I was sitting at my usual table having my third cup of cappuccino, inputting yesterday’s sales, when through the door walked a rather petite woman, casually dressed, wearing a pair of bright red mary-janes. They went perfect with the short red leather skirt and red leather vest she wore over her white blouse. This was the look of a girl in her late teens to mid twenties, but I felt sure she would fall in the latter age group.
The reason I noticed her shoes first was not only because I am the manager of a shoe store, but I also have a thing for women’s feet. OK, so I have a foot fetish. I have had it since I was in my mid teens when my younger sister caught me holding her gym socks to my nose after she had had a hard workout. Blackmailing me so she wouldn’t tell our parents, I became her foot slave. Every day I would clean her feet and toes with my tong. She would even invite a couple of her girl fiends over, that she could trust to keep her secret, for me to clean there feet as well.
I became addicted to women’s feet and after graduation got a job at a shoe store as a salesman. I was in heaven. Here I was getting paid to hold and feel those gorgeous feet, and getting paid for it. After a while I built up a clientele of not just teenage girls but young women too. They loved the attention I would show their feet while trying on shoes. It didn’t matter if they were wearing socks or stockings or nothing at all, I would always give there feet a little massage between trying on different pairs. Even though I was top salesman, I didn’t care if they bought; I just wanted to hold and feel there feet absorbing the delicate aroma they gave off.
When I reached my mid twenties I was offered the job as manager. This was great because now I could choose the ladies I wanted to wait on. The size of the foot meant little to me, though I leaned toward the smaller foot. I especially liked the girls that came in wearing tennis shoes, because I was assured I would get the smell that I so craved.
Getting back to the lady in the Bistro, she sat directly in my view. It was hard for me to concentrate on my sales figures when she sat there bobbing her foot up and down. I tried to be discreet but I became hypnotized and couldn’t look away. By the time she finished her coffee she had me hooked and knew it.
Getting out of her chair, she came directly over to my table and asked if she could join me. All I could think of was that I must have died and gone to heaven. She introduced herself and I did the same. Her name was Jennifer, but everyone called her Jen. She wasn’t bashful and came right to the point, saying that she saw me staring at her feet and knew I had a foot fetish. She had recently moved to town and had been looking for a man she could use as her foot slave.
After finding out that I was also the manager of a shoe store, she asked if I would be interested in serving her. I was so excited that I couldn’t speak. She could tell I was very nervous. She wrote down her address and told me to be at her house at seven and bring a pair of shoes in a size six that I thought she would like. As she was leaving she turned and smiled and said not to be late.
I arrived on time and stood outside her door not knowing what pleasures were waiting for me. When Jen opened the door I greeted her with a bouquet of flowers and a bag containing my fanciest black patent leather shoes with a four inch heel. I had been selling a lot of these to young ladies that wanted something to wear to the office, but were also dressy enough to wear to go out for a night of fun.
Inviting me in, she went directly to the sofa and sat down. I immediately dropped to my knees in front of her asking if I could give her feet a message before trying on her shoes. Saying yes, I started my message and could not help but bring my lips to her instep and give it a kiss. I looked up at her and she was smiling, so I knew I was doing a good job. Jen complimented me on the message and said she felt her feet should be clean before putting on her new shoes. I immediately pulled her foot to my lips and cleaned the bottom of her foot and then between the toes. I know she knew I was overdoing my duties, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.
After I am sure she had the cleanest feet in town, she instructed me to place stockings on her legs before trying on the shoes. They were charcoal black with a seam running up the back, and were the most eloquent stockings I had ever felt. Since they had elastic tops, I only felt her legs to mid thigh. What beautiful legs they were. Jen then told me that when I brought her new shoes, she expected a new pair of stockings to match. As I placed the shoes on her feet, she spread her legs just enough for me to see that she had on a matching pair of black lace panties. After making sure they fit, she walked across the room.
I was looking at a true Goddess, someone that I would serve without question. From the smile on her face, I knew she approved of my choice. After sitting down, she asked again if I wanted to serve her. Looking me in the eye, I nodded yes. She said that now she would lay down her rules.
Jen was not looking for a slave that she would punish and make unrealistic demands. She wanted someone that would show her love, affection and respect not expecting anything in return. I would be available whenever she called and I would provide her with new shoes and accessories whenever asked. In return I would have the opportunity to worship her feet and legs, and if I proved myself worthy I would also be allowed to worship her pussy.
After a month of showing my devotion to her, she granted me the privilege of worshiping her pussy. Jen taught me what made her feel good, when to speed up or slow down. I was never allowed to touch her pussy with my hands, only my tong and mouth. When she came, her juices were sweet and creamy. I could never get my fill. Eventually, I looked forward to serving her pussy more than her feet.
Two years had passed when one night I arrived at her house and she found a candle light dinner waiting for me. Looking at her, I told her I didn’t know what to say. This was when she told me she was transferred to another town and would be moving in a few days. After dinner, she didn’t want me to do anything but make her come one last time. With tears running down my face, I did as she wished. When leaving I got another surprise when she leaned over and kissed me saying that I was the slave she had ever had.
I am sitting here having another cappuccino, when in walks a tall redhead wearing five inch, stop me dead, black high heels. Perhaps if I play my cards right, I will have found another lady who needs a foot slave.
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