The Puppy Song (Part 1)

[Steel Etto]

The Puppy Song

This is the story of Kassidy – as she likes to be called. (And Kassidy gets what Kassidy wants, which is what the story is about.) My role in this is, of course, as the writer. And my hero – if there is such a thing as a hero who is systematically removed from a position of respect in order to be increasingly trodden into the mud – is a guy called Nick. Some of you may sometimes think that me (the writer) and Nick (the ‘hero’) are actually the same person. Well, that’s a choice for you to make. The one big difference, either way, is that the writer knows now what Nick never knew as it was happening. And on that note, let’s begin.

July 2, 2006. That’s pretty much when it starts. Nicholas James is the sole director of a company called Professionals Online. Basically it was, and still is, an agency – finding temporary staff to work in practices such as surgeries and legal agencies. Nick had been in the legal profession himself – and he knew the ground. He was 30 years old, with a wife he’d married in 2004 (but had known since University) and a comfortable lifestyle. The agency had been up and running three years, and had got to the point where it didn’t take much ‘maintenance’. It kind of ran itself, and what bits didn’t run themselves were taken care of by the Office Manager, Jason. And that was the way it all was, until Jason decided to go on a trip round the world, leaving Nick to find a temporary replacement. Ironic, really, that his temps agency needed a temp itself.

That was when Kassidy first walked through the door .

No question she was everything Nick wanted, and more. Starting with the look. And the attitude. Very professional, in a physically stunning kid of a way as well as in terms of being matter-of-fact-efficient and even a little bossy. She’d said on the phone that she’d need somewhere off the street to park her car, if she was going to do six full months anywhere. (A request which Nick responded to by paying for a space in the underground car park. - for one week, at first, whilst he had her ‘on trial’…. )

So the first Monday, Monday the second, in came a call on the buzzer right on time. Five minutes early, in fact. Nick had pressed the intercom button, and glanced up at the video screen. It had looked like one of those flash new Mini Coopers. He’d wondered who it was, wanting access. He’d forgotten, momentarily…

‘Hi?’ he said.
‘Kassidy’, came the reply. ‘Can you buzz me in?’

Nick obliged. And, five minutes later, the same conversation took place at the entrance to Nick’s offices. (He’d give her the codes, he thought, if she was up to scratch. Maybe at the end of a week of so?) And, whilst he was thinking that one over….she made her way in.

She looked great. Trouser suit, that first day. Hair pinned up, but with natural blond wisps dangling in a way that was obviously very meticulous. Nice figure, quite full, but not in any way what you’d call fat. Maybe a little like Munroe, although a little less curvy..? She held out her hand, and he shook it. Her coat and a bag were on her other arm.

‘Hmm. Nice place.’ She said. ‘Where do I hang this?’ She gestured at the coat.

Nick showed her – which was when he first got a taste of what was coming. Right there, that first day. He took her into Jason’s office, and pointed out the coat hooks.

‘Fair enough’ she said. ‘And do you have hangers?’
‘…..no,’ He said.
‘Oh well, we can soon get some. I guess I can use a hook for today.’

She began to move towards the corner of the room where the hooks were. And it was only then that Nick really noticed the stuff already there – including a few odds and ends which had dropped off the pegs and were lying on the polished wood floor. In fact, one of the things just lying there was… Jason’s pride and joy - a fawn Cashmere coat he’d paid a fortune for, and that Nick was surprised hadn’t been taken home, and it was kind of right where…. which was when Nick noticed that there was a kind of echoing sound each time Kassidy took a step across the room, and the sound was really quite prominent. Nick knew the sound, and he liked it – thought it sexy, even, although he preferred to hear it in subways and the like rather than on his own polished pine…

July 2 was a big point in Nick’s life. Because in the next two seconds, he made a whole lot of decisions which could have been different – and if they had been, then he’d probably still be the same man now that he thought he was then. And, in a way, he is – but he just didn’t know it.

‘So, do you want to move any of this?’ she asked. (Looking at the pegs, which were fairly full - although Nick was still more focused on the floor.) He missed the point. He played the question back, kind of like in a dream… did he want to move…? That question bothered him. Surely, if anyone needed to move anything, then that person would be …? ‘Well, no…’ he said.

‘No problems’, she said. ‘I can make myself some space.’ And before Nick could get out the words he wanted to say, it was too late. The echoing sounds had stopped. They’d stopped, because now there was something soft between her and the pine. Cashmere. And Nick just stared – knowing Jason would have cried, if he’d have been there seeing what Nick was seeing now. In fact, he had to look away. But then he kept having to look back, and each time what he saw was the same image. An office temp, standing on the coats of the permanent staff whilst she hung up her own coat… then she started to fish around in a carrier. She looked at him, smiled. ‘Just shoes’, she said.

Nick must have looked like he’d seen a ghost. Just shoes? What the hell did she mean, just shoes. That’s was hardly the point. And anyway, he couldn’t really make much out, with the trousers, and he definitely couldn’t look at her feet now she was drawing attention…

‘In the bag,’ she said. ‘It’s just shoes. Then I can change out of my boots – you know, for driving?’ And still she stood there, still she smiled. With her ‘boots’ – as she’d now informed him – still firmly planted on that soft, fawn…

‘I don’t tend to drive in heels like these,’ she said. Still talking about the bag, it turned out. With Nick none the wiser, whatever she was saying or talking about. He couldn’t see the shoes, and he couldn’t see the boots, and he couldn’t bring himself to look anyway… and he couldn’t see this working…

But she was talking again. ‘So, is there a drawer or something, where I can lock this stuff away. And maybe some coffee or whatever? Come, on, you look a bit nervous – it should be me that’s nervous. Shall I make you one?’

On July 2 2007, at 9.30, Nick sat drinking coffee in his own office, having left this so-called ‘Kassidy’ to get herself sorted. He hadn’t asked her to leave. He hadn’t said anything except that the coffee was nice, and thanked her. What was really odd, though: he couldn’t understand why what he wanted to do more than anything was to be braver, and go back in time. What Nick was discovering he wanted, was to watch that whole scene again. But what he wanted to do, on the rerun, was to actually be able to watch. Because there was something about it, that he couldn’t get out of his head. Something that reached right down inside, right in deep. He knew if he’d had the chance again, the result would have been no different. But, nonetheless….

July 4, 2007. That was the day Nick did something that was going to change his life. That was the day he acted on an inexplicable impulse, and came it at 8 in the morning, with an old movie camera and a new leather coat. That was the day he placed his own coat with the others, on the floor – and hoped she wouldn’t notice (since she hadn’t seemed to notice the coats at all so far, at least not so as to move them) and he placed the camera in a bag, with a slit for the lens, and he left it on ‘play-record’ and went back to his office.

Fifty times in ten minutes, he went back to Kassidy’s office, and went to pick up what he’d left. Fifty times something stopped him, even though his guts were in knots. But by 8.55, it was too late. The Mini was parked, and Kassidy was on her way in. By now, Nick had had plenty of chances to see the kinds of shoes she wore… they pitted pine, and they’d probably fuck leather completely, and…

‘Morning Nick,” she said. She smiled, as she walked through. ‘Coffee?’

- - - - - - - -

July 4, 2007. 9am. Kassidy Sharpe had a surprise that morning. She went into her office, same as the two days before, and she went over to hang her coat – same as the two days before except now she had some hangers. She put down her bag, just by where the hooks were, and she hung up her coat, changed her shoes. Then she went back to pick up her bag, and knocked another bag, by mistake. It seemed quite heavy. So she looked at it more closely. And then more closely still, and then she picked it up and opened it… and couldn’t believe what she found. A fucking..!

Kassidy Sharp had half a mind to take that bastard pervert’s camera straight out to… but she didn’t. She was a woman, and she was curious. And it occurred to her…

She rewound the tape, switched from record to play, and watched. It was bizarre – like the whole thing must have been an accident. All that was being recorded was the floor. Had to be a button pressed in error – except, hang on…. Why the slit? So still she watched, for five or ten minutes, and nothing but the floor and a kind of untidy mess, and then…. A bag, smack in front of it. A Mark’s and Spencer carrier. Wait a minute, that was her own. Her own bag. What the…? And then the film stopped, suddenly. Kassidy had worked out why. It was her, that had stopped it. She’d stopped it to rewind it, and that was where she was now, back in time. But…. Why..? who?

And that was when she had a wicked thought. That was when she phoned Lizzie, and asked her to bring in the digital. In a plain bag. She had a plan and a half. A real special one, it turned out. Meantime she made coffee, never said a word. Smiled, but never left that office for more than a second or two, until Lizzie arrived. Instead, she put the older camera back onto record, banged her own bag back into it, and then left it there – right where it had been when she found it. (Making a movie of a carrier– but one with boots in now, instead of the shoes that she was about to put on. Kassidy stood barefoot, and held on to the pegs – as she always did – and dropped first one foot and then the other into her work heels. The black ones, today: thin, sexy - but still professional. Then she took out the coffee, and then came back to her desk. She stayed there, till Lizzie came.

