What a funny job I have... I never thought I would be a limousine driver, it's all so strange... For many months, Ms. Hurley, a very rich, beautiful model, actress and queen of the popular magazines has employed me. Ms. Hurley does not dive so I take my rich and beautiful employer wherever she asks me to: Shopping, to the hairdresser, various appointments. She is about 35, and very full of herself. I call her Madam Hurley. One day she called me over to her iMs. Hurleynse living room. She said, without even looking at me, "It is very unfortunate, George, but every one of the house maids and servants are sick today. Can I count on you to do a few things for me? " "Certainly, Ms. Hurley". She was sitting very comfortably on the couch, reading some magazine. "Good, George. Bring me a cup of tea and cookies. " She said that in the very stern and dry voice she usually used when addressing herself to me in particular, harsher than to any of the other house employees. I rushed to the kitchen, and fixed her a tea and found the cookies. I laid them out nicely on a tray and proceeded to go back in the living room. "Your tea, Ms. Hurley " She did not even raise her head. "Well, if you need me again, you just need to ring me, I'll be shining the car." She then raised her head, and for the first time laid her eyes on me. She said, "No George. You are going to stay here, right next to me, in the living room. You will be standing up right here, politely and silently, with your hands behind your back until I say otherwise. I do not want to have to ring you, when I need you; I just want to have you there. Do you understand?" "Err, well, Yes Ms. Hurley ". "Good". Well, I thought that was a bit weird... I mean, OK, I was the surrogate servant, but surely I was not her slave. I did not protest, though; you don't protest with these people... I need my job...She was resuming her reading, sipping her tea once in a while, while I was just observing this in an uncomfortable position. I was noticing that she was playing around with her high heel mule, slipping her foot in and out, rotating her ankles, stretching her toes. Well, there was nothing else to do, so I kept looking. Whenever her whole foot was out, I could notice that they were absolutely perfect... With blood red nail polish on her toe nails. I became quite entranced with them, and they were starting to turn me on. In fact my attention was so focused on them that I did not feel the passing of time. I was in an uncomfortable position, standing with my hands behind my back, waiting to fulfil her next request. In other circumstances, I would have found it most unbearable, but this was extremely different. At one point her shoe slipped from her foot and dropped on the floor. At that point, without interrupting her reading or looking up at me, she called my name very dryly and pointed at the floor where the shoe had fallen with a very slow and haughty head motion. She was treating me as though I was only dirt on the floor, not even worthy of being looked at by her superior eyes. I was totally torn between the desire to throw myself the foot of the couch, pick up her shoe and slip it back on, and that of slapping her across the face and call her all the names she deserved. I was so confused, in fact, that I did not even say anything for what seemed like an eternity. She eventually looked up at me, exasperated, snapped her fingers and pointed her index at the shoe on the floor. At that point, I decided to obey her, got on my knees and picked up the shoe. The whole time, she was looking at me with an incredulous, offended expression on her face, from the side of the magazine she was holding. She really seemed furious that I had hesitated even one moment before obeying her wish. My previous feeling of confusion and incertitude as to what to do was quickly fading away, when faced with the lack of doubt she was displaying regarding what I should have done. In fact right then, as I was holding her shoe in my hands, on my knees with my face inches from her foot, I felt like apologizing, worse yet, begging for forgiveness for my inexcusable behaviour. After all, it was very well specified that I was supposed to replace the maid for the day, and therefore should have obeyed without asking questions. I managed to output a very shaky, "I am sorry Ms. Hurley. This will not happen again. Your shoe, Ms. Hurley." "That is much better George" she said, extending her foot for me to obviously slip the shoe on, which I did as delicately and softly as I could. In order to do so, my left hand was carefully positioned under her ankle, lifting it ever so slightly, and my right hand, holding the mule from