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               K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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A Shoe With a View
by PetShelly (petshellyiso@hotmail.com)

***

Written from a woman's perspective, a man and woman go 
shoe shopping. (Mdom/F, exh)

***

Until I met him, I was just ordinary. Not anyone that 
would stand out at the local grocery. Just another one 
of the women you see each day doing the things women 
do; shopping, running errands, rushing from one 
function to the next responsibility. I had private 
thoughts, secret fantasies, desires, but I had no one 
to share them with.

Which doesn’t explain what I was doing walking into 
this expensive store in an outfit that would get me 
kicked out of the PTA. It hadn’t started out like this. 
It was all pretty ordinary in the beginning. I was 
attracted to his smile, his intelligence, the fact that 
he made me laugh. Then gradually, we started sharing 
those private things we had almost forgotten. We 
enjoyed each others fantasies. Sentences that began, "I 
think I’d like to try..." made us perk up in 
anticipation, and we usually found that we wanted to 
try the same things. 

Desires that had been suppressed were shyly brought 
forth, encouraged, and elaborated on. Instead of the 
things that originally attracted me, my desire for him 
came to be based on the fact that no one else had ever 
accepted me the way he did. As I admitted my feelings 
of submission, he admitted his desire to dominate. 
Every kink was one that, if not always matched, was 
something that we would be willing to try with one 
another.

Which is how I ended up in Mansour’s in a cream silk 
blouse, a short black skirt, heels, lacy stockings, and 
a pink lace bra. Over the years we had become more 
public, more daring, had pushed the edges of taste and 
good sense until we were in this store, walking towards 
the shoe department. I feel his hand in the small of my 
back, insistently pushing me towards the inevitable, 
steering me with his hand to his goal. We walk briskly, 
at least as briskly as a man and woman can walk when 
she is wearing 4-inch spike heels, and I can hear his 
rapid breath behind and above me, rapid not from 
overexertion but excitement and anticipation.

He calls me ‘His Pet’ and he likes showing me off. And 
I like pleasing him. His cunt is already wet while my 
mind races, wondering if I’m actually about to do this, 
will he think badly of me for doing what he wants, am I 
going to get arrested, shamed, told to leave, have my 
Mansour’s card shredded, told to never return again?

We turn past Women’s Wear and there it is, the shoe 
department. I stop. He leans down and quietly whispers 
in my ear "It’s ok. We don’t have to unless you want 
to." And he smiles his beautiful smile. And I smile 
back because I know with him there, even losing my 
Mansour’s card can’t be that bad. Anything short of 
being arrested would be something to share and laugh 
about later.

I resume walking. We’ve talked about this so many 
times. It’s been a recurrent fantasy. I already know 
what he wants. I walk to the chairs and quietly take a 
seat. I don’t say anything. He takes his place behind 
my chair, puts his hand on my right shoulder, and we 
wait for the clerk to approach us.

It’s a young man in his twenties, dressed like shoe 
salesmen in fine department stores dress. He greets me 
and is startled when my Master is the one who answers 
him. I smile at him as my Master instructs him on what 
we want, "I want to see what you have in a size 7, 
heels at least 4 inches," I almost laugh when the young 
man gulps and says, "Yes Sir," and rushes off to gather 
what is required.

As we wait, my Master moves his hand from my shoulder 
and traces his fingers along my jaw. I shiver at the 
feel of him, thinking of what those fingers will be 
doing in a few moments.

The clerk returns with a stack of five shoeboxes, 
kneels at my feet and opens the first one. He looks up 
at my Master and says "I think these may be what you’re 
looking for’ and he takes out a beautiful pair of 
shoes. They are gold sandals with bangle ankle cuffs 
that zip up the back. My Master says "Yes, I think 
that’s exactly the sort of thing we’re looking for."

The clerk reaches for my right foot and I lift it into 
his hand. My skirt is so short that when I sat down it 
came up on my thighs. As I move my foot, it pulls even 
higher and just a hint of the lace at the top of my 
right stocking can now be seen. My Master’s hand has 
returned to my shoulder and I feel it give the first 
gentle squeeze and I open my thighs slightly.

The clerk places a shoe on each foot, demonstrates the 
intricate fastenings, and asks if I’d like to stand and 
see how they feel. I look up at my Master and he nods 
his approval. I stand and walk to the mirror, look at 
the shoes from different angles, and walk back and take 
my seat.

My Master tells the clerk we’ll see the next pair. The 
gold shoes are removed and another pair is brought out. 
I should be paying attention to the shoes but all I can 
think of is my Master’s hand on my shoulder and what 
that means. I wait for his signal. I wait for the 
clerk’s reaction. I can’t focus on the shoes. 
Thankfully, I’m not required to speak. I’m not supposed 
to speak. That is not part of the fantasy.

Again, I feel a gentle squeeze and I open my thighs a 
bit wider. The clerk seems to be getting deeply 
involved in our fantasy. I have become my Master’s doll 
and he’s letting the clerk play with me. They speak 
above me, around me, about me. How they will dress me, 
what they think will suit me, what they want to see me 
wear. And through it all, the gentle squeezes continue. 
And each time they come, I spread my thighs farther.

By the time we’re trying on the fourth shoe, the clerk 
has begun to realize there’s a lot more of me visible 
than there was at the beginning. I try to appear 
nonchalant but I doubt I pull it off. If he is going to 
get angry, this is the time. I see him look pointedly 
at my Master’s hand on my shoulder as I feel a strong 
squeeze, and I open my thighs even wider. The clerk’s 
eyes widen and he smiles and reaches for the fifth pair 
of shoes. We will all continue. 

The lace tops of my stockings are now completely 
exposed and my Master squeezes one final time and I 
respond. His cunt can now be seen. I brace myself for 
the possibility of losing my Mansour’s card but the 
clerk just grins as my Master says we’ll take the first 
and fourth pairs. The clerk says he’ll take care of 
everything. Just stay and be comfortable.

The clerk returns with the shoes in a bag, the 
receipts, and thanks us for our business. We smile and 
I rise and we walk hurriedly out of the store.

I thought we walked quickly when we went in, but it was 
nothing compared to our pace as we left. My Master’s 
hand is almost shoving me as he propels me through the 
store, taking the quickest route to our car.

We cross the parking lot, he opens my car door, goes 
around, enters, and starts opening his pants as he 
reaches for the back of my neck. He pulls my head down 
as he pulls out his cock, my mouth opening 
automatically as my head lowers. He pushes his cock in 
my mouth and thrusts deep, hard, fast, saying, "I can’t 
wait. I just can’t wait," until he cums in my mouth.

As we sit there, out of breath, his cock in my mouth, 
it occurs to me that we are in a crowded parking lot 
and we could have been seen by anyone who had walked 
by. "Please tell me there’s not anyone watching?" I 
ask.

My Master laughs and lets go of my neck. I peek up to 
make sure we are safe as he puts his cock away and I 
settle back in my seat. "Turn this way," he says. "I 
want to play with my cunt on the way home." 

When we get home I unpack my new shoes. I want to see 
which ones my Master had selected. I wasn’t paying 
attention at the time. Inside the box with the gold 
sandals I find the clerk’s card with, ‘Thank you for 
being one of my favorite customers’ and his home 
number. I wonder if my Master will call him?

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 31