by Ella Ford
She turned back to face me and smirked, looking down at my lap. “Are you going to let me have that back or did you think you’d keep it?” she said with a wry smile.
I looked down and gasped as I realized that I was still clutching her shoe. “I’m sorry, I… I....” I stammered, blushing furiously now and thinking that it would be a wonderful time for my future self to finally appear.
Miss Todd laughed out loud, then she raised her left foot, pointing her toes towards me. “Why don’t you put it back on for me and we’ll say nothing more of this whole affair?” she purred, sitting back in the chair.
I felt my pulse quicken as the nylon covered foot was offered to me. Then I nodded and reached forward, taking hold of her heel with trembling fingers. I exhaled deeply as I felt the soft material of her pantyhose brush against my skin. She flexed her toes provocatively, inviting me forwards. I lifted the shoe and gripped it by the heel, transfixed by her dancing toes and the feelings that were coursing through my body.
As I prepared to slip the shoe onto her foot, she spoke again. “Wait,” she began. “Would you like to … touch my feet?” she inquired, her voice low and sultry.
I blinked, embarrassed that I’d been so obvious in my intentions. I peered upwards at Miss Todd over the top of my glasses, unsure what this was leading to, but driven now by instincts that were insistent and bold in a way that my instincts normally weren’t. A thousand thoughts roared through my mind: my usual timidness and awkwardness fading into the background behind the furious urges of this obsessive fetish. And one thought dominated - the thought of Monique and her soft pantyhose, the long line of her legs and her delicate feet, her naked pussy trapped beneath the thin nylon material, so utterly enticing and inviting. It was this thought above all else that drove what happened next, that held me in place on the floor before Miss Todd instead of jumping to my feet and running out of the library to find a deep hole to crawl into. Monique and her pretty, soft feet.
Sighing deeply, I nodded, signalling my desire to this older woman, embarking on a path that I dared not consider and couldn’t possibly have predicted.
“Go on then,” she said, sinking back in the chair.
I set the shoe down by my side and turned my attention to her pantyhosed foot, gripping it with both of my hands. I studied it, holding it up to my face so that I could examine every forbidden inch of it.
I gazed at her toes, perfect and tiny, with nails painted a deep crimson. I traced my finger gingerly along the thick line of the seam that snaked across the top of her toes, following that undulating line with rapt attention. I followed the curve of her arch, pulling my nail over the soft skin of her sole. She gasped as I did so, tightening her leg muscle and pulling away from me slightly, but allowing me to continue.
I’d completely forgotten where I was, utterly unaware of my surroundings and the inappropriateness of what I was doing. My awareness had collapsed to a single focal point, the captivating object that I held before me. My mind raced, alive with possibility and potential. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, that I was living out my dream on this dreary Wednesday morning, yet it felt perfectly right and normal.
With my heart hammering in my chest, I leaned forward and brushed my cheek on the sole of her foot, rubbing the soft warmth of her on my skin, relishing the gentle friction on my face. I closed my eyes, and rolled my head from side to side, nudging her with my nose and daring to let my lips caress the silky material. I was suddenly deeply aware of her, her smell and her taste. It wasn’t unpleasant by any stretch of the imagination, a curious mix of the leather of her shoe and her own essence. She smelled alive and sensual, an invigorating cocktail that drove me wild and ignited a particular feeling in my midsection.
I gasped, driven forward by the overwhelming sensation of her presence. I pulled my head back and began to stroke her foot with my hands, digging my thumbs into her sole and kneading her flesh roughly. I stroked up and down, manipulating her arch like a giant cock, unable to get enough of the softness of her pantyhose and the moist warmth of her skin. I felt as though the simple sense of touch was not enough, and I craved more, more than my fingers could ever give me.
I glanced up at her and found her staring back at me with rapt attention, a look of hungry longing on her face. Her hand was raised to her cheek where her fingers were gently touching, and her mouth was parted slightly. Her breath was fast and short; sharp pants through immaculately painted lips.
