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Foot Worship
 
It had been a very uneventful day. I had waited on the usual heavily made up dancers and harder edged gothic girls as well as the devoted but smaller stream of quiet men seeking larger sizes. Sometimes I have to shake my head at the glowing tones people use when they refer to "the scene."

Listening to this kind of drive would give those who didn't know any better that all Mistresses were Dark Goddesses and the ones who served them were lightly oiled and graciously muscled. Working in a place like this you came to realize that dancers weren't necessarily graceful or beautiful under normal light and few women if any could live up to the romanticized view attached to Mistress or Goddess.

So what? I suppose it didn't hurt to dream a little. Being a man no longer in his youth and neither lightly oiled or graciously muscled didn’t rob me of my fantasies. After all, I still had occasional encounters with some talented and appealing women. I considered myself a lucky guy.
    Glancing over the shelves of shoes on display as well as the hanging sets of shiny boots in various lengths and vibrant colors I smiled.
Picking up a few boxes that had been strewn casually across the floor, I placed the platforms neatly back into their boxes and began to carry them into the back room when I heard the door ring as someone entered.   Casually I came striding back into the shop to see a tall woman staring directly at me. Feeling a bit awkward I smiled gingerly at her.

     Without acknowledging my smile she began to view the rows of shoes from an arms length.

 "You own this shop?" she said in a tone that made the question sound more like a statement. Her eyes turned to roam along a section of particularly deadly looking spiked pumps.

 A bit put off by the odd question I paused. Turning to look back at me with unspoken expectation I spat out, "Um, no, the owner isn't in today." I was a little surprised at the apologetic pitch my voice took.

 Looking me over once more, this time with less enthusiasm she said, “Well, I suppose you will have to do then, won't you?" Her head lifted slightly as she spoke over me. Saying nothing this time I felt my mouth clench tightly.

 Peeling her black leather gloves from her hands she smirked. Her dark eyes glared at me and seemed set apart from the pale skin that surrounded them. A pair of delicately thin hands stuffed the gloves into a deep coat pocket and undid the sash about her waist.

"Well, are you going to take my coat or are you going to just stand there gawking?" Annoyed this time I quickly took her coat and hung it out of the way stopping only once to glance back at her watching my progress.
        
 


 
  


She wore a flattering short white skirt and jacket that accentuated her thin waist and neatly clung to her hips. Bare legged my eyes couldn’t help being drawn to the red toenails that peeked seductively from underneath her open shoes.


Choosing the largest chair in the shop she sat down with quiet importance. I took the chance to quietly sneak to a chair opposite her while she brushed her skirt neatly down over her legs. When she was satisfied she crossed her legs and circled her foot lazily while she spoke. My eye was caught by the ankle bracelet that sported a small charm bearing the symbol of the female sex.

        

  "I am a picky woman and I intend to buy a few pairs of shoes as well as at least one pair of boots. I expect to be indulged for the length of my stay and if all goes well you will have a tidy little sale to show your boss when he returns." She looked me over once again and then said with all seriousness, "Do you think you can handle that?"

 Bristling under her obvious patronizing demeanor I said simply, "That's my job." Waiting as if expecting more of an answer than this she frowned slightly with obvious distaste.

She turned her attention to her purse and said without looking up, “Show me what you have in a thin heel in black size 8." As I stood she continued to busy herself with her purse and finished with, "They should be a medium height and not too obviously fetish."

Turning to the rows of shoes I noticed a few styles that fit her criteria. Speaking from across the room I began with, "Over here we have a..." the lady's head quickly shot up and abruptly cut my sentence short. An expression of loathing crossed her face as she said, "Don't shout across the room, bring them to me you idiot!"

Dropping my jaw and blushing with surprise I gaped at her. My Heart thudded in my chest as I stood staring at her with surprise. Finally managing to croak out a response I started with, "Hey lady, I don't..." but was once again cut off by the dark woman.


 "I don't profess to being any kind of a lady but I am the customer here and I expect to be waited on, so would you kindly BRING the shoes to ME." Snatching up the styles I had selected I brought them before her and laid them out one by one. Crouching before her I glanced at the door and vaguely wondered just how long this was going to take.

After a short deliberation she tossed the small package from her purse at my feet and lifted her foot in my direction. "You will have to remove my ankle bracelet before you put them on me." She turned her foot with her slim ankle, the bracelet dangling before me for added emphasis.









