Highs and Lows of my Childhood. (By Me, Jenny, 2600 words).
That Special Feeling.(By Me, Jenny, with Pics, 3200 words).
Our life, My heels, Our love .(By Connie, 1800 words).One unforgettable night.(By Michael, 1900 words).Together at last. (By Shirley, 1800 words).Jane Steps Out .(By Heel-lover, 2400 words).I can't remember when I first was attracted to my Mum. I suppose I must have been a little girl of about three years old. Mum did a part time job as a secretary in the afternoons and she always dressed up very smartly for work. After she had collected me from nursery school, I was playing on the living room floor, but the double doors were open to the kitchen.
We used to have a quarry-tiled kitchen floor and I guess it was the sound that first attracted me. In a short while, I had lost interest in my dolls and was staring through the doorway, listening to the tip-tap of mum's shoes as she went to and fro getting tea ready. I was able to observe her rhythmic movements from ground level as she passed by the doorway. I moved closer.
As I watched, I developed a game where I tried to guess when she would appear through the doorway by listening to the clicking of her high-heels on the tiles. I had to get closer; I picked my doll and crawled into the kitchen. I pretended to play with my doll, but really my attention was focused on Mum. I got a good view from down there.
Mum was exceptionally good looking. She always dressed immaculately as well, in smart skirt suits with pretty jacket and blouse or beautiful dresses. She was always saying to my sister, Joan, "Make the best of yourself, love. You could transform yourself with a nice dress, shoes, and a decent hair do". Joan, however was quite content to clump around in Doc Martin's and baggy trousers. I watched transfixed, as mum's hair and dress flowed with her steps while her smooth white arms swung along with the tapping of her heels. She wasn't just my Mum, she was a Goddess, she was everything that I desired to be. As she stood by the sink she rocked her foot back and forth on the heel before gracefully gliding across the room, her stilettos ringing out on the floor with each step. I was entranced....I wished I was her.....
"Jen !", said Mum. "Get back in the lounge. I've nearly tripped over you three times- can't you see I'm trying to make the tea ?" Sullenly, I obeyed. I went back into the lounge where my older sister, Joan, had come home from school. When we sat down for tea, I tried to get a glimpse of mum's high heels again when she brought the meal in but she had taken them off in favour of her slippers. What a contrast! She was just an ordinary mum again, but still beautiful and special to me.
From then on, what had been a momentary fascination turned into a real interest for me. Sometimes after lights out, before going to bed, I would walk around on tip-toe pretending that I was mum. I would swivel and twirl, but without the shoes, my feet and legs soon got tired and it wasn't the same. When I was picked up from school, I used to watch all the other mums and give them marks out of ten for how high their heels were and how good they were at wearing them: little girl's minds work in strange ways! Mum was the best, there was no doubt. Some of them were useless: tripping and teetering along with about as much grace as a lame giraffe.
"Sarah", said a friend to my mum one day, " How do you manage to walk so smoothly in such high heels. They must be well over 4"; I could never balance properly in those and my feet would ache".
"Just practice, I suppose, Janet", confided mum, "There was a time when I wore nothing else for three years and your muscles adapt to them. After a time your heels feel such a part of you that you can wear them all day and hardly feel they're there. I suppose I wear them out of habit now. They're as comfortable as flats; I've even got some pairs over 5" high."
Janet looked a little sceptical at this: I thought out of envy, but I knew mum was telling the truth. I made up my mind to be as skillful as mum one day. I loved her and wanted to be just like her.
When I turned eight, mum stopped wearing her high-heels. Fashion changed a bit I suppose. She threw most of her old shoes out. I asked why but she just said, "time for a change". There were still one or two pairs of stilettos at the bottom of the cupboard. I used to try them on playing "Dressing up" but they weren't too much fun as my little feet only fitted into the front part and they felt just like flats. The heels scraped along behind me as I stumbled around. It wasn't a bit like mum's graceful tip-tapping. If I lifted them off the ground, my feet would only slip out of them. Still, they were better than nothing, but how I yearned for a pair that fitted me properly.
One day mum found me stumbling around the front drive. "What are you doing trying to walk in those old things?", she demanded, "You're making a fool of yourself and you'll only break your ankle." With that, she took them off me and chucked them in the dust bin. Of course, I sneaked them out when I thought she wasn't looking, but mum was too wise for that.
"Jen!", she shouted as she caught me with them, "Will you do as I say?". She lifted me up, brought me and the shoes indoors, and threw them onto the fire. Tears filled my eyes as I watched the leather start to smoulder in the grate and I realised that they would be ashes, long before my feet ever grew to fit them. "Mum!" I sobbed, "I was only dressing up!" "First learn to grow up, Jennifer, then you can dress up", she retorted. "Life's not fair", I thought, but there was no arguing and that was that.
The years passed. I was eleven. I wished my mum's old shoes were still around as I could probably get more of a feel for them, even though size 5's were too big for me. My sister Joan was eighteen- she was nice, but she didn't share the good looks of my mum as I was lucky enough to do. Joan always wore such frumpy clothes and never high-heels, so I couldn't secretly borrow some from her. I used to beg mum to buy me a pair "just for the house" when we were in the shoe shop, but she always said "Don't be silly- you're not old enough.", or, " I've hardly enough money to buy you shoes for school- your feet grow so quickly." How I longed so much for a pair that fitted me- just so I could try out the feeling of walking in them properly. The memories of my childhood were strong.
One day, when I was gone thirteen, I was at a car boot sale with my sister and I found a pair of high-heels under a pile of clothes. They were black suede courts with 41/2" stiletto heels- a bit like mum used to wear. I held my breath and looked underneath - size 31/2 - perfect. " One pound those, sweetie", said the stallholder, noting my interest. One pound ! My pocket money would stretch to that. I handed over the cash and he put them in a plastic bag for me. I was too embarrassed to try them on.
"Don't let mum see those, Jen", advised Joan. "She'll chuck them out". "You wont tell, will you ?", I asked. "Of course not", she replied. "But hide them in your bedroom or something; mum will only go on about wasting money if she sees them." My sister was so helpful- some sisters could be very spiteful, but never her.
I couldn't wait to get back home and up to my room. Upstairs, I stripped off my trainers, socks, and jeans and stood there in my T-shirt holding the bag, my heart thumping. Gingerly, I took my treasure out and placed them on the floor. They were nearly new, hardly worn, a real bargain. I just looked at them for 10 minutes on the floor side by side. Gosh they were high- but really graceful. My stomach was light. I felt hot.
Suppose they didn't fit or I couldn't walk in them ? There was only one way to find out. Heart still thumping, I raised my self high on tip-toe and slipped one bare foot into the soft suede. It snuggled in perfectly, as did the other, the heel rocked slightly from side to side as each foot settled in.
I stood there for a full minute, breathing deeply, my hips forward and body adjusting to the new posture. It felt so good- the frustrations of years were released. I was becoming wet down below. I took a couple of hesitant steps towards the mirror- the feeling was indescribable- so blissfully feminine. I felt like a real woman. It was like growing up ten years in two minutes.
I examined my shoes in the mirror, rocking back on the heel like mum used to do. They were so high that I could barely walk. They would take some practice, but they were mine. My first pair of real heels.
I would practice walking in my shoes in the bedroom and hide them at the back of a drawer afterwards as my sister had suggested. The bedroom wasn't brilliant because as soon as I got into my stride, I met up with the opposite wall. I did however have my mirror and I stood in front of it taking a few small steps, trying out different positions for standing and generally admiring my new acquisitions. Oh how my feet and legs ached during those first few weeks and months. But it was worth it..... I was happy.