beneath, between heel and the toe of it, slipped it on. Although it was a rapidly executed motion, it had intensity to it that I cannot put into words, intensity which was furthermore intensified by her cold stare at me. It was symbolic of a new strange relationship that was forming between the two of us. After slipping the shoe on her gracious foot, as I was starting to get up from the kneeling position I was in, I was still feeling literally roasted by her powerful, almost menacing glaze. "Listen to me George. You are not here to think about what I ask you; you are paid to do as I ask you to do, no more, no less. If you do not like it you can leave, and find a job somewhere else; but let me tell you that you better not expect a letter of reference from me if you do so. In fact I will make it difficult for you to find another position. So make up your mind now; if you decide to stay, you better behave yourself" Then, with a wicked smile, she added, "otherwise I will fire you." As I was getting up, brushing the imaginary dust on the knees of my pants with brisk hand motions, I said, "Truly Ms. Hurley, I am sorry. I will be much more prompt in the future. " I then committed the tragic mistake of adding, "I really need this job, and I will do my best to deserve it", which effectively made me even more vulnerable to her and stripped me of my dignity. When I think back on it, I could just have said that I was quitting right on the spot, and that I didn't care one bit about not having a letter of reference, and did not give a damn about having a harder time finding a job, and that she could just go @#%$ herself etc etc. The fact was that I really needed the money; I had debts and other financial worries. "Well, George this is much better. I like to know I can count on you." She had an arrogant smile, an expression of confident superiority written in her face, she was having a power trip. I could even feel the power she had on me, it was many fold. Financially, of course, but there was also another component, a very subtle sense that my whole being was at her disposition. I felt kind of ambivalent about that myself, one hand loving that feeling in the phantasmic sense, but hating it in the down to earth way; I felt like my self confidence was eroding. I also felt like on her side, she loved the feeling both in reality and in the world of phantasms. At that point she let go of the magazine, depositing it on her lap." You know what George?" I hated the way she always said my name in every sentence she uttered, putting an ounce (or a ton) of sarcasm in it, which she seemed to find very amusing. "Get back down on your knees, like you were before, at the foot of the couch. Good. I have a feeling that the bottoms of my shoes are a bit dirty. Can you take a closer look? " I walked on my knees, my face inches from the bottom of her left shoe. "Get closer to it, George. Put your face closer, I said. Are they dirty?" My face was 2 inches from her heels; from were I was, the bottom of her shoe was almost all I could see. It was a bit dusty. "They are slightly dirty, Ms. Hurley " "How unfortunate George. My shoes are very expensive and should be clean so clean it. These cost more than 4 months of your wages after all" I moved back to take my handkerchief, feeling very humiliated , and heard , "Not with that George. I want you to lick it. Lick the bottom of my shoe clean, George. With your tongue, George. Do you understand? Now go, just lick." That was so agonizing, to actually use my tongue on the bottoms of her shoes... Remembering the potential outcome of my refusing, however, I just did as I was told, putting my mouth around the heel. "Very good George. You see how good you can be? Now, I want you to keep licking the heel until it shines George. I'm quite confident you will do a good job" And she resumed her reading. I was feeling so humiliated that a sense of despair eventually took over me, and I was starting to feel resigned to my fate. As I was licking her shoe, she was just flipping pages of her magazine, not paying attention to me, but expecting, knowing that I was going to do a good job. "Enough with the heel, George. lick the rest. As I was licking her shoes, I felt a tremendous sense of loss and despair; I had never been so humiliated. But I had to do it, my job security depended on it. She made me lick clean the bottoms and the heels of both her shoes as she was lazily lying on the couch with her magazine, ignoring my presence. The only time she paid the slightliest attention to me was to tell me occasionally from behind her magazine which shoe to lick, or which part of the shoe to concentrate on. After a while, everything felt