Sour Grapes

So, leading by example, Corrine was first to step into the knee-high long wooden grape pressing trough. Corrine herself would put the first foot forward to initiate their employer's Punishment to Fit the Crime sentence.

Much to the chagrin of Gilles de Bergerac - who watched his attractive dark-haired olive-complexioned forewoman's sun-bronzed bare left foot descend to splash through the ankle-deep grape juice to the long wooden trough's baseboards.

One after another, his other eleven female grape-treader employees followed Corrine, their sun-bronzed bare feet splashing through the ankle-deep part-pressed black grapes to the wooden boarding beneath.

Corrine wasn't overweight - none of his grape treaders were: they were big drinkers, not big eaters. But, big-bosomed, big-boned and well-muscled, Corrine was no lightweight either. Moreover - much more so than her most uppity of underlings - she was attitudinous.

Corrine looked down on Gilles, a gleeful glint in her eye. Corrine said, "How the tables have turned - Monsieur!"

Ah. So now, after seven years, Corrine was finally calling him 'Monsieur'. All be it, sardonically.

Gilles uttered no remonstrance in response to his forewoman's goading jibe. And - as on all accounts he must, he kept his arms by his sides - offering no resistance as Corrine prepared to initiate his punitive sentence.

Behind Corrine, second in the queue of retributive tramplers, was Minette. Corrine reminded Minette to hold onto her waist to steady her balance when she 'put her best foot forward' onto the fat fool's rounded belly. Corrine didn't want to have a nasty accident - because of him!

There was a light in Corrine's eyes that disconcerted Gilles de Bergerac.

Gilles was relieved that the appointee would remain present to keep an eye on Corrine - to restrain her when inevitably she tried to overdo things.

So the appointee's presence was assuring if not comforting.

Corrine intended to stretch this moment right out - to milk it.

This was her moment - the moment she was going to revel in.

The moment - she had successfully brought about.

The moment - that was going to change everything.

How could the fat-faced pompous pig ever look Corrine in the eye again - after this? After being body-trampled? Body-trampled - under her and her eleven underlings' dirty bare feet!

Oh - she would love to stomp that overfed belly of his!

But that was not allowed under the rules.

Still - if she could get the appointee to look the other way...

Corrine spoke sternly to the onlooking Social Charter Committee appointee. "Claude! You have delivered him to us - now stay out of this! Do not interfere! You can leave this to me."

Claude protested, "Corrine - I cannot possibly! I must monitor the decreed proceedings of the Punishment to Fit the Crime sentence! Sometimes, victims can be somewhat overenthusiastic in getting even with their offenders. In this instance, while body-trampling Monsieur, you might be tempted to stand on Monsieur's face. I cannot permit that. My duty as appointee is to bear witness and to submit my report that all has gone accordingly."

The thought of standing on Monsieur's face had never entered Corrine's mind - even she would only push her luck so far.

But, now that Claude had planted the seed...

Corrine said, "Claude... it's a lovely day. Why don't you go for a nice walk?"

Claude said, "Corrine - I cannot. I must remain in my important role. I have been entrusted to ensure that the prescribed rules of the Punishment to Fit the Crime sentence are strictly adhered to."

Corrine said, "Claude... turn a blind eye. Silvie and Nicole will reward you later."

Claude turned his three-cornered hat around and around in his hands as though considering a difficult decision. Claude said, "Oui, Corrine."

Claude again donned his three-cornered hat and went for a stroll in the grapevines to think about his upcoming dalliance with Silvie and Nicole.

Greatly alarmed, Gilles shouted for Claude to return to his 'important role'.

But the appointee Claude remained conspicuous by his absence.

Each of them holding the waist of the girl in front, Gilles de Bergerac's twelve barefoot grape-treaders inched toward him in a tight conga line.

Corrine looked down on Gilles, her eyes fixed upon his, her silent message crystal clear. Corrine made her point vocally anyway. "Yes! Look up to me - you worm! Look up to me! Today, you will look up to me! You will look up to all of us! Today is the day of your reckoning!"

Gilles did not dare voice his enraged thoughts to Corrine: 'Have your day - and have your way! I will look up to you now. But tomorrow, I will look down on all of you again! Tomorrow - all will return to normal!'

Never before had they been so happy to get into his traditional long wooden tiltable grape-pressing trough. His forewoman Corrine, leading the way, their sun-browned legs swayed in a dance of delight.