- - - - - - -

July 4, 1pm. Nick had thought she’d never go. But finally, she left. He wasn’t sure, either, about friends visiting – but then it hadn’t been more than a quick word at the door, and handing over a bag. Couldn’t be much harm in that. He went into ‘her’ office, shaking. Nerves shredded. Picked up the bag – and, thank God, still there, exactly as he’d left it. Fumbled with the battery to get it unhitched, to start refreshing. Five minutes before he could even get the film out – flat as a pancake, at first, no juice at all. But slowly. And while he waited, impatient and shaking, he looked at the coat itself.

Jesus Christ. Eight or nine little horseshoes, two or three of them deep, really distinct, drilled right into the leather. Then a couple more, as he looked further… shit, what an idiot. Why had he done this? How would he explain – there was no way. He’d have to say he’d lost it. They were there for good, the marks she’d left… she’d obviously stood on it, exactly like that first day – but in heels that he hadn’t quite anticipated… man, these had to be even thinner than anything else so far. He’d noticed they were mean looking things, when she’d brought the coffee – but he hadn’t been able to look properly. Not, with knowing what he’d done… He could see where they’d actaully chewed up the pine, splintering it in places, even worse then some of the other days where it was just the dents… these were perfect imprints, all over, drilled right into the wood… This was a hell of a price for a bit of film when he couldn’t even explain why he wanted it…

Shit! And he didn’t even have it either. It was nearly 2pm when he realized that all he’d got for his pains was a view of a bag. All that, for nothing. He didn’t know why, but he just had to have the whole thing in moving image, for him to watch unseen, at leisure. He just had to. Oh God, please God, don’t let me down. Don’t let this be the time she moves it all away, or changes on the other side of the room. Please let this little bit of battery last…

Nick only just had his camera in its new place, ready, by the time she came back. He wasn’t even sure how he would account for the bag having moved, if he was asked – it was like he was on a drug. Had to get this film, had to get this girl’s destructive carelessness to see for real, in privacy - each step, each flex of the ankle, each movement of her foot on… In just two days, something inside him had gone crazy, and he was like someone possessed by.. the ground that some girl walked on...

Just got out in time, as she came back in the door. She had the boots on. Yes – thank you God. She’d change – wouldn’t she? Please God, make sure she does the change? For me?

- - - - - - -

July 4, 2.20pm. Kassidy Sharp watched the replay on her digital camera. She watched him kneel, scrabble round on the floor. She watched him pick up… a coat. The leather one, that was the one. It was still there. She watched him inspect it, like a thief in the way he shifted around… furtive. And then she watched him put it back on the floor, and she saw him place the camera the other side of he coats, tucked away a little – so that was where it had gone. She could see it now, in real life. So… what the hell was this all about?

Kassidy asked to leave early that day. Surprise, surprise – no argument about that. She went back home, she watched that replay over and over, and she thought about what do next. The police? Or maybe…

Thing was, she had to laugh. If he’d been trying to film her in secret he hadn’t got a single frame. Because that had been the only afternoon she hadn’t followed the pattern. The only afternoon she’d kept her coat on her chair, kept on the boots, not gone over to those pegs. She’d been too busy with her own home movie. And his had been scuppered, along the way? Which meant, maybe..? Funny, too - she'd never paid much attention to those coats before - they were something kind of comfy and warm underneath her, that now she was sort of half conscious of having been there, while she'd changed... and acually, if someone had left them there for that reason, well then that would have been quite sweet (if a bit mad, now she thought more about it - felt a bit guilty even, working out that most of the time she wasn't barefoot, and she didn't exactly go in for Hush Puppies... Not to mention dirt off the street, and from that dingy car park... Well, she wouldn't volunteer for anyone to do it to her clothers, anyrate, and felt a bit bad she hadn't paid that much heed before.. in a kind of maughty but nice way...) That was all she really thought. That much was for sure. But him...?

He seemd to really have a mission. And... good odds, he might even try for a rerun. Typical man, that. Never know when to give up. Well, Ok. He had plenty to lose, if she played it smart. So why not…

Why not indeed. It was a slim chance, perhaps, but it had to be one worth taking. And she had to know, too – what was the game? What was this really all about. A knight in armour, her own shining Walter Raleigh? or a complete sleezeball, that the police could deal with.

Or... She was a woman. She definitely had to know.

[sivad]

krrp iy going but please trample him

[hhhmmm]

Great start, Steel! Looking forward to more parts:)

hhhmmm

[door_step]

really a superb start:pbbbbblt:
This might go in a very very good direction

doorstep

[Steel Etto]

Part 2

July 4, all night. Nick couldn’t sleep. Melanie kept asking him if he was ok. Exactly: Melanie, his wife of just two years’ marriage. Lying next to him in bed, whilst all Nick could do was think the most stupid thoughts, sometimes going back years – and sometimes going back just those few hours, and promising himself that this was all going to stop. No way was he taking that camera back in to work in the morning. No way was he keeping that woman on. She’d have to go.

The thing was, Nick was struggling with stuff that he had struggled with for maybe ten years, maybe even more, if he was honest with himself. That poem kept coming back to him – the one he’d always had to shut out of his mind, and could never talk about, even when it had been on the English syllabus. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams. Or something like that, anyway. It was close. And he was remembering the things from way back, that had kind of linked up with the words in that poem. Like when Leslie Salter had walked across the row of desks, that day – carrying the pole the teacher had given her, to open the window with. Like a circus acrobat, all along the tops - and then to the last desk by the window – Nick’s desk. And the essay he was doing, in that exercise book. Neat, tidy – just like Nick was always neat and tidy. And then, before he could stop it…

Hey, you’re treading on my work. That’s what he wanted to say that day. But the words had got stuck, just the same as they had with Kassidy. Worse still, Nick could remember what he’d always hated thinking, and remembering – which was that when she went up on her toes, looking to get the window pole into the metal loop, he’d had this stupid impulse to move his fingers a little further across the desk. He’d actually considered it: putting his hand where she’d have been near enough certain to crush his pinkies, when she dropped her weight back down. And alright, so the shoes were flat – but they turned out to have quite a ridge pattern on them, which he knew all about pretty much straight after, where the result was soon there for all to see… and they saw, all right.

‘Hey, Les…’ Her friend was laughing, trying to hide it – but not very well. ‘You’re on Pinnochio’s book’. (He’d always hated that. It wasn’t that his nose was all that big…)

‘Hold on,’ was all Leslie Salter had to say about it. Still fishing with the hook for that loop.

‘Yeh, but – look where you’re standing…’

‘What, and fall?’

By then everyone was looking. All except Leslie. For what seemed like ages, she was stood there, waving that pole around, until finally… she hit the target, pulled open the window, and stepped back a little. The teacher helped her down. That was when everyone close by got a good look at the pages she’d stepped on. Just a mass of dirty patterns: identical, kind of dark grey zig-zagged prints with some of them ground right in to the paper where she’d turned her foot as she’d squirmed and fished around…

‘Sorry, she shrugged, trying (again, not as hard as all that) not to smirk. But I’d have fallen. You should have moved it. I mean, I had to stand somewhere?’

It had been a huge joke, for half the day. One which Nick always tried so hard to forget. Because the worst thing – then, and even now, lying next to Melanie, who was tossing and turning... he’d rewritten that essay. He’d used a new book, and done it all again. Not because he’d had to. He’d done it because he’d always kept the original, hidden at home. And even worse still. Every time he’d looked at it, he’d thought of Leslie Salter, that day. He’d look at the dirty imprints from her shoes, proving what she’d done. And he’d get an erection. Same as he was getting one now. And that hadn’t been the only time…

Shit, he hadn’t even fancied her. Not Leslie, he hadn’t. Well, not until he’d started… go on, admit it…. Not until… after a while, he’d started wanking over her footprints. How fucking mad was that? Like, from that time on she only had to walk near a sweet wrapper, or a stubbed out fag end, and he’d be like some little dog…

And here it all was, coming back. No point lying. Needed to be nipped in the bud. Needed to be stopped.

Nick wished he could stop stroking his cock. But he couldn’t. He had to get up, and go to the bathroom, to finish it. Oh God, Melanie – I’m so sorry. I’ll deal with this, I promise…

- - - - -

July 5, 6am. Kassidy Sharp was up early. She hadn’t been able to sleep. Luckily, she was still in a flat of her own – resisting the latest boyfriend’s pleas for her to move in with him. Nice lad, Doug. But, still a bit early – in more ways than one.

