The author remembers a foot-fetish relationship he had with a female neighbor to whom he was truthful about his desires.
I used to live in an apartment complex in a medium-size Midwestern city. One day after work I was getting my mail out of the mailbox in the lower level of the building. While I was standing there an Asian female walked up and proceeded to get her mail as well. She appeared to be about 22 years old 5’3 about 100 lbs and very pretty. She was dressed in a short black skirt, black nylons, and 3-inch heels. Continue reading “Asian girl 3.4 (7)“
The author wrote a short story about a humiliating lady boss at the workplace who has introduced him to his new duty of spit shining her footwear.
Becky was my superior in my first job. She’d joined about a year after me and my management was one of her responsibilities. I felt humiliated by her from the start as I had applied for the job myself but had not got it despite being more qualified and having more experience than her. She, however, was stunning and had an unbelievably sexy manner that turned men to putty. So it was her that got the job. And she loved the fact that someone more suited to the role was her underling. She would spend her days bossing me around and would call me ‘boy’ and ‘number two.’ i even once heard her laughing in the corridor about my name being number two as I loved to be treated like shit so the name was fitting. This was not true, although I must admit I did find being ordered around by someone so beautiful strangely thrilling. But up until one November morning, it was just a case of her treating me like a skivvy and nothing more. That was until we found ourselves alone in one of the store cupboards. Continue reading “Becky 4 (6)“
The author writes about his sudden and unexpected trample experience with the afternoon shift of a goth store in a local mall.
I was walking through the mall, something I like to do at least once a week. I like to visit the Barnes and Noble bookstore to drink coffee and they let me read magazines for free. I like to look at women. I stop in the novelty shops and read all the latest T-shirts.
I was stopped in the Hot Topic. It’s a Goth place that carries a lot of cool T-shirts. Whenever I go in there they come over and offer me assistance. I guess they think I must be lost if I’m in there. I just like to look around in there. If I’d had money when I was young and Hot Topic had been around then, I might have been a Goth. If I tried these days, I’d just look creepy. I’m too young to be the butler from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I’m too old for everything else.
Anyway, I’m checking the place out, reading the t-shirts, and looking at the vampire stuff, the chains, and stuff. They had some actual record players, some witless techie types are trying to bring back analog.
Then I saw the boots. I love Goth footwear. Whether it’s Keds, Converse chucks, or knee-high boots, I just love the Goth footwear.
Just then one of the shop girls comes over to help me out.
„Can I help you?“ Continue reading “Carpet Creep 4.6 (11)“
The author remembers his first visit to a Domme. He was pleasantly surprised by the trampling experience he had received.
I haven’t been trampled for some time now so I decided to break down and see a domme. This was the first time I had ever been to a professional so it was a big change for me. Previously I had been walked on by whoever I was dating at the time (with mixed results). But not seeing anyone for a while left my trample needs unfulfilled. So through a friend of a friend of a friend I contacted a mistress and discussed my interests. She seemed cool with the whole idea and agreed to meet with me. Continue reading “First Time With A Domme 4.6 (9)“
“You like these shoes, don’t you?” I nodded. “How do you know?” She smiled. “I can tell. You’ve been glancing at them every so often.
I turned up my collar against the cold, biting wind which blew unendingly from the west. Dust accumulated between my teeth if I opened my mouth. Little scraps of paper blew round and round, swarming like excited children. I stepped out into the wide boulevard and checked my watch. 11 pm. The streets of Beijing were nearly empty at this time of night, save for the occasional taxi. I stuck out my arm as I saw a yellow compact Citroen drive by. The car pulled over and I hopped in the back.
The driver wrinkled his nose at me. “No English!” He wagged his finger and shook his head. “No English.”
“Don’t worry, I speak Mandarin,” I replied sharply. The driver looked surprised for an instant, and then visibly relaxed.
“A foreigner who knows Mandarin.” He shook his head in half-disbelief. “Going where?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. I’m looking for live music at this time of night. Do you know of any bars like that?”
Continue reading “Michael’s night in Beijing 2 (6)“