unreal. I kind of forgot all the emotional/psychological components of the event, perhaps because it was such an overdose of humiliation that the only way for me to cope with it was to sublimate it, and concentrated only on her shoes, the way they felt in my mouth, on my tongue; the way the bottoms of her feet, which I could see protruding on each side of the skinnier part of the shoe (between the heel and the toe) were moving and stretching from inside the shoe; the unique fragrance of the sweat from her feet mixed with the leather of the sole of the shoe... I was not concerned anymore about my self-esteem or confidence, but only in doing a good job, basically. In fact, I tried to even put all of my energies into doing the best I could, to clean everything up and then swallow it. I almost took pride in how good a job I was doing. I was only wishing that she'd notice my efforts, but she was not even bothering looking at me. She was just reading on, aloof and lazily comfortable; the only signals that I got from her (other than her self assured voice dryly ordering me to lick in specific spots of her shoe bottoms), was the motion of her feet, and the occasional (probably involuntary) kick that I would receive in the face as she moved on the couch to make herself more comfortable. I completely lost track of the time... A near- sighted observer would have probably thought I was a docile, well-trained, if funny-looking dog, kneeling as I was on all fours and licking her beautiful shoes like that... but for these few moments, I totally lost all objectivity, all subjectivity, all perspective. The only thing that mattered was to clean her shoes with my tongue. And to do it extremely well and thoroughly. She was a glamorous star and I was just a servant. When she felt her shoes were clean, she said, "that's enough, George. Get up, and stand where you were before, with your hands behind your back again. If I need you, I 'll let you know." "Yes Ms. Hurley", said I, getting up from the kneeling down position I had taken in order to polish her shoes-with my tongue... It felt like I was waking up, really from a strange dream. Surely, this had not REALLY happened; it was merely a dream. I had not actually gotten down on my knees to actually lick her actual shoes, the actual bottom of her shoes; or, did I? The grit I felt in my mouth and that I was presently swallowing was surely not the dirt that I had just sucked out of her shoe bottoms... As I was pondering all of these possibilities, the phone loudly rang and brought me to my senses. "Pick that up George" I ran and got the phone, and said, "you have reached the residence of Ms. Hurley . May I help you? " I recognized the voice of the maid, who just said to tell Ms. Hurley that she would not be in for another week. She also said he did not have the time to talk to her and explain why. "Very good I'll tell Ms. Hurley" and I hung up. I relayed the information to Ms. Hurley,and she did not seem very fazed. In fact she seemed almost happy. She decided to close her magazine and sat down on the couch. She was looking at the shoes on her feet, inspecting them carefully. "You've done an "OK" job on my shoes George. It can really benefit from an improvement, though. I have lots of shoes, next time I feel one pair is dirty: I'll have you lick them again, but that time, I do not want to see your drool all over them. Now go get the tennis court ready, I'm going to call Lady Victoria Hervey and play with her." "Yes Ms. Hurley ", and I went promptly downstairs to get her tennis racket and towels and a few other items, then went out to set her stuff at the tennis court in the backyard. She had an amazingly enormous property, Ms Hurley, with a pool, a tennis court, a huge garden with tons of trees and flowers..., She even had a ranch with horses... As I came back to the house I was ruminating on what she had told me. So she didn't think I'd done a good job? This felt awful. I remembered trying to sublimate the intense humiliation I was feeling, and trying to do my best for the sake of my job. But she was picking on me. The shoes were spotless, though...The worse thing however, was that this seemed to be only the beginning, and that there was much more coming (this prediction turned out to be right) A while later, the doorbell rang. It was Lady Victoria Hervey, another rich and beautiful star and friend of Ms. Hurley. She was as beautiful as Ms. Hurley and slightly younger. She had straight dark hair, and always looked as though she was coming straight out of the hair dresser/beautician. I opened the door; without even smiling, looking at me or saying anything, she handed me her sportsbag and went in