“Shoes.” She gave her dangling foot a quick shake.
I rolled my eyes towards Mark who sat silently at the recliner then looked back at her. Unbelievable. Did she really expect me to… “You’re not serious right…do I have to put your shoes on and off for you every damn time?” I couldn’t help the aggressiveness in my tone.
Her face was unimpressed, as she passed her fingers through her black short hair. She just looked at me, her stare cold but somehow still menacing. I didn’t move. I needed to hold my ground every now and then, otherwise she would never stop making things worse for me.
However, the moment she slowly got to her feet with a sigh, I started trembling. She made her way towards me slowly, until she stood right in front of me. With her pumps, I was forced to either look at her neck or look up if I wanted to see her face. She towered above me. I felt my temperature raise as I grew nervous, and before I knew it, my head snapped abruptly to the right, then just as quickly to the left, and my cheeks stung like hell. I looked up at her again, my eyes quickly started to tear as I rubbed my red cheek. She’d slapped me, hard, twice. I wanted to cry. This was assault, was I supposed to take it with a closed mouth. She looked down at me with a faint smile and a cold pair of eyes. She knew I was vulnerable, powerless, she knew she could beat me and I had no power to do anything about it. I felt worthless. I was ready to obey her next command, but she didn’t give one, and she didn’t get back to the couch. I sunk to my knees and grabbed her foot off the floor, feeling my eyes get wetter. I slid the first pump of her foot, and the odor that erupted from her foot and heel didn’t help my suffering, as I sniffled I got a wave of her foot stench to invade my nostrils. I put the pump on the floor, then grabbed her second foot gently and removed the other one.
Her hands ruffled my hair gently like I was a pet, and my eyes could look nowhere but down at her nylon-covered feet. “Good girl…Good wify,” she said.
I sniffled, making sure not to let my eyes wander to the asshole that lounged silently on the couch.
“Dinner ready?”
“Yes,” I mumbled. “Desert needs some more time though.”
“Great.” She nudged my head away with her knee and walked to the kitchen. “Fetch my slippers and met us in the kitchen.”
I nodded eagerly and jumped to my feet then hustled up the stairs. I took a moment in my bedroom, taking deep breaths and wiping the tears from my eyes. I took her fluffy white slippers out of the closet then went back downstairs. They sat at the dinner table, her of course taking the liberty to take my usual chair across from Mark. I put her slippers near her feet, then looked up to see her not paying me any attention, but the sting was still fresh on my cheeks, and so I crawled under the table so I could reach her feet.
“You want me to take your nylons off Morgan.” I said and heard my voice come out more pathetic and weaker than I intended.
“Later.” She responded rudely.
As gently as I could, I slipped her slippers on her feet, then crawled out from under the table and started sitting up the plates.
I placed a big portion for her, then for the asshole, then a smaller one for me; I had one of these bodies that if you ate a chicken wing it would somehow gain you the calories of an elephant.
“Where’s your class Judy…” Morgan said. “Get some wine out.”
“Right away.” I nodded pathetically, and reluctantly took out a bottle of red wine from the cabinet. I rarely drank from it, and to say that I hated wasting it on those two couldn’t come close to describing it. I poured three glasses. Come to think of it, some alcohol could help me a great deal right now, so I made sure to go generous filling the cups.
I almost sat down on my chair when Morgan said looking at me, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“…Sitting?” I said, unable to resist a duh expression.
“…You eat later,” she smirked as she grabbed her fork and knife. “Masters of the house eat first.”
My shoulders slouched by themselves as I looked at her with a shocked face. I wanted to ask her if she was being serious, but the cold-hearted look on her face answered my question clearly. Before I could make any move, I heard her kick her slippers off then say, “Make yourself useful in the meantime, rub my feet.”
I took a deep breath, trying not to scream. I had a fuming look filled with hate, and I knew better than to aim it at her, so I aimed it at Mark, who avoided my stare and looked at his plate with a cough. I sank to my knees the fourth time this day, and, knowing she wouldn’t be nice enough to sit in a way that would make it more comfortable for me, I crawled under the table, bending my neck so I could fit. I put her left foot in my lap, grimacing as I felt her sweaty nylons in my fingers. A sharp stench lingered under my nose, as it erupted from her feet once I started working my thumps through her soles. I kneeled there with my head bent uncomfortably and rubbed.
“So how was work today,” I heard her say, and, like the most casual thing in the world, I saw her right foot rise from the ground and then felt it thud on my shoulder. The smell of course reached new disgusting levels, as I had her foot toying with my ear.
We were in my house, in my kitchen, and they were eating my food that I’d spent the last half an hour preparing, drinking my wine, and where was I as the woman of the house? Under the table, giving Morgan a foot rub, while she used me as her footstool. If I hadn’t cried two times already today, I would’ve cried right now. But I sucked it up, and just worked my thumps in her sweaty nylon soles.
I didn’t focus on their conversation. They talked about work, Mark threw a dumb joke every now and then, and Morgan gave one of her fake laughs sometimes, and ignored others. All the while I sat there with her foot in my hand. Then the mention of my name forced me to focus.
“Last time we had sex…” Mark said, like he was remembering the answer to Morgan’s question. “Can’t remember.”
“It has been probably ages.” Morgan giggled.
“Yeah…” Mark said, not seeming interested in the line of conversation.
“I can’t blame you,” Morgan said, making me want to get up and punch her. “I mean, who’d want to hit a body like that right.” She outright laughed.
That was such…bullshit. “My body is as in a good of a shape as yours…Even better and you know it.” I said, with a sharp tone that I immediately regretted.
Silence fell on the room. I pursed my lips in fear. I didn’t see her face as I was under the table, but I felt the coldness in the room and knew that something I wouldn’t like was coming. I took my chance and turned my head to the side, and gave the foot on my shoulder two quick kisses on the side of her ankle, before bringing the one in my lap eagerly up to my lips and kissing the top of it, feeling the sweat from the nylons stick to my lips. Morgan didn’t speak but gave my ear a gentle rub with the side of her foot, implying that I was forgiven, and I sighed with relief and went back to rubbing.