Disclaimer:
	The following story may involve explicit sexual descriptions.
	By continuing you agree to the following:
	
	I am not offended by the description of sexually explicit 
	scenes or the description of alternative sexual lifestyles
	and I do not consider such material to be obscene.
	I am 21 or older.
	The above material is not illegal under the standards of 
	my community.
	
	This story is offered as an insight into current social mores
	and is not intended for prurient purposes.
	
	Author: Unknown
	

I worship females.

I have always worshipped females; it is probably the reason that I am 
still single, at 38. No girlfriend has ever truly been able to live up to 
my ideal - they have all seemed to want a strong man to lean on. I want a 
strong woman, a woman who will walk all over me. So, even though it seems 
they don't want to be worshipped, I worship women in secret, from afar. 
Especially high heeled women. 

I have found that there is no place better than shopping centres to spy on 
pretty young women with the most sexy and provocative feet and shoes 
imaginable. This story is one of my best experiences. The incidents I 
describe are all true and did happen to me. 

One Saturday, I had arrived at the shopping centre as usual at about 11am. 
I find Saturday's best for my plan, although I only 'get lucky' once 
every three or four months. However, the anticipation thrills me, and it 
gives me the opportunity to practice what I preach - the worship of the 
female form.
 
At first, I parked near to an entrance with a good view of the rest of the 
huge car park, so that I could clearly see everyone who parked their cars 
there, and even if I could not see them, they eventually had to walk past 
me to enter the complex. On this occasion I was lucky. A red Honda 
parked in a secluded spot at one end of the car park, and two young women 
got out of the car. From their dress, I gathered that they were well off, 
and obviously dressed to show their prosperity. 

The driver of the car was tall, and had on smart dark suit pants and a 
white lacy blouse, underneath a dark blazer. She had long blonde hair that 
fell loosely around her shoulders and she clutched a designer black 
leather handbag in one hand, and her car keys in another. Her friend, with 
raven-dark hair, donned a similar black "power suit", although she wore a 
knee-length tight skirt. Both women's faces were powdered and pampered to 
perfection. They were quite young, though; I would guess between 22 and 25 
years old. They were both gorgeous, but, for a submissive guy like 
myself, their crowning glory was their shoes. 

The blonde had a pair of black, leather shoes, shiny patent leather, with 
a toe that came to a sharp point. They had a very sexy heel, about 4 inches 
or so long, tapering into a cruel spike. She wore sheer, dark nylons 
below her trousers, giving a full view of the top of her feet and her 
beautiful ankles. She seemed to have an air of sophistication about her. 
Obviously she was well used to both money and power. I was sold. I wanted 
more than anything to walk up to this woman and kneel in front of her and 
kiss her feet and shoes. 

Her friend was just as sexy, wearing open toed high heels of around 3 
inches high. The shoes had high insteps, she wore tan nylons and several 
painted toenails showed themselves through the front of her shoes. She 
also wore a gold "slave" anklet. I immediately started snapping away with 
my little camera, wanting to secure a permanent reminder of these two 
beauties for myself. They got out of the car and headed into the shopping
centre, no doubt headed for the upmarket boutiques. It was just after 11.30 
am. Luckily, the space opposite their Honda was empty, so I parked and noted 
the licence number in double-quick time. Then I ran to the mall entrance, 
so I could follow the two young goddesses. 

They were walking about 20 yards in front of me when I entered the mall, 
and were chatting animatedly to each other. I caught up to about 3 yards 
behind them and eased my straining cock out of my jeans. It now pushed 
against my light jacket, hidden from the world at large, but separated 
from the women of my fantasies by only a thin veil of fabric. 

By now I had caught a whiff of their perfume, subtle and expensive and 
entirely suited to them. I followed them around the mall, pretending to 
myself that I was their slave, brought along to carry their bags but 
otherwise ignored. My eyes roamed over their bodies, the way the 
brunette's skirt swirled around her nyloned calves, how the blonde's hair 
hung over her shoulders, and how her perfect bottom swayed before me. 
Mostly, though, I stared at their heels, such sexy, dominating shoes they 
wore. I wondered if they even had a clue of their effect on me. In my 
imagination they sternly told me to wait for them outside certain stores 
(those with only one entrance/exit) while they shopped. The most 
embarrassing was outside Victoria's Secret, as I felt looks of curiousity 
from passing females at this pathetic male who was obviously too afraid to 
enter the realm of womankind. 

When my "mistresses" sat for a coffee a few hours later they leaned close 
to each other and began to giggle. My heart leapt, and my face turned 
red. Had I been spied, and were they now laughing at having snared such a 
pathetic specimen with their beauty? It seemed that they kept stealing 
glances at me, and when they left I remained where I was for a short time 
before returning to my car. They had made me, deliberately or not, feel an 
inch tall, and how I loved them for giving me that. 