the living room to join Ms. Hurley, who was calling her in. These rich people were so alike: both arrogant, both thinking that everybody is there to serve them and cater to them, and that this is the natural state of things; they are just superior by nature, and anybody else is just like dirt on the ground, not even worthy of their attention, except when ordered to do something. You waited on them hand and foot and never got a word of thanks. That self assured, condescending arrogance hit me like a blow in the face; for yet another time and I felt like just quitting (of course I didn't). They went out to the tennis court and I was just following them. When we got there, Ms. Hurley said, "Get us some water for when we're finished, George, and set us up on the table next to the pool." While I got up to prepare the table for them, they played a short game together; and when they were tired, they came with their towels and rackets towards the table , where I pulled the chairs to seat them, first Ms. Hurley, then Lady Victoria Hevvey. I was standing three feet away from the table. They threw their stuff on the floor. While they were discussing their game, they raised their glasses towards me in order for me to fill them up. As they had their first sip, Ms. Hurley screamed "What is this, George? this water is way too warm. Get us another bottle right now. Hurry up, we are thirsty." "I'm really sorry, Ms. Hurley. I will get you another one right away.", I rushed to the house to get some colder water from the fridge. I came back, and they were talking about me visibly. I was feeling embarrassed, but I quickly poured them some water, apologizing again for my mistake. This water was very cold, therefore they couldn't possibly complain. After I poured the water, I resumed my initial position, standing up next to them with my hands crossed behind my back. I heard Ms. Hurley say to Lady Victoria, while they were looking at me, "George is very slow today, and he keeps making mistakes. He can't do a single thing right. I know he's just the chauffeur, but what I'm asking of him is so simple, I don't see why he always makes so many mistakes." "I can see that. He looks like he needs some training, or else to be fired..." My head was bowing in humiliation, I did not know what to say to them as they were so openly criticizing me. "George, you are almost forcing me to fire you, do you understand that? I mean... There are many people out there who would love to have your job. You better behave yourself." "Yes Ms. Hurley. I am sorry Ms. Hurley. Please do not fire me Ms. Hurley" I’ll do anything you say Ms. Hurley. I love being you’re servant and will do my best to serve you and Lady Victoria. There was a note of begging in my voice that I really did not want to hear... "Well... I'll see about that. My feet are hurting from the game I played. Remove my shoes." "Yes Ms. Hurley " I bowed before Ms. Hurley immediately, undoing the laces, then removing her sneakers from her feet. Lady Victoria Hervey was watching the whole scene, amused. "My feet need to breathe. Remove my socks too George. " Which I did delicately. Her toes were stretching after each sock was removed. They were absolutely perfect, despite the game she had just been playing. Her toes still had that beautiful shade of red nail polish, professionally applied, without a single scratch. Her sweaty feet exuded a smell which was intoxicatingly sexy. Lady Victoria was, giggling at this point, said, "Well that's not so bad after all... Can he remove my shoes too?" "George, did you hear that? remove Lady Victoria Hervey’s shoes and socks right now." Which I did, without waiting an extra second. My job depended on it... She also had amazing looking feet, a size smaller than Ms. Hurley, with paler red nail polish. She also had an ankle chain. As I got up, red from the humiliation by two rich women, this time, Ms. Hurley said, "George, take our shoes and socks away from here. Put them by the pool. Good. Come back here. My feet are kind of hot still. Get down on your knees. Come closer to them. Closer, I said. Good." Her right leg was crossed, and her foot was dangling in the air. I was so close to her foot, on my knees, my hands on the floor, beneath the table. I could smell their perfume. "Blow on it George. I want it to be nice and dry. Lady Victoria, why don't you rest your feet on his back while he does this? Yes like that, make yourself comfortable, that is why George is there. So where were we, Lady Victoria? Oh yes, your back hand really improved, didn't it... (Blow harder, George)...Your smash also surprised me..." And there I was blowing on Ms. Hurley pampered ' toes and arches to make