"INGRID'S FOOT SLAVE"

written and submitted by " r "

 

I met Ingrid at a party my parents were holding. I was quite bored to be there, until I saw her. She was the daughter of some friends of my parents whom I had never met before. Ingrid was a reddish blonde with a slender but curvy body, her ass was perfect, her legs were long and she had beautiful green eyes which seemed to pierce right through mine as I shook her hand. I was so struck by her appearance that I hardly managed to say my own name. She seemed to notice the effect and said only her name herself, holding my eyes with a disturbingly confident look for her young age. I later got to know she was only 21, 7 years younger than me. I began to blush and mumbled some kind of excuse to go elsewhere.

During the party I desperately wanted to both talk to her and to avoid her. There was something threatening about her, to me anyway. I couldn't keep my eyes from her. She was wearing a tight black dress ending just below her shoulders and above her knees. Her arms were bare, her legs were in black, seamed stockings. She had the highest heels of the party, four or five centimeters. Her presence was so strong that I wasn't able to behave normally towards anybody, and I begun to consider leaving although it also meant leaving her. I went down to the basement to fetch more bottles of wine and clear my head a little.

As I was picking up the bottles I heard someone coming into the room on clicking heels. My heart immediately started racing as I turned around to see it was her. One bottle slipped from my hand and broke against the floor. "Oh, bad boy, spilling your parents wine", she said as she came up to me and slapped me over my face. I just stood there paralyzed. She stared into my eyes for a few seconds, then she started laughing. "I'm sorry, I was just making fun of you", she said. As I still didn't manage to say or do anything, she continued: "These shoes are killing me. You seem like a nice guy, and seeing you walking down here I thought I might ask you for a foot massage. But now that you have this mess to clean up, I guess we'll just drop it", she said as she turned around to leave.

"No wait, please, of course I will give you a massage", I stuttered out. "Oh, really? Okay then.", she said with a grin. She sat down on top of the freezer, in front of the broken glass. I tried to avoid stepping on it, as I placed myself in front of her, taking one shoe in my hand, beginning to unbuckle the ankle strap. "Are you going to stand like that?" I looked back at her with a question mark on my slightly blushing face. "You won't be able to give a good massage from that position, I can tell you. You have to sit lower for your arms and hands to make the right position toward me feet and legs." I didn't really know what to do, but begun to push away some of the wine and broken glass with my shoe.

Being a bit shaky, somehow this made me slip, I came off balance and fell down on one knee. "Oops! Well, that is nearly the position I was thinking about, ha ha. Too bad about those pants, though. Nothing sticks like red wine". I looked down at my pants, they had red wine all over them. "Well, now that they are ruined anyway, maybe we could just get on with this?" she said dangling one shoe in front of my face. This situation should normally make me upset, and I was losing all dignity by giving in to her like this, but the arousal I had felt ever since I saw her was now increasing with every second. I took her shoe in my hands again and slid it gently off her foot. The sensation of her tiny, smooth, nylon clad foot and it's mild scent made me forget the pain of the broken glass digging into my skin on the floor.

"Take off the other one too. My feet are aching". I unbuckled the strap and slid off the left shoe. I placed in on the floor beside the other one and went back to massaging her right foot. She stretched out her free leg and flexed her toes. I was not surprised to see she had perfect feet, maybe size seven, with high arches and curvy soles. Her foot was right beside my head, she could have put it down on my shoulder, or on my head, for that matter. "Do they smell?" she asked. "No", I responded mechanically. "Are you sure? I've been wearing these shoes and stockings for several hours now. I'm quite warm, and nylon tends to make the smell stick pretty good, or I probably should say bad".

Nervous to look up at her, I sniffed the air close to her feet and said: "No, I can't feel anything". "Really? Well, in that case you probably won't mind me doing this." With that she put her foot right onto my face, her heel covering my mouth, her toes on my forehead. I became totally paralyzed again, both by the fact that she had the nerve and shamelessness to do this, and by the incredible sensation of being so intimate with the perfect foot of this beautiful girl. The smelly nylon only made the sensation stronger.

continued on page two