I have gone to the mall, looking for a new pair of shoes
to wear to a private dinner party that night with my master.
Always a leather admirer, he has challenged me to find the
sexiest, pair of shoes I can, for the shoes will be incorporated
into our sex play that evening. And, he adds, it would be best
for me to be in an appropriate mood while buying the shoes: I
can be as controlling as I like, but cannot disobey anyone’s
desires brought on by my actions.
I dress carefully, mindful of my mission. Already my
legs are perfectly smooth, as is my pussy. It’s a shame to cover
them with stockings, but I opt for thigh-high stockings, no
panties, leaving my cunt free to breathe.
I leave my bra on the floor, wiggling into a tight,
plunging sweater and a very short, skin-tight skirt. It’s good
that the stockings grip by themselves, for the garters would
have shown clearly under the body-hugging skirt. The sweater
clearly outlines my taut, hard nipples, and the v-neck displays
my cleavage to the top third of my breasts (more if I bend over).
Buying sexy shoes requires a sexy pair to begin with, so
I slip on my four inch black heels with the pointy toes. I love
how they stretch out my legs to reveal their formidable muscles
and the curves of my knees and ankles.
I drive to the mall and stride to the shoe store, an
upper-scale establishment with prim, Armani-clad salesmen. I
smile as I spot my target, a handsome but reserved male in his
30’s. Can I help you, miss? he inquires politely, his face not
betraying any reaction to my outfit. Not to worry, I think
Yes, I’m looking for a very special pair of shoes, I say.
What kind of shoes are you looking for? Pumps, sandals?
he asks, motioning for me to sit down so that he can measure my
Well, they re for a private dinner party, I answer,
lifting my leg to put my foot in his hands, affording his a
clear view of my stockings, the bare thighs above leading to my
bare pussy. He looks up at me, and I see his eyes glance at my
sweet spot, then quickly flick back to my face. A dinner party?
For an evening gown? he asks, his voice quavering just slightly.
No, not an evening gown, I say demurely. I’m looking for
something with a higher heel, I confide. He is holding my foot
in his hands, and his hands are unconsciously stroking the
leather of my high heeled shoe. He looks at my present shoe and
slips it off my foot. He seems to be having trouble focusing,
but finally places my foot on the metal measurement scale and
determines my size.
I’m having dinner with a special friend, I continue. And
he just loves to see straps around my ankles. Do you have
something with a buckle, perhaps?
I can certainly check, he says, and he takes off like a
jackrabbit into the backroom. When he returns carrying several
boxes, I can see he has wiped his brow and his hands are
trembling. He produces several pair of high heels with buckles,
and I allow him to try each one on my feet, bending my leg
higher each time in front of him. I can smell my pussy already,
and I’m sure he can too.
I walk to the corner of the room in each pair, making a
production of walking slowly, bending over directly in front of
him under the pretense to check the fit (but really to give him
a clear glimpse of my tits). I sit down again, my legs spread
even further apart, and I bend my leg for him to remove each
shoe. I smile at my blatantly sexual posturing and the reaction
it is producing in this hapless shoe salesman. I can clearly see
the movements in his crotch, and smiling wickedly, I innocently
thrust out my foot just a bit too far on a few occasions and the
shoes brush the bulge in his pants.
These aren’t quite right, I say to the salesman. I
really need something, well, SEXIER. Something that will make
him want to take me right then and there.
Oh! sputters the blushing salesman. I see.
The store manager has been watching us for a few
minutes, I ve noticed, and she approaches just then and inquires
if she can be of service. The salesman stammers that I am
looking for a more provocative shoe with perhaps an even higher
heel. The store manager then says calmly, Well, we have a
private collection of shoes in the backroom that really aren’t
for public display. But if you like, we can see if there’s
anything of interest to you.
Excellent, I say, and I rise to follow her, while the
hapless salesman is left kneeling, looking straight up my skirt.
I lift my skirt and brush my pussy against his face as I walk to
the doorway, and I smile, thinking how long it will take him to
recover from this.
The manager and I enter the store room, which is covered
with rows and rows of boxed shoes. She produces a key, however,
to a door off the side, which she unlocks and gestures for me to
enter. I step inside and am surprised to find a small salon with
multiple racks of outrageously erotic shoes and boots, as the
door lock clicks behind us. Many of my clients prefer the
privacy of a salon when selecting their intimate fashions, she
purrs, offering me a chair.