As is my habit, I now settled down to wait for their return. But first, I 
began to prepare myself, hoping against hope that things would go just 
perfectly now. I slipped out of my jeans, and now only wore the modified 
panty-hose, with a small hole cut out to release my penis. I had also 
completely shaved my entire pubic area in deference to women, as only real 
men deserved pubic hair. Last, out came my handy bottle of vaseline 
(never be caught without it!) Now all I had to do was wait. 

Soon, I was rewarded. From the front entrance, I could see my two 
beauties appear, done with their shopping, heading for the car. They were 
walking slowly, talking to one another. The blonde was swinging two 
Leggett's bags in her hand, and still seemed amused from earlier, as she 
was smiling a lot. I grabbed a bit of vaseline and rubbed it against my 
aching penis, that had remained at attention throughout. I masturbated 
slowly, not wanting to blow my load before time, I had to wait for the 
perfect moment. I felt on top of the world, humiliatingly dressed in 
ladies panty-hose, watching two beautiful women in sexy high heels walk 
towards me. I had no idea if they would see me. 

Usually, women would walk past, get into their cars and drive away without 
even seeing me less than a few yards away from them, almost naked, 
masturbating while looking at their beautiful legs and shoes. Normally, 
when they have a female companion, they practically ignore anyone in the 
vicinity, and the sight of a man sitting in a car in a busy car lot is not 
exactly unusual. And from the waist up nothing was unusual. If only they 
knew what was happening below! 

My car windows are slightly tinted, so that might have something to do 
with it, but all they would have to do is recognise me as the pervert from 
earlier and they might come over to give me a piece of their mind. I 
longed for that moment, as much as I feared it. What would a superior 
young lady think, when she found a pervert jacking off wearing ladies 
panty-hose? However, the blonde woman reached the car first, stopping at 
the trunk to put her parcels in. She was still speaking to her friend, 
and through the half opened window I could hear them. From this little 
conversation I learnt that the brunette's name was Paula. 

By now the excitement of the moment was really hitting me, and I reached 
over and grabbed one of my "props". Over the years I have collected a 
small stash of shoes from various beautiful women I have known, 
girlfriends, friends, sister's friends who stayed over for the night etc. 
This particular shoe belonged to an ex-girlfriend who had left me when I 
continually asked her to handcuff me to her bed for sex. I'm sure she 
enjoyed it the first time, but seemed unable to accept it as part of a 
permanent relationship. It was a black high heeled shoe with open toes 
and heels, covered with a velvet material. It smelled delicious and I 
rubbed it over my t-shirt covered chest, then under my t-shirt, against my 
nipples, while I rubbed my cock harder and harder. The blonde closed the 
trunk lid and started to walk towards her door while Paula walked around 
the other side to her door. She leant over and fumbled with her lock. 
She was slightly crouching, trying to fit her key into the door, her back 
turned to me. Her heels were slightly raised and I could see her exquisite 
ankles and feet clearly. I fired my salute to them right then, knowing 
how far out of my class the two beauties were. How they would have 
laughed at my self-degradation had they seen me. 

I hurriedly cleaned up as they started their engine. If my luck held out, 
there would be much more in store for me. The Honda drove slowly past me. 
It could have been then that she saw me, I saw her clear blue eyes flash 
on me for just a second, but there was no sign of recognition. The effect 
on me, though, was almost another orgasm, as I felt that I just didn't 
matter to her, much too trivial a person for her to bother about. 

I followed them with discretion for 15 minutes or so, and was delighted to 
see them pulling into a driveway outside a large, luxurious house in a 
select suburb. So this was where the blonde lived. I watched the ladies 
carry their shopping into the house, once more marvelling at their sexual 
power over me, and wishing I could be inside to greet them, on my knees in 
a cute maid's uniform. I noted the address and went home to pay them more 
tribute. 

Over the next week I 'staked-out' the house, and was delighted to find 
that things were even more perfect. I had imagined that the blonde 
inhabited the house with her husband, but it seemed that Paula shared with 
her. They both worked all day, leaving at around 8.15 am and returning at 
5.30 pm or so. I readied my plans for the following week. 

I was watching as they left the next Monday. Dressed in my disguise as a 
gardener, I was able to break into their house with ease, and set to work. 
Trembling with excitement, I opened my case and stripped off my clothes, 
putting on the uniform of a french maid that I had brought. Black 
stockings were held up by a lacy black garter belt, and a sexy black 
matching bra and panties set was donned. By now my aching cock was 
straining at the leash, but he would not be allowed relief until it had 
been earnt. Then my 3" heels (I find it difficult to walk in anything 
taller, being a mere male), my black dress, and a little white apron. I 
painted my fingernails red (matching the toes I had already varnished), 
then found a mirror and applied my feminine make-up. Red lipstick, 
applied liberally, in turn matched the nail varnish. When I looked the 
part, I put on my girlish wig and pinned on the final part of my uniform - 
my little frilly hat. 

