ITALIAN SPEAKING My two allies and I, three seductive women in skimpy outfits, sit around an elegant table with our legs crossed, our red stilettos swinging. Under the table, three slaves crawl across the cold floor, licking the soles of our shoes and then our sweaty feet, while two more, submissive males in collars, kneel beside us like living ashtrays, mouths agape for our cigarettes. "Open your filthy mouth, you insect!" I snarl, laughing, crushing the cigarette onto one's tongue, making him cough as the ashes burn his lips. We mock them mercilessly: "Look at this worm licking the soles like a starving dog! The dust is your food, you pathetic!" One creeper sticks his tongue between our heels, at the dirt as we kick their faces to push them deeper, bursting into cruel laughter. Then to the feet: I place my bare soles on one man's face, fingers plugging his nose as he licks between my wet toes, inhaling the sweat. Smell and clean, slut! My feet are your altar! My companions press their heels against each other's cheeks, making them suck every inch, nails scratching as we curse: You're failures, ashtrays and bootlickers! Crawl lower or we'll crush you! The air fills with our moans and laughter, their bodies writhing in utter humiliation, tongues at work on filthy soles and dominant feet, as we smoke and trample on their dignity.