Male Dom - M/F
Bondage/BDSM Fetishes Bondage/BDSM Short Stories
Setting:
Present Day
Published
7 / 2011
AVAILABLE FORMATS: PALM (PDB) Mobi (MOBI) - Kindle Friendly MSWord (DOC) PDF MSReader (LIT) Text RTF EPUB Sony Reader (LRF)
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SYNOPSIS
William’s passion for female feet has cost him dearly over the years. Felicia, a greedy and hard-hearted young whore with silky, luscious soles nearly proved his undoing, demanding exorbitant prices for her favors. But tonight William has planned a very special revenge, one that involves tight bondage, a treacherous girlfriend, and a box of very special toys that will have Felicia bound and screaming with helpless, humiliation. You see, William is a tickle fetishist as well as a footman. And when you screw over a tickle fetishist…well, it’s no laughing matter.
EXTRACT
Felicia threw herself on my bed, kicking her flip-flops off. Everything about her
movements and attitude said, Insouciant whore, ready to make some easy money.
“This what you want?” she demanded, lifting up one brown bare foot and pointing at
it. “This what you need?” A smile was flickering around the corners of her wide red
mouth. She was holding her foot so the sole was facing me. Like a lot of dark-skinned
girls, her soles were a fascinating creamy shade, in marked contrast with the tops of her
feet. Long soles, carefully softened and made sensitive over the previous weeks with
lotions and creams and pedicures at her cousin’s salon. Further contrast was provided by
the ruby-red polish-job on her toenails. What really sealed the deal was the anklet she
wore; cowrie-shells strung gleaming on a loop of frayed leather. The bitch knew I loved
that anklet, the way it somehow accented her foot’s beauty.
Damn her, she was beautiful. She could have easily been a model, or—with
considerably more effort and hours of lessons—an actress. She was twenty-two, but acted
older, a cool six feet tall, with big tits and long legs and a mane of straight black hair
that framed a regally lovely, regally sneering face. She loved expensive, fashionable
clothes, but when she turned up at my apartment she rarely wore anything more elegant than
sweat-pants and flip-flops, as she had tonight, along with a tight, cheap white top. When
I first started seeing her, I used to fantasize about her as an African queen, a jungle
empress clad in leopardskins and barbaric jewelry. Such an outfit, of course, would also
show off her bare feet, and to me they were what really made her irresistible. They had
cost me a small fortune in “tribute” and “gifts.” Tonight they would cost me more…but
their owner would be the one, ultimately, who paid.