I locked my eyes on hers, pleading for what I wanted, seeking her approval. Without exchanging a single word, she implicitly understood what I was asking and nodded her assent. I sighed deeply, feeling an enormous burden lift from me. I felt as though my entire life had been building to this moment, the culmination of every sordid fantasy that ever ravished my young mind.
Looking away from her, I parted my lips and leaned forward, then lightly kissed her sole. An electric sensation rushed down my spine as my mouth touched her foot. It pushed me forwards, urging me on in this sensual exploration. I turned my attention to her toes and wrapped my lips around those squirming digits, savoring the rich taste and exploring them with my eager tongue.
Miss Todd was breathing deeply, each breath sounding more and more like a moan. She shifted on the seat, pushing forwards to allow me greater access to her body. I took the bait and stroked my hand down her calf, enjoying the way her toned muscle felt under my fingertips, never once taking her toes from my mouth. With gathering confidence, I caressed her behind her knee, and onwards to her thigh. Then I gasped as I reached forward and found the complex lace of a stocking top. She wasn’t wearing pantyhose! She was wearing thigh high stockings! It seems like such a small detail, but this forbidden knowledge thrilled me enormously and flooded my mind with unfamiliar thoughts.
All the while, my throbbing pussy pulsed with every touch, every taste. Waves of pleasure radiated outwards, saturating my senses with an overwhelming intensity that I had never experienced in my young life. I felt emboldened, freed of the crippling anxiety that held me back. I wanted more, more! I wanted to explore every inch of this woman, to have her explore me in turn.
Suddenly, I heard the familiar slam of the outer door to the reference room closing. I froze in place and looked up at Miss Todd, wide eyed and full of panic, her foot still touched to my lips. Someone was coming! It was probably Sasha, wondering where I’d got to.
Miss Todd peered down at me and smirked, a look of mischievousness spreading across her face. “Oh my,” she purred, “it looks as though the jig is up.”
I pleaded with my eyes for her to do something, not entirely sure what I expected, but painfully aware that I couldn’t be caught like this. On my knees, with her stockinged foot in my mouth, my pussy throbbing with a debilitating intensity.
“I guess you’d better get back under the desk, hadn’t you?” she drawled and pushed back in her chair.
I nodded, unable to do anything else but obey her, then crawled back under the desk, returning to the furthest recess of the confined space.
As the inner door to the reference room swung open, Miss Todd pulled forward in her seat, trapping me in place between her parted legs. Then, to my surprise, she shuffled forwards on the chair, parting her legs wider and allowing her peach colored skirt to ride up her thighs and gather around her hips. I found myself face to face with the delicate lace of her panties, the flimsy white satin barely covering the line of her pussy.
“Hi Miss Todd,” I heard Sasha say from the other end of the bank of desks, “have you seen Jess anywhere? She came in here to return some books and I haven’t seen her since.”
Miss Todd shuffled forwards further still until my face was inches from her inviting sex. I could smell it now, a different aroma to her feet, but just as compelling. It was rich and musky, the encapsulation of her desire. I found myself calmed by the sense of her, and also curious. Slowly, she stroked her stockinged foot down my thigh, the silky material of her stockings sliding over the thick black tig
hts that I wore. I gasped, then slammed my hand over my mouth.
“I haven’t seen her all morning darling,” replied Miss Todd, “but I’m sure she’s around here somewhere, making herself useful,” she finished, then tapped my thigh with her toes.
I knew what she wanted, I knew what I wanted, and I found myself happy to oblige. I leaned forwards slightly and lifted my hand to push her panties aside. I studied her pussy, surveying the complex geography of her lips with detached fascination. Then I flicked out my tongue and brushed it lightly over her salty flesh. She gasped and tensed above me, tightening her legs on my shoulders.
“Are you okay Miss Todd?” said Sasha, a note of concern in her voice.
“Yes dear, just a little indigestion,” Miss Todd replied, regaining her composure.
I pressed forward again, sinking my tongue deeper into her labia, teasing my way through this strange landscape. I was suddenly filled with her taste, the essence of her sex. It was an invigorating sensation, overwhelming and bold. Again and again, I lapped at her, exploring the tight opening of her hole and finding the throbbing nub of her clitoris. She was dripping wet, slick with desire and lust. My hungry tongue pushed deeper, satisfying my craving for that perplexing moisture.