You re looking for a shoe that says ‘fuck me’, am I
correct? she asks smoothly.
Yes, I say. I need a shoe that will make my master proud
that he owns me. I need a multi-purpose shoe which is both
aesthetic and functional, I add.
She raises her eyebrow for a moment and says, You are a
sub then, and I nod in assent. She smiles and asks if she might
call my master to inquire about a particular style. I agree, and
dial the number. They chat on the phone for a moment, discussing
leather, and I look at the racks of erotic shoes, salivating.
Yes, I see, says the manager and hands me the phone.
Don’t forget my orders, says my master. You must obey
her instructions. A chill runs down my spine, and I agree, then
You’ve been quite a provocative sub with my salesman,
the manager says to me. I don’t think I ll get much more work
out of him today. But I think I’m a more formidable subject, don
I look at her, and the tone of her voice just melts me.
I feel the submissive urges creeping back in, stealing away the
bold and haughty spirit that filled me just moments ago.
She picks up a two-foot long shoe horn which she holds
across his chest with both hands, and my heart flutters. You’re
a very sexy sub without a doubt, she says, smacking the shoe
horn against her hand. But I like to do things my way, and I
feel it would only be proper to find the right mood for which
these shoes will be used, hmmm?
I nod meekly, my nipples hard against my sweater.
First, she says, we re going to deal with your impudence
in attempting to seduce my salesman during working hours. She
smacks the shoe horn against her hand loudly, causing me to
jump, and she orders me to bend over the back of the chair.
I hesitantly bend over the chair back, and she pushes my
skirt up, stroking my bare ass cheeks with the shoe horn. She
spanks my ass in short hard whacks, and I can feel the stinging
heat creeping up my backside. She finishes quickly, though, and
steps back, stroking my ass with her hand as I recover.
Keep your skirt up, she commands. I want to see your red
ass while you model some shoes. I hold my skirt up, self
conscious in just my hose and heels.
She picks up a pair of 6 inch heels and has me slip them
on. As I bend over to buckle them, she stands behind me, holding
my skirt up for me. I straighten up, and she commands me to walk
around the room in them. I’m very unsteady, but I take small
steps and she applauds, commenting on how the heels cause my ass
to arch so nicely in the back.
We proceed this way for much of the morning, trying on
shoes and boots, and parading around the room. Each time I feel
I have gained a little control over the situation, she startles
me back into submission, spanking me with the sole of a loafer
or ordering me to lick her spiked heels.
Now, she says, after we ve selected the perfect pair of
open-toed black patent leather heels, we ll need to test their
functionality. I’m speechless, but she leads me to the shoe
shine throne and sits me down, positioning my feet on the
exaggeratedly-high stand in front of me so that my knees are
just slightly lower than my shoulders and spread very wide apart.
She approaches me with the shoes and placing a hand on
the back of my neck, she orders me to open my mouth. She inserts
the top of the shoe in my mouth and finds a strap to keep it in
place. She licks the other shoe and works the toe into my pussy,
as I squirm and emit a muffled moan.
She steps back and views the situation, smiles, unhooks
the strap and takes the shoe out of my mouth. She slips the shoe
out of my pussy, which she then re-inserts in my mouth, sticky
with my juices.
Clark, she calls, walking to the door. Come in here now!
The hapless clerk walks in, sees my naked pussy with a
wet shoe strapped into my mouth, and freezes in place. She grabs
his arm and pulls him inside, explaining that she needs to test
these shoes for my master and would he oblige? In a minute,
Clark’s pants are unzipped and his hard cock springs to life.
She guides Clark’s cock into the shoe, through the
opening in the toe into my mouth, and I suck and lick his cock
until he moans and writhes in ecstasy. Before he can come,
however, she pulls him back and thanks him for his service.
Bewildered and frustrated, he stumbles out of the room, heading
no doubt for the men’s room to satisfy himself.
“Men,” she comments, “have no self control.”
She removes the shoe from my mouth, then smiles at me
and winks, saying that she was sure my master wouldn’t want the
shoes TOO broken in before he had a chance to try them out. I
nod and agree as I dress, gathering my things and head home to