Scaramouche Feet Novels & Stories

She has stretched her bare leg towards me and is using her foot to tease me. "What are you doing, Mrs Scott?" I frown. "Not a suitable place to seduce your husband" "I was just checking your biceps", she mumbles in a tipsy tone, biting her lower lip seductively. Damn her! She knows exactly what she's doing to me. "Checking biceps with feet?" I gasp. "Umm— you said don't touch anything", she giggles. "It's still called touching", I raise my eyebrows. She doesn't stop and traces her foot down, more down, literally near my stomach and I shudder right away when she strikes the exact spot.

I looked up at him just to found myself laughing my *ss off. “What the hell? Why are you laughing?” “Nothing, hahaha! It’s just that… hahahahaha… sorry! I mean, you look horrible!” “What the f*ck, Agatha Tatiana!” “Why? Truth hurts, Caleb Nicolo! I mean, you look like a mummy! You’re wrapped in a white bandages. From your head, to your hands and to your feet.” “It’s because of you.” “What? No! It’s not!”

If I let the scents overwhelm me, Sarah’s foot rub will be a short one. “Mmm, that’s good.” There is no pause once I have tended to her other foot. “Use your palm to curl and flex the toes.” I have to use my other hand to brace the top of her foot as I press her toes back towards her shins, letting my palm drag upwards. With my werewolf ears I can hear the tiny sounds of bones and tendons moving as I swap my hands and form her feet into curls. I feel a burst of pride as I find the perfect balance of stretch and relaxation. “Have you ever gone running without shoes?” I ask. “Have you ever felt the cool of moss and mud between your toes, or the brush of grass past your feet?”

SShe could have sworn she heard a scoff coming from Damien as she saw his figure disappearing in front of her. Bidding Richard goodbye in a hurry she went up the room to see the room in a mess. Everything was turned up side down Broken glass were everywhere and it was all thanks to Damien who In his anger continued to break more glasses worth millions of dollars. " What's going on?" She asked but got no response. When she stepped closer, she felt a pain prick her feet and she let a loud scream falling to the ground. Her voice and her face contouring in pain brought him back to his senses, going to her he took a good look at her feet to draw out the glass which was stuck there.

The maid went to her knees immediately, the plates and cups in her hand falling to the floor and piercing her knees. “It’s fine. I’m not hurt,” Stacey said as she stood up, smiling at the maid. Lucien didn’t bother to look back, or didn’t notice she had stopped walking behind him. She stretched her hand forward to the maid and helped her up only for her to see her knees bleeding. “Be careful!” She half yelled as the maid stepped on some other broken glasses. “Why are you not wearing footwear? Why are you walking with your bare legs!”She yelled.

Scar smiled softly, he missed his mother. By now, Scar's peaceful Saturday afternoon had been ruined by blasting music. He could hear the laughter of hundreds of people outside - maybe he was exaggerating. Scar was trying hard to keep calm, his palms were already starting to sweat and his cheeks were heating up. He was nervous, so so nervous. Scar looked himself up and down in the mirror for the hundredth time before falling onto the bed and shoving his boots onto his feet. Scar only owned 1 pair of shoes and they were his boots, the boots that had been passed down to him from his father. Scar's face fell at the memory of him. Time to face the music, Scar thought as he grabbed his bike and r

It snapped at the steel, and only then did it seem irritated. “Hmmm, smiter. You will be my hors d’oeuvre.” “Whores defours this!” Scott mispronounced and struck with a second cut low at a rear joint of its leg. Six legs meant more places to fail. Scott swung again, “This little piggy went to the market!” Scott said between strikes, then he swung again before the demon could strike, hitting its middle leg joint. The blade bit tendon, and the creature’s gait stuttered as it stammered its walk. It went down onto one knee and scraped claws through fibreglass, throwing up white dust.

I demand, my voice thick with suppressed rage. Marcella's face contorts. The pathetic, tearful act vanishes in an instant, replaced by a sharp, venomous malice. She steps out from behind my shoulder, her chest heaving as she points down at her own feet. Her expensive leather shoes are splattered with mud and wine. "Make Penelope Rogue get down on her knees," Marcella spits, her eyes wide and frantic with triumph. "Make her lick my shoes clean."

He grabbed her hand from behind, “Don’t wander too far, Scarr…” She exhaled deeply, as soon as he let go of her hands. As she walked off, she was acutely aware of his piercing stare on her. For some reason, the walk became longer and her steps wobbly, she was wearing comfortable heeled shoes, but it felt like she had on six-inch pencil heels walking on a rocky path.

Paris moaned, and we all laughed breathlessly. Van pulled out of my ass suddenly, leaving me clenching around nothing. “Foot job,” he commanded. Gogo and I knew exactly what to do. We knelt in front of him, our feet sliding up his thighs. I pressed my soft sole against his shaft while Gogo used both her feet to stroke him, slow and teasing. The contrast of my smaller feet and her thick, pretty toes working together made him groan loud. Pre-cum leaked over our toes, making everything slippery.