The Singer

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She's been on stage for hours, her feet ache.
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I'd finished dining a client just as her show had been finishing an hour ago; the grounds having cleared by the time I knocked on the door of her dressing room. She opened the door and stood facing me with a pre-eminent stare from her dark eyes. Her long wavy hair came down behind her shoulders and lightly rested against her thin black top. There was a small rim of her flat stomach visible between the bottom of her top and the top of her thick dark blue jeans, held up by a fairly thick black belt and tucked into her heeled, combat-style boots. They were tied neatly and rose up to partway up her shin. She'd had them on for around five and a half hours by now and had a forboding smile as she said 'Come in' with her make-up still bright and undiminished. She walked with a swagger; her bottom flicking up and down on either side as she walked past the open bottle of YvesSaintLauren on her dressing table – confirming what I thought I'd smelt as she'd opened the door. She was only a year younger than me yet we were both under twenty and legal to drink; our lives a story we lived rather than believed.

I hung up my jacket on the back of the closed door as she screwed the top back on the bottle with a knowing look of expectant joy on her face. "So, do you like my new boots?" She asked me already fully aware of the answer.

"Why, yes," I said, more interested in what they hid inside them.

"I like them too," She said sweetly – a manner she normally only reserved for when she absolutely wanted to get her way, "but I've had them on since six this evening and my feet are starting to ache."

"Oh, that's, uh..."

"Would you be the most amazing friend and take them off for me," and she addressing me by name and fluttering her black eyelashes.

"Sure, but only to help," I said as she walked over to a chest of drawers and perched herself on top. She stretcher her legs out infront of her and admired the boots on her feet for one last time before they came off, nodding her head authoritatively in their direction and reaching into her jeans pocket for a small fliptop make-up mirror and a tube of rich pink lipstick.

"Sit on the floor," She said matter-of-factly, "With your legs crossed. Now this is my room and so you do exactly as I say, do you understand?"

"Yes," I said, and her left leg came up, the top of her boot guiding my chin upwards.

"Yes what?" She asks, looking down from the mirror and pursing her lips.

"Yes Miss," I said.

"That's better. I want you to undo the laces on my other boot first, and loosen the tongue. Then do the same with this one, then slip them off – slowly! And if you dislodge my socks, there'll be trouble – is that understood?"

"Yes," I nodded, and she hit my chin more forcefully this time.

"Yes what?"

"Yes Miss."

"That's right, and you be careful or I'll have you in trouble – alright?"

"Yes Miss," – and she flicked her legs a little either side of my face, mesmorising me before she stretched them out in front of me. I did as she instructed, gradually pulling the lace of her right boot so the laces fell limp, and then I tugged a little on its tongue so some air could get in. A slightly sweaty scent rose up but I did my best to hide my expression. She busied herself with the black nails on her left hand, seemingly disinterested. I moved on to the left boot, pulling both ends of the lace this time but just as gently and then dropping them so they fell either side of the boot. This time I put my finger down the tongue to loosen it a little and I felt the soft material of her sock for just a moment. The boot was suddenly under my face again, but this time there was a smile on her face.

"Were you trying to be cheeky there, boy?"

"No Miss, no Miss," – she put her boot down a little from the ankle, like she was pushing the pedal in a car.

"I'll believe you – but just this once!"

"Ok, thank you Miss."

"Is there something in your trousers?"

"I don't think so Miss," – 'though I was fully conscious of the increasing bulge, fuelled by anticipation. Her eyes lit up a little at the control she knew she had over me.

"Now take this one off, and remember – slowly," She said, lifting her left leg up to the side of my cheek. I turned and held out my hands, my heart pumping at the thought of what might be inside and everything I was about to discover. I put my left hand on the end of the boot and my right hand in the middle, feeling its strong structure so similar to her personality and everything she could make me do, I wanted to savour taking it off and yet was so eager to have away with it.

"Wait," She said, and I was hit with a panic that she might call the whole thing off, "I'm not sure I can trust you."

"No Miss, no Miss, I promise..."

"Shhhh," she said, pressing a finger to her lips and looking down at me like an Au Paire trying to send a small child to bed, "let go" – and I did as I was told, my heart sinking but my dick edging ever higher up the lining of my trousers.

"I think I need some kind of collateral," She said, placing her hands by her sides and leaning back so as to rest on them.

"Collateral?" I asked, quickly adding on, "Miss."

"Yeah. Stand up," She told me, letting her legs hang loose over the side of the drawers, the laces dangling towards the ground as if to mock me for being closer to my desires than I was.

"Give me your shirt," She told me, "If you're well behaved, I might give it back to you." – and so I undid my buttons and slipped it from my shoulders. She looked fondly at my bare chest and my weight-toned arms; she rose her legs again and lightly tapped the bottom of her boots against my tummy.

