I was asked to write this by someone on another site. This is not my normal stuff. It is a about a TV mistress with a couple of servant/slaves
One of them is obsessed with her feet. I did it to see if i could. It contains forced bi sex.

As I drove home, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The Mercedes has very soft seats but the beating I had got from my client tonight was more severe than I intended.

“Bloody screwed up aristocracy.”

I shouted to no one. It was screwed up. I’m a high-class TV call girl, it’s normally me giving out the beatings. His lordship couldn’t risk being seen having sex with a man. Oh no, but that’s what he wanted.

He thought he was so clever choosing me. It was bizarre. I had to strip out of my stockings, corset and boots, then put on a man’s suit. Then he bent me over the table and insisted on spanking me first. Only the bastard used his belt. I’m sure I will be sore for days.

Still £5000 is not to be sneezed at.

“Call home.”

I said to the infotainment system. After a few rings there was an answer.

“Susan Rathbones’ residence. How may I help you?”

“For a start maid, you can raise the pitch of your voice. You sound like a man.”

“I’m… I’m sorry mistress.”

“No, you’re not, not yet. But when I get home you bloody well will be! I’m pissed off. You can warn footstool if you want. I’m angry and you two are going to suffer.”

Maid and footstool are my two unpaid servants. I say servants, because they are free to leave at any time. I don’t own them. They are both middle aged unemployed men. They stay in two sparse spare rooms at my six bedroom house in Barnet. They pay me rent and clean and cook for me.

Maid is 45. He wanted to serve a TV mistress. Footstool is 42 he loves my feet. He worship’s them. They both get their needs fulfilled. So do I.

When I pull into the drive, I climb out. My 4-inch heels of my patent leather boots crunch the gravel. The door opens before I have to use my key.

“Welcome home mistress. Your martini is waiting in the lounge.”

“Footstool?”

“Yes madam, kneeling naked by you chair.”

Maid does his best to curtsy. His face is red. He hates the way I make him dress. He is wearing a cheap, sex shop French maid’s outfit. Complete with fishnet stockings and 3-inch court shoes. He has even remembered his little cap. There is no makeup or wig. He looks ridiculous.

He starts to move towards the kitchen.

“Wait! Lift your skirt maid.”

“Please mistress.”

I pull a riding crop from the umbrella stand.

“Now!”

His trembling hands lift the lacy hem.

“Fucking boxers! You know what you must wear. Right for a start no day off Saturday. Go and get your knickers now!”

Maid stumbles up the stairs. Soon he is back down holding the black knickers covered with ten rows of lace on the back and the front.

“Whose knickers are these?”

“The maid’s mistress.”

“Who is the maid?”

“I am mistress.“

“Well bloody well put them on!”

He reached under his skirt and slipped out of his boxer shorts. I heard the lock rattle against his cock cage as he put one leg after the other into the frilly knickers. His face was bright red he was so humiliated, as he drew them up his legs.

“Wait. Stop there. Lift the frontof y our skirt.”

I could see his cock straining against the bars of the cage. He was rock hard. It must be hurting him. He was really getting off on this. He craved humiliation. He said he hated it, but his body seemed to loved it.

“Into the kitchen and bend over the table.”

He shuffled off with his knickers at half mast around his knees. He knew what was coming. His bare backside awaited when when I arrived. I swished to riding crop a few times. Then brought it down hard on his quivering buttocks. He screamed.

“Not high enough, you still sound like a man.”

I brought down the crop again and again.

“Please mistress, I’ll be good”

He squealed. His voice was desperate and high pitched.

“You’ll be a good what?”

I stood with the crop above my head ready to strike.

“A good girl mistress.”

I could see a trickle of pre-cum had dribbled from his cage down the inside of his stockings.

“Good girl. Meet me in the lounge in twenty minutes. Bring the lube.”

I saw a flash of fear. He was going to say something but thought better.

In the lounge footstool was kneeling beside my chair. He too was wearing a cage. His one squashed his cock into a tiny silver dome. I stood next to him and could see his eyes fixed on my boots.

“Clean them footstool.”

His head immediately went down, and he started licking the stains off the leather. I let him have his fun for several moment then I sat down. He sat back on his haunches and continued to stare at my boots.

“Open wide.”

I carefully slipped the heel of my right boot into his mouth. He sucked it like a lollypop.

“Now footstool. My feet are all sweaty and need cleaning. Take off my boots.”

He carefully unzipped each boot and slowly slipped them off my feet. His eyes glazed over when he saw my stockinged feet. He stared longingly at my red toes in the dark reinforced toe.

He was dribbling slightly. He really did worship my feet.

“Head up footstool.”

I pushed the sole of my foot into his face. He breathed in deeply. A look of pure joy came over his face.

“I need to put my feet up footstool.”

Immediately he got on his hands and knees. I rested both of my heels on his back. It felt good to rest my legs at the end of a hard but profitable day.

I sipped my martini and looked at the clock. Maid would be in here soon.

“Lay flat.”

He lay flat on his back, face up. My right foot rested on his nose, my left on his caged cock. He gently licked the sole, then I forced my toes in his mouth. He groaned and writhed in pleasure.

“Mistress.”

Maid stood there with a tube of lube.

“Footstool’s turn tonight, I think. Take his cage off.”

I took the small key from my charm bracelet and handed it to maid. He fumbled at footstool’s crouch. Then removed the cage. Footstools' penis free from its confinement sprung up. I took my wet toes from his mouth and wiped them around his face. He mumbled and groaned he was in heaven.

“Maid. Remove my stockings.”

Footstool looked on jealousy as maid slowly slipped them off my legs. He looked longingly at my dark red toenail’s. The same ones he sucked and kissed and painted the day before.

I was thinking of telling maid to fuck footstool. I changed my mind.

“Maid, get between footstools legs and blow him.”

The look on his face was priceless. He hated doing this. He wasn’t gay, but he did really get off on being degraded. He bent down and set about his distasteful task. Footstools eyes were bulging as he saw my naked foot approach his face.

“Clean between my toes footstool I had such a hard day.”

His tongue lapped furiously. He loved my feet, but most of all my naked painted toes.

My left foot stray down to his cock. Maid released it, and it quivered in the air. I stroked my left foot up and down the length of his shaft. He sucked hard on my big toe, then shot a thick stream of cum over maid’s face.

Maid was disgusted by this. His cock was still bulging in his cage. There was a small pool of cum between his legs.

“Don’t look so disappointed maid. It’s your turn tomorrow. If you are a good girl, I’ll let you fuck footstool as he sniffs my shoes.”

Maid hung his head. He didn’t want to do that, but he knew he would love it.

What a fucked-up couple of guys’ these two were. I chuckled as my own cock twitched in my silky knickers. I was probably the most fucked up of us all.

I was growing harder. It was my turn for fun. Now which one should I choose?