Frank's Fabulous Feminine Footware

is a fantasy for female foot fetishers. (Enough "F'in" alliteration. Now that all of you who real aloud have covered your Monitors with saliva, we can get on with the story).

-=o=-

I rushed into the hotel and slipped in the side door of the banquet hall. Getting to these Chamber of Commerce luncheons on my schedule was a bear. As the owner of my small, yet profitable business, I never seemed to have time for myself. If it weren't for the contacts I made at these meetings, I wouldn't even be here. Indeed, I normally don't get lunch at all. I need a break. I need some pampering in my life.

I made my way as unobtrusively to my table as I could. I found the card that had "Janet H..." written on it and sat down. The program had already started, and the staff was already serving lunch. I smiled at my table mates as I placed my napkin on my lap.

The first part of the meeting ended shortly thereafter, and we had some "free time" before the main speaker would take the podium. I had a chance to talk with some of my fellow lunch eaters.

After some general remarks and exchanging pleasantries with the other people at the table, I turned my attention to Shirley, the woman sitting next to me. Shirley had a habit of marrying rich, and divorcing even richer. Shirley also worked for an investment house in town, and did pretty good for herself in her own right. She had made a couple of big scores with her investments, and now commanded top dollar as a broker.

Shirley drove an outrageously expensive automobile, and lived in a mansion in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in town. For all her money, she was really a nice person, at least to me. We didn't travel the same social circles for the obvious financial reasons, but we found common ground in our aggressive business behavior. Naturally, she always wore the most elegant and expensive clothes. I was envious of her, but it was still impossible not to be impressed with her attire.

I was not disappointed when we got up to leave and I saw her outfit. I took in all in to her obvious satisfaction. When I got to her shoes, I commented, "Oh, Shirley, those are the cutest pumps! Where did you ever get them?"

"I had them custom made." She replied.

I smiled and honestly admitted, "I'd never be able to afford them."

"You'd be surprised," she went on, "I don't have time to go shopping for myself. I hire a shopper to buy my clothes, and I have my shoes fitted at home. I have Frank coming over this weekend. Why don't you come over on Saturday. I've invited some other friends of mine over. I have a sixth sense about you, I think you'll fit in with our group. Bring your bathing suit. We can take a dip in the hot tub. We make a party of it; the girls and I. You don't have to buy anything. It will be fun."

I was sure it would be fun, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet with the local "high rollers." I looked at the invitation as both a social and business opportunity.

Shirley gave me her business card and wrote down directions to her house on the back. "One more thing," she said, "I hope you're prepared to leave some conventional ideas behind."

I didn't know how to take that last remark.

-=o=-

I pulled up to the gate and dialed the correct extension. Shirley answered and buzzed me in. I followed the road for about another quarter of a mile going steadily downhill until I reached the shore of the lake. The word "house" was inadequate. "Villa" would be more appropriate.

Shirley already had two guests when I got there, she introduced them as they waved to me from the small pool she called her hot tub. "This," she said indicating a slightly older woman, "is Martha. Her husband owns the car dealership on 5th and main." I knew the place -- acres and acres of high priced cars. "And this," indicating the a younger woman, "is Tracy. Tracy was born rich. Her father had a sixth sense about some upstart electronics firms in the mid-sixties. While others were making love or making war, he was making investments."

"Let me show you where you can get changed." I was led to the poolhouse. I wish my bathroom was as large and luxurious. By the time I got out, our next guest, a woman about my age, had arrived. "Barbara, meet Janet." Shirley said introducing me to the new arrival. "I invited Janet over here today to try on Frank's wares and take a dip with us."

The five of us soaked in the tub for about a half hour, sipping on wine and nibbling on hors d'oeuvers chatting like a bunch of pre-teens at a slumber party. I was surprised at how informal the atmosphere was. There was a definite sisterhood among the four women, and I was happy to be included in it.

The gentle pulses of warm water on my spine and muscles was so seductive. I almost felt like I was dissolving in the liquid. I was lost in the soothing sensations of the warmth of the wine coursing in my veins on the inside and the warmth of the water bathing me outside.

I was awakened by Shirley's touch on my arm. It both startled and aroused me. Was it just my imagination, or did I feel a sexual spark there? This was the first time I had let my hair down in weeks, and I hadn't been to bed with a man for a couple of months. Who had time for men on my schedule? I was overdue sex, and maybe the wine, the water and the women's oneness was letting my repressed sexuality come to the surface.

"You have to watch that," Shirley said, "this water will drain all the energy out of you if you're not careful. I always go in with a friend or set a timer when I'm alone. Come out on the deck and lay down."