"Good boy, now give it to me," – I reached over and handed it to her. "Do you like that? Do you like that, boy?" She asked me, tapping her boots again and again against my bare skin.

"Yes Miss, I do. Thank you,"

"Now sit down again, there's a good boy," She told me. I resumed my original position with my legs crossed, this time her offering her left boot to me.

"Slowly," She emphasised again, "So I can feel the fresh air coming in and soothing my feet."

I retook my grip of her boot and gently wiggled it loose, sliding it down to the bottom of her ankle and then running the wool-lined top along her soles, her toes opening up a little as it finally came off completely. Her socks were white with pink ends and slightly faded with sweat.

"Good," She said, "Now put it over there, next to you, so it faces me."

I did so before she told me to move onto her right boot. "You can go a little quicker this time," She told me, "I don't want to sweat for much longer."

I pulled a little with this boot and took it off in half the time, the shape of the side her right foot more curved and shapely that the flatter sole itself. I placed it next to the other boot and awaited further instruction. She said nothing though, instead pressing her finger to her lips and now rubbing her socked feet further up my chest and over my torso. The socks were a little wet but still soft and I found myself opening my mouth to breathe, only opening my eyes when I finally realised she had stopped.

"Do you like my socks, boy?" She asked me, and I sat up a little.

"Yes Miss."

"Do you like how they feel on your chest, boy?"

"Yes, I do Miss – thank you."

"Can you prove how well behaved you are to me now, boy?"

"Yes, I think so Miss."

"Alright, I'm going to sit here with my socks in your face. You must do everything I say, you can look, but you may not touch. If you touch them, there'll be trouble – is that clear?"

"Yes Miss."

She pushed her left foot right into my nose, the sole millimeters from its end, but I sat still and took in the aroma, closing my eyes slightly.

"Open your eyes," She said with a coaxing charm. I did so and looked along the side profile as I was told to do so. The shape hidden slightly by the sock I still took in how she was moving her toes upwards and then sprawling them a little. She switched feet and twirled it round and round my face, in front of my eyes and lips. She pulled it back a little and said "Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue, but do not touch my feet."

I opened my mouth and my tongue crept out, shaking with excitement. I let it lay still less than half an inch from where the end of her right foot now was, almost able to taste it in the air. Before I knew it she'd placed it, still socked, in my mouth, and caught by surprise I instinctively closed my mouth around it. She wrenched it out quickly, my face registering the horror of what I'd just done before she kicked me – properly this time, in my right cheek, only just holding herself on top of the drawers.

"Now," and she called me by name again, "I warned you..."

"But," I interrupted, and she looked at me sternly.

"Were you going to argue with me, boy?"

"Er, no Miss. No, no Miss. I'm sorry Miss."

"I knew I couldn't trust you," she began.

"No, no Miss – I'm sorry Miss, I just got carried away," but she cut me off mid-sentence.

"Bring my boots over here and put them back on."

"I..."

"Do it! I don't want to wear them either but that obviously what's needed until you learn your lesson."

I picked them up and placed them back on her feet, careful not to touch her socks before tying them up, sitting there sadly. She placed her heavy boots on my shoulders and said my name again. I looked up at her.

"Do you have anything you want to say."

"I'm sorry, Miss."

"And why are you sorry?"

"Because I tried to kiss your feet Miss."

"And Why did you want to do that," she said my name again.

"Because I want your feet Miss."

She lifted her boots from my shoulders again.

"I must admit I rather liked you taking them off," She said with a small smile at the edges of her lips before she mentioned my name another time. "If you could have anything at the moment, what would you have?" She asked.

I looked up at her sheepishly. "Your boots, Miss." And she let out a laugh.

"But that's silly, then my feet would get dirty when I went outside – and we couldn't have that, now could we?"

"No Miss."

"Would you like my socks instead, boy?"

"I'd love to have them, Miss."

"Really? Would you swap me for something you're wearing?"

"Certainly, Miss." – and she looked at me menacingly, her smile getting wider and wider as her mind ran wild with what she was going to do to me.

"Why don't you try taking off my boots without messing it up this time?" She asked me, "You can do it quickly if that helps fight the temptation."

I went at them like a Child unwrapping Christmas presents; undoing the laces and pulling them off quickly leaving her socks undisturbed, and placing them again as she'd asked. I knew her size but seeing the English number in a circle printed on the inside – '6' – still gave me a rush of excitement and by now my balls were starting to ache.

"Okay boy, stand up," She told me, "I'll let you take off my socks and take them home with you if you do me a fair swap. Is that a deal?"

"What would you like, Miss?"

"Well, I want," and she tilted her head back suppressing an urge to laugh – at me, "I want... I want everything you're wearing. Does that sound fair to you? Is that how much you want my socks?"

