Slave Footstool Novels & Stories

And his head was missing. In the half-light of the reluctant dawn lay a shoe. From its size Mac deduced that the bearer was petite, likely no heavier than the average twelve year old. Yet it was sexy, sophisticated and undeniably high-end. Or at least it had been. Now the heel had broken off and it was plastered with drying mud. A short way off lay it's pair, unbroken, kicked off in haste. He moved around trying not to disturb the mud, there were barefoot impressions; not the rolling motion of heel-strike walking, but only the balls of the foot and the toes.

"Mrs. Shaw asked me to remove all non-slip-resistant shoes. With your arms injured, she's worried about you falling again." Her words touched me deeply. "My mom always worries too much," I said softly, feeling the emotion rise in my throat. Then I noticed Lily placing the white chunky-heeled leather shoes Logan had given me into a box. "Those shoes have thick heels and are quite comfortable," I protested. Lily turned the shoe over, showing me the sole. "Ms. Shaw, these aren't slip-resistant. This type of sole is extremely dangerous on hardwood or marble floors."

I'd have to appear more formal. "I've got this pretty straight black skirt, sure to hug your spectacular curves, and a pretty black T-shirt with nice designs on both sides," she went to her shoe rack. "For footwear, I have these four-inch toe pump stilettos." "Hell, no," it was my turn to grimace. "Heels hurt my feet. I'm not as graceful in my footsteps as you are, Soph." I soon ate up my words after I wore everything Sophie told me to.

She stood up and almost slipped, if she didn't quickly hold on to the dressing table and sat back down. The shoes were very slippery and felt unbalanced. Kisha smiled secretly. "What's wrong? These shoes don't fit?" asked Kisha feigning surprise. Lea took the white shoe from her right foot. They were pretty shoes, but she noticed the pointy heels were slightly angled and the lining inside was very thin and slippery. "These shoes are not suitable for wearing," said Lea while giving the shoes to Kisha. "Very unbalanced and slippery." Kisha shook her head. "It's a great shoe and it's impossible to put in the storage room if the models can't use it."

Zoey didn't think that this was what they would be doing the next time she saw him on one knee. "What about the shoes? These aren't appropriate for this death trap any time of the year." "Just couldn't help myself, I guess," he said, slipping the first stiletto off. "You wear the hell out of a pair of black heels."

I listened to the clicks of her heels on the tiled floor. She had a perfectly paced walk. Each step was exactly 0.8 seconds apart. Yes, I timed it. The iconic red bottom heel of Christian Louboutin was the only type of heels she wore. They demanded to be heard, they craved the attention.

"That's your work uniform?" Huxley leans against the door jamb staring wide-eyed as I zip up my tall black leather boots. They're my favorite and tonight I need the comfort of the old beloved boots I picked up at a Ross store three years ago. The leather footwear come nearly to my knee and you would think the tall black leather would be difficult to wear, but they're the opposite. These boots are the most comfortable shoes I own. I could walk all day in them. When you're a club promoter and work till three o'clock in the morning, comfort is an important feature.

My feet. I look down. The cup. The spilled drink. My favorite heels sitting in a puddle of green tea. "Shit." He looks down too. The mess spreads between us, ceramic pieces everywhere. "Your shoes," he says. "My heels." I wiggle my toes. They're soaked. "They're wet." He crouches down, looking at my feet like it matters. Like the world isn't spinning. "That's going to be painful to walk in." "I know." I bend down and slip them off. The cold floor hits my bare feet.

Silver, nude, white, crystals, lace, open toes, closed toes, stilettos, kitten heels, block heels. I tried them all. Each one worse than the last. “My toes are crying,” I mumbled, taking off another pair. “These look cute though,” Elodie said, holding a sparkly pair. “I’m going to fall and break my ankle,” I replied. Lea laughed. “Just one pair, for the photos?” I shook my head. “Nope.” And then I spotted them. On the far side, on the bottom row. White sneakers. I picked them up.

And he tosses my flip flops off. He grabs my foot and tries the smallest boot. “Yow” I yell out. After he roughly tried to pry the boot in and off my foot. “Definetly to small” he looks up unsure and tosses the boot aside. His hands linger at my foot and he gently holds me in place while pressing into my arch and kneading at it like I’m at a Chinese foot spa. It’s actually quite nice.