Her New Voice, Her New Shoes

Authors Note.

Hello any and all! This is my 2nd attempt at writing and I starting to love it! I've read a lot of stuff here the past few weeks, and some of it flows so well it makes me want to quit. But at a friend's request I will continue to try and pare my words away. I'm trying to bend this into a ~loving wives~ story somehow I guess. Flesh things out. I'm here to edit my ideas slowly. Laying down every scene instantly as it leaves me, and then again pare me away into something. All critics welcome. I love the hate. I enjoy the love. It's how we grow as artists. Thanks!

*****

I didn't have to say anything, so I leaned against the doorway watching them carry off their conquests. The bags they lugged were full of a plunder they would touch and use, unlike the one I held.

This one was only full of dreams.

"Honey, what about these? Do you think they look good with the mini-skirt I have on?" she asked again, jolting me back. I bottled my imagination and spun around to see her leg jutting out towards me modeling yet another shoe and realized the reality of this was nearing. It was really happening again.

The salesman sitting at her feet did his best to pretend her panties weren't exposed right in front of him, but I knew he'd had a peek from the expression on his face. I remember how I'd felt the first time I caught a glance, and that's exactly the dumb face I likely made. It takes a while to learn and mask how women make us feel, and this poor fella had years to go.

I could imagine him being a player some day, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind, but he'll never know how weak his game is until he's up against a real woman, like mine. A good one.

It was the ugliest shoe I'd ever seen, but nodded in agreement, smiling.

"No, no, maybe something else." she told him, squinting at her manicured nails, folding them beneath her chin. She sighed indecisively and dropped her foot down into his waiting hands. It sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil, with nothing between to bend or repair, just a tool, hitting a tool.

He slipped the shoe away while clutching her ankle, and placed it back into a box. My eye twitched. This was harder to handle than I thought. She still finds ways to drive me crazy after all these years.

"I know," I heard her confide in him "My husband has absolutely no taste! I'm beginning to wonder if he's damned color blind." rolling her eyes and pretending to gag, jamming a finger at her open mouth. He beamed up at her, buying the act she put on.

He was helping her try on shoes, but each pair didn't meet her standards. The piles of boxes surrounding her continued to grow because she couldn't decide on what she wanted, and he continued to bring more and more, just like the salesmen at other stores, trying to keep her from leaving, trying to satisfy her.

This pair is too blue. That pair hurt her feet. Those had sexy gold glitter, but no, those were probably worn by whores. No, these were too country. These were cheaply made. This pair was too soft. One pair wasn't slutty enough. Another seemed too Avant grade, ...whatever the hell that meant. "But, leave them here, I may end up wanting them." she warned.

Her excuses didn't end and I felt sorry for him, until I noticed how erotically he began holding her feet. He wasn't like the others. It made me excited and angry at once, a strange confusing mixture that wasn't jealousy, but more like the anticipation of a challenge.

It felt like sitting at a red light with another muscle car revving next to yours, ready to roar away on the green light. She always screamed when my power forced her back into the seat, but relaxed when I slowed, if I did. I usually drove her on out into oblivion until she'd forgotten why she was there, or what she wanted. I loved making her forget about her life.

This kid had no clue what she was up to. She knew the boots we needed weren't here. Nothing like them existed in those piles, they lived in our imagination. The journey sharing what you both want is harder without a common destination, but you should always relish the ride, even if it gets bumpy on the best parts, because those are the ones you'll always remember.

All of those hands that touched her can't touch the love we share. All of the piles of shoes she left behind will be meaningless without her, they'll be worn by others, oblivious to what they could have meant.

Her boots waited in an adult toy store on the other side of town. We don't speak of them anymore, knowing she'll be wearing them soon. My heart raced visualizing her standing above me, making me slow down for her.

But first, I had to fight through another test she created, so here I stood, taking another punch. It's not the kind of fighting I liked, but I took it on the chin for her again. I only enjoyed hurting people that tried hurting me or my family.

Any other confrontation was a waste of time. I didn't have anything to prove, only protect. I wanted to wrap my arms around her waist, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her home, but she insisted I watch.

So I am.

"Do you have anything in pink vinyl?" she asked, batting her eyes at him. I smiled and shook my head. She had become such a flirt. I wondered where else she's used this ability in the past. I like to pretend she's only done it for me, because it made me melt, back then. We are so blind when we are so young.

"My husband just loves pink on my feet" she explained "Don't you baby?"

I nodded, remembering.

"Or would you rather see me wearing something else?" she said, dragging a finger to her knee and tilting her head.

"I just love shiny shoes." she said, looking back down and touching his shoulder as he bounded up. I can't remember the last time I moved that fast for her, or if I ever did. Maybe once or twice when I had to chase her down, but we don't think of those times anymore. It gets painful.

"Yes Ma'am we do!" he answered her excitedly, turning and hurrying towards the stockroom. "I'll be right back with what you want!"