She couldn’t figure this one out - and was in two minds whether to just quit the whole thing. Why would anyone want to do what he’d done? It didn’t make sense. OK, so say he was going to try and make her pay for the coat – let's say it was damaged, and so he put it where he thought she’d walk on it – so he could then blame her? But how would that really work? And why the film – because it would be hard to argue the point, using the film as ‘evidence’, without someone saying, ‘Well, why didn’t you just move the coat? I mean, why wait for her to do it and then film it?’ And she couldn’t see the police or anyone taking his side about filming it in the first place. OK, so she’d probably done some of those coats a bit of harm, if she thought about it - but then she’d always been like that. Back living with her Gran, that was one of the things she was always in trouble for.

‘Candice! Feet!!’

Poor old gran. Back before the first name change to Cassie-Dee. (Gran: Now there was a Hush Puppies woman, if ever you’d meet one. And all those nice little throws and polished tables, just asking for…)

“Candice! Feet!!”

Like she’d hated it too, like maybe Nick hated it? - the way top looking shoes could sometimes come at a price, in more ways than one. She’d had some great shoes herself, though, Gran – in the cupboard, in her room, from when she was younger. She’d had her day, by the look of it, before signing up for a lifetime of boring old Clarks’. Gorgeous heels and straps, from the forties and fifties. She must have loved them, to have kept them? And it wasn’t like all Kassidy's muddy little marks and scratches on Gran's furniture were on purpose. It was just – how were people ever supposed to notice exactly where their feet were? Come, on, with so much else to think about… boys, diets, films, secrets…. Sorry, Gran. God rest her soul. It was never on purpose. Loved you.

Stuff gets walked on, and kicked about, and trodden on, after all - that's just life, isn't it? Especially for stuff that's on the floor, for Christ's sake, where people are meant to be walking. Like that bloody Airfix stuff, that Shaun used to make – before Mum and Dad had split. Ok, so the hall carpet was blue, back then. Maybe it did look like the sea. But then maybe, too, people were going to walk down the stairs talking on the phone… They were lovely shoes, those, too – that he went and bloody stole afterwards, and hid. Never ever found them again. The gold flats, with little flower patterns, that were always so comfy to mooch around in when…

‘Cand..!’ was all she remembered of him shouting.

Crunnhcchhhh!. Before he’d even finished her name. And even then, she hadn’t really registered until he was shouting and crying and hitting her. Having to end the phone call… having to ring back and apologize that breaking a few bits off of some precious plastic kit had brought the social world to a temporary end. After all, it was meant to be glued together, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that the whole point of kits? Although, to be fair, looking back... She might have handled it differently, now.

But, getting back. What about this Nick James. He was no young lad. He was getting on towards forty, surely? And he seemed pretty cool, pretty together. Well, in most ways. If he had legal training… Was there something Kassidy was missing, here?

Or what about if he really had just wanted to make some kind of gesture. What if it really was the Walter Raleigh thing? Laying a coat at a woman’s feet? But then, wouldn’t you just do it, and watch? Why do it all shady, like he was in that film. That really didn’t look good. After all, if he’d just done it, right in front of her… well, she probably would have said, ‘Ta very much’, kind of cheeky – and taken a step, just for show, but wary of the heels. (Well, if she’d managed to think in time, she’d have been wary… he might have got unlucky, if she’d been carried away by the moment…) But she probably would have gone for it. Probably would have been flattered, even…

But then, wasn’t that just the nicest option, the easiest one to cling on to? Wasn’t it more likely something else - nothing to do with Kassidy, or the coats… some kind of floor claims thing, with a builder, or..?

If she didn’t go in to that office today, she wouldn’t find out. And the not knowing was almost painful. So, at seven in the morning, Kassidy Sharp was out on the drive, getting into her Mini. She had on a kind of summery outfit – still professional, but a bit less the black clad office look. And she had sandals. Wedges, with about a three inch lift. No change of shoes, today. If this was about damage, then she wasn’t going to damage much with those, even if she lost concentration (which she knew she might). And she still looked pretty good, if she said so herself. £90, from Faith, even in the sale. They were the business. So far, so good. If only she wasn’t so nervous.

[Steel Etto]

Hmmm: Have 'Faith'.

(She does.)

Thanks to all, as ever

S

[door_step]

Hmmm: Have 'Faith'.

(She does.)

Thanks to all, as ever

S

We'll have :thumbsup2:

I'm sure, you being the writer of this story, it will go in a very exciting direction.



doorstep

[Steel Etto]

Part 3

The drive to work was almost unreal. Through the Berkshire lanes, and then into town – trying to keep concentration on the road, whilst still playing with all the ideas: what if this, what if that? What if people did just go laying their things all over the place, for people like Kassidy to…. She remembered being on holiday, in Greece, and there were these three youngish men (where she’d come round the corner and there was all this stuff in the road, like, toy cars and casettes and some kind of board game or something …) she’d never really had that good a look at what it all was, except that she'd supposed it was all theirs. She just remembered them smiling, waving her to carry on… She remembered how surprised she was that she didn’t think to make sure, or to reason with them - she didn't treat it like it was much of a decision. She just kind of waved back, as if to thank them, and moved from the brake to the accellerator, not even thinking she might have steered a way through… she remembered how ‘bad’ it had felt, hearing herself crunch one thing after another under the tyres of that stupid great hire car. And she remembered… Sammy Jo calling her a bitch, but laughing – and them the pair of them discussing whether to turn round, go back..! they actally considered one of them running over it all again, just for badness’ sake. Was this like that? There was a part of Kassidy that (amazingly, bizarrely) wanted it to be, and a part that thought there was no way, and that none of it made any sense, and that she wasn’t in some fairy tale where a leather coated prince was about to whisk… It wasn’t like that at all. He could be barking mad. Dangerous, even. But just like on that holiday, she thought of turning round seven times in a minute…

And didn’t act on it.

She arrived, punched in the car park code, parked the car. Took out her bag, checked she had the camera…

Was that still such a good idea? Even if the first lot of film was already downloaded, what if he caught..? Was that really enough insurance… But still she carried on, up to the office, in through the main door…

He didn’t look that comfortable. Still that shiftyness, which was far and away her biggest problem with all this. Hidden cameras, for Christ’s sake… she says to herself, her own Cannon digital tucked well down in her bag.

‘Morning,’ she said. ‘Nice one, too. Almost like summer?’

‘Ahhh? Mmm, yes…’. Staring everywhere but at Kassidy, it seemed. ‘Oh, right – the weather. Yes, quite hot…. Actually, I couldn’t sleep…’

Snap. Probably not for the same reasons though… but then again? ‘I, ummm… better get on then?’ she said. ‘Coffee?’ Shit nearly forgot that. Had to keep it normal.

‘Oh, er, yes..’ he said. Except, actually… I wondered if you could maybe do a bit of archive stuff today…? I mean, I think if this is six months you’re doing, then we probably need to get you in to all the things Jason should have been catching up on… except he can’t input on the PC like you can, so I wondered.. at least, that’s what your CV suggests..?’

‘And it suggests right’ she said. ‘Can’t say I enjoy it, mind – but then that’s not the point, I don’t suppose?’ She smiled. This was getting more normal, feeling safer, by the second. All this crazy stuff..? Come on, this was just some regular guy who’d done something that didn’t make sense. Did everything have to make sense, for the world to carry on? No. Have faith, girl. Mmm, joke – have Faith…. Never mind, it was only a joke in her own head, and not that good a one.

Kassidy went in to her office, and settled herself. Bag, kettle, jacket. And ten minutes later, the day couldn’t have been going more normally if it had tried. No idea, what was just a few short hours into the future.

- - - - -

Nick had come to an agreement with himself. On paper, this girl was a great worker – and she’d been good so far, although what she cost per hour in wages wasn’t half of what she’d have cost him to date in flooring, and the potential bill still rising - he’d have to try and tackle that. In time, maybe, in time. After all, if half the pine was going to need replacing it was going to need replacing – another few hundred dents, splinters and scratches were neither here nor there. Apart from which, she wore shoes like a lot of people wore again – it wasn’t unusual, now. Everyone had thought the style had gone out of fashion – all stripping out their toughened linos and carpets and then… Pubs, restaurants, sports halls… they’d all been caught just the same. The minute they took down the no shoes signs, back came those thin metal tips…. Not that the women who wore shoes like that seemed to take much notice anyway, signs or no signs. Melanie certainly wouldn’t have failed to notice: she hated anything that she could call a ‘stiletto’ – which to her, was anything over two inches high, and vaguely tapered…. And she was so, so careful with her golf shoes. She even seemed kind of sheepish about making holes on the greens with them as she walked around and putted - and everyone knew it was good for the grass. She'd never have gone near a floorboard with them. Not even if she was on fire.