I wavered stupidly with her foot in my face. Finally I tore my eyes from her foot and picked up the small package. Turning it in my hands it seemed to be an alien thing that I viewed with caution and limited comprehension.

From above me the woman with raven hair and a scarlet mouth said in a tired and petulant manner, "Open the package, take off my shoe and bracelet, put on the stockings and try the shoes on." Waking from my reverie I tore the package open and extracted the sheer black stockings. Shifting my weight I concentrated on the delicate buckles of her shoe straps. My large fingers slowed my progress but I eventually completed the task and slipped her shoes expertly off her feet.

Leaning over her red toenails and beautifully formed ankles I focused now on the bracelet with the tiny symbol. The clasp was even smaller than the buckles but I managed it. Happy to be making progress, it didn’t occur to me to be offended by the strange orders the woman had given me.

Not having ever really dealt with stockings before I was looking over the thin gauzy material now in my hands. Dropping into a kneeling stance I used my thumbs to gather the silky garment for the foot anxiously awaiting it.

I felt my body shiver as I guided the thin layer of fabric over her long legs with my fingers. Repeating this ritual of quiet worship upon her other leg I looked up into a face that seemed pleased with my demonstration.

"Good," she said. "Now, put that pair on me." She gestured to a pair of attractive pumps and I guided her willing toes and heel into the snug confines of the shoe. Glancing up from my kneeling position I was somewhat taken aback by the image of her. Without thinking I inhaled deeply and thought it odd that I hadn't noticed just how appealing her perfume was long before.

Standing with confidence before the mirror she modeled the shoes for herself. I marveled at the contrast of her light suit and dark hair, her pale skin and dark stockings. I was glad to be firmly set on the floor rather than standing. Saying more to herself than to me she said, "Yes, I will take these." Taking her chair once more she lifted her leg and thrust her foot expectantly into my hands.

Saying nothing this time I slid the shoe from her foot and lingered for a moment cradling her ankle. We repeated the process for the next few pairs of shoes until she chose a second pair. When she was satisfied with her choices she kicked the rejected boxes at me and stated flatly, "You will remove these."
 

    The boots were an experience unto themselves. Thinking the shoes were an indication of what was to come I found myself questioning my lack of foresight. The heavy material molded to her shapely calf as I pulled the laces taut.

Once again below her I became enthralled with the smell of the new boots and her perfume. I felt nearly hypnotized by the rhythm of the lacing and the delicate and calculating swing of her ankle. After tying the boots I found myself gripped by a spontaneous response. Leaning over with a dancer's grace I kissed the bows I had just tied.

Before I had time to question my action I felt her hand swiftly strike the side of my head. Not daring to look into her face this time I started with, "I, I didn't..." Cutting me off once more she said, "You didn't ask." This time a teasing smile played across her scarlet mouth and I nodded my understanding. I whispered, "Please."

 
     Nodding her head yes, I pressed my lips enthusiastically against the boots. A wave of contentment rushed over me. With true admiration I gushed, "Truly, you make them look even more impressive."

Nodding, she silently agreed to my statement. "Yes, these are the ones, ring them up and take them to my driver." Sitting down she once again indicated her need for service and I unlaced and slid the boots from their new owner. As I boxed them up I noticed with disappointment that she herself removed the sheer stockings and slid her feet once more into the sandals she had arrived in.

As if reading my thoughts she held the stockings on display for my tortured eyes. She motioned to her driver outside who took care of the bill and then fetched her coat. He then stood waiting to hold the door for her when she was ready.

When she had finished tying her coat closed she favored me with one last look. "You did better than I expected," she said with a mildly pleased tone. "I won't be needing these anymore," she declared as she tossed the rolled stockings across the counter at me.

Neither bothering to wait nor seeming to expect a response she turned and walked out of the shop. Feeling embarrassed I tucked the stockings quickly into my pocket. The driver tipped his head in my direction and gave me a knowing smile that made me blush deeply.

I sat exhausted. With no trace of the woman left in the shop I sat questioning the whole experience. Tentatively I placed my hand into my pocket and drew out the black stockings that still smelled like her. Putting them against my face I breathed in and whispered, "Poison."

The characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

For the experience of a lifetime visit Foot Worship at:
1214 Sutter Street San Francisco, CA
415-921-3668

 ~ The Goddess Athena

Published in;
Echoes from the Sanctuary
Issue January/February 1999
http://members.aol.com/smcpage4/echopage.html





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