“Oh well, I guess I’d better finish returning these books for her,” said Sasha with glum resignation. I felt a distant stab of guilt that I was adding to my colleague’s burden, but I didn’t pause. I was possessed now, driven forward by the pulsing ache in my pussy and a hunger that was new and overwhelming. I lifted my arms and coiled my arms around her thighs, locking myself in place and gripping her like a boa constrictor. She gasped again and I pressed forward on her clit, swirling my tongue in tight circles, relishing the reaction it provoked.
“I-I just remembered dear,” said Miss Todd, her trembling voice betraying her pleasure in a way that seemed obvious, “I-I think I… oh… saw Jessica down by the children’s section. She was… she was cleaning up a spill,” she lied unconvincingly.
As I sucked at Miss Todd’s delicious pussy, I thought I could sense the incredulity in Sasha as she mulled over the woman’s deception. But Sasha wasn’t a smart girl, and she gave in to gullibility eventually. “Oh, okay Miss Todd. I guess I’ll go and look for her there then,” she replied, not sounding entirely convinced. “Say, are you sure you’re okay? You look kind of sick?”
“I-I’m okay dear, now run along, I need to get back to… ah… work.”
Seconds later, I heard the inner door slam shut, closely followed by the outer door and I allowed myself to relax slightly. Then, without further encouragement, I turned my full attention back to Miss Todd’s pussy and quickened my pace, furiously lapping at her bulging clitoris and slurping her lips into my mouth.
Above me, the older woman slid forward in the seat, pushing herself onto me, then reached down a trembling hand and clutched at my hair, pulling me forwards. I didn’t try to resist, wanting only to help her achieve what we both needed. I doubled down on her clit, pressing it, pushing it against her pelvic bone, moving my tongue from side to side.
Miss Todd moaned and panted heavily. I lifted my eyes and found her head thrown back, mouth held open and eyes squeezed shut. “Oh fuck, yes, yes, right there,” she cried out to herself as much as to me.
For several minutes I worked on her, sensing the building tension in her body. Then suddenly, she gasped inwards and held her breath. Her legs tightened around my head, and I felt myself smothered by her nylon covered thighs. Her hand grasped my hair, pulling me forward one final time. “Ah, ah,” she moaned as the orgasm exploded within her. I allowed myself to relax, to be held in place and share in this moment of climax.
Finally, after endless moments, the tension left her body and she appeared to deflate. She sunk down in the seat and started to pant quickly. Her hand left my shoulders and her legs went limp, falling to my sides and allowing me to remove my mouth from her pussy. I licked my lips and wiped my face with my fingers. I was wet with her, covered in her taste and smell. My pussy was roaring, hungry for more, desperate for release.
In time, Miss Todd opened her eyes and peered down at me. I gazed back at her from the floor, completely hypnotized by this perplexing woman.
“Oh my Jessica, you’re very good at that, you must have had lots of practice,” she said.
I felt myself blushing and lowered my eyes to the floor, shaking my head.
“Say, I have an idea Jessica, if I may be so bold,” she began and I looked back up at her with captivated eyes. “How would you like to be in a movie?” she asked.
My mind reeled, racing with possibility once more. What did she mean? I had no idea, no clue what was even happening or what I wanted, other than an insistent need for satisfaction.
But slowly, inevitably, I nodded. Yes, yes I did want to be in a movie.
Chapter 3: Bad girls need discipline
After our steamy encounter, Miss Laura Todd straightened herself up and packed her belongings into her stylish leather shoulder bag. As she was about to leave, she turned to me, still standing by the desk, as if waiting to be dismissed. She fished in her purse for a few seconds, then pulled out a powder pink business card with her address scrawled on the back of it in tidy handwriting. I turned the card over in my hands as though I’d never seen such a thing before. She looked at me and smiled, then lifted a hand to my cheek, cupping my face in her palm.
“Be at this address on Sunday at nine in the morning. Don’t be late,” she said matter-of-factly, then paused for a second and added, “Oh, and be sure to dress appropriately.”