But Nick had even seen shoes with heels worn down beyond all reason, and still being walked round in. He remembered that woman - about, forty, but a real looker: First Class on the Inter City just opposite him, coming back from Sheffield – on the mobile, most of the journey. Feet up on the seat opposite her, with her heels poked just enough into the gangway that he could see those exposed nails, really well, without her seeing him looking… Never even moved when the ticket man came, or the man to refill the coffee and wine… just talked on the phone, feet up… no-one said a word to her… they’d have drilled through just about anything, those shoes. And she had to have known. She had to. It wasn’t even like she could have been short of money? She had to have known - she might as well have gone round with a kango drill, for all the difference it would have made to the people who would have had to live with the results.

But Kassidy… back to today. She was a good worker, with good references – and he needed a good worker. He could get a bad worker, and still lose half his floor. Which was why he spent an hour or so that morning in the office with her, showing her round the system, and talking her through the archiving. He showed her what had to be added to the database, and how to scan and upload instead of just typing – although she was more on the ball with that than him, it turned out, if he was honest. And he showed her the archive room, and where to start. And then he asked if there was any chance of another coffee, before she got going. Which was when he watched her, really closely, for the first time, as she moved around and filled the kettle, sorted the cups. After all, she didn’t have eyes in the back of her head – did she?

He had to admit, she was sexy. Really rounded with nice curves – even if they weren’t quite Norma Jean. Hair down, today, and red and black striped top, black skirt, red shoes… bare legs. The first time he’d really seen those calves, unprotected… and nice feet. Painted toes, with…

‘You know what – we should get some filter?’ She’d turned, suddenly, and he’d felt himself blush. But not the way he would be blushing just an hour or so later. He’d looked away as fast as possible… but he had a part image of her feet and sandals, still in his head… very different shoes, those – sort of wedges, strappy… sexy. Nick wished he didn’t find himself thinking that, especially about her legs and feet. Melanie wasn’t in any way a legs and feet woman. He wasn’t even allowed to kiss her toes, not even after a bath…

‘Actually, I have some.’ he said – meaning coffee. ‘At home. My…. We, ermmmm, we like it…. we have quite a few brands…?’

‘Good to hear. I really like filter – although maybe it would be better to have water, on days like this…’ she seemed to go off a bit dreamy, with that. But she had a point. Water could be good. But what Nick accepted from her, and took back to his office, was coffee.

- - - - -

The inputting was pretty dull. Some fairly posh people, though, on Nick’s books – or had been, anyway. Some of it was going back a year or more. All kinds of records, in each file, too – copies of passports, birth certificates, quite a few CVs and photos. A bit higgledy piggledy – and the files room itself could have done with some TLC. Metal racks, untidily stacked, and quite a bit of dust and stuff – all through a door just to one side of Kassidy’s own office. Kassidy worked through one batch of stuff, and then wondered if there wasn’t a better way to get through this, quicker? What about doing several files at once, section by section – so that she wouldn’t have to keep hopping from one part of the database to the other? She laid out a half a dozen or so subsections by her desk, neatly separated on the wood floor.

There was room for a couple more piles…. She stepped around the ones already laid out, and walked back into the archive room to get the extra files she wanted. She was just about to reach them down, when…

‘Sorry to bother you, but…’

It was Nick. He’d come back into the office, and was walking towards the PC. As soon as Kassidy heard him, she started to make her way back out of the archive room.

‘Problems? She asked. Kind of joking. She was only just starting, so she could hardly have made any terrible mistakes.

‘No, not at all…. I….. I….’

Nick was stood one side of the PC, Kassidy was stood the other – with her chair in between them. And he was just kind of staring….

‘Shall I..?’

She pointed, as if to ask if he wanted her to sit. And she moved just slightly, so that she got to be just that tiny bit nearer the seat.

‘No! I mean, no…. I mean, sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that… No, I can sit… I just had something…. Something…’ He moved to the chair, meaning that she coudln't get into it herself - looking like he’d seen a ghost. He was just red in the face, and could hardly speak, and every time he tried to look at Kassidy he seemed to struggle even more, especially when he kind of quickly glanced down at….

Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit. Kassidy looked down, to where she’d realized he was looking - but she already knew what she was going to see. Her sandals weren’t on the boards anymore. They hadn’t been, ever since she’d come out of that cupboard-come-room. She’d done one of her classics: she’d put something on the floor and then forgotten – and now she’d walked all over it, right in front of he boss. She knew, from the second she twigged…. But she looked down, all the same. There was a photo under her right foot, and… ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry’, she said. She nearly told him she was always doing that – but just kept the words back. ‘That just isn’t something I’d usually do… Nick, I really am sorry. Oh, and…’

He was saying nothing. Just red – with anger, probably. Unbelievable, too – she’d chosen the wedges so as not to…. If she’d worn courts, it might not actually have been as bad. The soles on the Faith wedges…. Dirt magnets, in pretty little twirls. Pretty, that is, looked at from a design point of view. Not so pretty, right now. They were all over everything; over records of people's lives, photos, letters - it seemd like all you could see was Kassidy's whirly shoeprints, even on... ‘I don’t believe this, I really don’t… Oh, no…. and she really tried not to laugh, where the nerves were jangling… ‘you can see where I stepped on that poor man’s face! This is just so embarrassing..?’

And still he said nothing. Not a word. ‘I’ll tidy it all,’ she said.

But then, finally, he broke out of the trance. ‘No, it’s all right,’ he said. ‘Leave it’ Look, go and have an early lunch or something. I’ll do this. Really, I… Look, pretend it never happened – but go to lunch, eh? Before…. Please?’

For once, Kassidy did as she was asked. She’d spent all night thinking stupid thoughts. And now she’d done something even more stupid than anything she could have imagined. And the only consolation? Liz would laugh her head off.

‘So typical, Kas,’ she’d have said. And she’d have been right.

[Steel Etto]

Part 4

Every man who has a cock has the same problem with it. Nick always tried to pretend that wasn’t true of him, that his legal training had somehow put him above it all. But he knew that wasn’t how it panned out, even for him. And as he crawled around oh his knees, that lunchtime, Nick couldn’t really do much to convince himself that he wasn’t completely out of control. A whole lifetime of stuff seemed to have exploded out of its boxes, and he couldn’t repack it. Instead, all he wanted to do was to offer everything inside of him to an office temp, to do as she wished with. He wanted to lay his whole life at her feet. Didn’t even know her, but he know how he felt. If she even came back, of course – because an erection’s and erection’s an erection: clearly getting bigger and fatter while he’d been sat there, with her talking about standing on someone’s face… Ok, so it was only a photograph. But that wasn’t the way he was taking it, and whichever way you wanted to take it, he had the evidence that it was true. You could see, where she’d done it. You could kiss, even - and the only regret was that the dirt that he wanted to press his lips to wasn’t still on the shoe itself, even if it had been, just an hour or so ago. An even bigger downer: that the face was someone else’s, and not his.

It didn’t even seem stupid, let alone ridiculous. It didn’t occur to Nick that one good jerk-off might still have saved him, might have got him thinking more with his head. He desperately wanted to kiss the dirt on that picture. But it would have come off, and he’d never have forgiven himself. So instead, he went into the archive room, where he could get his fill. On the dusty, crap covered floor they were everywhere. Scuffs, marks, and sole prints from her shoes. Just waiting for the right lips, the right tongue. And that tongue was Nick’s – he had no doubt about that.

- - - - -

Kassidy didn’t piece it together straight away. But she got there soon enough. It really did have to something do with her feet. It had to. And even though it hadn’t been him that had laid out all of those files, it was still the only explanation. As she’d trampled on those people’s lives – however much she hadn’t intended to – she’d done something that he found…?

But what, exactly, did he see in it? Was it about Kassidy herself? Or was it even about women, or did he just somehow like seeing important things getting trampled all over… in which case why not glue banknotes to a supermarket checkout floor, or a rush hour platform, or..? Because banknotes wouldn’t be a great idea, perhaps – it would have to be valuable to him, but not so valuable that someone might just pick it up and walk off with it… what kind of fetish would that be, if it was one? Hey, no – it had to be. No doubts, this time. Just, which type, exactly? And how much did it have to do with Kassidy as a person? Or would anyone do..?

That might be quite important, she thought. It might come over a bit crap, if it turned out that….

But Kassidy always has to know. And, just like before, she went back – to find out. She found out a whole lot quicker than she expected.

- - - - -

Nick almost died of excitement and shame, combined, when those calves came back through the office door. Those shoes… he’d kissed the patterns, a hundred times now. He wanted to kiss them for real… he wanted that print on his check, for real. On his lips. He wanted to kiss her sole as she… He really should have had that wank, and he kind of knew it. But wasn’t that a part of it all – that he’d taken the choice? And he was terrified, now. He’d put out a marker, actually made a bet at long odds. He didn’t see should could fail to…

‘Coffee’, she asked.

