For Steve, the tantalizing combination of beautiful, feminine feet encased in tight, sexy shoes is a serious aphrodisiac that sends him spiraling toward orgasmic bliss.

For me, there is nothing quite like the smell, taste and look of a beautiful pair of sexy feet. Whether they’re shod in stern leather riding boots, sporting a pair of funky platform sandals, or simply served up au nature), I am absolutely and whole-heartedly devoted to the worship and appreciation of the pulchritudinous female foot.

I love to spend hours at my lady’s feet, nibbling and tickling her plump little toes, running my tongue teasingly along the length of her smooth sole or simply showering her high, aristocratic arches with kisses of adoration until she is fairly begging me to fuck her. I’ve discovered that there are few shorter ways to a woman’s cunt than through her feet. But for me, the real thrill has always been worshiping those lovely tootsies for hours on end.

That’s why I was so lucky to meet a bona fide foot mistress like Olivia.

I found Olivia in, of all places, a shoe store in a local mall, where she happens to be the manager and where she first initiated me into the stimulating and satisfying world of female foot worship. Olivia is petite — no more than five-one or -two — with long, straight blonde hair that hangs sensuosly to the small of her back, wide green eyes and a truly cock-warming smile.

But underneath her innocent, little-girl charms lurks the heart of a bewitching tigress, and she knows exactly how to use that delectable little body of hers to bring a simpering man to her feet. And, frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Oliva always says that a  man is never so attractive as when he is down on his knees with his lips pressed humbly to his mistress’ instep, ready to do her bidding. Olivia has trained me in every aspect of how to care and pamper her feet, and I’ve spent many pleasurable hours shaving and oiling her legs, bathing her feet and painting her pretty toenails. Sometimes my mistress even has me paint my own toenails and wear nylons while I wait on her. She says she likes the way my legs and feet look in the stockings and that they help conceal my “barbarian” cock.

Of course, Mistress knows how much I love the whisper of nylons between my thighs and how stimulating they feel against my imprisoned cock. It’s all part of her carefully orchestrated plan to keep me totally under her domination, and she couldn’t have a more willing servant.

One morning Olivia told me to meet her at the mall after closing time. She had given me my own key so that I could let myself into the store. As instructed, I knelt quietly among the racks of shoes, waiting patiently for her to get done adding up the day’s receipts. Olivia and I had talked many times before about my fetish regarding female feet, and I knew that on this night, my long-held fantasies were finally going to come true. As I inhaled the pungent scent of leather and canvas in the air, I could barely contain my excitement. My penis was restlessly stirring in my pants, stiffening in anticipation of what was to come.

Suddenly Olivia appeared in the doorway of her back-room office, and I nearly ejaculated on the spot! Her feet were encased in a pair of shiny, high-heeled leather boots that laced all the way up to her crotch! Except for the boots, she was completely naked, her golden pussy outlined by the gleaming, skintight leather. She stood there in the doorway like a conquering queen, her hands on her hips and her legs spread wide, and glared down at her humble, kneeling subject.

“Do you like?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” I could barely stammer.

“Then show me.”

I knew what she wanted without having to ask. ln an instant I was at her feet, covering the tops of her boots with enthusiastic kisses. My heart was hammering inside my chest, and tears of gratitude were stinging my eyes. I had never felt more complete. It seemed as if I had waited for this moment my entire adult life.

After several minutes of this kind of adoration, Olivia grew bored and ordered me out of my clothes. “My footman must be nude,” she announced. I obeyed her command as quickly as I could and was soon naked and once again kneeling at her feet. I followed on all fours as she walked around the store, scanning the shelves of shoes and making her selections for the evening ahead.

Not six inches from my face, her pert, heart-shaped ass wiggled seductively above the tops of her leather boots. It took a lot of willpower to keep from slipping my tongue between the firm white globes of her lovely behind. But I knew that my mistress would consider it a breach of discipline too great to bear if I were to touch her body without permission. So with my balls swinging heavily between my thighs, I trailed after her like a well-trained dog, ready to do her bidding. At last she settled down in one of the comfortable armchairs on the selling floor and lifted her booted foot onto the footrest.