By now I was trembling, I knew how close I was to seeing her feet properly for the first time and something told me if I did as I was told I might even get to touch them, to taste them undiluted by fabric. "Yes Miss, that sounds fair to me."

Her eyes widened as if she was impressed. "Take it all off then, boy. Take everything off whilst you're facing me, and then go and put it in a pile over there," and she pointed her toes to the other side of the room. I started undoing my belt slowly, trying to make a show of things, but I could fight the temptation no longer and pulled down hard; my trousers and boxers coming off in one, my cock sensitive instantly to the cool, air-conditioned air and pointing out at a right angle towards her.

"Stand still," she said, and I held my clothes by my side, "Don't you know it's rude to point?", and she patted her left sole flat against the head of my cock, I felt a small surge and some pre-cum dripped onto the floor.

"Dear, dear, dear," She said, "You need to learn some more self control, boy."

"I, er..."

"Shhhhh. Go and put your clothes over there, then come back and sit on the floor again."

I walked over, naked, as best I could, dropped my things in a pile and came back, the base of my shaft feeling like it was supporting a great weight.

"Bring me my boots," she said as I walked past them, "and come and stand next to me," – I handed them to her and stood next to the drawers, "you may kiss my neck," she said, and she looked intimate as I pecked it in a circle, occasionally peaking through my otherwise closed eyes – I could feel the tough outside of the boots rubbing against my naked thighs until she began placing one around my cock, rubbing the soft lining up and down my ridge, my dick flinching at the feeling as I fought harder and harder to control myself until I let out a 'ahhh'. She slid the boot of slowly, placed a hand on my neck to push me back slightly.

"Floor," she said, raising her socked right foot in front of my left eye, "What do you want boy?" and by now I could hardly answer.

"I said, what do you want boy? Answer me!"

"I... I... I want your feet, miss, please. Please, please, please, I want your feet."

She hovered herself over the side of the drawers and trod lightly on my dick with her feet, the soft socks warming my sac. Eventually she hoisted herself back up and rubbed them against my cheeks.

"Okay, I think you've been a good boy," and I looked up in anticipation, "you can take off my socks, slowly – but you can't touch my bare feet. If you do, I'm leaving you here – is that understood?"

"Yes Miss," I nodded. She raised her left foot up slowly to my face and I put my hands around the top of her sock, gently sliding it down to the top of her ankles and then over the slight bump, she lifted it a little more and I slid it down below the ankle. The flesh was lighter towards the sole and the soft sides of her feet curved inwards towards her arch, I slid the sock off slowly until it came to the part I'd longed for most – her short, neat toes with immaculate black polish. I put the sock down between my crossed legs and she put her now bare foot right into my face.

"Can you control yourself, boy?"

"Yes Miss," I just about managed to say.

"And what do you really want to do at the moment, boy?"

"I want to kiss it, Miss."

"Kiss what, boy?"

"Your foot, Miss." She ran the bottom of her toes over my forehead and I tried not to wince as I did my best not to shoot my load.

"Take the other one off first," She told me. I rolled this one down like a football sock this time with her right foot, which felt a little softer as I lifted from the bottom. Her toes were a little more pointed as I slipped off her sock and put it with the other one. I looked up at her with longing eyes.

"Up." She said, and I stood up in front of her, my cock heavy. I could feel the nail on her right big toe as she ran it up and down my shaft, "Do you like my foot touching your dick, boy? You like hearing that, don't you? That's what you like to hear, isn't it – you like to hear me saying that my foot is touching your dick!" I let out another pant. "No!" She said firmly, "You're not going to cum unless I say you can. Sit back down," She said calmly, dangling her feet downwards like she was sitting on a riverbank.

"One lick, and one lick only," she told me as she raised her left foot up again. I put out my tongue and bent underneath, running slowly from the bottom of her angle to the tip of her middle three toes – it was cooler thanks to the air in the room, the taste of vinegar strong but the leather on the inside of her boots masked after she'd worn the socks. I took my position up again and she pushed the bottom of her toes against my lips. "Suck," she said, and I placed my lips around them, a little sweat still coming out and straight into my mouth, my dick beginning to drizzle to the point where I thought it might burst.

But then she withdrew it – quickly and unexpectedly. Before I knew it she had leapt down from the drawers and was kneeling on the floor, her feet tucked under her bottom and her soles protruding out, a little more wrinkled than they'd been previously. She'd taken up one of her socks and had thrust it onto my dick, she was leaning forwards and placed her mouth around my shaft, licking around the head and pausing only to mumble 'Cum!' as I felt the spasm at the base of my shaft and it oozed out as she looked up, my load seeping through her sock and spreading before I looked at her and some drops fell from her top lip as she winked and blew me a kiss, leaning forward one more time on all fours and whispering to me "Never forget: I control you..."

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AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
That's a sure go!

Keep going, you have talent man!

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