If mum was out for the day then it was time to venture father afield. As soon as the door closed, I was brushing my hair, putting on some make up and digging a pretty summer frock out of the wardrobe. Then, it was down to the kitchen and lounge to pretend to be mum. I used to spend hours in the kitchen strutting back and forth. pirouetting around, going about the housework. It was better in there: there was plenty of room to walk and I got used to the full height of my shoes instead of the heel sinking 1/2 " into the soft carpet. The only trouble was that I would end up by doing the washing up, cleaning and housework a hundred times over during these sessions.
Sometimes Joan would be in the lounge reading a book and she would call out. "Jen, you're mad ! You've been tip-tapping around all day, the whole house is absolutely spotless and you're still cleaning it ! Added to that you're dressed to kill. You're so pretty, yet so crazy- pretty crazy I'd say". Then she added, "Just like mum". She didn't know it but it was the finest complement she could have paid me.
Once I saw mum coming back early. I raced upstairs, whipped off my heels and hid them away. I was about to change my dress when I heard her call me. "Jennifer, come down here." Oh no -no escape- not even time to take off my make up. Had mum caught on ? I went a I was. Mum however, was in a good mood.
"Jennifer, the house looks like new, I never seem to have to do the housework anymore." And then: "Darling, you're dressed up like for a night out. You look six years older- go and wash that make up off at once." And then: "Anyway, I've bought you some new clothes and some make up for doing the house for me. I know how you like dressing up. Darling, you do look beautiful ". She gave me a hug.Typical of her! She would discourage me with one breath and encourage me with the next. It was as though she didn't want me to grow up but was gradually accepting the fact. She had brought me a smart skirt and matching jacket just like she wore. It was a good thing that I had taken my shoes off. She might have flipped if she'd seen them. I wouldn't have fancied watching clothes, shoes, and make up going up in smoke. Anything might happen with mum sometimes. We made a right pair!
One time mum went away on holiday for a week with a boyfriend leaving my sister with me. It really was open season then; I wore high heels all week- to the pub, the cinema, out shopping. I hardly took them off. I even wore them in bed! My months of practice had indeed paid off. My legs were strong and supple enough to allow me to walk around all day without too much discomfort- those shoes just became a part of me.
Joan loved going out with me when I was dressed up. My fourteen years looked more like nineteen and we could go anywhere together. She always dressed a bit like a fellow in jacket, trousers, and loafers. I suppose that we were both role playing in a way. She enjoyed the company of some one feminine and pretty while I looked up to her superior years and steady masculine qualities- almost like the dad I'd never had. Whatever the reasons, we were inseparable.
I was nearly seventeen and had just done well in my exams. It was a long hot summer- I was out in town with mum when she said: "Do you remember how you always used to ask me to buy you some high heels when you were younger". "I suppose so", I replied, not quite sure where this was leading to. "Well ", she said, "let me buy you some today- you're old enough now and you're allowed to wear them in the sixth form." "That would be nice". I tried not to show my true feelings of joy.
We visited some shoe shops and I tried on a pair of lace up courts- good for school. They were well over 4" high but easy to wear after my years of secret practice. As I walked smoothly back and forth turning and walking without so much as the slightest teeter, mum was a little surprised. "Jen", she laughed, " You're a natural in heels. You bring back memories of when I was younger."
Mum bought the shoes for me and amazingly, bought some others for herself. "They're back in fashion now, " she said, " and I haven't worn them for years ". Then she continued, " Jen, come on ! let's wear them now ". Mum's eyes sparkled. She looked ten years younger. I'd never seen her quite like this before. We slipped into our new shoes in the shop and set off together through the shopping malls.
We walked along like two best friends, sometimes holding hands. I felt so good as our laughter mingled with the clicking of our heels on the marble. I'd grown up like mum at last- it was a long time coming but worth waiting for. It was the happiest day of my life.
The End
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Do you know that pleasant feeling of anticipation that precedes the happier days of one’s life ? Today was just such a day. I had just finished a pretty lucrative contract and received a good bonus which would set me up financially for a couple years at least. I could enjoy a few months break- but knowing me I would be looking for something within a few weeks !
I was due to meet up with my boyfriend, Steve, to look for a house to share together. He was just back from the States and it would be great to see him again. I even hung up some of his favourite jackets and ties to make him feel at home. I knew Steve had a bit of a thing for heels which was just as well, as so did I. I usually wore 3 or 4" to work- always stilettos - not plats or clumpy ones. I am 5’7", size 40EUR shoe, so I don’t really need the extra height per se. There is something about a stiletto. You can gently rock it and really feel the heel - almost try to push it further into the ground and positively sense the height. Its difficult to describe unless you actually wear them. It certainly makes me feel confident, powerful, feminine - even a little vulnerable - a completely contrasting sentiment. I suppose some of it is emotional, some from association, some sexual; its not an easy thing to analyze, but for me anyway, there is great pleasure to be had from wearing them once one has mastered the practical difficulties of doing so.
After showering and making up, I put on a white bra and soft cream patterned silk blouse. I pulled on some light tan stockings with black lacy hold up tops, and decided to be a bit naughty and go without panties. I choose a dark blue wrap around skirt, just above knee length. It was cut to allow a slit up the back which opens a little as you walk. I suppose one could say that I dress a bit conservatively - but I think it is important with heels not to dress too tartishly - its easy to give the wrong impression, especially at work.
I usually wear 3 or 4" but I thought I would impress Steve with something a bit higher and I had recently got some 5" pumps. They were soft black leather, with a really thin stiletto. I was pretty good walking in them, but if you wear heels, you will know that shoes like that are not something you would wear all day as the pressure on the front part of the foot is quite high. However, today was special. Raising myself on tip toe, I slipped into them. That, for me, is one of the nicest feelings, as your foot gently snuggles into them and you feel the full height for the first time. I suppose it is like most other human perceptions in that it is the change of feeling has one of the strongest effects. I sat down by the desk in the bedroom with a cup of tea to enjoy them for a bit.
As I walked into the living room to get my bag, there was no doubt that they made me feel really special - even as distinct to the other pumps that I usually wore. That feeling intensified as I left the house and clicked on the hard concrete pavement, on my way to the garage to pick up the car from where it had been serviced the day before. I smiled as I felt the full 5" tapping on the hard surface, and as the cool breeze gently wafted across my bare arms and up my skirt, I felt myself getting a little moist down below. Still - that was the way I liked it.
The car was not quite ready when I got to the garage so I sat down in the waiting area. The service manager was behind the counter doing whatever service managers usually do, so I decided to have a bit of fun. I picked up a magazine and held it up - but I could still see him out of the corner of my eye. Then I crossed my legs and started rocking the shoe up and down at the ankle. I saw he was taking an interest so I slipped the shoe off and let it dangle from my toes, clenching and unclenching them so that the uppers gently tapped the bottom of my foot
I could see he had totally stopped what he was doing and kept stealing furtive glances at me, unaware that I was watching back. I continued with the other foot that was on the floor - balancing on the heel and circling round and round and back and forth. His eyes were bulging and I bet that wasn’t all that was bulging ! I suppose it was all bit naughty, but an interesting game nevertheless. Sadly, it was brought to an end when a mechanic came round from the back to report the car was ready. I smiled at the manager as I came up to the counter to pay the bill. I could tell he was pretty aroused, as I exchanged a few pleasantries. I wonder if he knew that I knew why ? In any case, I suppose it was fun for both of us.