Dancing... towards inflicting his 'reckoning'.

His reckoning:

Because he had wealth and status - and they did not.

Because he lived an easeful, comfortable life - and they did not.

Because he could afford to buy and enjoy the best of everything - and they could not.

Because of - sour grapes!

Gilles de Bergerac knew life wasn't fair - not everyone could be born with a silver spoon in their mouth. It wasn't his fault that in the 'Cards of Life', he had been dealt a Full House - while they had been dealt a pair of 2s.

But he played fair by them!

But now it was not him but his forewoman Corrine du Corbieres who held the winning hand. Now, finally, the deck was stacked in her favour. Now, finally, it was Corrine who held the Full House in her hands - and her employer held the pair of 2s.

Jubilantly, Corrine looked down on Gilles for over a minute. And then, with a look of vengeful glee, Corrine stepped out of the ankle-deep grape juice onto her master's overfed belly. Corrine lifted her left foot, and then her right foot, to look at her dirty, wet footprints staining her frippery-fond employer's gold-braided blue frock coat. Corrine smiled down at her employer. She willed him to say something she would make him instantly regret - with no Claude here to witness her 'overenthusiasm'.

Gilles had the sense to keep his mouth shut - and to keep his thighs tight together.

But Corrine was exultant.

With no dick-for-brains, Claude here to reign in her 'overenthusiasm', here was her golden opportunity to do something that the pompous fool would never forget - and never get over: stand on the fatuous fathead's goatee-bearded face!

The very thought of it thrilled Corrine - and galvanised her.

Corrine then wiped the dirty sole of her juice-slicked left foot on a clean part of her master's gold-braided blue frock coat to help slip-proof it for single-foot facial standing.

Corrine grinned and said, "Monsieur - I am going to stand on your face."

Aghast and horrified, Gilles said, "Corrine - no! You cannot! You must not! Show some respect for your master! Corrine - you heard what the appointee said! It is against the rules! You will not get away with it! Claude will mention your gross rule-breaking in his report!"

Corrine said, "No - Claude will not. Claude is a man - his dick rules his head. Claude will do whatever I tell him. He will put in his report whatever I tell him. Monsieur - I will get away with it."

Gilles tried again in his desperation. "Corrine - you are not indispensible! You are my best grape-treader - but I will be rid of you! And I will put the word out - you will be black-listed! No reputable vintner will employ you!"

Corrine looked down at her master's upturned face. The fat fool still believed he had a limiting influence over her actions. Well - he did not!

Corrine was about to step onto her master's upturned face without further ado but then decided to hover her dirty, bare sole just inches above his face to taunt him some more.

After all - why rush things? And if the pompous, fatuous fathead was going to be rid of her - she would take with her some fond memories!

But Corrine was confident it wouldn't come to that. She knew how to make her employer obey her: threaten his precious winery.

Corrine's unspoken taunt was crystal clear as she scrunched and wiggled her dirty toes at him. Corrine voiced it anyway. "So? What do you have to say now - Monsieur? Look at the sole of my dirty foot - look at it! Monsieur - I am going to stand on your arrogant face. Keep your face upturned for me - or I will tell Claude you did not cooperate. I will say you moved your hands - and he will report you. Monsieur - remember! Your precious winery will be forfeited. So - look at the sole of my dirty foot! The foot that will stand on your face - your upturned face! So that I can look down into your eyes - which you will keep open! To see my triumph!"

To his amazed, horrified realisation, Gilles de Bergerac felt himself becoming aroused - getting seriously enlarged - at the up-close sight of Corrine's dirty bare sole and at her scrunching and wiggling her filthy-dirty toes at him.

Gilles de Bergerac was beyond mortified. How could this be? This unthinkable attraction! No - this could not be! It could not be!

Gilles prayed that the sign of his excitement would go unnoticed - his prayer was not answered. It was a forlorn hope - not one of those sex-hungry harlots and flighty tarts would miss something so obvious to them.

Standing right behind Corrine, Minette inevitably noticed the growing tell-tale bulge in the crotch of Gilles de Bergerac's trousers, and the decidedly prurient quality of Minette's squeal of surprised delight alerted Corrine.

Corrine looked down over her shoulder. And, after a moment of disbelieving silence, let out a whoop of pure joy.

Well, well, well... the frivolous, fatuous fathead was human, after all.

Corrine told Minette what to do - and she very happily did it.