‘No. No, you’re fine.’ He replied. Very fine, indeed. She walked into her office. All he could do now, was wait – and pray.

- - - - -

Kassidy wasn’t quite expecting what she found, when she got into her own office. It hadn’t been tidied, that much. The archive door was still open, and quite a few trails of dirt leading in and out… not all hers, she noticed, when she looked closer. Still stuff on the floor, too – although not the same stuff as before, perhaps. Certainly, the picture was gone… or was it? There were pictures round, so maybe… there was even one under her desk. If it had had actually been meant to be a foot mat, it couldn’t have been better placed… in fact? And then it began to get clearer. Funny, how even that morning she might just have sat and put her feet on that photo, not even noticed. But now she noticed all right. She noticed it was there, and she noticed what it was, and how it was. Bridal gown, a bit of a give away. And Nick of course. Alongside the bride. And as soon as she saw, she followed her true self… she began by hitting the brakes. Thought for a moment or two, then made her way back to where Nick was – and noticed he was shaking like a leaf. She had to be right? Had to be.

- - - - -

‘You sure this is what you want?’ she asked.

Nick nodded. He couldn’t be sure if she meant what he thought he meant. But he nodded anyway. It didn’t really matter. Even if she hadn’t sussed him already, she’d be bound to get there soon enough. No point hoping there was still some way out.

‘So’. She eyed him. ‘What’s the deal. You wanna watch?”

He wanted more than that, he wanted to take the place of the image on the floor. But he thought that might be completely the wrong thing to say, right then. So far, she seemed to be dealing with it all, ok. Don’t rock the boat?

He nodded.

‘Fair enough,’ she said. Your call.

She was a sexy bitch. No doubt about that. The glow in her, as she sauntered over to the desk – awesome. The swagger and sway… and then the teasing, before…

It was around 2.25 pm., on a sunny July day, that Mrs Melanie James’ wedding dress first because aquainted with Kassidy Sharp's feet. And at that moment – when Kassidy flexed her ankle, and allowed the sole of that incredibly sexy, strappy wedge shoe to cover the image – and to press the first whirls of dirt into the shiny, expensive surface (of what at least was only a photograph, for now) …

Nick knew for sure that it wouldn’t be enough until the groom was where that bride was – for real.

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

Can't wait to see the next installment! Great start, and looking forward to more!:)

hhhmmm:)

[kalkar]

Extraordinary! As always Steel Etto ! please add more action! let her crush irreplaceable objects of him without a care in the world and him, to regret to put them beneath her feet but it is just to late!

And never, never stop writing!:worship:



:worship::worship::worship::worship:

[Steel Etto]

Part 5

Kassidy Sharp was feeling pretty pleased with herself, at around about 2.25 on that mad, mad day. She was as sure as sure could be that she’d found herself working for some kind of well educated, well qualified, well connected and financially comfortable - not to mention good looking and well dressed, even if his nose was fairly prominent – head case. A man with a…. what did they call it…? Achilles Heel, that was it. Except if she was right - and she had to be – then it was her own heels, not his, that were the key to all this. Or her feet, complete, if she was going to be pedantic. She couldn’t see how she could be wrong, about what was going on.

She was pleased with her questions, too. Are you sure this is what you want? Do you want to keep en eye on me…. No, that wasn’t exactly what she’d said, although that was what she’d meant to say. To be honest with herself, she’d nearly blushed, when she got that one out a little wrong. What was it she’d said, actually – oh, yes: something like, Do you want to watch? She’d seen his face, when that came out that way… that same scared look she’d seen so many times, already. Fair play to him, though – should have guessed he was a lawyer, if no poker player. The right to silence, used to perfection. He’d just nodded – and then he’d followed her into that office like… like her little puppy. Kassidy wished it hadn’t given her such a rush. She wished, in part, that she was more the kind of girl who would have been outraged by all this from the start, and would have walked out – or even reported him – right from the first signs that something wasn’t quite as it should have been. If there really are that many shoulds, in this world.) But she wasn’t that kind of girl, and she never had been. She was the kind of girl who would be driving around Greece in some beaten up hired SUV, when she turns a corner in some little village, and finds that there seems to be a whole collection of two young lads’ possessions strewn across the road - and gets engulfed by 'badness': the kind of perverse cow that had run her wheels over their stuff, at random, one crunch after another, without even being that sure they'd been waving her though. She was the kind of girl who’d always accepted men’s jackets to sit on – and, come to that, had always kind of liked it when other girls with an eye for the guy had shot her daggers. She'd never cared where she'd walked. That was what people had said of her. Well maybe they were right - or maybe, they were only right in part..?

That was what was going through her head, that afternoon - along with some vague attempts to look at the VDU screen. So, at the moment that she made the move, and stopped deliberately avoiding that photograph – the moment she shifted her left leg, and dropped the ball of her foot down so that her shoe was resting on the shiny surface, firmly, for this first time… she felt a glow, which she hoped didn’t show. She had no idea what Nick must be thinking, or even if he was being brave enough to look – with him standing just behind her, looking mostly over her shoulder, except sometimes… she was sure she sensed him angling…

She’d have liked to have known how he was going to explain it, if she creased it or crumpled it – because she was certain it was the one that had been on the frame on his desk.

Damn… the phone…

‘No, don’t worry,’ he said. Solving the problem, quickly enough. ‘I’m not going to take calls, just while we do this. Is that OK?’

‘You’re the boss,’ she said. Smiling – because it must already have been obvious that there were starting to be some big question marks about that statement.

- - - - -

Nicholas James know he was in big, big trouble. He’d known it for two hours, with the brightest red warning light ever in his life – but he also knew that light had always been there, and had been absolutely glaring at him for a week or so now, like anything. He’d known, even, back before he’d proposed to Melanie – there were some things that he’d have wanted from her, that she would never give – and he hadn’t even been exactly sure how much of it he did want. He just knew the door had always been closed. She’d have called him a pervert, for sure. They’d been watching a film, once, where the male lead had drunk Champagne from a woman’s shoe on honeymoon.. God, he’d always wished he’d seen the start, known what that film was called. But Melanie had made it clear. Not very healthy, wrong type of shoe, wrong type of woman… wrong type of everything. And Nick – he’d nodded in agreement, and pretended even to himself that he wasn’t getting a hard on. He’d have drunk from that woman’s shoe… never mind Champagne, he’d have drunk just water, mixed with sweat… she was stunning, and the whole thing was so…

The same on the beach, In Kent, that time. That group of teenagers, where one of the boys had buried himself in the sand – and then one of the group of girls says, ‘Let’s all jump on him?’ And before he could move, it’s happening. It was maybe ten seconds or so before he could properly get himself up, and chase after the one who’d started it… furious, with her laughing, laughing. All of them, the boys too, creased up….

‘That could have been so dangerous.' Melanie, always the pragmatist. 'Someone could have got hurt… and they still could. He’s being quite rough with her now, look…

Nick had looked. She was laughing, the girl who’d prompted it, giving as good as she got once the guy had got hold of her. And he was laughing now, too – wrestling each other to the floor… and then…. Kissing. ‘They’re a couple, look.’ He’d pointed out.

‘A couple in hospital, soon, if they carry on like that. They could have broken his ribs..?’

They could, for all Nick knew. And that really, really, should not have made his cock harder. Although, what about all those acts with nails, and boards and stuff? What about what you read in the books about people walking on each other – and, yes, what about those foot massages? Surely you wouldn’t have any of that if…?

But then the moment would go, and Nick would pretend, pretend, it hadn’t really been such a big buzz. Hadn’t really been almost stronger for him than even sex itself? And always, every single time something like that had happened, throughout life, Nick had done the same thing. Lied to his own libido – the brain, stronger than the dick. Tough mental man. Until Kassidy had come along. And somehow, she’d just exposed the lie completely, breached the dam, 617 style – and it was like the water was completely unstoppable. He really couldn’t trust himself, watching her feet with every sly glance he could get… her left foot was definitely right on it… and she was just working, like nothing was going on, and…

The way she’d done it, too – so sly: Was he sure this was what he wanted? That could have meant anything, and any good lawyer would have known it. He could have cross-examined, and the whole thing would have fallen apart… but she’d left him the option not to, She had to know. She had to. Clever, clever, sexy fucking bitch. Oh, God - that foot, that foot…

And fuck, shit. The phone. Why hadn’t he unplugged that, complete. Fuck the clients. Fuck everyone. Everyone except…

‘No, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to take calls, just while we do this. Is that OK?’ He hoped the stress in his voice wasn’t as obvious as it sounded from inside his head.