I drove the car down to the railway station where I was due to pick up Steve at half past Ten. I could see he was there waiting next to the taxi rank, so I honked the horn and waved him over to the car. He got into the passengers seat and we leaned over to embrace each other.
"Jenny, my love, you look great. It’s good to see you again", he started. "Mmmm, likewise darling." I said. I had waited 4 months for this moment and it felt so good as we hugged each other tightly.
We exchanged a bit of gossip as we went back to my rented place for a cup of coffee, although we had kept in touch pretty well while he was away via the phone and the Internet. Steve had actually got a job in the area so it seemed natural to try and buy a place here. At the moment, I was unattached workwise, but it would always be possible for me to pick up contracts work or work from home via the Net.
"What do you fancy doing ?", asked Steve.
"Well, you said you wanted to look at some places to live so I rung up the estate agents yesterday and found a few suitable candidates" I smiled.
"Jen, you are too organized as usual" , he laughed. "Come on then, lets go !"
We set off back again to the car, my stilettos tapping and ringing out on the path.
"Hey, Jen, those are great heels... but... I mean - are you sure you can drive in them OK ?"
"Don’t worry", I replied. "Lots of practice." It was true. I love driving anyway, but driving in high heels was better again. There’s nothing quite like flooring the accelerator pedal in stilettos and feeling the power as the car pulls away- especially when you have a fast car like this one was. I never really over did it - I am quite a careful driver, but love to open her up when the time is right. I suppose its the combination of feeling the energy of the machine and the command you have over it together with the authority of the heels. Again its something which is difficult to describe with a few words - do it and find out - or not ! - is my advice. In any case I could see Steve was watching me closely as I pumped the accelerator to get her going. Doh - she usually started better than this - was supposed to have been serviced as well !
Modified from an original by Spike and reproduced by kind permission from him.
At the estate office, the agent was a rather effusive sort. "Ooooh, sir and madam", he gushed." I think I have just the thing for you - it a repossession and in need of a little care - but marvelous location - quite unsurpassed - very secluded - and such gooood value - do you know I haven’t seen one quite like this on the market for some time….."
"Well, let us have the keys and we’ll find out for ourselves", said Steve, a little impatiently, not too impressed with the continuous stream of drivel from the agent.
I flashed my lashes and gave Steve a quick glance of reproach as if to say ‘He’s only doing his job’ but Steve got the message quite quickly.
"Sorry, " he said to the agent. "Long trip over from the States - guess I’m a bit tired."
"Ooooh, no problem sir", he continued unabashed. "I have the keys right here- now if you could just sign for them…." The floor of the office was polished wood but there were one or two cracks between the boards and as we had been talking, I had been inadvertently toying with my heel and easing it in and out of the crack a little as I rested my foot. With heels this high, you might know you that need to rock your foot back now and again to stretch your calf muscles- it’s necessity rather than teasing - honest ! As I shifted my stance, I felt the spike stick a bit and needed to twist it a little to get it free. I could see the wimpy old agent stealing a quick glance and he pushed his lips forward, forming a little circle with his mouth as he searched for the keys. It’s strange how the merest flicker of expression can give someone away.
I smiled inwardly - could this man have a heel fetish as well ?! There was a quick way to find out as I took a couple of steps, I positioned the heel over a wide bit of the crack and put my feet close together resting the inside of my shoes on one another like propping two bikes against each other. That is a nice way to stand in heels - its quite comfortable and stable - taking the tension out of your ankles. If you know the techniques, wearing these shoes becomes a lot easier. Anyway, while standing, I was gradually pressing down on the heel and forcing it firmly into the crack, so that when I walked away, I stepped completely out of the shoe, leaving it wedged into the floor. Considering the portly, rather rotund nature of the agent, he shot from behind the counter faster than a greyhound out of a trap !
"Ahhhhhh madam ! " he effused. " Allow me please..."
It was time to be a bit evil. "Oh, Please don’t trouble yourself", I said, giving the agent another one of my looks as if to say ‘keep your hands off !’. " Could you possibly do it Steve ?"
The agent’s face dropped as he realized he had lost the chance of getting his hands on my shoe to pull it out of the crack, but he was soon smiling as he watched my stockinged foot on tiptoe as I wiggled my toes on the bare boards, moving my foot from side to side. After Steve had retrieved my shoe, our portly friend observed intently as I wormed and rocked my foot back into it, first circling then tapping on the heel for good measure to make sure it was snug. The agent was getting a bit flustered as his stream of verbiage degenerated into tongue tied stuttering. Steve had realized by now that I was teasing this guy a bit.
"Come on, Jen !", he winked. "Lets get going"
"Jennifer ! - honestly ! - You’ve got a nerve" he began, when we got back in the car.
"Hehe - sorry - I just couldn’t resist it" , I sniggered. "Anyway, it certainly shut him up a bit."
"It did that all right. I wouldn’t be surprised if he paid a quick visit to the toilet after that performance", he suggested wickedly. "Right then - where’s this house ?."
The Agent was right about the house. It was detached but not too big and very secluded - a couple of miles into the country but still within easy reach of the town. We both liked it almost immediately. It was a vacant possession and certainly needed one or two things doing to it. I was enjoying a lot the feeling and sound of my stilettos on the bare boards and tiles as we moved from room to room. They felt pretty good considering they were higher than normal and I had had them on a couple hours. We had a long look round - it was mostly in quite good order - and moved back to the large living room which opened onto the beautiful gardens. Unfortunately, the wooden floor had had some covering ripped off it by the previous owners and the boards were in a bit of a state - some of them appeared quite rotten. It would probably need replacing.
"Look at the state of this floor", I intoned. " ‘In need of a little care’ - that’s estate agent’s parlance for ‘falling to bloody pieces’. Still we can always get a proper survey by a Structural Engineer before we buy."
I felt the wood splinter slightly beneath the tips of my thin stilettos so I eased the weight on and off my heels rocking them from side to side slightly . I was getting quite a lot of pleasure from feeling the full 5" move to and fro beneath me and felt powerful as the floor cracked and submitted to my rocking spikes. I was aware that Steve was watching me intently. I had a pretty good idea why !
"What’s up ?" I asked innocently, pulling up the sole of one foot, balancing on the heel and rotating at the ankle so the spike formed its own little pit as it dug into the wood. I was getting pretty aroused, enjoying the feeling of power and control, and was not surprised to feel a little trickle of juice seep from my pussy.
"You’re what’s up baby ! You’re making me hot and you know it!" was his reply.
I smiled and walked smoothly into the kitchen, leaving the little trail of pits and splinters behind me, moving on to the hard tiles of the kitchen floor making the most of the hard surface. "Clicka, clacka, clicka, clacka ", went my heels as they rang out on the floor. He followed me in to the kitchen as I pirouetted on the tiles leaning back against the large kitchen table, lifting one foot a touch, tapping and grazing the spike on the tiles in a swift series of movements.
"Do you know ", I smiled again, looking around the kitchen, " I want this place - I could really fall in love with it."
"All I want right now is you", Steve pleaded, looking at me longingly. I was so enjoying myself that I had failed to notice that I had pushed him over the edge.
He gently pushed me back on to the table, unbuckling and unwrapping my skirt to reveal my bare shaven pussy. "OhmyLord" , I whispered. "Not here !".
