space between her toes his mouth continued. Only after finishing between the toes of both of her lovely feet did he choose her left foot. He engulfed her baby toe in his thick soft lips. His mouth warmly greeted it as his tongue wrapped around it. The tiny digit was snug and warm in his mouth. As she enjoyed the individual pampering on this foot, her right one gently slid up and down his cheek.

The excitement was growing in both of them. The slave was now fully erect. His full attention was focused on her feet. He’d become like an animal starving for her feet. Sniffing, licking, grunting, groaning, and sliding his tongue all around in between her toes like a mad man. This servicing of her most royal feet is his passion. Times like these make his slave life worth living. Finding someone who not only permits a slave to orally worship her feet, but derives the same, if not more pleasure from it, is priceless.

Such are the patrons and slaves at BAR ONE.

My Service To Women, Part 2 ... soon perhaps.

The fourth wall, directly in view as you enter, has only another door. Painted on the door are the words, "Hallway."

This story was submitted by Toeman 53.

To read this author's next story, go to The House Is A Home.

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