Ex G/f sore feet, part 2: Lisa in Heels

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Posted by belial99us on August 13, 2002 at 01:59:41:

This happened several months after part one. (Note: the names in my stories have been/will be altered, but all the events are true).

Lisa almost never wore high heels. She found them very uncomfortable and could not understand why women wore them or why men found them so attractive. I had confessed to her on a couple of occasions that I found it sexy when a woman is in a little bit of pain (the expression on the face of a woman in pain is very similar to the expression on the face of a woman in ecstasy—ecstasy is definitely preferable; I don’t believe in torture, but if a woman is suffering in a non-life-altering fashion, not because of any action of mine, I think my enjoyment of it redeems her suffering in a certain way—but is more novel in that it occurs more frequently and in a wider range of settings and situations) and she knew without my telling her that I liked her feet, and women’s feet in general, but I had never expressed a particular preference for high heels. I had been thinking, ‘why push my luck?’. My luck being that: 1) Lisa frequently went barefoot so I would see her beautiful feet almost every day. 2) She had very sensitive feet in general. They would start to bother her after about ninety minutes of standing or walking. Her job required that she remain standing for five to six hours at time (granted, there would be a fifteen minute coffee break) and her feet would be aching badly every time she finished a shift. 3) Since she almost always wore flat shoes (Doc Martins, sandals, or flat sling-backs), most of her weight would rest on her heels. The heel is my favorite part of a woman’s foot, especially when it was hurting her, so it was ideal for me that her heels would suffer the most from prolonged standing, since I would get to massage them.
Anyhow, it seemed to me that she had started to suspect that I find women in high heels particularly attractive, probably from watching my eyes involuntarily follow beautiful high-heeled women. (Nonetheless, I have at least an equally strong preference for women with sore feet, such that Lisa was ideal in that regard, but as women in high heels are more likely to suffer from sore feet, most of the women who would catch my gaze were probably in heels, footsore or not). She had been mentioning frequently that she would never were high heels in a manner that literally invited me to object. She said that she had worn high heels to a wedding years ago and the pain was so bad she would never forget it. I never did anything to persuade her to wear heels.
When Halloween rolled around we agreed to attend a costume party at a friend’s house. Lisa was more theatrically inclined that I was. She knew there was little hope of my bothering to acquire an intricate costume, so she said she would go all out for both of us, and I said go ahead and gave her some money to contribute to her costume fund.
As per my suggestion, Lisa dressed up as a succubus (she-devil). She wore a skimpy black skirt, a red blouse, sheer black stockings…and three inch black stilleto heels. And these little red devil horns that looked really cute on her (yeah, anticlimactic after the heels, but I it deserves mention). It gets better. We had to walk from her place to the party, almost two miles, and she knew this already when she bought the heels. I told her she looked incredible.
[Note: She had just come from work when I met her at her house, and had been on her feet in Doc Martins for five hours already, so her heels were hurting her as usual].
We left for the party at about eight. We held hands, walking very slowly and sedately, talking about things. We had not hit half a mile when she fell silent and sped up the pace. I asked her what was wrong and she just sort of looked at me and winced. I asked if she wanted to be carried and she said that I was ‘sweet’, but that she would get spoiled if I did that all the time and there would be no carrying tonight, even if she complained on the way back.
I chose this point to ask why she had worn high heels, since she always decried them. She said that she wore them for me, because she knew I liked them. I kissed her and promised to rub her feet later. She said that that definitely had to be part of the bargain, because her feet were already screaming and we weren’t half way there yet.