I cracked my shoulders and my leather jacket creaked. I was ready to leave. I didn't want to see anymore. I didn't need to see something that reminded me of what she was capable of, of what she was back then and what she meant to me. I always looked forward. The true challenge was holding back what she'd been hiding from me from the beginning. I knew all about her colorful past, and that's what turned me on, always knowing she would end up in back in my arms, thinking I knew nothing.

This was the fourth shoe store we'd been in today. At each, she'd pull the same routine. She'd try on at least two dozen pairs of heels, boots, or pumps, and never buy them. Zero ended up to her liking and sat waiting to be reboxed and shelved as we walked out.

"He's a cute one, and obviously a foot worshipper" she teased me after he was out of earshot. "I wouldn't need to train him months on end, like you"

I squeezed the straps of her choices waiting inside the bag. There wasn't anything to crush outside of it.

"I'd like to see him down by my feet much, much longer." she added, looking down at her naked foot. I wanted to put something on it.

"I wonder if he can paint toenails better than you?" she asked, wistfully watching him walk away.

I started becoming hard, so I shifted her sacks of lingerie in front of myself. Imagining what she bought only made it worse.

She raised an eyebrow at me and asked "Jealous? Or just getting turned on by the idea of him down here?" pointing at the floor under her feet. Her beautiful soft feet with perfectly maintained nails.

Would she really let someone else do my job? It's the only pleasure I have left.

"Remember." she playfully reminded me, "Hubby hubby no get jelly-jealous." warning me and wagging a finger.

This was my lesson for the week, watching other men touch her feet.

I'm not to speak. I'm not to get jealous. Just wait on her paying close attention to how it makes me feel. She suggested I try and enjoy it, because she would.

She's taught me that I don't get to touch her feet, she only allows me. I've been learning that the last few weeks. What lotions to buy. Which polish she wants applied. How to rub them. How to file them smooth. I've turned into her personal pedicurist.

If I do a good job, I get to cum on them.

I'm starting to love it and have become addicted to it, the new her and me. I'm less selfish, and it's become a world we can share together.

"I want you to get used to seeing men at my feet." she hinted in the parking lot. "I have something planned that I think you'll love, and if not, well, ...you'll learn to crave it, because you're learning that you don't have a choice."

"Did you hear me? You need to start listening," she fondled me beneath the steering wheel "because soon you won't have a choice."

"I've had to help you with some recent choices, and eventually, I'll make all of them, all right honey?"

"Right?" her touch electrified me and I melted into a ball of putty. She has that effect on me when I haven't felt her in so long. I could barely nod.

She pulled my zipper down, guiding me out, to give me a few tugs.

"Look into my eyes when I'm doing this."

I fell into her eyes.

"You like this, don't you baby?"

I couldn't believe what was happening. We sat in a busy parking lot, in the middle of day with people everywhere. She'd have never done this kind of thing in the past, even I'd demanded it. She's gotten bolder since I've helped her get her confidence back.

"You want to watch men servicing my feet." she told me. "You want to learn how to serve me better by watching them make me happier."

"Some guys may know how to please me...better, and you need to discover how."

"But, we'll talk about that later." she ordered "At home."

"If you don't want this, just pull me away and we can go home." she purred, leaning over to wrap her lips around my cock. I haven't felt her lips on me in weeks, so I lean back sighing, gazing through the windshield at people walking past, oblivious to really enjoying life. They wouldn't find pleasure in our games. They couldn't find this kind of pleasure anywhere in their narrow lives. They will always be afraid to take the chance, watching a life march by.

My hands didn't flinch, but waited. She sucked until I was hard, then pulled away.

"Come find me when you can walk again" she said, reaching into her purse to pull out lip gloss.

"Oh it's strawberry, by the way." she let me know, dragging it over her lips, she done the same thing when we were teenagers, hopping out of my car making me follow her. The scent hung around me as I watched her disappear into the mall.

When I composed myself I discovered her in Victoria's Secret, searching through the corsette rack already carrying an armload of lingerie. I bumped up behind her, kissing her neck. I stole a glance of black garter belts on top.

"No peeking." she warned me, hunkering forward to protect her mysteries and jabbed a thumb over my shoulder.

"Go wait on one of those mall benches all the losers sit on while women spend their money." she chirped out loud enough for a nearby elderly lady to hear, who smiled and winked at me as I passed. I wondered what she's taught men over her lifetime.

I leaned back and watched all the people passing by imagining what their lives were like in private. I wondered how they lead their lives, or how their lives were being lead. I heard snippets of conversations and parts of arguments in versions that I've heard thousands of times in different ways. I tried to ignore it all and just enjoy the view, because the stories never change, just the people.

So I waited on her, holding that bag she placed in my hands, watching other men touch her feet.

"Come and sit by me." she suggested, patting the black and chrome chair next to hers.

Her brow darkened when I wouldn't move.

"You know what happens to naughty boys who won't listen," she said, raising an eyebrow "don't you?"

