Want to Lick My Feet? Read online

  The 'READERS FEATURED' Range

  Want To Lick my Feet?

  by Zoe M Bates

  The 'READERS FEATURED' Range

  Want To Lick my Feet?

  Copyright © Zoe M Bates 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the written prior permission of the author.

  The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. All characters are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All are 18 years old or over.

  Published through - Kindle Direct Publishing

  Cover images from - shutterstock.com

  Introducing...

  The 'READERS FEATURED' Range

  This is the second in an exciting range of books.

  In this story, the characters first name, and even some of the visual descriptions and sexual preferences of them, match those provided by one of my genuine readers. Essentially, for the lucky reader that was chosen, and agreed to take part, it will read like they are participating in this story!

  Dedicated to

  Chris

  I've had these shoes for close to three years now, which believe me is some going considering how much I wear them: for work, for shopping, for formal functions, and for many, many evenings out. Of course, I have nearly a dozen pairs lined up along the bottom of my wardrobe at home, but none have ever felt as perfect under my feet as these. I don't know what it is about them – maybe the way they flex so perfectly with my movements, or the soft insole that seems to always have a bit of bounce in them (however much I put them through), or the fact that the straps never ever seem to rub. And they weren't even that expensive, if I'm honest. I picked them up in a 'closing down sale' on a whim almost, and have never looked back.

  But today there was something not quite right about them, something beginning to rub across the inner ball of my left foot, which was why I had my bottom planted on the weathered, upholstered seating in Geri's, the shoe repair shop on the outskirts of the city that I regularly use to keep this pair (and all my others) in tip-top condition. You'd never find the place if you didn't know about it, and I can't believe they stay in business based on the number of people I've seen in here at any point, but I guess they must, somehow.

  "No Geri today?" I asked of the guy looking after the shop (who I don't think I'd ever seen before), once he'd finished serving one of those rarities in this place, another customer, and moved towards where I was sitting. He waited until the loud 'ding' of the bell above the door had sounded, marking the exit of the other customer, before he replied.

  "No he, err… he's down the council offices," he mumbled quite nervously as he drew close, "trying to fend off an aggressive purchase offer for this place, along with a load of others in this block."

  "Oh no," I gasped up to him, having to crane my head back a touch to do so; for he was pretty tall. "I don't know what I'd do if Geri wasn't on hand to fix up my shoes."

  Then suddenly, without any obvious reason why, his cheeks blushed ever so slightly red, which was a little strange because he wasn't some silly teenager, being maybe forty-one, forty-two years old, I'd guess.

  "You know if you leave them here it's me that fixes them up," he clarified rather coolly, before looking immediately embarrassed that he had.

  He really didn't look the shy type, but there was something about this comment that was a little awkward for him. For now I had no idea what it could be – but I intended to find out!

  "Is it?" was all I offered, to try and encourage him to keep talking, as he knelt his slim stature down before me (bringing his face level with mine) and gently lifted the left shoe, which I'd thoughtfully pressed further forward than the right.

  "Yeah, I do all the longer fixes and Geri does all the 'instants' over the counter, and all the business side of course."

  His touch on my shoe was very gentle, as he turned it one way and then the other, looking at it from different angles – admiring it almost, it seemed.

  "Then you must have had your hands on these a few times then," I suggested of the shoes, as his thumb almost imperceptibly (and seemingly accidentally) brushed slowly along the inside arch of my foot, which gave me a subtle tingle of something nice I confess. The contact also made his eyes glaze over a little, and forced him to stifle a sharp intake of pleasured breath.

  "Yes," he said softly, almost to himself, I think, "I know these."

  There was sense of real obsession about the way he'd said that, his eyes on my shoes and my feet the whole time, only having once looked up at my face in the few minutes we'd been talking. But I didn't find it off-putting. If anything his fascination for them, and for my feet (which again he 'accidentally' stroked), interested me.

  "Lovely aren't they," I sighed, twisting my foot and my shoe around in his grip a touch, until he was presented with a nice sideways profile view of it, showing off the lovely soft arch of my sole and the sensible but elegant one-and-a-half inch heel on the shoe.

  He didn't answer for quite a few seconds, as he continued to stare at what he had cupped so gently in his hands; whether it was the shoe or my foot that had so captured his attention I didn't know – but it was definitely one of them, that was for sure. The fact that Geri kept him beavering away in the back room with the shoes, but away from all the customers, made me think it just might be the latter.

  "Really lovely," he sighed, lifting my foot right up so he could recall the beautiful craftsmanship on the outsole of the shoe, "really, really lovely."

  I don't know why I thought this, but with my leg raised and pushed out to the side a touch as it was, I knew he'd be able to see a good way up the skirt of my cool-grey business suit, and catch a teasing flash of my milky white inner thighs. The thought of being exposed to him like this was – I confess – more than a little exciting. He confirmed this moment's later when his eyes darted there for a split second. But even though there was a flash of immediate excitement at what he'd seen, they didn't linger there; instead they came straight back to my foot and my shoe, which was when his face really glowed with pleasure.