I laid down on a lounge chair. I felt like I was in bondage as gravity pinned every part of my body to the chair. I had no thought of moving, and I felt so comfortable. Well, almost. There was one part of me that wasn't relaxed. My insides were beginning to stir with the same sensations that a good session of foreplay produces. The treatment seemed to drain out my energy alright. It drained my energy to resist my sexual instincts. I wondered if it had the same effect on the other women. I was glad my suit was still wet.

I laid there for another 15 minutes when the reason for our meeting showed up. I looked out at the drive and saw a small truck pull up. On the side was painted, "Frank's Fabulous Feminine Footware." I laughed, "I've never heard of a shoe salesman making a house call."

Shirley winked at me and smiled, "Frank's more than a shoe salesman, and there's a little more to this house call than just being fitted for shoes."

"Frank is a foot -- how shall I say this? -- master." Tracy added. "He does more than just fit you with shoes that make your feet feel great, he makes your feet feel great. He provides total foot care from pedicures to massages -- and more."

The other women giggled when Tracy added the "and more."

"You can set up in the other room the same as last time, Frank."

"Most certainly, Madam," Frank responded.

"Come on girls," our hostess urged, "Let's get comfortable. Shall we?"

Shirley led us into the room where Frank was setting up. Shirley seemed to have a separate room for every possible use, and in this one there were a number of easy chairs facing the center of the room. Frank had moved the table to the side and rolled up the oriental rug, leaving the hardwood floor exposed.

This was obviously a well-planned event since there was a pile of towels for us to sit on so we would be comfortable in the chairs.

Frank bustled in and out with boxes of various sizes and pieces of equipment some, the purpose of which, I couldn't comprehend.

He finally got the room arranged the way he wanted it and asked, "What is your pleasure today, madams?"

Shirley introduced me to Frank, "This is Janet. Why don't you start with her. She's interested in becoming a customer. Perhaps you can start with a cast?"

"Madam, it would be my pleasure to serve her." Turning to me, he described the procedure he was about to perform. "In order to make the perfect fit, I must get exact replica of your foot. I will take a plaster mold of the foot now, bring it back to my shop and make a hard-rubber copy of your foot. The copy will have the exact shape as your foot in every detail, and it will flex in just the right places like your real foot. I use this model to make your shoes."

Before I knew what was happening, Frank was kneeling in front of me spreading a cloth under my feet. He fired up a small heating unit that resembled a steam tray on a buffet line and mixed some gels and other liquids in it. The fragrance emanating from the tray was delicate and intoxicating.

"I do not want the plaster to stick to your feet. This is a special concoction of petroleum jelly, spices, and perfumes to rub on your feet. It will absorb in just the very top layer of the epidermis and make it possible to get the perfect mold."

He knelt in front of me again, donned rubber surgical gloves, dipped his fingers into the liquid, and spread it around his palms. He gently lifted one of my feet and started to rub the mixture in. I wondered why he was kneeling when sitting on the nearby stool would have been so much more comfortable for him. I didn't have the inclination to wonder too long as his strong fingers massaged the hot oil into my feet. He was transmitting pure pleasure to my feet with every rub. The warmth of the mixture felt good. The texture of the mixture felt good. The spices must have had some effect. My skin felt so alive!

"Certainly, this will not do," he said as he worked on the balls of my feet. "You have calouses that must be attended."

I looked up as Shirley said, "Take care of her. She's our guest of honor." I noticed how intently the other women were watching this tableaux.

"I will do my best to make her feel comfortable," Frank responded.

I looked at the other women's eyes. Then I looked at where the other women's eyes were looking. I settled on Frank's crotch. Suddenly everything became apparent. Innocent me! I never suspected. My looks must have betrayed me as Barbara laughed. "Yes, Frank here knows his place with women. He knows it's kneeling humbly at their feet! Isn't that right, Frankie the foot-boy?"

"Most assuredly, madam," he said blushing slightly. What I had interpreted as courtesy had actually been humility.

Sheila continued to explain. "He normally doesn't have his clothes on for this long. Believe me, he'd be more comfortable without them. I know we would." The other women nodded or said, "Yes."

"If that would make you uncomfortable, then we won't make him do it now. We'll simply wait until you go home to enjoy Frank's talents fully."

I wanted so much to be accepted into this group. "What the heck," I told myself, "I've seen naked men before." So I blurted out, "OK, let's do it." with a little more confidence than I expected.

Frank undressed and resumed his position kneeling at my feet. I was impressed with the size of his organ. One of my former lovers had a magazine that showed a man with a penis this large, but I've never seen one "in the flesh."

Frank continued to rub in the oil into my feet, his penis dripping precome at a steady rate.

"Now it's your turn," Shirley said to me.