"Relax", was his reply. I was so hot that I knew I wanted it quickly. Normally, I like a lot of foreplay, but the heels had made the two of us so horny, that I just wanted him now. What other thing can do that for both of you ? I shuddered as his hand caressed my lacy stocking tops, flicking and stroking the smooth white skin of my thighs.
He had already dropped his trousers and pants; he hauled himself onto the table, gently easing himself inside, carefully keeping his weight off me. I shuddered again as his hardness glided into me, swelling my dripping pussy. We were both fully clothed on top, but he supported himself on one arm while the other slid underneath my blouse slipping into my bra and fingering my hard swollen nipples.
Smoothly, delicately, he stroked deep into me, my leg swinging in time with his motion, the heel grazing the floor as before, not this time with the previous confidence and assurity , but rather in helplessness as a sympathetic indicator of our movements into each other.
I felt my excitement quickly rising as he brushed my clit with each thrust until I moaned loudly as my body exploded into paroxysms of joy. He continued to ride my waves until a few seconds later, he erupted deep within me and I tremoured again as his hot cum filled me. I lay there in rapture, my arms and legs dangling from the edges of the table, while he slipped out of me and lay there beside me as we relaxed without saying a word, feeling each others warmth and listening to our breathing gradually subside to whispers….
It was soon time to clear up, and we washed down the table as best we could with the materials available in the bare kitchen. That orgasm had really blown me apart and I was still hot and shaking a little inside. My thighs trembled as I tapped to and fro on the tiles, a little unsteadily on my spikes.
"You’re making me hot again, Jen, you devil", he said.
I was starting to feel that way myself a little as well. "Hehe - come on let’s split from this place before we are at it anew", I answered.
We shut the door behind us and, hand in hand, made our way down the garden path to the car.
"You’ve got to stop wearing those things", grinned Steve. "I’m just uncontrollable !".
In a way, I knew that because of the effect they had on me. It was good to feel not only the physical sensations, but also the emotional power they generated both in me and in others. It was a difficult thing to explain, but the fact remained, so it always seemed better to go with it than fight it.
"Well 5" is tough to wear all the time", I laughed. "I’ll stick to 3 or 4" usually. Its only half the fun but at least we’ll be able to control ourselves !"
"Anything looks good on you", he continued." Did you like the house ?".
I had almost forgotten the original purpose of our visit with all that had gone on. "Sure - lets take it if you want - or we could see some others." I replied. We in fact did take that house and our session that afternoon was the first of many happy times that we spent together there. It was nice to settle down with someone who appreciated the same things as you - and yes - we did sort out the living room floor I had trashed about a bit with my spikes !
The End
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We've been married 28 years now and it's been a beautiful relationship. In the beginning Mike had his career, speed boat, race car, and wanted to love and marry a woman who wanted to be a woman in the most feminine ways. He's not a chauvinist, he pushes himself to the limit, he knows what he wants, and that would be me, Connie.
I'm a small woman, 5 foot tall, reasonably proportioned, with size 5 1/2 feet. I always dressed nicely and wore heels (2" or 3") with some regularity. Mike's nature is to do things to the limit and he would say, "if you're going to wear high heels, wear HIGH heels".
I suppose it's a little over 26 years since the evening I sat down with Mike to discuss my idea. I wanted to do something that I could excel at and would be very meaningful and lasting to both of us in a sharing and intimate way with an ultra feminine flair. With some nervousness I told him I wanted to commit myself to strictly wearing high heels and become accomplished at walking with my feet severely arched in the most extreme heels. I would need his support and help both emotionally and physically, knowing it was going to take a very sincere effort and discipline on my part to tolerate the conditioning and training of my feet, ankles, and legs in addition to overcoming the obstacles of daily activities. I wasn't nervous about talking to him; I was nervous about the commitment I was making to him, but there was comfort in Mike's immediate interest, reassurance, and confidence.
The following Saturday, we gathered up all my shoes with less than 4" heels and gave them to a local thrift store. That afternoon we went shopping to supplement my variety of heels. We started an aggressive conditioning program that actually went on for months. I wanted to do something right away that would confirm my conviction and decided to strengthen and deliberately shorten the calf muscles in my legs. Using a pair of platform shoes with a 6" heel (4" arch) and 2" platform, Mike cut the heels off and reshaped the sole of the platforms. He helped me as I learned to balance just on the platforms, enhancing the arch of my feet and ankles and putting incredible strain on my calf muscles to keep the unsupported heel of the shoes properly elevated. Failure to do so would cause the special ankle straps to draw unmercifully tight. The first time I wore these was the last time my heels would ever touch a floor.
I practiced four times a day for the first week, increasing the duration of each session to the extent of my tolerance. At the end of each session when I took them off I would immediately put on shoes with at least 4 1/2" heels. The extra 1/2" of heel would allow my calf muscles to rest and maintain the arch of my feet. These were the first of several training shoes we designed for various purposes and believe me they worked.
As the months passed and I became increasingly more accustomed to the ever higher heels, forming the bend of my toes, arch of my feet, and bend of my ankles, we would increase the severity of the training shoes for the purpose of walk and balance. The bend of my toes was becoming more permanent and my feet were assuming a very nice arched shape. Due to the increasing immobilization we took very deliberate care with massage, lotions, and soaking.
The last pair of trainers, my favorite, were used to teach me not to use my toes to support my balance and I continued to use them to push my abilities to the limit. They fit perfectly and with my feet securely strapped in, my instep (top of my foot) is arched forward over and beyond the demanding bend of my toes and my ankles are bent virtually to their limit. My heels are at their maximum height and close to being directly above the balls of my feet. The shoes are on a base supported by two small pedestals located just under the ball of my foot and the heel. The bottom (sole) of the pedestals are just large enough to keep the shoes steady as long as my posture is absolutely erect with all of my weight balanced strictly on the balls of my feet. Since any deviance will cause the shoes to pitch unmercifully in any direction, I only wear them with Mike at my side. As demandingly cruel as they are, as my balance improved I did master them.
You'll notice I haven't used the usual words associated with high heels, pain, agony, hurt, or uncomfortable. The ground rules from the start were that a positive attitude would be essential and my tolerance level had to be kept high, but we agreed pain would be addressed and corrective measures taken. We also understood there would be some harsh consequences and I accept that sufferance. Normal things such as standing and walking bare foot is now a brutal ordeal because of my arched feet but I can tolerate and enjoy the most severe high heels for hours on end. The conditioning and training was very beneficial and also helped me learn ways to cope with the never ending daily obstacles, including two pregnancies, the high heels present. I also want to mention that heel height measurements are deceptive. A 5" heel has a much more profound effect on my size 5 1/2 feet than on a size 8 or 9.
As for Mike and I, it's absolutely marvelous. We have a love that is in part bonded by his admiration of my commitment to constantly endure the demands of the high heels, and in part by my contentment in knowing my self imposed distress and vulnerability is cherished. There is a strange extraordinary sense of closeness and sensuality between us that I can't describe. After all the years he still makes a special effort to accommodate my limitations and is always conscious of unique situations where I need assistance. He knows just how to help me when I'm wearing extreme high heels without being obvious to others and the fun and enjoyment never ends.
