Wicked Heels Novels & Stories

My wits about me, even if they are a little detached with the force of that knock. Stilettos are not just a choice because they are sexy. I learned the value of a good shoe a long time ago. I don’t buy cheap shoes either, with no real strength to the heels. I buy solid expensive, and sleek footwear that has enough heel strength to use as a weapon should I ever need it.

I wondered whether she thought they had gotten rid of me completely. “On top of all your ugliness, have you turned blind too? Do you know how much my heels cost?” She snapped, burning red. My eyes dropped to her feet, only to realize that I was stepping on her left foot. Her shiny Gucci-brand stilettos matched her sweatwear. I lifted up my foot lazily, raising my face to look back at her. “No, obviously, I don’t.”

Maybe do something with wires. Me and Wyatt dance and sing along to the song like two drunk girls at a Bachelorette party, despite us both being very sober. Each step from my feet and sway from my hips reminds me that I have been on my feet for hours and the only thing supporting me is pencil-thin 7-inch heels. Wyatt leans down and shouts in my ear over the music, “Are you okay?” “I’ve been on my feet for like six hours in these heels; it’s finally starting to get to me,” I shout back.

"He's going to love it. By the way, where you both are going?" "I don't know." I grabbed the black wedges from the cupboard. "Heels or wedges." "Wedges. Heels will hurt your ankle for a long time," She replied instantly. "Your collection of heels and wedges has increased. Care to tell?" "Have you seen your brother's height?" I asked dryly. "It's difficult to kiss him then." "Oh, there will be kissing," She teased. "What else will be there on the plate? Good thing your zipper in on the back. Easy to remove. Did you wear good stuff beneath?"

THE GRIND {Playlist Suggestion: "Work Song" by Hozier / "Gasoline" by Halsey} ~CHELSEA POV~ My feet were bleeding. Okay, maybe not actually bleeding, but it definitely felt like my toes had been put through a meat grinder. I had been in these stupid, mandatory black heels for eight hours straight, walking the concrete floors of The Mirage, dodging grabby hands, checking empty glasses, and fake-smiling until the muscles in my face twitched.

Lipstick long gone. She didn’t fix any of it. She just smiled at her own reflection. A slow, terrifying smile. Because she was coming back. Not because a man summoned her. Not because a room expected her. But because her grandmother had whispered to her bones: “A throne can’t be stolen. It must be claimed.” She went to her closet and pulled out a different pair of heels. Not her usual Domica boots. These were Madam’s. Red suede, six inches, worn only once.

Elena let out a sharp scream and dove under the blanket before bursting into tears. Everyone around us froze, stunned by what I had just done. "Are you out of your mind, Jasmine?" Miles snapped out of his shock and snatched the cameraman's camera with a hardened expression. "We're in public, and someone's filming here. How could you lift a young woman's skirt? You're unbelievable!" I shook the wedding shoe in my hand. "She tied the shoe to her waist and asked you guys to grab it. Wasn't she asking for someone to reach under? You couldn't do it, so I helped you. What's wrong with that?"

Really scared to even look at them.  "we wanted to make them twelve inches but King said you might not know how to walk in them and might embarrass him." one of them who was giving me dirty looks since the beginning spoke. Nice, she wants to taunt me. Is there any girl here who doesn't want him? and the sad thing is he must have slept with all of them. "He is right, even these heels are too much. I want only minimum three inch or if possible no heels at all." I said and her face became enraged. Looks like she is the one who designed them,

He said before excusing himself to leave them alone. Molly chuckled a bit before looking at herself. “I like him. He’s funny, anyways, mom wants you to wear these,” Molly smirked at the black heels that their mother gave her. They were some old-time fashion heels. There was no way in hell she was going to wear those. “Hell no. Those things look they are from the old village days.” Runa joked as she brought her favorite expensive heels. Black sparkly heels that were not too high and not too uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, I did as they told and brought down all my five boxes of heels, and they are already waiting in the living area so I placed down the boxes beside the couch. Then the two ladies started opening them and I sighed when they showed a very pointed and tall high heels to Finary. “Nope, not yet. Give us that simplest single strap nude colored first.” Finary said. “The block heels or the pointed heels?” the lady asked. “The pointed one so she can learn it now, is she figures how to walk on a pointed heel she will be fine with block heels.” Finary uttered as the lady handed her the 5 inches high heels with a single strap that goes across the toes and an ankle strap.