Steampunk Boots Womens Novels & Stories

“To hold your hair back when I’m fucking you bent over my table later today. Let your hair down, but pin it out of the way. Come to me soon, my baby.” My core clenches and my cheeks redden at Mason’s dirty words. How can he manage to make innocent hair pins look so incredibly dirty? Next is a box of shoes. I pull it open to reveal the most intricately designed navy blue pumps. Woven flowers dotted with blinking diamonds decorate the back of each shoe, just above the heels. Something tells me those are real diamonds. Another note, “See those heels?” I pause to look at the straight, pointy heels. Walking in them might hurt a little bit.

Eve The closet smells of cedar and Italian leather. It’s a cavernous space, larger than the bedroom I had in my father’s house, filled with rows of designer clothes that Dominik bought to dress up his doll. I’m kneeling on the plush carpet in the back corner, where the boots are kept. I reach into the shaft of a black suede thigh-high boot, Stuart Weitzman, never worn, and pull out the phone. It’s small and cheap. A disposable burner with a plastic casing. It weighs nothing in my hand, but it feels heavy. Radioactive.

The silver weave catches the torchlight, emphasizing the lean, powerful contours of my chest and the clean line of my collarbones, sharp as hunting blades. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't recognize royal tailoring, little sister?" I whisper to the empty room, sliding my feet into the towering silver-rimmed boots. They are ridiculously high, designed to force a wolf into a tense, ready-to-strike posture, but my balance is absolute. I take three silent paces across the stone floor. Perfect.

—D Heat stained her cheeks again and she pressed the back of a hand to her skin to cool it. Gosh, he was always making her blush, wasn’t he? She pulled the lid off the box . . . and gasped at the shoes inside. Silver platform peep-toe pumps with a nearly eight -inch heel. They were studded with tiny crystals all over the shoe leather, and glittered like Cinderella’s glass slipper. She picked one up wonderingly. It was enormously tall. She’d be a giant. They were garish and impractical and sky-high.

Her straight as a pin violet hair hanging down to her waist, her piercing liquid silver eyes shining brightly amongst her indigenous features and warm brown skin. It doesn’t matter the century; she will always find a way to present herself as the Warrior Goddess. She’s wearing a black leather steampunk one-shoulder halter top with an overbust corset with a buckle over the chest and buckles over the hips. She’s also wearing iron armour weave print leggings and thick black shin-length boots with clasps down the sides and steel caps. She looks like a warrior from another world and not someone you want to mess with. I get up from the couch and walk over to her, “I needed someone to talk to.”

We left the three shoe stores with four pairs of boots, so not quite the one for each day of the week like Jake had suggested, but I could work on that… seeing Lilah’s face light up at something as simple as boots melted my heart… though if them boots stood on my feet my heart would not me melting, I would be cursing! They were big and chunky and far from lady like, but she loved them, they made her happy so it made me happy. There were a brown pair with thick chunky soles, which reached up to her knees, buckles up her calves. The other three pairs were black with similar variations in chunky soles - all that I knew was if it stood on your toe it would likely crush it….one pair was an ankle

"We’re leaving the territory." My heart leaped. "Where?" I asked, my face lighting up. I didn't care if it was a funeral; I was getting out. "You’ll see," he said, turning toward the subterranean garage. "Don't keep the engine waiting." I pried open the box and gasped. Inside was a pair of the most exquisite tactical-chic boots I’d ever seen. Tall, obsidian leather, supple as a second skin, with silver buckles that gleamed like moonlight at the ankles.

"Speaking of feet, your boots look fantastic on you, Mom." "Yeah fantastically slutty you mean, but I guess that is why you bought them for me huh, Tony." Slutty indeed as the black leather boots with their 4.5 inch stiletto heels come all the way up to her knees. He doesn't bother to respond. Instead he gives her a wan smile indicating what she said is the truth.

cotton had been good. But the boots were Shamira's idea. If she was going to be forced to endure this weirdness, why not get one good pair of footwear out of it? She was a western girl at (her non-beating) heart, so she'd always wanted a nice pair of cowboy boots. She had ordered a pair of hand-made, hand-tooled Leggenda Collection Lucchese black-leather boots for the low, low price of $1500. Shane's pockets ran deep, and the boots would be shipped directly to his address.

Her insides swelled with an indescribable joy as each clank of her magnificent boots blessed the hall floors. They were black and threaded, with gleaming gold soles. They were a bit weighty, yes, but they weighed like the treasures they were. Totally worth it. A few students from the academy stopped, gawking openly at her feet. Just as she wanted it. She savoured every bit of it. The castle was definitely her runway. Her cousins spotted her instantly.