It took us about forty minutes to arrive at the party. By then, Lisa’s feet were killing her and she was obviously limping and her pretty face evidenced an occasional grimace of pain. The party was taking place on the patio, and we were immediately accosted by numerous friends and acquaintances. Poor Lisa would have liked nothing better than to sit down and take her shoes off of her aching feet, but all of the chairs and benches were occupied (many other people were standing, and there were some pretty girls in provocative costumes dipping going on at the party, but by this point I had eyes only for Lisa). Well, actually I took the last seat and started drinking beer. Lisa shot me a sexy scowl/grimace type of look. The poor girl was in agony. She shifted her weight constantly from foot to foot and began dipping almost immediately. She knew I would be watching and that was okay, but was shy in general about people looking at her (it probably took some nerve on her part to dress up as a succubus), so her dipping was surreptitious, and all the more sexy for being so. Since she was short, she go tip-toe, pretending to be looking for someone while affording much needed relief to her heels and arches. When she did this her succulent right heel would pop out of her pump every time, and usually her left as well. This was phase one. Phase two involved removing one foot entirely from her shoe without placing that foot on the ground (balancing as if nothing untoward were going on), flexing her sore toes and gently rubbing the balls of her feet on the top of her shoe. She quickly abandoned this method however as it was clearly murder on the foot she balanced on. By this time she was looking around almost desperately for something to lean on. There was absolutely nothing (more people were arriving all the time).
Lisa’s dipping grew more and more frequent and pronounced. Every few seconds one of her aching feet would leave its shoe, flexing extravagantly in search of any relief whatsoever, giving full view of her soles. Her soles had never looked as good as they did that night in those black stockings.
She lasted almost a full hour (full of the best shoeplay I have ever seen from a woman who did not mind, much less accepted and probably enjoyed, my watching) before she couldn’t take it any more. She hobbled over with halting steps and sat on my lap.
(Note: Her dialogue is accurate. Mine is paraphrased)
“I’m dying.” She whispered, “My FEET! They hurt SO MUCH.” That was all she said about it at that moment. She left her stiletto heels on. I finished my beer and a friend passed me another.
“There is no possible way I am going to be able to walk home.”
“I figured,” I said. “Here I was hoping to get too drunk to be able to carry you.”
“Can’t we stay here?”
Hey. Why not? Other people had usurped the basement of my friend’s place for sexual purposes who weren’t nearly as good friends with him as I was…. EUREKA!
“Let’s.” I told her we could sleep on the downstairs futon.
“Will you massage my feet after this beer?” she asked, looking up at me seductively.
I said something about her being my favorite she-devil which she rightly took for agreement. I later amended the agreement to three shots, a toke and two beers, which took another hour, by arguing that it would be antisocial to use my friend’s house for sex before at least talking to him (even though I was on the verge of doing just that, since my resistance to her charm was waning fast). In the meanwhile, the chair beside mine was finally vacated and Lisa sat down, moving her chair behind mine so that the leg she crossed over her knee would be hidden from most of the people. She did her right leg first (she eventually did both two or three times), pulling her pump almost off with her hand, so that it dangled by her toes and she could access the entire sole of her foot. She would knead in small circles with her fingertips, wincing occasionally. She began with the heel of her right foot and moved forwards along her arch, spending a long time on the ball of her foot (all the while trying to conceal this from people). Her left foot she did in reverse, starting with the ball and working in the opposite direction (still fascinates me that each foot would hurt her differently like that). She rubbed her feet almost constantly until I was finished drinking, whereupon we went downstairs. The moan that escaped her lips when she put weight on her sore, sore feet was among the most erotic sounds I have ever heard.
We went downstairs and Lisa sat on the futon and immediately removed her shoes, saying they were absolute hell on her sore feet. I asked why she did not take them off and stand in her stockings earlier. She said that she did not want everyone to notice her doing that, or anyone to swipe her new shoes since she had paid for them, and that painful as the stiletto pumps were, the heels of her feet were killing way to badly to stand flat-footed on concrete and that she didn’t think she could have gone five minutes like that. I asked which foot she wanted me to start with and she said the right. I asked if she wanted her stockings on or off and she said pull the stocking down over my right heel and massage it bare, very softly. I was totally loving this, if that is not obvious. I began stroking her bare, aching heel gently with my thumb and palm and she moaned beautifully. She said when you get to my left (hopefully not for some time), leave the stocking on and do it like that.
By the time I had finished her right foot we were both so aroused that her left had to wait until after act 1 (sex with Lisa), and was shortly followed by act 2 (sex with Lisa), but as usual it seemed that her right foot was the source of most of her suffering.