I nodded and glanced down into the bag of her choices and smiled. I looked back, winking.

"Oh! You are a hopeless beast," she laughed "stay out of my there or I'll never wear those things for you. It's supposed to be a surprise!"

"I have outfits for each. Day. Of." She drew out, taking her time "The. Week."

It was near. The week she would take over when she felt confident enough. It's the week I've been dreaming of. I've been so used to getting anything I wanted, whenever I demanded it, that I'd become spoiled in our relationship. Time slows as we age, and I'm trying to ride her waves slower.

I'm not someone who's easy to handle, so we've taken our time getting here, but she still tries speeding things up that I'm not ready for, like I did to her years ago.

We had an understanding that our games should not leave our home. I'm not one for using unsuspecting victims as tease bait. I don't like to see others getting caught up in our games and thinking they had a chance with her, but now I'm questioning who might, or did, when I payer her little attention. A lot of people thrive off of that power trip, and she was becoming one of them, again.

Every passing week revealed she is much more into voyeurism than I ever imagined. We were never a couple who got our rocks off in public places. I'd only intended our new adventures to unfold in our home, while she was bringing back her old ones. But as she's become more confident in controlling me under our roof, she's now pushing my boundaries in public.

We lead different lives in different places, and I refuse to let her totally overwhelm my life, but she pushes me everytime we are out. She's learned my weak spots and tries to bend me with them.

And that's a real problem, because I'm starting to like it, and she senses it. No matter how much I pretend to ignore her antics, she knows I see everything out of the corner of my eye. She waits until she gets me home to tease and torture me about it, for now.

"Come sit by me!" she chirped, patting the seat next to her. "I want this guy to kneel at both of our feet. You'll feel like a King watching his Queen get serviced!"

Oh my God why was I walking over there?

"That's it baby, sit here by my side." she whispered conspiratorially. "Here he comes, just watch."

I plopped down genuinely intrigued by what she was up to this time as the salesman came walking back. I had a front row seat.

"Here they are Ma'am" he let her know sitting down on his little footstool.

"I know he's not actually kneeling at my feet yet, but it's a start." she blatantly told me in front of him.

"Sorry Ma'am?" he asked, while lifting a shoe from the box, busily removing paper packing.

"Oh nothing, I was just telling my husband here about how you keep trying to peek up my skirt," she informed him. "And he's pissed!"

He froze and started to look up, his gaze stopped on my steel toe boots, which I started tapping loudly. I couldn't believe I was going along with her act. But damn, it was kind of fun.

"He wants to know why you are trying to look at his pussy. This pussy is his property." she scolded him, pointing between her legs. "No one is allowed to see it unless he gives them permission!"

He froze there with the shoe between his hands, holding it halfway to her feet. He mumbled "No Ma'am, I uh, no, w-would never do that." while staring at my tapping boot.

"You little lying piece of shit! I saw you! You might as well have been watering at the mouth you wanted to taste it so bad!" she lit into him while smiling at me. I almost burst into laughter.

"No Ma'am, no, I uh.." he stammered fumbling over his words.

"Just shut up and see how that shoe fits my foot," she ordered him "and I better not see you peeking at my panties again. Those are only for my husband to see, unless he says otherwise." she said, reminding me of the truth.

The poor kid shook grasping at her foot. He finally managed to slip it on daintily and jerked his hands away.

"What do you think baby?" she asked me "Do you like what you see?"

I nodded. I loved seeing her control people other than me. It was a liberating experience. It made me want to see more. I wanted to remember all the times I pushed her away so long ago, and who's arms she may have fallen into, missing me. I wanted to bend over and kiss her foot.

If we were alone I would. I would do anything she wanted, but not here, not anywhere she wanted. Not yet.

"My husband doesn't talk much when he's angry, but he does love them at my feet, er, I mean on my feet." she corrected herself. "But as usual he has no taste. I mean hell, look at the beat up work boots he always wears."

"Don't you think his boots...suck?" she asked him point blank.

"Uh, yes Ma'am." he mumbled keeping his head lowered. Maybe he was a true born foot slave.

"You didn't even look at them!" she hollered.

"Look at them!"

He tilted his head slightly at my boots and said "If you say so, Ma'am."

"Finally! Somebody that agrees with me!" she said. "You and your crappy boots!"

"I don't want these shoes either. They look to hard to keep clean. Take it off, ok?" she asked him.

He fumbled for her foot again and pulled it off placing it back in the box.

"My husband has to bring the car around for me because my feet hurt now. We have somewhere important to be soon. Somewhere that has shiny black vinyl knee boots to sell." she informed him.

I jumped up quickly from excitement. Finally the time is here. I've waited for a lifetime to see her in those platform boots. The kid flinched from my sudden movement.

"He's leaving now but told me you can glance at my pussy before I meet him outside" she teased.

I walked out, my boots clomping on the mall floor.

I paused to peek through the display window and seen her starting to tilt the kids chin up while smiling at me.