Footjob Novels & Stories

Once it was on he felt something similar being slipped onto his left foot. The boy was finally allowed up off the enema rail and he was able to pull up his right leg enough to see what was on his feet. He was wearing very strange leather boots, but instead of soles like regular shoes, his boots had horseshoes under his toes. The inside of the boots were designed to force Cody to only walk and stand with his toes over the horse shoes, which was extremely uncomfortable and awkward.

"I don't know." "That bastard said because his left foot was different from a normal person’s foot. He was born with 6 toes. And the socks were especially made for him by his dead wife. He couldn't bear to discard them... I used to think he was an honest person. But now I find that he has really been good at pretending. Maybe her wife's death is related to him." When Jean heard this, she suddenly felt a gush of biting wind rise from the soles of her feet.

*FOOTSTEPS* "How is he?" "He's fine nothing's serious about his injury from his foot." "He only got a minor fracture from his foot tiny cracks from the bone,he might overstress himself by running everywhere and he trip into a stairway causing him to fall and have bruise on his kneecaps too." "T-Thank goodness I thought something terrible happened to him.." 'Who are those people talking outside? I couldn't hear them anymore..'

He faced me, that wide, cute grin was back on his face as he looked at me. "Are you ready for this?" He questioned. I nodded, eagerly wanting to see what he was talking about. Harold easily stepped over the gate but with my shorter legs I knew I would have a harder time. I was almost 100% certain I was going to trip and fall flat on my face. I swung one leg over first and had to stand on my tippy toes so the gate didn't slam into my crotch. As I hopped on one leg I went to swing it over with the motion but I only succeeded in throwing my off balance.

Running in the snow barefoot had left the soles of our feet raw. “Lucky for you girls, I am not just a shoe salesmen, I am also the town’s podiatrist.” The shopkeeper said as he came out of the back room with a bag of supplies. “Around these parts, its not uncommon for people to get frostbite or other injuries in the winter. Now lets have a look.” He spent several minutes working on each of our feet, cleaning, then massaging ointment into them and finally wrapping them in a thin wrap.

Yeah, that must be it. After completing the dishes, Andrei takes a moment to dry his hands before wandering over to where I'm sitting, his pace leisurely. I stare at his bare feet, my brain momentarily fixated on the sight. “Why no shoes, Mr. Carter?” “Walking barefoot is like a yoga practice. Builds up the balance, strengthens the soles, and gets you in touch with Mother Earth.” I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. How much of that is actually true, I wonder?

I mutter under my breath, the silence hanging heavy in the air as I make my way past them towards the door, Ari shuffling along behind me, worried. My leg feels like it's made of lead, numb and heavy. Each breath feels like I'm trying to suck in air through a straw, my chest tight with panic. I try to shake off the sensation, but it clings to me like a stubborn stain. I can't seem to muster up any emotions, just a dull ache in my ankle that shoots up my leg with each step. Is my foot going to betray me again, give out beneath me like that one day? Why now, when everything seemed to be going smoothly? It's like a bad joke, a cruel twist of fate that leaves me questioning everything.

I'd wandered right into her den without even realizing it. "Ms. Parker, do you enjoy body massage services?" Vivian Thompson asked. I forced a polite smile and shook my head. "Not really. Something about those places just… feels dirty. Like it'll give me bad luck." She let out an amused laugh while her eyes glinted with mockery. "Well, you're not wrong. This isn't exactly a reputable establishment. Next time, I'll take you somewhere better. I'll make sure you're well taken care of."

The heel of one shoe had come off. The first step forward was equal to walking on pins and needles dipped in fire. I grabbed the passenger door for support to keep from tripping. I might have sprained my ankle. These designer shoes were trash. Most of them were fake shit slapped with a high amount. I toed off the broken shoe and tried to walk on the same leg, hissing out in pain. “Beth?” “I’m fine.” Not really.

Ford’s previous question needed to be repeated, “How did you- You’ve never-I didn’t-“ I will explain. Start running back. They will soon realize you are not here. Ford started his way back barefoot, not even grabbing his debouched and shredded shoe’s. They weren’t any use now, they’d have to be left behind. His steps were faulting, rocks and sticks hurting the pads of his feet as he tried to maneuver around them.