What do you think? Was this one too long? Anyhow, as always, I am interested in anything similar involving women with sore or aching feet.

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: : This happened several months after part one. (Note: the names in my stories have been/will be altered, but all the events are true). : Lisa almost never wore high heels. She found them very uncomfortable and could not understand why women wore them or why men found them so attractive. I had confessed to her on a couple of occasions that I found it sexy when a woman is in a little bit of pain (the expression on the face of a woman in pain is very similar to the expression on the face of a woman in ecstasy—ecstasy is definitely preferable; I don’t believe in torture, but if a woman is suffering in a non-life-altering fashion, not because of any action of mine, I think my enjoyment of it redeems her suffering in a certain way—but is more novel in that it occurs more frequently and in a wider range of settings and situations) and she knew without my telling her that I liked her feet, and women’s feet in general, but I had never expressed a particular preference for high heels. I had been thinking, ‘why push my luck?’. My luck being that: 1) Lisa frequently went barefoot so I would see her beautiful feet almost every day. 2) She had very sensitive feet in general. They would start to bother her after about ninety minutes of standing or walking. Her job required that she remain standing for five to six hours at time (granted, there would be a fifteen minute coffee break) and her feet would be aching badly every time she finished a shift. 3) Since she almost always wore flat shoes (Doc Martins, sandals, or flat sling-backs), most of her weight would rest on her heels. The heel is my favorite part of a woman’s foot, especially when it was hurting her, so it was ideal for me that her heels would suffer the most from prolonged standing, since I would get to massage them. : Anyhow, it seemed to me that she had started to suspect that I find women in high heels particularly attractive, probably from watching my eyes involuntarily follow beautiful high-heeled women. (Nonetheless, I have at least an equally strong preference for women with sore feet, such that Lisa was ideal in that regard, but as women in high heels are more likely to suffer from sore feet, most of the women who would catch my gaze were probably in heels, footsore or not). She had been mentioning frequently that she would never were high heels in a manner that literally invited me to object. She said that she had worn high heels to a wedding years ago and the pain was so bad she would never forget it. I never did anything to persuade her to wear heels. : When Halloween rolled around we agreed to attend a costume party at a friend’s house. Lisa was more theatrically inclined that I was. She knew there was little hope of my bothering to acquire an intricate costume, so she said she would go all out for both of us, and I said go ahead and gave her some money to contribute to her costume fund. : As per my suggestion, Lisa dressed up as a succubus (she-devil). She wore a skimpy black skirt, a red blouse, sheer black stockings…and three inch black stilleto heels. And these little red devil horns that looked really cute on her (yeah, anticlimactic after the heels, but I it deserves mention). It gets better. We had to walk from her place to the party, almost two miles, and she knew this already when she bought the heels. I told her she looked incredible. : [Note: She had just come from work when I met her at her house, and had been on her feet in Doc Martins for five hours already, so her heels were hurting her as usual]. : We left for the party at about eight. We held hands, walking very slowly and sedately, talking about things. We had not hit half a mile when she fell silent and sped up the pace. I asked her what was wrong and she just sort of looked at me and winced. I asked if she wanted to be carried and she said that I was ‘sweet’, but that she would get spoiled if I did that all the time and there would be no carrying tonight, even if she complained on the way back. : I chose this point to ask why she had worn high heels, since she always decried them. She said that she wore them for me, because she knew I liked them. I kissed her and promised to rub her feet later. She said that that definitely had to be part of the bargain, because her feet were already screaming and we weren’t half way there yet. : It took us about forty minutes to arrive at the party. By then, Lisa’s feet were killing her and she was obviously limping and her pretty face evidenced an occasional grimace of pain. The party was taking place on the patio, and we were immediately accosted by numerous friends and acquaintances. Poor Lisa would have liked nothing better than to sit down and take her shoes off of her aching feet, but all of the chairs and benches were occupied (many other people were standing, and there were some pretty girls in provocative costumes dipping going on at the party, but by this point I had eyes only for Lisa). Well, actually I took the last seat and started drinking beer. Lisa shot me a sexy scowl/grimace type of look. The