  And then he suddenly let out an anxious shudder, as if shaking himself back into gear.

  "What seems to be the problem?" he asked, his voice slightly monotone now.

  "Well… Sorry! What was your name?" I enquired then, on seeing no name badge on the dark-blue shirt above his jeans like Geri usually wears. I always like to know who I'm talking to; it's ingrained in me from my business background.

  He forced his eyes up to my face for a second time, to reply.

  "Chris, Ma'am."

  Ma'am – I liked that!

  I smiled sweetly at him, and then told him the problem I had.

  "Well, Chris. I'm feeling a little discomfort here!" And with that I slid a solitary finger between the lower insole of my shoe and the soft underside of my foot, and stroked it back and fore, to clearly pinpoint the problem area for him.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see he was mesmerised by the action; his eyes locked in focus on my softly caressing digit, as his breaths grew deeper in his chest, telling me in no uncertain terms how excited he was at this very moment.

  Of course that only encouraged me to rub a little longer there, and to let out a soft, low moan of approval, suggesting the pressure of my finger was soothing me, and taking away some of the discomfort.

  "Do you want me to take a look at it… your shoe… for you?" he asked finally, and a little tentatively.

  "Would you?" I asked
, sounding ever so grateful for his offer, although inside I was quite enjoying playing this little game with him, teasing him with my feet, which I was absolutely sure now was his private obsession – a secret foot fetish!

  Almost reluctantly, he let my foot slip free of his grip, allowing it to drift back down towards the rich green carpet Geri's shop was fitted out in, so I could unbuckle the strap.

  But then I surprised him.

  "Would you mind doing it for me, Chris," I asked (a phrase wrapped in subtle ambiguity), as I lifted my foot back up towards him again. "I'm feeling pretty bushed after work so far today, and my little bit of shopping … and it would really help my back if you could."

  This was of course a lie. I just wanted to tempt him some more.

  For a second he froze. And then he looked slowly up towards my face once more, his sheepish eyes moving slower than his head. But once he'd finally levelled them with mine and our eyes met, I could see the boundless excitement bubbling up in them. I think behind his glazed expression he knew I was tempting him; putting what he so desired right out there under his nose, so to speak. And to be fair I was feeling excited too. My first boyfriend in my adult years, Dougie, used to have a bit of a thing for my feet as well – he used to love to stroke them, and kiss them, and even suck for a long, long time on my toes – and I loved it too! But we drifted apart eventually, and then a few boyfriends and lovers later, I settled down with my now husband of twelve years, who isn't really interested in my feet, which is ok, but I did sort of miss that aspect. In fact I was starting to feel a little wet between the legs just thinking about Dougie's lips slipping down around my big toe, or licking ever so slowly between a couple of them, the malleable flesh of his warm, stiffened digit squeezing and moulding perfectly through the tight gap. I shifted a little on the upholstered seating, allowing the moistened gusset of my knickers to sit more comfortably across my swollen nether lips, feeling quite aroused now.

  The same helpless desire I used to see in Dougie's eyes as he slinked to the floor beneath our sofa, I saw now in Chris's, as he reached his hands forward towards my shoe to undo the buckle on the top strap for me. I could see his hands were shaking as he took hold of it, his larger fingers fumbling clumsily with the delicate silver pin of the buckle. However I didn't offer to help him – in a way I was getting off on seeing his struggle. With Dougie it had been a completely mutual thing we shared. Sometimes I'd even stroke myself gently while he got off on my feet, which for him usually escalated, until he ended up jacking off over my toes, his spunk splattering them, and dribbling down between them, which I would sometimes then squidge-in by twisting them tightly together, which usually resulted in another few spurts from the tip of his cock, and a cry of pure ecstasy from his lips.

  But with this guy, Chris, it felt different. It didn't feel mutual at all. It felt like he was the helpless Sub, and I was the Dom, brimming with power and control. If this little scenario played out as I expected, I wasn't going to try and get myself off; my power over him alone would most likely do that.

  And he was truly helpless I decided, as I observed his continuing struggle with my buckle.

  "Try nearer your face, so you can see better," I suggested, pushing my foot close to his mouth, and next to his nose too, which drew a little gasp, as he no doubt picked up the subtle smell of my foot as it drew near. I'd been on my feet for nearly four hours now, and so I doubted they smelled the freshest they ever had – but I knew from Dougie, that was sometimes a big plus point for someone with a foot fetish!

  "That better?" I asked, offering him a sweet smile.

  Chris just nodded, and unwittingly leaned in even closer to my foot to sort that buckle once and for all.

  "There!" he gasped finally, as the pin popped out of the strap, allowing him to ease the leather tongue from the dainty silver loop, and then catch the shoe before it fell from my foot.

  He lifted the shoe level with his head and examined the insole beneath the front straps, pressing and rubbing with his thumb where I'd indicated earlier, trying to find the problem.

