Monika Feet Novels & Stories

The dark stockings outlined her wonderful, strong curvy legs as she attached them to the suspenders. Monica selected a tight black skirt that came just above her knees and showed off her undulating buttocks as she walked, a white blouse that strained against her magnificent bust and a matching jacket. Slipping into her six inch heels, she viewed herself in the mirror, twirling around to inspect herself. Then she applied heavier than usual make up, bright red on the lips, pink rouge for the cheeks and a liberal amount of masscara around her eyes. She'd made herself look like a very expensive slut. Monica sighed as she heard her son awakening.

Monica tilted her head, realising she had to go more brutal than bleeding noses and broken jaws. Retrieving both her swords from their sheaths, she formed a stance and faced them. "Who are you?" Asked the one with the bleeding foot. Her smile beamed even more while she replied, "Oh you can call me Monica!" Flinging her swords repeatedly, she approached them, ready to do anything to them except to kill. Not as if she cared, but they needed a chance to see her sometime in future and fear her. There was nothing better than power. And so, Monica clinked her weapons with all six men one by one, finding it difficult to notice she was outnumbered.

It’s just long enough down her thighs to work perfectly. Monica adds a skinny leather belt that encircles her waist twice, strappy Mary Jane stilettos, and a delicate pearl necklace. She doesn't have a full-length mirror, but she can visualise the outfit in her head. she was ready. Downstairs, she sees a minivan stopped near the curb. She can hear the music bumping from here, and the vehicle’s rocking from left to right, not from

Monica knew that he needed to be polite to the upperclassman, even though he felt that he didn't need to do so. "What is it? Um, I have eaten all the nikujaga, can I ask more, Kouhai-kun?" The nikujaga was located on the pot and even though Misaki was a very hyperactive girl and seemed a bit stupid, she wasn't stupid and she knew if she directly took the nikujaga from the pot then her hand would be burnt. "Please don't call me Kouhai-kun. My name is Monica Oga and I have a lot of nikujaga so I can share some with you, but before that, can you wash your hands?" Monica was afraid this girl might have a stomach after eating using her hands.

“Remember! I won’t hold back any longer! “I’ll cut off both your arms with my first slash! “I’ll cut off your legs with my second! “I’ll slice your spine in half with my third!” Monica’s words were filled with ruthlessness. She was from Country H, yet she looked just as fierce as the Islanders. “I’ll turn you into a cripple in just three moves! “You’ll have no choice but to lay on the hospital bed for the rest of your life! “As for your good-for-nothing father, I’ll cut him down too if he crosses me!”

she whispered, cursing Barry again for leaving her so wound up and needy. She finished her quick breakfast, then leaned back in the chair. Glancing around to confirm she was truly alone, Monica May unbuttoned her jacket, spread her long legs, and slipped a hand beneath her tight dress. Her fingers dipped under the waistband of her panties and found her soaked, aching slit. She grazed her swollen clit, then pushed a finger inside, confirming just how messy and wet she still was from Barry’s load.

I quickly snap out of those stupid thoughts which I should not be having in the first place. She pushes the chair back and stands Her black gown molds every curve of her body. And those breasts…damn it! I always have a weakness for women with plenty in that department. Same size as Gina's. The difference? Monica went under the knife for hers. Back then, it didn't bother me. She sashays towards me and her wide hips rolled like well oiled wheels. Her sharp heels clicked against the floor. It was the only sound in the room but it crunched my wild thoughts, bringing me back to reality.

Have I been standing at the water all this time? Monique seems to guess something is not right and wraps her arm around me as though I'm a tiny child who requires shelter. Guiding me with her to the hallways in haste but with a strange gentleness as though I have lost coordination and cannot walk well. “I don’t have any shoes on. I can’t go outside without shoes.” I murmur subconsciously, whispery and blank, and blink at her like I'm just mentioning a non-important fact. Monique squints at me and looks down, then back at me with a little confusion and a lot of concern. Her kind face taking on a soft and serious expression, her tone smooth and low like talking to a baby.

She was dressed in a PVC teddy that thrust her breasts upward, and a black thong that was little more than a string with an eye patch on the front. Topping it all off was an elegant iron collar. Suddenly, Shamira felt embarrassed at being naked again. Next to these two women, she felt something like a rhinoceros. The woman, who Shamira assumed was Monique, walked with lowered eyes. She knelt at Clara's feet and offered up a pair of designer sweats like it was a sacrifice. "As you requested, Mistress Clara." "What is with the whole Mistress --" Shamira started to say, then watched as Clara took Monique's head roughly by the hair and pushed her face down to the toes of those leather moccasins.

Nik ran a hand through her short hair that was now dripping with sweat. “Nice job, Scotts.” The coach patted her head as she walked to the stone benches to the side of the basketball court that was closer to where we were standing. “Wait…she looks familiar.” Sagar said in a hushed tone. “Isn’t that the girl you often have lunch with?” “Yes,” I nodded. “Her name is Monika Scotts. She’s a friend of me and Debby’s.” “Wow.” Sagar let out a low whistle. “She’s kinda hot.”