We are a reasonably active family with boating, water skiing, race cars, occasional camping (motor home) in addition to the regular daily activities. Over the years I have collected a variety of high heels, nothing less than 4", to accommodate the wide variety of activities we are involved in. My favorite style is the very high stiletto heel pump with a short pointed toe and ankle strap of which I have many of different designs. I have several pairs with round toes and thicker heels for very casual dress and to accommodate activities where a broad base heel is necessary. Neither of us like open or sandal styles but I do have a couple pairs with platforms I wear for occasions like boating. Heel heights, without platforms, range from 4" (normal) to 5 1/2" (extreme) which is the highest I can find in my size. I do have 6" heels in size 6 and we adjust the fit with foot cushions. I only wear extreme heels out when Mike is with me and I have some idea where I'll have to walk.
Last Saturday we went out to dinner and I wore a slim knee length skirt and 5 1/4" heels. On the way home after dinner we passed a theater and decided on a movie. Now, this was not part of the original plans and I had on extreme heels. We had to wait in the lobby a few minutes until the previous movie was finished. I was standing with my feet together and Mike knows I like to lean against him so he moved close behind me and lightly held my shoulders. As I pressed against him holding myself rigid, he moved just enough to lean me back so I was only on the tips of the heels without changing the position of my feet. My perilous position and his unwavering firmness is an exchange of feelings only we know and we didn't say a word.
When we entered the theater the considerable down hill slope of the aisle forced the arch of my feet and ankles beyond their limit requiring my legs to bend slightly at the knees. Mike already had a firm hold on my waist from the side, virtually carrying my weight as we walked down the aisle. After we were seated, since the entire floor has the same slope and the seats are close together, I had to sit with my feet and ankles arched to their limit resting only on the heel tips. My knees were held together by the tight skirt. When the movie was over, Mike put an arm around me and lifted me straight up out of the seat. The seat bottoms move up and out of the way allowing me to get the ball of my feet back on the floor and he assisted me back to the aisle. Mike immediately got right behind me, held me firmly at the waist, and practically carried me up the aisle with me walking only on the ball of my feet. The very high height of the heel places the heel tip very close to the sole of the shoe. With a slope this steep, if I allow the heels to touch the floor the shoe will tend to fall over backward.
We moved along with the crowd and no one realized what we were doing. (Remember that sense of closeness I mentioned earlier!) Going down the steps toward the parking lot was another challenge due to the tight skirt and extreme heels. Holding his hand I literally roll off the edge and catch myself with the other foot without hooking a heel. It's demanding and kind of scary, but Mike says it's an absolute pleasure to see me do it. Now, I know all of this might sound as if it were a clumsy struggle but let me assure you we move together as though I was unencumbered and if you were watching us you would only notice our affection and confidence in each other.
A day at a large nationally known amusement park with walking surfaces of concrete, blacktop, wood, and steel, all contoured in every imaginable manner, walking across a large field parking lot at a super speedway, or climbing the bleachers at a local race track, camping, boating, shopping, and everything else, all in high heels.
This is my life, not a story or fantasy, and it's been absolutely wonderful.
The End
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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 my ankles, 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?"
With a screech, he put the car into gear and drove-off. "Oh, there are places." he offered me a cigarette, I politely refused. "Looking for some young women, eh?" he grinned at me in the rear-view mirror.
I shrugged and chuckled. "A FREE woman is preferable to one I'd have to buy, of course."
"Well, I know a good place. You young people like this sort of place. My poor cab isn't fine enough for you, probably. Foreign taxis are Mercedes, aren't they? What nationality are you? Why are you here?"
"I'm American. I'm teaching English at the University. I've also studied Mandarin for a few years. And I've never been in a Mercedes. Where are we going? I don't recognize this area."
"This?" We had pulled-off the main street and was careening-down a trash-strewn alley barely wide enough for a single vehicle. His side-view mirror was only inches from being torn-off by the side of a house. "I know this place well. Live music tonight." the car screeched to a halt in front of a lit-up building. Characters for "The Warehouse" were flashing in red neon. I paid the driver, and he sped-off. I walked-up to the main door, the female greeter's eyes registered surprise when I arrived. She was squeezed into a qi pao, a high necked, form fitting silk dress. It was deep ochre, with gold birds embroidered on it.
"How much to get in?" I asked.
She smiled. "Forty Yuan. Take your coat ?" she handed me the plastic ticket for my coat.
I looked-over a board printed with drink prices "Is this right? Corona is SIXTY Yuan??" I asked. Immediately, I looked at her feet as she handed my coat to an unseen attendant behind a door. She was wearing a beautiful pair of black pumps. Three inch heels. Ankle strap. I'm VERY fond of women who wear heels. It gives the wearer an aggressively sexy look that I find oh so exhilarating. However, none of my past girlfriends had ever really indulged this desire of mine. She turned back to me, wearing a warm smile that could have melted sherbet.
"It's imported so it's expensive. You speak so well!"
"No, I speak poorly." I smiled and walked-inside. I hoped more women were dressed like her inside. I could hear the thumping of a band downstairs. Howling. It sounded horrible. I walked-into a hallway and down a flight of ultraviolet-lit stairs; the noise grew louder. Was someone torturing a cat? No, it was the band. I immediately went to the bar, attracting glances as I went. The bartender turned to me, studying me curiously.
"I'll have a Tsingtao." he slid a bottle of Tsingtao beer my way. I grabbed it and desperately looked for a room away from the band. I noticed a doorway marked "Billiards". I smiled inwardly, I could go for a game. I made my way over. Refreshingly, the room was somewhat better at shielding the eardrum-shattering chaotic noise of the musicians.
I grabbed a pool cue and looked around the room. No ventilation. A heavy haze of smoke hung in the air, its tendrils lolling about. At the far end was a group of four men and a single young woman playing darts. The young woman flung a pointed projectile at the board and missed. Her male companions were sitting on a couch taunting her.
"You missed by about fifteen meters!" one laughed. "Why don't you try aiming?" The young woman stamped her foot and turned, laughing to her friends. "Shut your face! Maybe I don't WANT to hit it!" She walked back to the dartboard and extracted her attempted scores. Attractive. Short, yet shiny hair. Coarse and black. She sported a thin coating of lipstick and long eyelashes which accented her dark, almond-shaped eyes. Black sweater. Black, tight-fitting leggings. My eyes hit her feet; I almost dropped my bottle when I saw that she was expertly standing in a pair of pumps with at least 5-inch heels with gold fringes. I stood, watching. I felt myself start to get aroused. Entranced by this beautiful creature. When she stood still, she rocked her right shoe backwards, pivoting on the heel. Rocking back and forth on it. Sometimes, she would twist her foot a few degrees left and right, again pivoting on the heel.
Several minutes passed, and she eventually tired of darts. There was a couch between the dart-board and me. She began to strut my way, and flopped down onto the couch. I waved, she started in surprise.
"Having a good evening?" I asked, coming over. She laughed and proffered her hand.
"My family name is Huang. My given name is Lijing. You?"
"Michael."
"Won't you sit down and join me?" she held-up her drink and patted the space next to her on the couch. I sat on her right.
I sat down with her and answered her rapid fire questions. Where was I from? What was I doing in town? Why did I come to this bar? Et cetera. I decided to ask a few questions of my own.
"How old are you, by the way?"
"I'm eighteen. Just had my birthday three weeks ago. You know, I've ALWAYS wanted a foreign boyfriend. Especially one with blond hair." she ran her fingers over the top of my head. I was pleasantly surprised by her touch and fought the urge to run my fingers through her hair. I love it when women speak She had a face which was both angelic and inviting, and I could tell she had an unmistakably sexy attitude.