poor girl was in agony. She shifted her weight constantly from foot to foot and began dipping almost immediately. She knew I would be watching and that was okay, but was shy in general about people looking at her (it probably took some nerve on her part to dress up as a succubus), so her dipping was surreptitious, and all the more sexy for being so. Since she was short, she go tip-toe, pretending to be looking for someone while affording much needed relief to her heels and arches. When she did this her succulent right heel would pop out of her pump every time, and usually her left as well. This was phase one. Phase two involved removing one foot entirely from her shoe without placing that foot on the ground (balancing as if nothing untoward were going on), flexing her sore toes and gently rubbing the balls of her feet on the top of her shoe. She quickly abandoned this method however as it was clearly murder on the foot she balanced on. By this time she was looking around almost desperately for something to lean on. There was absolutely nothing (more people were arriving all the time). : Lisa’s dipping grew more and more frequent and pronounced. Every few seconds one of her aching feet would leave its shoe, flexing extravagantly in search of any relief whatsoever, giving full view of her soles. Her soles had never looked as good as they did that night in those black stockings. : She lasted almost a full hour (full of the best shoeplay I have ever seen from a woman who did not mind, much less accepted and probably enjoyed, my watching) before she couldn’t take it any more. She hobbled over with halting steps and sat on my lap. : (Note: Her dialogue is accurate. Mine is paraphrased) : “I’m dying.” She whispered, “My FEET! They hurt SO MUCH.” That was all she said about it at that moment. She left her stiletto heels on. I finished my beer and a friend passed me another. : “There is no possible way I am going to be able to walk home.” : “I figured,” I said. “Here I was hoping to get too drunk to be able to carry you.” : “Can’t we stay here?” : Hey. Why not? Other people had usurped the basement of my friend’s place for sexual purposes who weren’t nearly as good friends with him as I was…. EUREKA! : “Let’s.” I told her we could sleep on the downstairs futon. : “Will you massage my feet after this beer?” she asked, looking up at me seductively. : I said something about her being my favorite she-devil which she rightly took for agreement. I later amended the agreement to three shots, a toke and two beers, which took another hour, by arguing that it would be antisocial to use my friend’s house for sex before at least talking to him (even though I was on the verge of doing just that, since my resistance to her charm was waning fast). In the meanwhile, the chair beside mine was finally vacated and Lisa sat down, moving her chair behind mine so that the leg she crossed over her knee would be hidden from most of the people. She did her right leg first (she eventually did both two or three times), pulling her pump almost off with her hand, so that it dangled by her toes and she could access the entire sole of her foot. She would knead in small circles with her fingertips, wincing occasionally. She began with the heel of her right foot and moved forwards along her arch, spending a long time on the ball of her foot (all the while trying to conceal this from people). Her left foot she did in reverse, starting with the ball and working in the opposite direction (still fascinates me that each foot would hurt her differently like that). She rubbed her feet almost constantly until I was finished drinking, whereupon we went downstairs. The moan that escaped her lips when she put weight on her sore, sore feet was among the most erotic sounds I have ever heard. : We went downstairs and Lisa sat on the futon and immediately removed her shoes, saying they were absolute hell on her sore feet. I asked why she did not take them off and stand in her stockings earlier. She said that she did not want everyone to notice her doing that, or anyone to swipe her new shoes since she had paid for them, and that painful as the stiletto pumps were, the heels of her feet were killing way to badly to stand flat-footed on concrete and that she didn’t think she could have gone five minutes like that. I asked which foot she wanted me to start with and she said the right. I asked if she wanted her stockings on or off and she said pull the stocking down over my right heel and massage it bare, very softly. I was totally loving this, if that is not obvious. I began stroking her bare, aching heel gently with my thumb and palm and she moaned beautifully. She said when you get to my left (hopefully not for some time), leave the stocking on and do it like that. : By the time I had finished her right foot we were both so aroused that her left had to wait until after act 1 (sex with Lisa), and was shortly followed by act 2 (sex with Lisa), but as usual it seemed that her right foot was the source of most of her suffering. : What do you think? Was this one too long? Anyhow, as always, I am interested in anything similar involving women with sore or aching feet.

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