Shoe Fetish

 

I have a friend that is in lust with my feet. I never knew he had such a foot fetish until I had him over to watch a movie and I, as I always do when I arrive home, escaped from the confines of my ballet flats.

He’s also loves my shoes, especially heels. The deep resonate click-clacking  sound of them as the weight of their authority announce their presence makes his spine tingle. And so for him, I agreed to share my first well- heeled experience.  (Bad pun, I know but the girl can’t help it):

What is it about stilettos?

They are sauntering seductive exclamations perfectly punctuating the female form. Much like the classic little black dress but edgier in their distinct sophistication. They enhance and emphasis a woman’s soft curves, from the heel and arch of her foot to the gentle swell of her derrière all the up way to her softly bouncing décolletage.

The alchemy of the angles creates a transformation in posture as if gliding upon a private pedestal. It gives even the clumsiest of us an ease and grace like a silent dance partner guiding our gait.

I remember my first pair of heels, real heels mind you, not the slight platform of Mary Janes our school uniform dress code just barely allowed (and subsequently raised the eyebrow of St. Ann) but the full on 6 1/2 inches of a gunmetal silver soled femme fatale fashion statement in silky smooth leather and steel-enforced toes.

Lust at first Sight

I saw them glinting and winking at me from their display case at an overpriced boutique and knew they were mine. With a wallet full of 6 months of my saved up allowance, I hastily bought them with a rather alarming impatient greed never before experienced.

I slipped them on, and as I slowly eased myself upright and took my first tentative steps, like a young bird testing its wings, I instantly felt an electric surge of power. It was like I was for the first time dancing in step with the universe. It felt so natural and easy, way more so than even learning to ride a bike- both foreign and oddly familiar all at the same time.

I wore them to a dance with a dress I was still too young to fill out in the smallest size I could find to fit my petite frame. It didn’t matter what else I wore though. The Cinderella effect of those shoes made the boys take notice and simultaneously garnered envious, disapproving glances from my female classmates. A few extra inches of altitude works magic for your attitude. I went from wallflower to wild woman as soon as I slipped those red hot heels on.

Good Girl Gone Bad

From then on there were whispers that I was a good girl gone bad.  As if some salacious energy was summoned forth from deep within. Of course the shoes were merely that catalyst that unleashed the genie from the bottle but ultimately the dirty dark streak was there in me all along.

Despite the fact I maintain a demure demeanor on the exterior to save my fragile reputation, an inner awakening of unbridled urges had unfurled then and henceforth I was known to have a smirk of smut on my face and sparkle of wicked amusement in my eye.

I can see how one might think this whole tawdry rite of passage turned me into a bit of a slut, a tawdry dame of loose morals. As cliché as it may seem, there is in fact a grain of truth to what they say about ex-catholic schoolgirls. Now would I say I am a 100% naughty bad girl? Not quite…

But if the shoe fits…

 

So do you have any favorite pairs you like to see your hottie in or wear yourself?

Do you prefer pampering bare naked footsies or rather have your ten little piggies pampered.

…Prefer legs, hosiery or a different body/wardrobe worship completely?

Butterfly Kisses, and Sweet Summer Wishes,

~*Fiona the Femme Fatale*~
Skype: enchantrixfiona