I looked at her quizzically.

"That's the way it works," she continued, "Frank takes a mold of your feet to make hard rubber duplicates. You take a mold of his penis so you can have a hard rubber duplicate. All us girls have one."

Oh well, "In for a penny; in for a pound," I thought. I accepted a pair of rubber gloves from Barbara who got up and sat on the floor next to me to look at the proceedings more closely.

I dipped my hands into the oil. It was hot, but no more so than dishwater. I looked at the monster of man-meat bobbing in front of my feet. I reached out and rubbed the oil into it. It was big and hard, and it got bigger and harder. I'd given handjobs in the past, but I never got much practice. Nonetheless, I shot him off in a matter of minutes.

The women laughed. Tracy said, "Now maybe he can keep his mind on the job."

The job was to mix the plaster and mold it around my feet. Frank was very adept at it. Then it was my turn. I wasn't very good at this. I think I must have failed "clay" in kindergarten. I sort of clumped the plaster around his penis. It looked obscene as he had this irregularly shaped cylinder of plaster hanging down between his legs. The glob of plaster was about 9 inches long, about 3 or 4 inches in diameter, and must have weighed 5 pounds.

I wonder how it felt for him. I know that my feet felt slightly cramped as the plaster dried. My feet also got very hot. Not the kind of hot that one gets from having herself in a cheap pair of shoes; it was a nice hot. I could feel my feet sweating and steaming in their own private saunas.

Still I wondered what it felt like for Frank to have all that weight hanging down between his legs. To have his penis gently pressed in from all sides. To have it heated up by the chemical reactions of the drying plaster.

The plaster dried around my feet, and Frank gently cut a seam in it so he could remove it. He even more gently cut a seam in his cock cast.

"Whatever style of shoe you would care to order. I will make to exact specifications." He assured me.

Frank bathed my feet in perfumed water, dried them gently, powdered them, and put some fluffy, terry anklettes on my feet. "Now it is time for your feet to breathe for a while." He got up off his knees, got a stool, set it in front of me, and picked up each leg and put it in place. I didn't have to move a muscle.

He bowed to me, and said, "With your leave madam, I must take care of mistress and her other guests."

The women looked over catalogs of shoes and Barbara and Martha placed orders. Shirley and Tracy tried on shoes they ordered the last time. Shirley had some no-nonsense "power pumps" to go with her business suits. Tracy had a pair of kicky, high-heeled, strapped, fire-engine red sandals. They were definitely shoes designed to signal "play and fun."

Although I didn't order anything on this go-around, I was promised the copy of Frank's penis the next time we all got together.

"Thank you for the offer. Do I owe you anything for the, ... the ..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

Frank blushed again. "I would be honored if madam would consider it a gift from my humble self."

"Thank you, Frank," I said sincerely. I was surprised at the genuine warmth I felt at the offer. Somehow I never imagined that receiving a dildo as a gift as being a warm, thoughtful gesture.

Our business with Frank was not finished. He put aside the shoe equipment, and brought out some new items. These items were used to perform the monthly routine on each of the women. This routine consisted of a foot bath, pedicure, toenail painting, and callous removal. Frank was very meticulous with an assortment of emery boards, pumice stones, and other implements. He took surgical care to remove the dead and hardened skin one cell at a time.

Frank finished by giving each woman a foot massage and rubbed in a special perfumed oil.

Frank was good. I never looked at women's bodies critically before, but these women had the prettiest and sexiest feet I had ever seen. If there were a man within sight of them, I was sure he'd drop to his knees to worship them. I mean "straight" men, not men like Frank. Frank had created his own monster.

"Who gives him the tip today," Shirley asked. "It's my turn!" Tracy said excitedly.

Frank knelt before Tracy and put her feet up on a padded stool. He moved forward until she had her feet planted on his erected member. She massaged him gently with her toes until he gushed his come all over them.

"Oooh, I just love the way that feels," she exclaimed, wiggling her toes in his semen.

Frank bowed his head, "Thank you, madam. It is always a pleasure to serve someone as beautiful as yourself."

Frank gave her feet an extra washing, massage and finishing.

By this time my feet were dry and they were treated in much the same way as the other women except that Frank needed more time to work my callouses. "It will be better," he explained, "the next time. For when you wear my shoes, your feet will not suffer pain."

He was right.

-=o=-

The first Saturday of the month is "foot day" at Sirley's. I look forward to it more than any holiday that might be in the month. It is my day to relax. It is my day to be pampered. I found that warm water, wine, women in charge, and a submissive man kneeling at my feet are a powerful aphrodisiac. I always feel the need for relief by the time Frank leaves. Sometimes I get it, but that's another story.