them feel better, on the cement floor surrounding the pool after the tennis game she had played with Ms Victoria Hervey. I mean, I was on all fours, beneath the table where they were both sitting, drinking the cold water I had just poured them, discussing their game together... Not only that, but Ms Victoria Hervey had her feet up on my back as well as I was blowing on my employer's toes. To her I was just a piece of furniture to be used for her convenience. Ms. Hurley’s lovely legs were crossed, and I was blowing on the beautiful foot that was dangling in the air, blowing from above her beautiful foot, from below her foot... Once in a while, she would cross her other leg over, presenting me the other foot to blow on; it would kick me in the face as I was blowing, since I was so close. And Lady Victoria Hervey would rub her feet on my back, sometimes pressing down so much that the already uncomfortable position I was in was actually worsened... Not to mention the humiliation I felt, literally at their feet. All the while, of course, they were so comfortable, enjoying the sun and the refreshments, their conversation... I also felt that they loved to have this tall man, on his knees under the table they were on, being so docile and subservient to them. I felt trapped. Ms. Hurley had real power over me; she was my employer, and jobs were scarce. And the idea of losing the job was tormenting me... Of course, from under the table all I could see was her legs and feet. After about 15 minutes of blowing on her feet, She said, "That's enough blowing George. get up and pour us another glass of water right now." Which I did promptly, after Ms Victoria Hervey removed her feet from my back. I was feeling a bit soar from the uncomfortable position had been in, so I stretched a little after pouring them the glass. "You know George, this cement floor is not very comfortable for my beautiful feet. I mean, it is OK for the foot that is on the leg that I cross over and that you blow on, but the other one rests on cement, and it is a bit itchy. what do you suggest I could do ?" "Well, Ms. Hurley, let me put down the towel under your foot, that way you'll be much more comfortable. I believe that both your feet are dry, though...therefore you..." "You know George, I and I alone knows when my feet are dry. I don't feel like they are, so get down there, but this time lie on your back. Under the table. Closer, George. There." I was looking up at her from underneath the table, and I saw her put one foot on my chest, while the other one, crossed over, was dangling above my head. Lady Victoria right away put her feet down on my lower body. I felt crushed mentally and physically. I was a carpet. These beautiful starts thought they could tell me to do anything and I would do anything they told me to. "That's much more comfortable, George. Is it not, Lady Victoria?" She agreed with a giggle. "Well, eorge? what are you waiting for? Blow on my foot" The bottom of her foot was so close to my face... I could smell it, and the smell was so sweet, so amazingly sensual. I started to feel aroused in spite of the humiliation I was feeling. The feeling intensified as she slowly deposited -more accurately "plopped"- her dangling foot flat onto my face. There were four feet on my lying body, crushing me to the concrete floor. I could see only partially, as her foot was obstructing my sight; I could only inhale the smell from her foot. It was an incredible turn on, somehow. My arms were just next to me, drained of all energy. IN fact I had never felt more aroused all of my life, but there was nothing I could do about it. In the middle of their conversation, she ordered me, "George, lick the bottom of my foot. all of it. between my toes George." I could sort of see that Lady Victoria Hervey was sort of looking under the table to see if I was actually doing it. And I was. "Hmmm this feels really good george. don't stop. keep licking right there. YES. HMMM. Lick softly, George. yes like that." Yes. finally I was doing something that she was enjoying, something that she did not find anything to complain about. Not to mention that I was enjoying it as well... My tongue was moving so gluttonously all over the bottom of her foot to the extent that she had to tell me to lick more softly. The smell and feeling on my face were so intoxicating... The whole time I was thrusting my hips upwards, held down to the floor as I was by the pressure exerted on me by their feet. My @#%$ was rubbing on my underwear, and I was dangerously close to achieving a monumental orgasm... Finally Ms. Hurley seemed to enjoy what I was doing, and I was dying of ecstasy, lying on my back, licking