Foot Slave Novels & Stories

“Why… why do the heels look only an inch wide?” “Barely half an inch wide,” Pepper corrected then smiled. “They’re called stilettos. Now, take those chunky shoes off then wear that. We need to continue.” Valentine took off the shoes and handed it over to Missy. She stretched her toes, curling them to tiny balls then pulled the toes up toward the ankles. They felt sore, like they were non-existent. “Never mind. Hand me back those stilettos,” Pepper commanded.

I shout and I lift my right foot and drop it with the most strength I can find, hitting my heel on the person’s toe. “Fuck,” I hear behind me. I recognize the voice and when I spin around, Fred is bending down, holding his toes in his hand as he jumps up and down on his other foot. “Shit, sorry, I am sorry,” I say, reaching for him as he sits on the edge of the bed and looks at his toes. We have to wear high heels at work, so I know that must’ve hurt. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I thought my boss was trying to attack me,” I let out and Fred looked at me, frowning. He immediately lets go of his toes and stands up.

"You are limping, Marissa. Your feet are hurting." "They are fine," she protested softly, though a quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips the second I slid the high heel off her right foot, gently massaging the arch of her foot with my thumb. "They are not fine," I corrected, sliding off the second shoe and setting them both aside. "I am not letting you suffer through pain just to look beautiful for me."

He crashed into the shoe cabinet behind him. "Some penniless nobody like you dares step foot in Mr. Carlson's mansion? Look at how poor you are. Do you think you're worthy of being his father-in-law?" Jennifer sneered, her voice full of contempt. My father-in-law groaned in pain, the color draining from his face. I rushed to his side and frantically called out to the household staff for help.

A footwear with the most absurd name of booty hugged her small feet. Sophia was relaxed in a crimson dress. It wrapped around her and exposed her sides with nothing but mesh. If she moved a certain way, all would be advertised to the world. The stilettos were black and higher than ours. It was a miracle she could walk with ease. It took me lengths of time to walk in mine. Even now, if I didn’t mind, I would fall flat on my face.

Her feet were soaked in acidic water every day, and later on, her feet were all messed up. Slowly, Isadora's feet healed but developed a complication. It was that kind of foot fungus that was more severe than Athlete's foot and could make the gap between the toes rot into the bones. The condition would relapse twice every spring and autumn. Every time it relapsed, Isadora's feet would practically be disabled, and it would be itchy and painful. She would have a limp whenever she walked. However, a year later, the siblings truly got the opportunity to go abroad.

Then Soren lowered himself onto one knee. He took out a pair of soft flat leather shoes from behind his back and placed them in front of her. After that, he gently lifted one of her feet and examined it. The unexpected gesture left Meryl unsure what to do. She instinctively tried to pull her foot back, but he did not release it. Soren studied her foot. It was beautiful, small enough to rest neatly in his palm, with ten rounded toes that looked smooth as jade. The high heels must not have fit properly. Her heel and toes were rubbed red, and a blister had formed beside her smallest toe.

Early in the morning, Asher took her to the orthopedic department. After a quick examination, the doctor's expression changed slightly. He recognized Daphne because he had a colleague's child who studied piano with her, and he also knew that this was a pretty talented girl. The doctor spoke slowly after deliberation, "Miss Howard’s foot is not a big problem, recovering for a period of time will allow her to walk normally, with little impact on her daily life, but because of the damage to the foot nerves…” The doctor paused before he could continue.

I cry out, letting go of Felix’s hand as I hop on my left foot, holding my right foot above the ground. Pain like a hot searing blade stabs the underside of my right sole. I can feel liquid in my shoe. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Felix asks urgently. “And that’s why I’m not taking these babies off until we’re home,” says Kitty, clicking her beat-up stilettos together. She gasps, stepping closer to me with her eyes wide. “Shit Ash, that looks really bad.” I look down at my foot and watch in detached horror as the toe of the ivory slipper turns crimson, and a single drop of blood pools on the outside of the silky fabric, then drips down onto the moss below.

I tried to yank my foot away, but he was already holding my ankle. “Stop complaining, Allison,” he scolded me. He gently placed the slipper on my foot. It fit perfectly. He took my other foot and slipped on the other slipper. The wedge flip-flop was made of soft rubber, with an ambigram logo of two T’s on the center of the straps. It was comfortable and my feet looked very nice on them.