‘You’re the boss,’ she said. Smiling – which wasn’t surprising, because she must have caught on that there were starting to be some big question marks about that statement. Only an hour before, he’d been in the archive room, licking and kissing her shoe prints. And he’d go back there again, and lick until he came in his pants – if it wasn’t for the fact that she was back, in person. She'd walked through the door just a few days before, and now she was the biggest turn on he could ever remember in his life, and she sitting was right in front of him, with his wife’s face pinned somewhere under her shiny red painted toenails and strappy sandal.

Nick knew this was so, so wrong – and so completely out of proportion, and not the way life was meant to be, for normal people. He felt himself touch the wedding ring, and… he knew that he and Kassidy should do the right thing. No Sacrifice, just a simple word. Just two hearts, that needed to go back to two different worlds. But he wanted this incredible new heart up of top of his. He wanted to feel the weight of it. He wanted to see her eyes, looking down at him – the way the girls on that beach had momentarily looked down at the guy in the sand… She was one hell of a flame, and he wanted the burns. She was going to bring him pain, and he knew it. And all he wanted to do, was find the courage to beg for her to tear up his life, his pride - and treat it the way she’d treated his leather coat. To take everything he represented, everything he was, and trample it into the dirt… While he wanked at her feet.

‘Coffee?’ she said.

‘No, no… but… do you want one?’

‘God you’re sweet. I’d love one. Did you get the filter you talked about?’

Shit! ‘No… but I will. Ordinary do?’

‘For now,’ she said. And she turned and smiled a wicked smile. Nick heard something drag across the floor, under the desk, as she swiveled. His cock started…

‘I’ll make the coffee’ he said.

- - - - -

Kassidy had thought he might. Even though she knew damned well he didn't want to.

[Gooners88]

This is just exquisite writing. It is, without a doubt, the most impressive piece of writing I've encountered on this site. I mean, as you're reading it, you can imagine it all. Every little detail. It's realistic but inventive. It's unique --- if I had to choose a film that had a similar style it'd be Memento.

I am truly blown away by your powerful writing. It's just really, really impressive. I really hope you keep writing --- it has been an absolute pleasure to read so far.

[door_step]

Gooners is absolutely right.
A great piece of writing.

Yes, we all know that Steel Etto has a great style in writing, but this one exceeds it all. :clap::clap:

doorstep

[kalkar]

I can2t wait for the suite and the damage she will cause without a care in the world...

You are best Steel Etto...

[Steel Etto]

Part 6

The high was unbelievable. Like being in a dream. In fact, it was scary – as if, at any time, reality would come crashing in and someone would ask Kassidy what the fuck she thought she was doing: sack her, never give her a reference… there was a part of her, logically, that knew that kind of problem was almost impossible. After all, she had the film… but, even so. By four in the afternoon, she was close to itching to go. She didn’t want to lose the rush, but at the same time she wanted some time away from all this, to make sense of it, to be sure… She opted for a mixture of the two choices. An increase of the rush, but some certainty of escape.

‘Nick?’

‘Yes?’ (Still said in that slightly strained voice he’d used all afternoon. Maybe it was hard for him, too. Harder, even?)

‘I really need to be back on time today. Would it be ok if I headed off in about fifteen minutes or so?’

Poor love, The look on his face. Maybe there was a little of the same relief in those feature, but mostly it looked like she’d just rained on his parade, big time,

‘The thing is, I was going to ask you a really big favour,’ she went on. ‘Because I think I’m going to leave these shoes here for now, if you don’t mind - just for maybe a day or so?. They’re a bit grubby, to be honest…’ she glanced down at them, as she spoke …’, and I’ll need a bag to pop them in, or something to clean them with… but the thing is, I haven’t brought my boots in. You wouldn’t be a love and get them from my car whilst I just finish off and close down my terminal, for now?’

That face. A picture. Kassidy was really beginning to get the hang of what made him tick, and what scared him. Whilst she’d been speaking, his expression had gone around the world and back, completely, at least twice.

‘You want me to get..?’

‘There’s a pair of my boots in my car… not the ones I usually wear – can’t believe how stupid I am, but I’ve left them at home – but there’s a pair of old ones tucked under the seat… with like, a kind of kitten heel? Ones that do for driving, or for when it rains and I’m not…. Anyway, would you be a love and get them for me, while I finish up here?’

He didn’t look sure. But he agreed. And Kassidy worked quickly, while he was out of the room. At one point, she almost changed her mind about what she was going to do… which was kind of the pattern of the past few days... but given all the things she’d already taken a chance on..? One more chance wouldn’t hurt – and the digital sat nicely, up on the peg in the little black string bag someone had conveniently left, packed round with a scarf and gloves… Then she checked that photo.

She’d made quite a mess of it, even though it wasn’t completely smeared yet. It was still easy enough to see the different positions her foot had been in… two or three sets of those dirty twirls, and…. Ugghh! … what looked like the remains of some kind of tiny spider or something pressed into the image of the wedding dress. Poor little thing… but then, maybe it had already been dead before she’d squashed it? Or maybe not. Didn’t really matter either way, now… she nipped the edge of the picture under the front of her right shoe, angled her foot and carefully dragged it out from under the desk, and into the open a bit more…

If she was brave enough..?

Nick was coming back. She’d soon find out.

- - - - -

Nick had never found it easy, touching women’s shoes. He’d been jealous, if he was honest, about how some people seemed to find it easy – the sort of lads that ended up playing piggy in the middle with some poor cow, stealing her trainers and then sniffing them between each throw from one guy to another… so he didn’t find it second nature, reaching under Kassidy’s seat and pulling out her ‘old boots’. Annoying, too, when his phone dropped out of his top pocket and he had to grope around on the floor…

Found it ok, and put it on the seat, safer. Then got back to the job in hand.

They weren’t as old as all that… Well, having thought they were newish, but looking again: one heel was…. Jesus, it was right down to the nail… but they were in pretty good nick otherwise, not that much wear… it was like the end part of the one heel had just come away, and left this bit of thin steel protruding…

Nick really, really, wanted to do what those other guys would have done, in a group… sniff the insides. But he didn’t dare. He just held the uppers gingerly, whilst he locked the door, and set off back, wondering what those different sized spots were, on the soles… gum? ants? … what had been blessed by... damn, nearly fogot.

Nick unlocked the car a second time, to get the phone. Lucky, really, that he hadn't lost it – because it could have dropped out anywhere… on the car park floor, even…. It was a fairly new one, almost as expensive as his Blackberry… and what he was suddenly thinking of doing seemed stupid in the extreme… but that didn’t stop him.

Just a few seconds later, Nick reached his hand carefully under Kassidy's front left wheel… and left the phone where she couldn’t miss. Even once he’d thought better, he’d also thought it was too late. People might already have seen… And, as he walked back towards the office… he was physically shaking, and he felt sick. He wanted to look back, to see it, to imagine what would happen... but if anyone saw, of if CCTV..? Shit, plese don't let him be on CCTV?

Once back in, it was no better. Kassidy wasn’t sat on the chair anymore. She was kind of on the desk, but like she was perched, with her feet still on the floor. Ready to go. Which maybe was just as well, and… Nick would have plenty to occupy himself with, even if she wasn’t there in person. And still he shook. He handed her the boots…

‘Ta’ she said. She took them, and… walked over to the hooks.

Nick's sickness almost got so bad right then that he thought he would actually throw up. This was how it had all started, and there she was, about to do it again, ‘live’ for him. And he really, really, wnted to try and watch as much as he could.

She was just so fucking sexy, stood there in those strappy wedges, blond curls down over her shoulders, one hand holding the hair back behind her ear… great stripey summery top, showing her figure, calves side view on... sliding out one foot, and placing it where…

She wasn’t on Nick’s leather coat, at first. She was on Jason’s Cashmere. The same with the other foot, which she also left naked for a moment or two… but then she leaned down and pulled the first of the boots around her ankle. That’s was when she moved nearer the pegs. Once she got it more or less on, she kind of stamped down… this time, right onto the leather… Christ, was that the heel with..?

If it was, it got even worse. Once she had the first boot on, she did the same routine with the second - and then she stood first on one foot, and then the other, to do the zips… all on that soft black hide… well, if it hadn’t been the left boot, then it had to be right... She’d had all her weight on each heel, and one of them had to be the one with that tiny exposed rod of steel… bitch. Mean, mean, fucking bitch… No way could Nick have been so careless about something… no way could he have treated…

‘The trials of being a woman, huh? She said. ‘What we have to do, to look the part?’ And she laughed, walked away from the coats – like she’d never even known they were there – and went over to the desk for one last time. On a couple of occasions, Nick could swear he actually heard his floor splintering as that heel drilled into it: deep, irreversible... but then...