She cast her gaze towards my crotch. "Who's your big, hard friend?" She rested her hand on my upper, inner thigh and closed her hand around my erection. She gently gave it a squeeze and I gasped. This woman was barely out of high school. Yet, she had me utterly speechless, dry-mouthed and unable to thinks straight. She had me wrapped around her little finger. And she knew it.
"Buy me a drink?" I almost swallowed my tongue.
"Of course!" I stammered. She rattled her glass and a waitress collected it.
"You like these shoes, don't you?"
I nodded. "How do you know?"
The waitress returned with a fresh glass for Lijing. She smiled. "I can tell. You've been glancing at them every so often. They were expensive. I wish I had a dozen more like them!" She sipped from her glass. Her dart-playing friends decided to play pool at the other end of the room. She and I were left alone in our little corner.
I was totally dry-mouthed. "I- I would LOVE to- make sure you have a dozen pairs."
She giggled. "SO cute!" she squeezed my throbbing hard-on again. I moaned silently and fought against an erotic rush. She was playing me like a fiddle.
"Do you want to know why I like these shoes?" she sipped her drink. She rolled the cherry between her lips suggestively.
"Why?"
"They make me feel sexy." She stuck-out her right foot and pointed her toe. "See how they make my legs look? Zheme fei chang nu xing de!" (So extremely feminine!) She crossed her legs again, this time she pointed her left foot towards me. "Feel it."
I felt the long, thin spike as she rubbed my aching hard-on. It tapered to a sharp, nail-like point.
"They're lovely." I rubbed the smooth, sharpness of the heel. I marveled at how they multiplied this already-attractive woman's sexual presence. She was casually stimulating me, no doubt feeling in total and complete control of me. I slid my hand up her shin, back to feel her shapely calves and rested my hand on her knee, but she pulled away. "I hardly know you!" She crossed her arms and pouted her lips.
"I'm sorry. I- "
She smiled "You're not allowed to touch me unless I say so." I tacitly nodded. She smiled seductively and began to once again massage me between my legs. I was gasping for breath. If she had asked me to spend all my savings on her, I probably would have done it then and there. The band in the next room finished their last song, thank God.
"Are you here alone?" I managed to gasp.
"No, I'm here to watch my boyfriend. He's in the band." I was devastated. And she read my mind. "Oh, he doesn't really care. He's not that great anyway. Sometimes I think he forgets that I exist. I'll leave when the girlfriends of the other players leave."
"Why do you date this guy if he forgets that you exist?"
"I don't really know. Let's not talk about him; do you want me to stop doing THIS?" she dragged her fingernail down my pant-leg, sending a shiver up my spine.
"Please..." I begged "Don't stop. Please don't." "Why shouldn't I stop?" she crossed her arms and pouted again. Her pout quickly melted into an impish smile. "Another thing I love about these shoes… when I stand in them, they always make my rear end stick-out a little more" She stood-up, and faced away from me. "Look! Hmm.. I think I'll make myself more comfortable." As quickly as a cat, she slipped onto my lap and started squirming ever so slightly, gently grinding her firm little rear against my expanded crotch. She leaned back and whispered into my ear. "I've always loved shoes like these. I've devoted myself to practicing how to walk in them. Always trying to wear steadily higher and higher heels. Now I can walk perfectly in them all day. Maybe one day, I'll throw-out every flat shoe I have."
"Lijing!" Someone called from the next room. She shook her head and thrust-out her bottom lip.
"Shame, they're leaving. I have to go." She sighed. "If only I wasn't with them… I'm sure you and I could have a lot of fun." She kissed me on my nose and stood-up. "See me to the taxi?"
I walked with her, Lijing leaning warmly on my arm. The 'tock-tock-tock' of her spikes against the floor prevented my raging hard-on from softening. Her pumps added a lot of wiggle to her walk. She got her coat, and we stepped out into the frosty street. The girlfriends of the other band members were there waiting for her. She hopped into the cab and blew me a kiss.
"Bye-bye!" The door slammed, and the taxi sped off into the night. I never saw her again.
The End
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I made my way carefully down the steps into the wine bar – they had not been designed for the 5 inch stiletto heels of my black leather knee length boots. I looked across to the bar and there was Maria, just as I had imagined her; beautiful, sophisticated and so naturally sexy, in a perfectly fitting black business suit. The hem of her tight skirt was riding up as she crossed her legs, revealing a tantalising glimpse of black nylon clad thigh, and she was balancing one of her stiletto-heeled black court shoes on her toe.
We had met on the Internet several months previously, sharing a love of high heels. Gradually we had got to know each other more intimately, finding we had more and more in common. Increasingly the prospect of a meeting had become more realistic, until I found myself in London on business and we agreed the time had come to make face to face contact.
I had thought long and hard about what to wear, and we had discussed it often during our on-line chats. Eventually I had opted to stick with my original choice – a tight red tartan skirt about 3 inches above the knee, with a white silk blouse, black stockings and my favourite boots. As always, I was wearing matching black lace bra and panties and my usual make-up, including my favourite bright red lipstick and nail varnish.
I walked slowly across to the bar, the heels of my boots clicking on the stone floor. We smiled at each other as we said hello, not quite sure whether to shake hands or kiss. I offered my hand and, when Maria took it, gently pulled her towards me and kissed her fleetingly on the lips. I pulled myself up on to the bar stool opposite her, my skirt riding right up as I sat on the edge of the seat. I smoothed it down over my thighs, and then crossed my legs as Maria poured me a glass of wine from the bottle of Chablis she had already ordered. As I did so I noticed, to my delight, her eyes straying to glance at the expanse of black nylon between the tops of my boots and the hem of my skirt.
We raised our glasses and toasted our meeting at last. As so often in these situations natural human reserve then took over momentarily and we exchanged pleasantries about my journey and the wine. There was an undercurrent of tension, not unpleasant but real, probably from the intimate knowledge we had of each other despite this being the first time we had met in the flesh. Eventually I took the plunge.
" Maria, you are fantastic. You are so attractive and so nice. I was so looking forward to this, and the reality is even better than I dared hope for."
She looked at me for a moment before speaking, and for an instant I thought I had blown it by saying the wrong thing. My heart raced as I heard her say, "Shirley darling, you are the epitome of the sexy older woman. I love your boots and I can't stop looking at your thighs."
That broke the ice and in no time at all we were chatting as if we were on the net. Nothing too sexual at first, but just girl talk about people we had spoken to, our likes and dislikes and our experiences. And then Maria looked very hard down at my knees and said,
"Shirley, I have never been that keen on boots, but they look superb on you. I love the shiny black leather clinging to your legs, and the heels are so high and almost wicked-looking. If we weren't in public I would lean over and run my hands up and down them."
By this time we were on to our second bottle of wine, and my inhibitions were disappearing fast. As naturally as possible I leant back slightly and stretched my legs forward. With my right foot I brushed my boot against Maria's leg, briefly sliding it up from her ankle to her calf.
"Will that do to be going on with?" I asked, smiling at her.
Maria smiled wickedly at me and whispered, "Not for long, you sexy bitch!"
From then on the conversation took on a new dimension. We adjourned to a table in the corner, sitting close enough to allow our legs and feet to touch under the table. Even before that, as we sat down, Maria managed to brush her hand against my bum, sending a tingle of excitement through me. As we talked, she deliberately pushed the sharp point of her stiletto heel against the backs of my boots on several occasions, asking in a whisper as she did so whether I liked it. I turned the tables on her by asking if she was wearing stockings and describing mine. She blushed slightly as she told me she had bought the black hold-ups she was wearing especially, as she knew that's what I preferred myself.