  But he was finding it difficult! Not because he couldn't find what was wrong, but because I'd kept my now bare and completely exposed foot poised directly in front of his face. As much as he really tried to concentrate on the shoe, he just couldn't stop his eyes from being pulled towards the naked sole of my foot, maybe every three or four seconds or so. I didn't help either by constantly wriggling my toes, and ever so discreetly easing it closer to his face, teasing him, and tempting him!

  "I … I think I know what the problem might be," he mumbled ever so quietly, his voice fading off until the words were barely audible at the end, while desperately trying to keep his eyes trained on my shoe.

  "I think I do to, Chris," I replied, twisting and angling my foot from side to side, showing off more of its elegant form to him: the high, soft arch, the neatly pedicured toes, and the smooth, soft sole, which was starting to make his mouth gape open slightly now.

  "Do you?" he asked slightly anxiously, telling flashes of shame and humiliation sparking in his eyes, which made him look a little like a naughty schoolboy that'd been caught red-handed.

  "I think what is wrong," I said, starting to elaborate, "is that you have some secret desires, don't you!"

  He froze at this, and I saw his knuckles tighten on my shoe, gripping it firmly for a bit of reassurance almost.

  "I think there's a reason Geri has you working in the back room isn't there!"

  Still nothing, just the frightened glare of a rabbit caught in quickly approaching headlights, and the quickening of his breaths, which washed deliciously across the soft skin on the sole of my foot, and sent a fresh shiver of excitement down my spine.

  "I wonder if he knows about your … little secret?"

  Chris blushed – which didn't tell me either way.

  "I wonder if he knows about your desire – your need – your obsession … for a nicely formed ladies foot."

  This time a response – he gulped.

  "I wonder if Geri could even comprehend what sort of state you'd be in if you had to tend to the ladies that come in here for repairs, day after day."

  I eased my foot forward a touch more and pressed my toes to his cheek, which drew a sudden desperate grunt from deep inside him.

  "Whether you'd be able to resist touching their feet – and stroking them – and caressing them – while in the back of your mind you want to do so much more with them, don't you!"

  I slid the silky-soft sole of my foot up and down his cheek, again and again, slowly and surely, cupping my foot ever so slightly to create a lovely even contact as it moved, the inside curves sometimes grazing gently along the side of his nose as I did, teasing him mercilessly.

  His breathing immediately became more ragged and exaggerated. And the deeper he breathed, the more he soaked up the ambient scent of my foot, the scent that he was now craving desperately. Chris licked nervously across his lips with his tongue, as I just built up a steady, relentless rhythm, varying the pressure of my touch against his nose, sometimes bending and deforming it as I did so, as I continued to talk.

  "You want to smell them don't you," I berated slightly, while deftly popping the buckle of my other shoe, which once it had slipped silently to the floor, allowed me to bring my right foot up to his other cheek, where I rubbed it around in perfect symmetry with my other foot.

  He let out a choked sob at my calling him out so perfectly, and then completely accepted my feet on his face, which I rubbed up and down and side to side in opposition, maintaining the softest touch with the balls and my toes, which I scrunched forward slightly so they better cupped and caressed the skin.

  "You don't even care if they smell a bit, do you," I sighed, slowing the movement of my feet somewhat and then pressing a little harder, while squeezing softly inwards, squashing his nose between my big toes.

  The affirming shake of his head was quick and light, not wanting to lose the contact for any more than a second,
as he pressed his face further forward, increasing the friction he received from my soles, practically offering his face to me, to do with as I wished.

  "In fact I think you prefer it that way, don't you."

  He closed his eyes, maybe in shame, or maybe because he was totally in love with the feeling of my bare soles pressing and stroking against his cheeks.

  "Don't you, Chris!" I repeated, slightly louder this time, wanting to hear him say it for me.

  "Yes!" he spat out quickly, his eyes remaining tight shut.

  But that's not what I wanted.

  "Look at me and tell me again!"

  I felt him shiver at that. Then, maybe ten seconds later, fully accepting the balance of power I'd established, he did indeed open his eyes, and replied as I wished.

  "Yes … I do."

  "So after my busy morning, do my feet smell a little?"

  "Yes," he replied, his eyes settling on the bulge of my chest inside my pristine, tight-fitting blouse (the one a size too small, which definitely helps me win over a few votes in tough meetings like the one I had this morning), not because he wanted to look at my breasts particularly, which I confess were heaving quite strongly now through my own excitement, but so he could avoid the glare of my eyes, which were truly alive with power now.

  "So you'll probably be happy when I do this!" And with that I pushed my left foot right over his nose, closing the crease behind my toes tight around the tip, for maximum effect.

  He let out a little moan at that, and I could tell from his stuttered, ragged breaths that he wanted to properly sample my scent.

  "You can have a proper sniff if you want," I suggested, while wriggling my toes firmly around the tip, as I gently pushed my right foot around the other side of his face, brushing the traverse arch and the toes of it up beside his eyes and then onto his forehead, the tips of all five digits brushing back and fore through the rich brown hairline.