“Take it off,” she commanded.

It took me nearly ten cock-teasing minutes to undo the laces of the boots; Olivia insisted that I actually pull them free of the boots, hole by hole before I attempted to pull the boots off. At last I was done and slowly, with infinite care, I slid the leather boots from her legs and exposed her lovely, leather-fragrant feet. Olivia’s feet are a little smaller than my hand, with beautiful high arches and the most delicate ankles I have ever seen. Her toes, soft and plump, are perfectly fanned and professionally pedicured, the tiny nails painted a pearly pink.

Olivia complained that her feet were sore and cramped from being inside the boots and that she needed a foot massage. I was only too happy to oblige, taking one of her bare feet in my hands and kneading it gently between my palms. I was immediately gratified by the evidence of how much pleasure I was affording my mistress: She gave a contented little purr and flexed her pretty toes. I took each toe between my fingers, pulling on it and rotating it slowly to work out the tension. Then I repeated the entire operation with her other foot. Unable to help myself, I brought her captive foot closer to my face. On the soft instep I could smell the expensive scent of Opium perfume. My heart once again began to race when I realized that my mistress must have perfumed her delicate feet especially for me.

I was in the middle of these delicious thoughts when Olivia suddenly yanked her foot from my hand. She pointed her toes and angrily jabbed with her foot in the direction of my crotch. “What is that?” she asked imperiously. Of course, my predicament was only too obvious: The attention I’d been paying to her feet had already had its inevitable effect on my poor cock, which was standing ramrod straight against my stomach.

Scolding me for my lack of self-control, Olivia had me crawl to a display of women’s athletic shoes and bring back the pink laces from a pair of ladies Reeboks. As I knelt in front of her, she remedied my embarrassing dilemma by throwing a noose around my swollen balls and trussing them up firmly beneath my cock. Her skilled fingers tied a large bow just over the base of my cock and a smaller one just beneath the swollen head. “There,” she said, satisfied with her handiwork. “That should keep you under control for a while.”

Next she ordered me to bend over the footstool, and with my defenseless ass hoisted high in the air, she spanked me with a women’s carpet slipper. The flat-soled shoe made an excellent paddle and the hard, flexible rubber sole stung like the devil, but I took my punishment without so much as a whimper. It wasn’t hard. By now my cock didn’t know the difference between pain and pleasure, and each blow only served to drive me closer to the point of no return.

When my mistress finally decided that I’d had enough and that my asscheeks were properly toasted, she casually ordered me to bring her a pair of old-fashioned, ankle-high granny boots. With trembling fingers I slipped the little boots onto her feet and laced them up carefully. Olivia stood up and walked back and forth across the floor, stopping to examine the boots in the small foot mirrors placed along the wall. Next she had me bring her a pair of gold high-heeled sandals that laced up to the knee, then a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers with pink fluff on the toes. Next I fitted her with a sexy pair of see-through plastic pumps and admired the heat of her feet, a result of trying on so many shoes. “Cool my feet, slave,” she demanded.

I didn’t waste any time removing the transparent shoes and bringing her succulent toes to my warm lips. Her feet still smelled of the perfume and the heavenly scent of leather, only now the fragrance was mixed with just the barest hint of sweat. The tantalizing combination worked on me like an aphrodisiac, and before long I was servicing her hot, bare feet with my mouth. I smothered them with kisses and nibbled her shapely ankles. I licked and sucked each of her delicate toes in tum and ran my tongue along her sensitive soles as well as in the spaces between her squirming toes.

Olivia leaned back in the chair, gripping the armrests. She giggled, sighed and moaned as I went about my work, the fingers of one hand finding their way to her cunt and slipping through the wet golden curls. “Oh, don’t stop,” she whispered hoarsely, “don’t stop.” Of course I had no intention of stopping, and only moments later, my efforts were rewarded when her legs stiffened and her toes curled with her first orgasm. A second orgasm followed, and then a third. As I continued to devotedly lick and suck her feet, Olivia fingered herself to another two orgasms before collapsing back into the chair, totally exhausted.