Our discussions inevitably turned to our mutual interest of high heels, and I asked Maria to tell me more about her collection. We had chatted about this on the net, but it was far better hearing Maria describe her boots and shoes first hand. I had always thought that my collection of nearly 30 pairs of stiletto-heeled boots, shoes and sandals was impressive, but Maria had nearly twice that many. She preferred court shoes to sandals, and most of her heels were 4 or 5 inches high. Like me she loved to tantalise, and got a great kick out of knowing that people were admiring her legs and shoes.
By now the wine and our conversation had combined to turn me on so much that I could feel myself getting very hot and wet. I couldn't wait any longer.
"Maria, would you like to come back to my hotel room, or will you take me back to your flat?" I asked.
She didn't hesitate, "Whichever's closer!"
My hotel was only ten minutes away, but I ordered a taxi anyway. I let her get in first, which allowed me a magnificent view as she bent to get in the door. I slipped in and sat down close beside her on the back seat of the cab. As I leaned forward to tell the driver where we wanted to go I was conscious of Maria's hand running up the back of my thighs. Sitting back beside her I squashed up beside her, resting the cool, soft leather of my boot against her nylon clad leg.
We didn't say much during the short journey, but Maria slipped her hand into mine as we sat close together. Arriving at the hotel I quickly paid the driver, not waiting for the change which must have given him his biggest tip of the day. Maria went ahead to the lift, while I collected my key from Reception, so that the doors were opening as I joined her. There was one other guest going up with us, and Maria stood opposite me, slipping her foot in and out of one high heel, smiling wickedly at me and staring at my boots.
We got out of the lift and walked to my room. My hands were trembling as I unlocked the door, and as soon as it opened we slipped inside. I had chosen carefully when booking, so the room was both spacious and comfortable. I had also planned ahead and brought 2 pairs of my favourite shoes, black patent courts and strappy sandals, both with 6 inch stiletto heels, which I had left in full view where I had hoped Maria would see them on the stool at the end of the bed. On the bedside table I had laid out my favourite big, black dildo, in the hope that we might want to use it - all of course in anticipation of Maria coming back to the hotel with me.
But as the door closed behind us, both of us were thinking of only one thing. Frantically we embraced, our mouths locking together in the most passionate kiss I had ever experienced. I was conscious of Maria's sensuous perfume, the taste of her lipstick and her tongue flicking across mine and exploring my mouth. We must have kissed for 5 minutes before drawing apart momentarily.
"Oh my God, I have waited so long for that," Maria exclaimed. "You make me feel so wonderfully naughty!"
"And we all know what happens to naughty girls," I sniggered, playfully slapping her bottom.
"Go on Shirley, you can if you want," she whispered, "I know that's what you really like."
I was tempted - we had talked many times on the net about my love of spanking, but right now all I wanted was to make urgent, passionate love with Maria.
"Maybe later," I said. "Right now this is what I want," I continued, sliding my hand up her skirt. My fingers glided up her stockinged thigh, reaching the cool, bare flesh at the tops of her legs and then brushing against her warm, moist panties. My whole body was trembling with excitement as, while I kissed her again, my fingers pulled aside the elastic of her panties and for the first time touched the lips of her pussy. I could not fail to find her hard, swollen clit and as I rolled it between my fingers Maria gasped with delight.
I dropped to my knees and, starting with her 5 inch stiletto heels kissed and licked her black leather pumps, then moved upwards brushing my lips against the black nylon of her stockings.
"Me too, Shirley," she whispered. I stood up, took her hand and walked slowly over to the bed with her. We lay down, each of us with our head against the others feet. Maria grasped my boots tight and started to lick and kiss the supple black leather, occasionally closing her mouth around one of the stiletto heels, taking the full five inches into her mouth. Meanwhile I was giving her black patent courts similar treatment, sucking hard on the long pointed heels.
And then, almost simultaneously, we each moved our mouths up the others body. Pushing my whole face under Maria's tight skirt felt so good, especially as she was doing the same to me. Her tongue flicked around my pussy, as I forced mine between the lips of hers. By now we were both out of control, and we careered towards mutual orgasm as our tongues worked faster and faster until, suddenly, we exploded together. We were both crying out in delight and I could feel the juices gushing out of me as I tasted hers.
It took us a long time to recover, but there were no feelings of shame or embarrassment. We each knew we had finally met somebody who shared our innermost desires, and the things we got up to during the rest of that night with my high heeled shoes and dildo proved that. And since you ask, I did spank her ! …….. but I'll tell you about that another time.…….
The End
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Jane had looked in the shop window every time that she passed the shop for the last week or so. In the window was a pair of shoes that she was plucking up the courage to buy. They were shiny black patent, low cut at the front and with a gorgeous, 4 inch tall, slim heel. Jane had never owned a pair of shoes like these, but this pair she really wanted. Jane felt that these shoes would change her from the shy, timid woman she had become to a powerful and confident person. But, yet again, at the last moment, her courage deserted her, and she walked past the shop door.
Jane turned towards home, conscious that she had failed herself again. She was aware of her flat loafers; they did not make a confident clicking noise as she walked, neither did they attract men. Oh yes, they were comfortable to walk in, and you did not have to be worried the whole time about where you put down you heel, but they were not sexy. She thought about her shoe cupboard. There was nothing in it with a heel higher than an inch. She was boring. That was why, at the age of thirty, she was still single. She felt a tear in her eye. Who would want a boring woman like her?
Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, almost causing an accident as the woman behind bumped into her. Apologising, she turned back. "I am going to buy myself those shoes right now", she told herself.
Jane arrived back at the shoe shop and marched straight in. She pointed out the shoes to the assistant and sat and waited. The girl came back with the shoes, took one out of the box and handed it to Jane. Jane held the shoe, enjoying the feel of the cool soft leather. She slipped her foot into the shoe, feeling the leather cradle her foot. Her arch was raised gently by the sculpture of the shoe and she felt the gentle grip of the heel. The shoe fitted her foot perfectly. Jane raised her foot and twisted it about, looking at the shoe from every angle. It looked beautiful. She took the other one and slid that one on too. 'Is this really me?' she thought to herself as she gingerly stood up. Standing was a further revelation. The shoes gripped her toes, but not too tightly. She felt her legs stretch and a slight weakness in her ankles. Jane forced herself to relax then walked carefully across to the mirror. She looked at the new shape the heels had given her feet and legs. Gosh, they looked good. And she felt so good too; she felt an excitement deep in her brought on by the sensation of power and confidence these shoes gave her. It was an indescribable feeling of bliss; something she had always yearned after, but for various reasons, had never had a proper chance to experience.
She walked up and down the shop a couple of times, getting used to the feel of such high heels. Already she was starting to feel a different person. She was standing more erect with her head held high. Jane kidded herself that it was due to the need to balance herself more carefully, but she knew that what she had been given was a feeling of confidence and power. She felt so good about this that she told the girl to put her old shoes in the box, she would wear the new ones home now.
As soon as Jane stepped out on to the pavement, she became aware of something else; the sound of her heels. Their loud tapping noise announced her presence to all. 'Here I come, look at me', they seemed to be saying to the world. And yes, she noticed that many men were attracted by the sound and did indeed turn to look at her. She tried to be casual but knew that instead of her old self, she was now a woman to be desired.