I nodded, and felt the warm flush returning to my cheeks. How could I dress appropriately if I didn’t even know what I was doing? But I didn’t enquire further, I simply wanted her to leave so that I could replay the last half an hour in my mind, over and over and over.
After a few seconds of scrutiny, she flashed a final smile, then turned on her heel and strode out of the library.
I spent the rest of the week in a fog of confused uncertainty. The lingering memory of what had happened in the reference room resonated in my mind long after the dull throb in my pussy had been taken care of. I found myself unable to concentrate on anything else. Every task I undertook at work was played out to a backdrop of remembered sensation: the touch of her feet, the smell of her sex, the taste of her pussy lips. But as the week wore on, the memory of what was became replaced by the anticipation of what was to come.
What had she meant? “Do you want to be in a movie?” Oh, I’m not naive. I knew that she ran that peculiar fetish porn site. But she couldn’t mean that, could she? She didn’t mean that she wanted to put me in a porn video and upload it to the site did she? Surely not… but, maybe.
I should have run a mile, I know that now, but somehow I didn’t. My awakened desire was so strong that I was prepared to risk everything to achieve satisfaction, to explore these newfound passions down whatever path they led me.
So, when Sunday rolled around, I was a bubbling bag of pent up sexual energy. I woke early, not a phrase I utter with any great regularity, and spent an uncharacteristic amount of time choosing my outfit.
I had no idea what to wear, in truth. She’d said that I should “dress appropriately”, but what did that mean? In the end, I decided to base my outfit around what had gotten me into this mess in the first place: pantyhose.
I started with a pair of sheer, black hose and my best pair of panties and bra. Over these, I slipped into a short, tartan skirt, that was loose and flighty and made my legs look impossibly long. Finally, a strappy black vest top and low heeled pumps with a funky little strap across my foot. With my honey blonde hair tied up behind my head in a stylishly-messy tangle, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror and peered at myself over the top of my glasses. Wow! I looked pretty good, if I did say so myself. But was I dressed “appropriately”? Only time would tell.
I took a taxi ride from my apartment to the address on the business card. It wasn’t a long trip, but it
took me out of the area I knew and out to the hillside suburbs that overlooked the city. Miss Todd’s house was a modern, white villa behind a high wall and imposing iron gate. I paid the taxi driver, accidentally tipping him way more than he deserved but lacking the courage to correct my mistake, and stepped up to the gate.
I approached the intercom and pressed the buzzer with my heart hammering. Something inside me hoped that Miss Todd wasn’t in or that this was the wrong address, the result of an elaborate practical joke. But after just a few seconds, a tinny voice from the speaker greeted me.
“Hello, ah, Jessica, welcome,” said Miss Todd in that unmistakable accent that was impossible to place.
“Hi Miss Todd, I’m here for…” I began, without really know how I was going to end that sentence. What was I here for?
I could almost sense Miss Todd smiling her wry smile of amusement and felt my face flush with embarrassment. “Yes Jessica, I remember,” she drawled, “I’ll buzz you in.”
Seconds later, the intercom buzzed and the large gate began to trundle sideways, allowing me to enter. I looked up the drive at the bold, white house that awaited beyond. It was impossibly bright in the early morning sunshine and overwhelmingly imposing. A fortress of stark white walls and clean lines. There was barely a window in sight, just a large, black door in the center of one of the external surface. With shaking legs, I made my way up the gravel drive and stopped before this grand opening.
Before I could do anything, the door swung open and Miss Todd stepped out to greet me. She was wearing a flimsy summer dress with a pretty floral print. It was tied around her neck with a single strap that left her shoulders and upper arms uncovered. Her skin was smooth and tanned, unblemished and perfectly even. Her legs were bare, and she wore wedge heeled sandals on her feet. Her whole look was entirely at odds with her usual appearance. There was no sign of the serious business woman here, no hint of the pristine lines of her sharp skirt suit or tight blouse. She looked wonderfully fresh and I found my hungry mind wondering what she was wearing underneath the flimsy summer dress. Hey, I was a pervert now, that’s what we do, okay?