At last she recovered and, leaning forward conspiratorially, ordered me to fetch her one last pair of shoes. They were a pair of severe red leather pumps with seven-inch stiletto heels and a rounded, open toe. Olivia had me put the shoes on her feet and kiss her exposed, painted toes. The shoes showed off her feet to perfect advantage, and I could barely contain my excitement at seeing her lovely toes framed and presented in such exquisite fashion. Of course Olivia daintily lifted one foot to my face and pressed the heel of her shoe to my submissive lips.

“Suck it,” she said simply. I did exactly as she told me, taking the heel in my mouth and working my lips up and down its rigid length. I can barely describe my feelings at that moment except to say that kneeling naked at my mistress’ feet, the heel of her shoe between my lips, I felt that I had finally met my destiny. I continued to suck her high heel until it was good and slick, and then Olivia pulled it out of my mouth. She ordered me to lie flat on my back on the floor and lift my knees to my chest to expose my swollen cock and balls.

“That’s some shoehorn you’ve got there, young man,” she mocked me. “Want a little relief?”

“Yes,” I murmured.

“Yes, what?” she said sharply.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s better.”

She reached down and picked carefully at the knots in the shoelace binding my cock and balls. Released from bondage, I felt the circulation blaze back into my already throbbing, aching-hard erection.

“Feel better?”

“Yes, Mistress.” I grimaced.

Olivia smiled, and I saw the wickedly sexy look in her eyes. She ordered me to spread my asscheeks with my hands, and then she casually rested that same foot in my lap with the heel of the shoe, which I had just sucked, resting against my defenseless asshole. She calmly lectured me on the finer points of submissive etiquette and on how a man’s proper place was at a woman’s feet. Every once in a while, she would emphasize her lecture by prodding my ass with the heel of her shoe.

By now I was so excited I could barely hear her words, and it was all I could do to keep from impaling myself on the heel of her shoe. It was then that I realized I had achieved total transformation into my mistress’ foot servant. For as I moaned and thrashed, naked, on the floor at her lovely feet, I understood that she was fulfilling my ultimate fantasy.

Olivia slipped her other pump off and pressed the warm underside of her right foot against my painfully erect cock. She ran her smooth sole over my swollen organ, rolling the engorged flesh under the soft ball of her foot. She teased the head of my cock with her big toe, flicking the glans with her painted nail, and pressed firmly on the shaft with her heel whenever I seemed about to come.

When finally she was sufficiently amused by my struggles, Olivia grasped my cock in the soft gap between her first and second toes and pumped her foot vigorously. Fortunately she sensed that the end was near, so I was able to obey her final command almost immediately.

“Come,” my beautiful mistress ordered in a masterful tone.

Hot come leaped from my pulsing cock, splattering across my face and chest. A pool of semen collected in the hollow of my stomach and Olivia soaked her pretty toes in the warm puddle. As a final humiliation, she held her bare foot to my mouth and made me lick her toes clean. I Lasted my salty sperm on her warm flesh, and as I carefully licked and shrimped each of her little toes, I realized that I’d found true contentment at long last, lying at the feet of my demanding foot mistress.

As we dressed and got ready for a late dinner, I reflected again on my incredible luck in finding a woman who enjoys foot worship as much as I do. While I turned out the lights in the store, Olivia padded barefoot from the back room. She gave me a warm, lingering kiss and told me how much she had enjoyed the session. As a special reward, she allowed me to pick out the shoes I wanted her to wear for the evening.

“The glass slippers,” I said without hesitation.

“Nice choice,” she said and smiled. “Go fetch them.”

A few moments later I knelt and slipped the plastic shoes onto her tiny feet. Olivia turned her beautiful feet from side to side, admiring the way they looked inside the oh-so-sexy shoes. “Just like Cinderella,” she said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”