her feet , while Lady Victoria Hervey was using my legs as a footstool. Ms. Hurley wanted more and more of my tongue on her sole, and I was doing my best to keep up with her demands... The mood changed very rapidly, though; After a few minutes of lying at the feet of these ladies, Ms. Hurley ordered removed her foot from my face, and said, "That's enough, George. You seem to get carried away a little too much for my taste. Stop licking the bottom of my foot like that. And stop shaking on the ground like that, it is not very becoming. I have a guest over, do you want me to seem like someone who cannot afford adequate servants ? I am very sorry Ms. Hurley. I will behave properly. Well, roll out from under there, get a towel and dry my feet. Yes Ms. Hurley. Lady Victoria Hervey lifted her feet from my lower body, and I crawled away from under there. I was very confused. Did she like it or not ? What was this all about? I hurried and got the tennis towel and dried off my own saliva from her feet, kneeling down in front of her. I apologized subserviently as I did, but she remained cold. She was barely watching me as I did so. Gone was her feeling of pleasure, which I thought was genuine and long lasting... Lady Victoria Hervey was just watching the whole thing, slightly amused, smiling in a very snobby way. It felt awful. What was that? what was happening to me? I was looking down at her amazing feet that I had been forced to lick, drying them as carefully as I could. "I have to go" Lady Victoria Hervey said to her. "This really was fun, I hope we can play tennis again soon... " "George will drive you back. " After being forced to put their shoes on, and carrying all of their stuff as they were leaving, Ms. Hurley went back to the house and I took the limo from the garage to drive Lady Victoria Hervey back. She was younger than Ms. Hurley, but as bitchy. I opened the back door for her and she sat comfortably. I drove her home during the ride; she was putting up some makeup, puffing her hair. She was truly a god send. It was hard to keep my eyes off her. Even though I was not paid by her, I still felt like I had to behave well around her as well. Certainly, judging by the derogatory way she was looking at me, one would have thought I was her servant, if not her slave... We got to her house. She asked me to carry her stuff upstairs. Although she was loaded, she was not as rich as Ms. Hurley, and she did not have any permanent staff working for her household. The house happened to be empty. "Have a nice day now, Lady Victoria Hervey,"said I after getting her stuff upstairs. She turned and looked at me, and said, "well George, don't you want something to drink, before going back? " "well, certainly Lady Victoria Hervey, but I cannot stay too long, because Ms. Hurley will...""Hang on one second "She took her telephone, called Ms. Hurley and asked her if she needed me for the next little while; of course I did not hear her reply, but it must have been positive. When she hung up she said, "Put yourself at ease, George; why don't you sit down there." Which of course I did, but after much bewilderment. There I was , in her living room, sitting on a comfortable chair as she was about to bring me a drink; moments ago I was lying down at her feet, a footstool, pouring her and Ms. Hurley some water as they requested... This was incredible, and I had never been treated like this by anybody of the kind before. This was enjoyable. She came back with two glasses of whisky. She sat in front of me on a couch, still in her tennis outfit and running shoes on the couch. "Liz... I mean Ms. Hurley is very demanding with you, is she not? " "Well, I suppose she is; the thing is that I really need my job, so I kind of have to obey her and not really say much about it." "Weren't you humiliated when she was making you lick her feet like that, in front of me? " I felt like I was put on the spot. I WAS feeling humiliated at first for sure, but the feeling left as soon as she seemed to respond positively to my licking her feet, at which point I started to enjoy it, and it had even felt extremely sexual. Did I like to lick her feet per se, or was it just because she is an attractive woman , that seemed to be pleased by what I was doing to her ? I probably enjoyed it because I needed some positive reinforcement at the moment, or something. "Well, I felt humiliated, Lady Victoria Hervey, but again, I have to do this because I need my job." She was enjoying the fact that I felt humiliated, it seems. She probably was envious of Ms. Hurley Hurley, having this virtual slave at her disposal... The phone rang. It was Ms. Hurley, and she wanted to speak to me...