Her smile, awesome - her eyes were lit up, like there was an ever growing power behind them...

‘Oh, and I’m sorry’, she added. Looks like I’ve had a day of it?’ she poked at a picture, with the toe of the right foot...

Oh, no – it was the wedding one… she’d seen it. It had seemed to have got kicked out in the open, and she was looking down at it… ‘The thing is,’ she said. ‘I think this time it’s your face I’ve been stepping on? Sorry?’

It was. It was. And the state of that photo… Nick didn’t know whether to wank or cry. But he couldn’t really do either, right now…

Nick had heard the word worship used about relationships between human beings before - but he'd never understood. It hadn't seemed the right kind of word to use. And he certainly wouldn't have undertood how you could want to worship someone, and want to shoot them down in cold blood, both at the same time. Kassiy, Kassidy. You..?

- - - - -

Kassidy smiled, and said cheerio. She was happy, she’d gone for it. She’d nearly lost her nerve – but then she’d come good. His face, all afternoon… Incredible. He’d displayed just about every look imaginable, and a few more thrown in. And now she had time away from it, to get back in check.

She felt amazing, tripping across the car park. She almost didn’t notice the strange sound… one of those annoying ring tones… like some kind of classical tune..? But where the hell was it coming from?

For a minute, she stopped thinking about it. But then, as she walked round the front of the car to put her bag in the passenger seat… if she wasn’t mistaken the sound was louder… from down on the ground somewhere… but where? She couldn’t see anyone, or a bag or anything… then she bent down a little, and…

For a moment she toyed with answering it. Could be Nick? Maybe he had some kind of confession to make, or some way of explaining this game? … yeh, but then why put it there, exacly - where if Kassidy hadn't seen it first, it would have got scrunched flat the minute she pulled out? Why not put it where he could be surer it was safe… he could have put it further under, away from the wheels, on the drivers’ side… it would have been even better hidden, but she’d still have heard it…

No, that phone wasn’t supposed to be answered. Not ever, if Kassidy guessed right. And if she’d guessed wrong… or if it wasn’t Nick’s?

There was no-one around. If this really was a coincidence, no one could blame her. How would she have known it was there..? Kassidy climbed in, started the engine. Fastened the seat belt. The CD kicked in: Anything but Ordinary, Avril Lavigne. Hell, it was one of those moments when you wonder if there isn’t someone controlling the universe, after all. She pulled out, slowly. Didn’t hear anything, or feel anything. But there was no way she could have missed, given where it had been lying. And, just in case it wasn’t Nick’s after all – she decided it was best to head for the exit like nothing had happened. Which, as far as she could tell seemed true – although logic said different. Logic said there had to be a bunch of bits of busted plastic on that floor now; the remains of a moble, that she'd just driven her car over, and which wouldn’t be doing much ringing anytime in the near future.

- - - - -

Nick gathered breath. He was kind of disorientated, and almost glad in a way to have a chance to sort himself out. He plugged the office phone back in, kind of without really thinking, The wire was still hanging, and it was a sort of subconscious ‘fixing’ desire. But then there was a call, almost immediately. He was going to leave it, but… he kind of picked up, still on remote. Then wished he hadn’t.

‘Nick?’

Melanie!’

Where have you been – I’ve been trying to ring for about ten minutes solid. No answer, and then I rang your mobile and no answer the first two times there either – and now it’s just gone straight to some kind of unobtainable sound..? Why don't you give me the number for your Blackberry? That other phone..?

Fuck! The mobile! He knew he…

‘Melanie, I’m really sorry love… bit of a thing going on here… Can I ring you back in five?’

Darling, are you ok? You sound kind of…

‘I’m fine – five, all right?’

Nick put the handset down. What the fuck was he doing? One afternoon, and he was throwing away his whole life..? All for an infatuation with some bitch who had obviously just run her car over his £200 phone. And all he could think of, was: which part of it all to wank over first…

Although maybe the first thing wasn’t to wank. Maybe the first thing was to go out to the car park, and do whatever needed to be done. Because unless he was very much mistaken there’d be a very sorry looking Nokia out there now, where a spotless red Mini Cooper had been parked, just five minutes before; it would lying there exposed, for anyone to see and pick up. He had to be sure he got there first.

[Steel Etto]

Thank you for all the support - it is much appreciated. I did really like this idea, so perhaps that shows - and I just decided to 'go for it'. I'm glad people like it, because I know that sometimes the forum readers get impatient with story, and just want to get to the core destruction... which is fair enough, but I kind of like the background..

So, cheers again

Variety is...

S

[LuvsHerHeels]

great story...this may end up a classic.
thanks

[kalkar]

never finish this story just continue...

By the way some skillfully narrated destruction would be good too :)

Kalkar

[door_step]

Thank you for all the support - it is much appreciated. I did really like this idea, so perhaps that shows - and I just decided to 'go for it'. I'm glad people like it, because I know that sometimes the forum readers get impatient with story, and just want to get to the core destruction... which is fair enough, but I kind of like the background..

So, cheers again

Variety is...

S

Just do it your way Steel Etto: it's outstanding:clap::clap:


doorstep

[Steel Etto]

Part 7

If Nick was to think about fantasy evenings, he would never have dared dream up the one he was looking forward to as he made his way out to that car park. And yet still he was ashamed of himself, still he was shaking. Any moment, he was kind of expecting the Sex Police version of Jeremy Beadle to step out with the Camera…. You’ve been on Game for a Wank. With Melanie, by his side – not waving, but frowning.

And as he walked past the twenty or so cars that used the same part of the permit area, he could see something there… it was definitely… and the closer he got, the more he could see it didn’t look quite right, but…

Nick acted like he’d spotted something, and was investigating… he picked it up, looked, shrugged… and then kept walking, right to his own car, which was kind of tucked away by the entrance where he'd wanted to pick up bits from the shops, earlier, today. He pretended to root around for something, like he hadn’t just gone out to look for a crushed-to-pieces mobile that he’d deliberately left under the wheel of an office temp’s Mini…and then he walked back up to the office.

More resilient that he might have thought. Basically, it was intact – the LCD was beyond repair, and the casing had kind of half come apart, so the battery wasn’t connecting… but, it might even still have worked if he’d pushed it all back together – though God knows how he would know who he was ringing, or who was ringing him…. It was just a black mess, the screen, with hairline cracks, shaped like lighting streaks, all over it. And a few nasty scratches on the casing…. But he’d expected something much worse: busted pieces of debris, if he was honest. Front wheel drive car, pulling from a standing start, needing grip and probably even starting to turn… incredible, that she hadn’t completely totaled it.


Seemed weird, the office, with nothing but the remains left to remind him of the day. No Kassidy, just the afternath… Hard to know where to start..?

By playing with his cock a little, was the answer – massaging the hard-on that was starting to get a grip. Letting it take control… might just as well give in to that, or else the whole thing was completely mental: probably getting on for a grand’s worth, if he were to replace all the things she’d already fucked with her feet, let alone… don’t think about that, don’t think about that. Just think about the horny side...

The full erection was immediate. And it raged harder, when he walked into the office where she’d spent that afternoon. Saw those shoes, over by his coat.

That was where he started, promising himself he’d completely give in the urge, indulge it to the extreme… kneeling on the floor, letting his eyes take in the marks on the leather coat… they were evil. In two places, the thin steel centre of that uncapped heel had actually caused little rips - and in other places it had caused tiny round stresses and distortions which there would be no way of reversing. Like when you stretch something that bit too far, and it won’t go back..?

And then there were those shoes – one upright, one on its side, just where she’d left them. There was still crap on the soles – and, on the top parts, Nick could see the imprints of her feet… he knew what he had to do, and he knew this time he was going to do it. He couldn’t understand it, exactly… he couldn’t understand why she had him in this spell, but she sure did have him. And it was mad… after all, he didn’t like disrespectful people… he didn’t like people who didn’t watch where they were going…

And in fact (and this was another thing, which had worried him, when he’d been looking at those boots of hers, and thinking…)

It had all come back: that witch of a district nurse, who’d used to ride up and down the path behind where he’d lived, when he was younger - same times, every afternoon. He’d remembered those wet days, when the snails were all over - the same ones that came into the garden, and Nick fed lettuce to (which his mum had hated him doing, becasue she'd preferred feeding them pellets, but still)… she was quite pretty, that young nurse, all in blue, with her big black bag… but he’d hated her, and the sounds of the shells being scrunched into the path as her bike carried on all along… she must have squished hundreds, over the months… and every time he saw her coming, his stomach would be in knots, and he’d nearly be in tears… Nurses were supposed to save life – not splatter it across the nearest available bit of uncared for, overgrown tarmac… But still he’d go out there, after if it had rained, if it was that time of day – almost like he couldn’t resist having her unknowingly torturing him as she rode up and back. Sometimes he’d even focus on one particular shell, seeing it gleaming wet on the path, and he’d pray that she’d miss – and then she’d get closer, and then, as often as not: right over it, both wheels… which would set him off thinking about how its insides would be smooshed onto her tyres, with her still peddling along, through mud and puddles… A couple of times he’d even climbed the fence, followed her tracks, seen where there was just a head flattened, or a tail… when the anger, and the tears…

He’d been ashamed of himself, with Kassidy boots, that he’d wondered about ants. He didn’t know what it was, that had brought all that back. He certainly wouldn’t have put ants under her car, not even now..? What sort of man..?