Minette reached down and unbuttoned the fly of her master's trousers with expert fingers, put her hand inside his fly, grabbed hold of his engorged member and pulled it out for all to see, waving it about like a self-fattening sausage.

Gilles de Bergerac's face burned redder than his famed Small Packet claret at hearing his twelve grape-treader employee harlots and tarts' whoops of joy and yips of delight at seeing his dick revealed - and at seeing his revealing condition.

Gilles said feebly, "Corrine, this is not in the rules."

Corrine said, "Shut up - fathead! And ready yourself - for my dirty bare feet! I am going to stand on your smug face! Something you will never forget! And something I will always remember!"

Corrine stared triumphantly down into her master's miserably beseeching eyes.

This was the real game-changer - and they both knew it.

Gilles pleaded with Corrine, his voice empty of authority and threat - but full of supplication. "No, Corrine... no... don't do it. That idiot Claude has put this idea into your head. But you are more sensible. Enough is enough. Corrine - you have made your point."

The simpering sound of the well-funded fathead's pathetically pleading voice warmed the cockles of Corrine's heart.

This was the game-changer - and the game was on!

"No, Monsieur! No! It will be enough when I say it is enough - and not before! And I am about to make my point! As are we all!"

His aristocratic pride forgotten, Gilles tried one last time. "Corrine - let's call it quits. I will double - no, I will triple - the amount of Francs and the amount of wine I have paid to all of you as my penalty. Corrine - let's stop this now. We can call it quits. Carry on as usual. No hard feelings."

Corrine yelled down at her employer. "No hard feelings!"

But Corrine knew this was not the time to let her heart rule her head.

Corrine paused for a moment... the fatuous fat fool's offer was tempting... but not tempting enough.

Corrine sensed a bigger prize - the biggest!

Corrine knew the type - and she knew what some of them liked.

Corrine wiped her left foot again on another clean part of her master's blue frock coat to allow her foot scent to regain prominence over the sweet-smelling grape juice. Corrine then placed the dirty bare sole of her sun-bronzed left foot on her master's face, folded her toes over his nose, and then looked down over her shoulder at his 'awakening' - his awakening manhood... Yes! Yes! Yes!

At seeing her under-the-toes scent bringing Gilles further towards full arousal - even though her odour had been diluted and weakened by the grape juice - Corrine shouted down at him in triumphant exhilaration. "You know what this means - don't you? You know what this means!"

Corrine turned to look at second-in-line Minette and at her ten other sister grape-treaders behind her. "Look! Look at him - Monsieur high and mighty! You see? He cannot hide his desire! Look at his excitement! His truth is out! He is turned on - by my dirty bare feet! He is turned on - by my foot scent! I have aroused his passion - and so can you! You know what this means, don't you? We have him! We have him! We have him!"

Corrine said, "Minette - hold my waist to steady my balance. I am going to stand single-footed on Monsieur's upturned face!"

Minette gasped in disbelief. Minette had thought that Corrine was only saying that - to frighten Monsieur. So - Corrine was serious? How could Corrine do that to Monsieur? Stand on his upturned face? With her dirty bare feet? Wouldn't there be... repercussions?

Corrine said, "Minette! When I step off this foot feind's face, your turn is next. The rest of you follow on likewise. Wipe your chosen standing foot on his coat to slip-proof your sole - you don't want to slip off his face and hurt yourself - and to empower your foot scent. Together - we will bring Monsieur to his knees at our feet! Yes - at our feet!"

Corrine again warned Gilles. "Fatface - keep your face upturned! For me - for all of us! And keep your eyes open - and look up to us! Or else!"

Corrine now transferred her body weight to her left foot to stand single-footed on her master's upturned face, with her filthy-dirty toes folded over his nose.

Corrine had never known such a feeling of exultant exhilaration. She was standing on top of her master's upturned face - and on top of the world!

And the fatuous fathead - he actually seemed to like it!

Corrine stood single-footed on her outed employer's upturned face for long, indescribably satisfying seconds. She looked down into her master's eyes as his upturned face bore her body weight, and he inhaled her under-the-toes scent.

Gilles obeyed Corrine's threat-backed instruction to not close or avert his eyes - and Corrine read in them all she needed to know.

To describe her blissful fulfilment at that moment was beyond words.

He - de Bergerac - was lying under her dirty feet. His face - beneath her feet!