Then I set to work. First, the dusting, and armed with my feather duster 
I covered the house from top to bottom. I cleaned the light fittings, 
washed down the kitchen tiles, and swept the floors, vacuumed the carpets 
and rugs, did the dishes. All the time I was aware that here I was, a 
feminized man, a male maid, cleaning house for two of the most 
delightfully sexy young women I had ever seen. My penis was screaming for 
attention, and I could have jerked off time after time, I was so aroused. 
But I knew my Mistresses would deny me if I was working under their 
supervision, so I denied myself on their behalf. 

A common falacy is that women are clean, tidy people. I have found from 
experience that they are, in fact, just as messy as men. And so it took 
me the best part of 4 hours hard work to thoroughly clean their home. 

At last, the basics done, I could start on the "fun" jobs. I had a light 
lunch around 1 pm, touched up my makeup, and began on Paula's closet. 

First, I made sure her clothes were all properly hung up. I lingered over 
the outfit she had worn in the Mall, kneeling to softly kiss the hem of 
Paula's skirt, and rubbing my nose over the back, where her bottom would 
have pushed against. I could smell her. Then, still ignoring my raging 
erection, I started to clean her shoes with my tongue. I had to take 
great care not to leave my lipstick on them, but it was a deeply 
fulfilling task. Of course, I cleaned the soles also, and breathed in her 
foot odour deeply through excited nostrils. 

When I was satisfied with Paula's closet, I turned to her drawers, sorting 
out the soft jersey's and blouses. I saved her underwear drawer for last, 
and had to stop several times as I was about to come inside my panties 
without even touching myself! Her underwear was wonderfully erotic, 
sexier than I had even dreamed. Skimpy, lacy bras, satin panties, 
basques, garter belts, stockings. I drooled over them all. When I had 
sorted them all into neat piles in her drawers I approached her laundry 
bin. 

Now, I normally don't do my ladies laundry. Not only does the washing and 
drying machines make a noise that could alert a neighbor, but it also 
makes it too obvious to my "Mistresses" that their home has been breached. 
But I do like to clean their panties in my mouth! 

Mistress Paula's panties tasted exquisite. 

At last Paula's bedroom was complete. It was now 2.30pm, and only the 
mysterious blonde goddess's bedroom remained. 

I took another moment to freshen up again (more lipstick, more perfume) 
and entered the final place of worship. There's something so very special 
about ladies bedrooms - when I secretly enter one for the first time, in 
my ladies maid outfit and ready to clean, I feel such a powerful thrill of 
submissiveness. 

Again, I began by tidying up the dressing table, bedside table, and 
clearing up things the young goddess had left lying about. These ladies 
really could do with a full-time male maid, I thought. From 
correspondence left opened on her bedside table I discovered the blonde's 
name was Karen. But when I opened Mistress Karen's closet, I discovered 
something even more exciting. 

At first it was a leather skirt, then another. A few leather jackets, a 
pair of leather trousers. High heeled leather boots. Wow! 

I began cleaning them all with my tongue, and half-way through I made the 
real discovery. 

Hanging on a hook at the back of her closet. A long, lethal looking 
leather whip. And a black strap-on dildo! Oh, how I fought against 
coming inside my frilly panties there and then. 

My heart was beating furiously as I realised the relationship between 
Karen and Paula. Lovers! Perhaps even Mistress and female slave!! Yet, 
how could the messy house be explained. Perhaps she was only a "love 
slave", in the bedroom. How my mind buzzed with excitement. 

Of course, the black dildo was lovingly and submissively cleaned by my 
mouth, my red lips and yielding tongue. And while I was cleaning Mistress 
Karen's dildo (cleaning Mistress Paula's juices, perhaps?) I had the most 
powerful orgasm of my life, soaking my panties with cum. All of my 
painted fingers were wrapped around the dildo, my lipsticked lips wide 
around the cock, which was several inches deep in my mouth. My nylon 
covered knees knelt on the bedroom floor, in the proper position for a 
male maid worshipping his Mistress's cock. I had come without any manual 
stimulation at all! 

I made sure I finished all my tasks before taking my leave. A pair of 
panties from each Mistress was the only souvenir's I allowed myself (how 
they would tease me in the months to come). Their home was left spotless 
behind me. 

That was two weeks ago. I can't get them out of my mind, and feel 
compelled to contact them, to let them know it was me who cleaned their 
home. And to offer my services to them, permanently. I don't know if 
they'd immediately report me to the police. That's the worst they could 
do, I suppose. 

But if they accepted me as their sissy slave?! 

Ah, I would be the happiest sissy in the world. 


THE END