روايات وقصص ضمن Femboy Foot Worship

- Fuck your Giacomo swagger, just get me in. I look back over my shoulder to see the short girl finally admiring the work as a whole, probably wearing four-inch heels and still a good twenty short of me at 1.96. Wearing a black gown to thwart old dad and a V-neck showing off the full curves of her heavy, full breasts, her dark hair tied back in a bun, her neck I'm sure could knock the holiest of men off her feet for the scent of it. delicious making her a forbidden fruit in the middle of hell.

And those combat boots, which made her milky white legs appear even longer, were new as well. She spun in place, her hair fanning out around her shoulders. Dark make-up ringed her eyes, which were closed as she swayed her hips to the beat of the music. Music I still couldn’t hear. My girl had turned bad, and it looked fucking good on her. The euphoria I felt at having found her fell flat when another male approached from behind. The Polo wearing fool placed his hands on her hips, murmuring quietly in her ear as he began to dance.

As I stood there, I wondered why these girls were forced to wear heels when they didn't want to. Our eyes locked as she raised her head. She had thick lashes and eyes that were a stunning shade of forest gray. She was gorgeous. "She reminds me of an earthworm wiggling for dear life," Sophia said with a laugh. Fred replied, "That is rich coming from someone with a prosthetic leg," and I gasped at the violation before slapping him on the back of the head.

No matter how hard I tried to get her to do anything she never budged. Whenever I questioned how she could be so small and never work out she would respond with, 'I'm skinny fat'. The girl could eat more than entire football team and still never gain an ounce of fat. Something I was, and still am, severely jealous about. "Maybe try lifting some weights some time." At my words she just huffed. "I didn't come over to talk about boring stuff." "Then what did you want to talk about?" Thankfully the shop was pretty much empty beside the bride to be behind me. We had a few people walking around but didn't seem to need much help at the moment.

“See, the shoes give you the illusion of long legs. Men like long legs.” I tried not to sigh. “I just don't think it's a good idea.” “You'll be fine,” Sophie assured me. “And you look like a million bucks.” “Better than a million bucks,” Claudia disagreed. “You look like a princess.” A princess is exactly what I needed to look like. “Now, remember, you're going to have to dance in this,” Sophie told me. “And I can't have you hiking it up like some cowgirl. I need you to actually be good at this.”

My thumb slides between her breasts, under her bra, and I dig my fingernail in to leave my fingerprint: "I could ask you the same thing, Didi. What are you doing here?" Using the tip of my nose, I start to loosen the strands of her bobbed hair to give me access to the back of her neck when suddenly... FANCULO! She quickly grabs my thumb and gives me a wrench. She quickly turns around, and I'm on my knees before her. My goddess puts a foot on my shoulder like the fucking queen she is, and I discover a new passion: being trampled by Didi.

They sing my song from the tops of the trees and shout it in valleys. Being sexy is a rite of passage. A sex god isn't born; it is made. Could I be turned into a sex goddess? Being sexy and desirable is not like me. Dancing and having people applaud my talent was remarkable. And being desired on a stage was amazing. God, I miss it. I miss practicing. I miss the shoes. I miss my feet hurting. I miss my feet buckling in pain. I miss it all. I miss it for old time's sake. Being sexy as a ballerina was like me, but to do it again is against the tomboy code. That is a hard path to choose. Being popular and sexy is not like me. God being a tomboy fucking sucks the big one. Whatever the big one is.

I said a little alarmed and he brought my foot back up to his mouth and kissed it again. “I said I wanted to worship every inch of your body and your cute little feet are part of that” he said and kissed it again to which I grimaced “Isa I love you from head to toe and to me you are a queen that needs to be worshipped and that’s what I want can I?”. With those beautiful words of this beautiful and powerful man saying to me with total seriousness and looking at me with those eyes full of hypnotism I could only nod spellbound by him.

I'm disgusted by it but Master likes it so I keep going. "Worship my feet slave," he orders firmly. I get down and kiss and lick his feet as he looks down at me. I can feel his intense gaze on the back of my head as I try my best to please him. I move to his other foot and convey all my submission into worshipping him.

The following content contains the mature content of sexual intimacy. Read at your own risk or you can skip it. Demonte’s POV: As I placed her in the bed, I couldn’t help myself but lie just beside her and stare at her proportions. This girl was like a magic wand to me. She could transform me to someone I couldn’t even imagine. I reached out my hands to her face. Her wet hair was landing on her skin was proud and I wasn’t liking the vibes of it. I tucked her wet hair behind her ears as I brushed her cheeks.