And now - the foot feind - beneath her contempt. Because he wanted to be beneath her dirty bare feet - and support her single-footed body weight on his upturned face! And he wanted to enjoy her foot scent - with his nose trapped under her filthy-dirty toes! The proof - was there to see!

Well - she would be all too happy to oblige him! As would her eleven grape-treader underlings!

Corrine had turned the tables on the pompous pig.

This sweet, sublime situation was beyond her wildest dreams.

This was true Social justice!

From now on, things were going to be different.

Oh - very different!

Curtsy to him? Ha!

Call him Monsieur? Ha!

Work harder in the burning sun at his bullying chivvying? Ha!

No - from now on, the shoe would be on the other foot! Her foot!

Corrine now told Minette to let go of her waist, and finally, Corrine relinquished her fabulous facial foothold and stepped onto the long-seasoned wooden baseboards behind Gilles' bewigged head.

Corrine said excitedly but confidently, "Minette - now follow on! Follow on! You have nothing to fear - nothing! You see now that he is weak and pathetic! He always has been - but we did not know the way to his weakness. You know the type - you have provided their special need. It is the easiest of wine money - to satisfy their shame-faced requests. So follow on! Remember - first, wipe your wet foot on his coat to empower your foot scent. Show him the sole of your dirty foot. You have petite feet - he is sure to like them. And wiggle your toes at him - he likes that too. Then, stand on the pompous pig's face single-footed with your toes over his nose. Let him savour your foot scent as he supports your body weight on his upturned face. Minette - believe me! You will have him! Look down into his eyes - the windows of his soul - and you will see! He is weak and pathetic - so be strong and dominant! And you will have him! Dominate him - and he will submit to you! You will have him! You will have him!"

Corrine looked beyond Minette to her other ten barefoot grape treaders waiting in line behind.

Corrine said, "The rest of you - follow on after Minette! All of you, one by one, stand on his arrogant face - as I did! He is proud of his goatee beard - so muddy it with your dirty feet. And remember - we have him! Look at his pecker! I did that! You can do it too! His truth is out! Monsieur is no longer our master - we are his! We have him! We have him! We have him!"

Gilles de Bergerac felt his privileged world coming apart and envisioned his social standing disintegrating and foresaw his ostracisation from the weekly Wine Association dinner meetings as he listened to the unbridled delight of his grape-treader employee tarts and harlots exultantly chanting their jubilant cry at their cheerleader Corrine's triumphant exhortations. 'We have him! We have him! We have him!'

Demure and lacking in self-confidence and only partly assured by Corrine's confident urgings, Minette prepared to take the vacancy on her master Gilles de Bergerac's upturned noble face.

Minette fought off her inferiority complex reservations and bravely followed Corrine's example.

Minette stepped out of the ankle-deep grape juice and onto her master's pot belly and then wiped the dirty sole of her left foot on a clean part of his blue frock coat to help slip-proof it for safe single-foot facial standing and to bring her diluted and weakened foot scent back to the fore.

Minette, still uncertain, was surprised when her master did not bark an angry response at her for dirtying up his expensive coat with her juice-slicked, dirty sole.

Minette, still a little tentative, hovered her left dirty bare sole an inch above her master's face and scrunched and wiggled her dirty toes at him. Corrine was right! Monsieur does seem to like it! Monsieur does seem to like her petite feet! Thus assured, Minette folded her toes over her employer's nose and stood on his upturned face single-footed.

Standing behind Minette, Nicole Noir - that shameless hussy, that matchless trollop, that veteran of a thousand seedy couplings - kicked her master's drooling erection laughingly. Nicole then hopped onto her employer's ample belly to wind him, and then she held Minette's slim waist to aid her now precarious single-footed balance on their employer's upturned face.

As she waited her turn, the fourth-in-line of his grape treaders laughingly followed that matchless trollop Nicole's erect-dick-kicking example. Gilles didn't know who his latest gleeful dick-kicker was; he couldn't yet see her face. But from her laughing voice, he suspected she was that young hussy Silvie de Sancerre.

Minette looked down on her master - and Gilles barely recognised her face.

Of all of them, Minette Minnervoir was meek and mild by the standards of her peers.

Minette's respectful curtsying, the subservient, bowing reverence with which she held not only his aristocratic standing but him personally - was a given. Her unthinking acceptance of his absolute and unchallengeable upper-class superiority - was ingrained in her.