My staying-in shoes

January 18, 2010

I have a pair of 4-inch t-strap sandals. They are black, croc-embossed patent leather and have tiny brass studs to add subtle glimmer. They’re vixenish, impractical and absurdly flattering. I have never worn them for more than five minutes. I can handle 3-inch heels pretty well as long as I’m not indulging in too much drink. I can dance in them, even. I have 3.5-inch heels that are less comfortable, but still manageable. I am certain attempting to wear 4-inch heels for a night out would result in more than a few embarrassing falls at best, an injury at worst.

Yes, you can’t run away from a madman (or even just an ordinary jerk) in a pair of pumps. But most of us don’t find ourselves on dates with serial killers. The wrong pair of heels can hobble you, but the right pair will make you strut (perhaps even swagger), define your shape, announce your presence with a definitive click-clack. And, honestly–isn’t there something a little dangerous-looking about that long, slender heel? They don’t call them stilettos for nothing.

I made him lay down on the hard floor. I towered over him, staring down. He looked so vulnerable. I gave him my sole to taste. He’s very oral. I pushed the tip of my heel past his lips and he sucked eagerly. “You’d make a good little cocksucker, wouldn’t you?” I taunted, smiling down at him. He stared up at me, wide-eyed, still sucking. I pressed the sole of my shoe into his cheek and began fucking his mouth a little more roughly. “A good little cocksucker, that’s what you are, isn’t it? A good cocksucker?” He moaned softly.

I withdrew my foot and sat down. I rested my feet on his chest, idly traced a nipple with my heel. He moaned again. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” I did it again, but pressed down harder, eliciting a soft sound of distress. I smirked a little, “hurts, doesn’t it?” He nodded wordless, still gazing up at me. I began walking my feet up and down his body, digging my heels into his flesh. He writhed, made hurt noises. He was hard and sweating. He was helpless at my feet.

What a good little boy.

We stayed in, but I left the shoes on all night.


One Response to “My staying-in shoes”

  1. W Says:


    Happy to read a new post….


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