When Jane arrived home, she took off the shoes, polished the little bit of dust from them, then set them on the table where she could see them. The more she looked at them the more beautiful they looked. Jane had an evening class that night, she decided to wear her new shoes and see if anything different happened.
The first thing that Jane noticed was that all the men in the class were looking at the door as she arrived, she realised that they had heard her heels coming down the corridor and were waiting expectantly for the entry of the wearer. One or two of the men seemed disappointed when they saw that it was only her, but one or two others looked at her with a speculative expression they had not shown her before. The desks were arranged in a U-shape around the tutor, this allowed as many people as possible to face each other, it also allowed her legs to be seen by those sitting opposite her. Jane quickly saw that two of the men opposite could not take their eyes off her legs, they were paying no attention to the tutor at all. Feeling wicked, Jane crossed her legs, then allowed the shoe to slip from her heel. She let the shoe to dangle from her toes, swinging it gently for a few seconds. Looking across the room, she could see that they had both gone red in the face and were almost quivering with suppressed excitement.
"That's enough", Jane thought, as she pulled her shoe back on, uncrossed her legs and tried to sit for the rest of the lesson with her feet withdrawn as far back beneath her as she could get them. However, as she got absorbed in the lecture, it was almost as if the shoes had a life of their own and she involuntarily started rocking and dangling them again before the stares of her classmates alerted her to withdraw them once more. Jane smiled inwardly as she realised that harnessing the power of these shoes would be like taming wild horses. It felt so good and natural to move and stretch her feet in them, but she hadn't planned on trying to pick up half of the class !
After the lesson had finished, one of the men opposite came up to her and introducing himself as David, offered to walk her home. Jane quietly smiled to herself, she had been attending these classes for eight weeks now, and this was the first time anyone had spoken to her. David was rather good looking and seemed safe, so Jane accepted his offer with a casual 'Why not?' They walked together, talking about the course they were taking. Jane mentioned that David had not seemed to be paying much attention at tonight's class. David replied that he had not, he had been far too interested in Jane's new shoes. 'I did not realise how attractive you are until this evening, those shoes are really attention grabbers'.
Jane smiled quietly to herself. "These shoes are working", she thought. They decided on a quick drink in a pub they were passing. The pub was very quiet, and once they had their drinks, they sat at a table in the corner. Jane saw that David kept glancing furtively under the table at her shoes as they talked. A mischievous thought flashed through her mind. As David next raised his glass to take a drink, Jane crossed her legs and let her shoe dangle from her toes. The effect was spectacular. David choked on his drink, which he spilled all down himself and he went red in the face.
'Are you OK?' she asked.
'Yes, fine' he muttered.
Jane set her shoe swinging harder. David sat mesmerised, unable to take his eyes from the shining shoe. Jane was not used to exerting such power over a man and was now getting a bit worried about how the evening might develop. She needed to think this whole thing over so said that they ought to leave and go home. David mumbled his agreement and they left. Jane decided that she had had enough fun teasing poor David all evening, so she quickly parted from him and made her own way home.
Jane lay in bed that night thinking. Those shoes had tremendous power. She could have led David round by the nose with them. How should she use them next? David was, unfortunately, not the man she was after. The man she would really like to get to know was one she sometimes saw in town. She had no idea who he was or what he did and he took no notice of her at all. Quietly in the dark, Jane hatched a plan.
A couple of days later, Jane was able to put her plan into action. She saw the man in town as he went into a shop. Jane stationed herself a few yards further up the road and pretended to look in a shop window while watching for him to leave the shop he was in. He came out and started to walk in her direction. This allowed her to walk along a few yards ahead of him. Jane was pleased to see that there were not many people in this street as she looked ahead for something. She spotted what she was looking for, a grating set into the pavement. Checking that he was still just behind her, she deliberately set her heel into the grating. It grabbed hold of her heel and she walked out of her shoe. Jane stopped and looked back. He approached her shoe, bent down and pulled it from its trap. He walked up to Jane,
'Hello Cinderella, I'm Prince Charming'.
She giggled. She took the shoe from him and using his shoulder to balance, examined the heel for damage before slipping the shoe back on her foot.
'Actually, my name is John and I think that we should get to know each other' he said. He took her arm and led her to a small bistro for lunch.
They sat at a quiet table and began talking. John told her that he was delighted with the way they had met and hoped that her heel had not got damaged in the process. Jane said that the damage was not too bad and reaching under the table, took off the shoe and handed it to him to inspect. John took the shoe and looked at it.
'It is a lovely shoe' he told her 'soft and warm'. He rubbed the shoe gently in his hands. 'Give me your foot' he said and when she did he carefully slipped the shoe back on to it. She loved the feel of his hand on her leg and the sensuous way he slipped the shoe slowly back onto her foot.
John then began to tell her that he had always loved women's shoes. He loved their simple beauty, the clean clear lines of the heels, the feel of the soft leather, particularly when it was warm from being worn. Jane listened carefully, this was not what she had been expecting from wearing these shoes, but he was a lovely man and if he loved her shoes wouldn't he love her as well? John asked how many shoes she had like these and was aghast to hear that this was her only pair.
'We must do something about this' he said and led her into a shoe shop. John took command in the shop and had the assistants running around finding shoes for Jane to try on, all with high heels: three, four and even five inches high. Jane quivered with excitement as she stiffly walked in the five inch heels, her legs and ankles a little strained, as she had never tried anything that high before. She realised that they would take a some getting used to and her inexperienced feet already ached from the four inch heels she had worn that day, but she knew soon as she felt the higher ones that she had to master them. With difficulty, she persuaded John that four pairs of shoes was quite enough for him to buy her, after all they had only just met !
John carried the shoes home for her. Once in her home, he insisted that she sit down so that he could fit all the pairs of shoes to her feet, 'playing shoe shops' as he called it. Jane realised that she was really enjoying sitting there with John kneeling at her feet putting the shoes on her feet and taking them off again.
John finally sat down next to her. 'I have something else to tell you' he said seriously. 'I love you and I love all these shoes. But I have to tell you that I also love to see women's shoes coming off. That is why I so loved the way we met. I like to see shoes coming off in all sorts of ways, women running out of their shoes, getting stuck in mud, high kicking their shoes off, all that kind of thing'. Jane looked thoughtful, but then had to admit that in a way she had started all this by deliberately getting her heel stuck in a grating, so she shouldn't really complain at attracting a man who liked that sort of thing.
'OK, I can live with that' she told him.
'There is one other thing' he said quietly, 'I like to wear women's shoes myself'.
Jane was quiet for a minute. 'I need to think this one over' she said, 'I think you should go now. I will think about it tonight and let you know tomorrow'.
That night, she thought deeply. She liked John tremendously and she believed that he really liked her. She did not feel that either of them was trying to use the other. She tried to imagine John wearing high heels but could not bring such a picture of him to her mind. It was impossible to imagine. But what did she think of it? Her first reaction was that it was silly. But a lot of people did things which were thought of as silly by others. Did it harm anybody? The answer to that was obviously no. Did she mind? She realised that as long as John did not expect to walk along the high street wearing high heels accompanied by her, she did not mind at all. Hopefully he only wanted to wear women's shoes in the privacy of the home and she could go along with that. She would tell him all that tomorrow.
To be continued…..
How should the story continue ? - its not my writing, but mail me and I will pass your comments on to the author.
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