Exactly, what sort of man. What sort of man picks up a wedge shoe, and sniffs it, and then kisses the place where a woman’s toes have been…. And then turns that shoe over, and starts to lick the swirly, curly patterns on the sole..? Ants or no ants – nothing seemed like it was going to stop him, now the Genie was unbottled. Anything she’d walked on, it was all going to end up on his lips and tongue. Gentle licks at first, but then…

He kept working his tongue into the grooves, tasting whatever he licked off, thinking her name, over and over: Kassidy, Kassidy, Kassidy… bringing back images of the way she moved, that gentle but firm sway, those calves, those breasts, her smile, her eyes, her hair… her feet. He could have fucked that bitch senseless…

The he remembered the picture. Bit by bit, he moved all the stuff over to the desk where the picture was. The leather coat, the shoes, the phone… and he was about to start, when… Melanie!

The call was short, breathless, panicked. He couldn’t explain, and he didn’t try. He would be late, and that was that. He was going for a drink, and that was that… Jesus, he didn’t want her coming over, to get him..? And then he settled in, for the wank of his life. He crawled round the floor, kissing and licking every little curly wurly mark…hard to guess how ill he was making himself, but he didn’t care. It was like a drug.

Into the archive room. Kissing the marks in the thick dirt – no, not there. He couldn’t eat that lot… for more reasons than just his health. There was the future… Instead, he held the shoes tight in his hand, lay on his back in the filth that she’d trodden all through, placed one wedge on his face and one on his chest… and then, inevitably, began to rub one on his cock over his trousers…

Nick lay there for what seemed like just a short, heavenly while, sniffing, licking those shoes, holding the soles to his face, pretending she was wearing them, standing on his face, looking down… and then undoing his trousers, and pants, and touching the other shoe onto his cock, naked, for the first time…

He started to feel pre-cum, almost immediately, and then realized he didn’t have the picture… he wanted the picture, before he could finish this off - and he stumbled out, trousers round his ankles, one shoe still held against his rampant cock, rubbing it, thinking of her… wanting to hold the explosion for just a little longer, when he saw her prints on that photo… and even though he stopped pulling, it was too late… spraying everywhere, all round the desk and even a bit on the chair, some on the coat…

Then the disaster he’d kind of thought was going to be a part of this, every time he’d dared dream… right as he was shooting, he heard it…

Someone opening the door to the main office.

- - - - -

Kassidy had enjoyed the evening. There were times when she was unsure, and scared, and times when she thought he was… and she didn’t really understand what the point with the phone was, because she’d thought up until then it was about her feet… but a bit of solid surfing time had helped make it more intelligible, if still pretty confusing. And one thing was clear: there were women out there who made a fortune out of the Nick’s of this world.

Lifestyles? They were the ones who seemed to have the best deal of all. They apparently enjoyed it, and raked in the rewards in adoration and cash…?

But Kassidy was NOT a prostitute. They said they weren’t, either. But.. She’d have to keep giving thought, to that one.

It was a little into the evening, when she rang Lizzie. She knew it should be left to the next day, but – as ever, she was curious. What would he have done next? Was there anything on that digital, that would give more clues? He’d probably just gone home, but…

She had on just smart jeans, a T-shirt, her Nike trainers and her biggest handbag – when she left he house in Lizzie’s 4X4 Beamer. Lizzie had black culottes, with her really cool Faith biker boots. They had plenty of Faith, those two girls, it had to be said – and Kassidy loved those boots of Lizzie’s – which kind of had a heel, and looked sexy, with a cross over strap - but the soles were really like they were was for hiking, or something (and usually left bits of mud on people’s carpets, to prove it…) Funny, Kassidy had often noticed when Lizzie trod dirt into people’s floors, so it wasn’t just Kassidy that could wind up the odd house-proud host… But she’d never really thought of it like that before.

It was around eight when they pulled into what was a nearly empty car park. And if Kassidy had known what type of car Nick had… but she didn’t. She was glad to have Lizzie with her. The two young women left the BMW, and walked toward the offices’ entrances. Kassidy would have like to have checked out where that phone had been – but that wasn’t possible. Lizzie had parked further down – just as well, maybe, or else Kassidy could have ended up being in two different cars that had run over the same phone, in the same day. (Although she wouldn’t have fancied its chances one little bit, if Lizzie had nailed it with either of the front tyres of that four by four, the way Kassidy must have done earlier with the Mini…)

She felt nervous, unlocking the office and entering the code. Surprised, too, that the alarm hadn’t been set, even though the door was locked. She felt dishonest, even though Nick had given her the keys and codes – because she’d never actually been asked to use them…

The two girls spent maybe thirty seconds or so in the main office, whilst Lizzie nodded approvingly… ‘You wouldn’t think it was like this from the outside,’ she admitted. 'He’s got taste, I’ll give him that. And dosh.’ She smiled, and Kassidy smiled back. It was always good, to get the endorsement of another woman – even if Lizzie had no damned clue what she was actually being asked to endorse. Then they went into Kassidy’s office…

It was a shock, in truth, what she found. For all the surfing she’d done, she hadn’t really thought… the shoes were gone, and so was the leather… most of the pictures were gone, too, but… not all. The door to the archive room was closed.

‘Now this is more you,’ said Lizzie, following on in. ‘Bit more of a tip, stuff on the floor? Nice chair though – can I give it a whirl? I haven’t done office stuff for a while now, since David…?’

Yeh, all right. So David was loaded. ‘Be my guest, Kassidy said. I only want one thing…’ and she moved towards that bag, on the hook.

Lizzie slumped into the chair, and was whirling it round, like a kid. Kassidy took the chance to grab the bag off the peg, and slip it into her own bag… funny, she’d have expected that she would have had the feel of his leather coat under her trainers, but all that was strewn round was just a few bits and pieces of scarves and stuff, along with that fawn thing…although she gave her feet a little wipe on that, anyway, just for the crack…

She was just finishing up, and turning back to see what Lizzie was doing, when…

‘Hell’s bells! What am I treading in. And on. Kas, sorry – I’ve done a you. It’s like, someone’s birth certificate, or something – and, what’s this… is it glue, or what…. I’ve wheeled the chair all in it, and put my boot in one lot..?’ This is a mess and a half, even for you..?’

That was when Kassidy began to twig. She started to think about why the room was the way it was, and why that door was closed. She started to put it…

‘Kass – and this phone? What on earth… look at the state of it.. is this what you have to work with…?’ Lizzie was saying it in a mock-shocked tone, with a smile. But it still took Kassidy back for a second.

‘Oh, er no’ said Kassidy. She wondered if she was right about the closed door. She was wondering if he was there, and if he could hear them…

‘Actually’ she said, ‘it’s my boss’s. But I…. promise you won’t laugh… I ran over it with my car?’

That did the job. Got Lizzie away from the questions about the white sticky stuff all round the desk, on the floor – which had to be..!

‘You’re kidding! You… Jeeze, it looks like it, too.’ Lizzie was holding it, running her long painted fingernails along it, toying with the scratches. ‘That is a seriously sad looking mobey. But… does he know….. what did he say… I mean, how…?’

‘Come on,’ said Kassidy. ‘I’ll tell you later’. When I’ve made something up. ‘Let’s go have a drink? I need somethig to get me going..?’ It was tempting to stay, to milk it – but that could just have gone so wrong.

‘Sounds good, said Lizzie, standing. The two girls went to leave.
Jeeze, Lizzie said, as she made her way towards the door. This has to be glue, right – I’m sticking to the floor every time I walk..? Where there's load of it, all on my boot..?

Yeh, glue. Right. Still, at least Kassidy had the film. What she didn’t know, was just how good the content was…and just how much she was going to enjoy playing the images back, in bed, later that night…

[iwantkylietowalkonme]

I'm absolutely entralled my this.

It's so well written and I always enjoy a good story.

Thank you:)

[Steel Etto]

Part 8

When Nick finally came out of that archive room, half way through the evening, he felt as ashamed as he’d ever done. He felt like a complete mug. He looked around that office, and he wondered what the hell had made him do it. No way could he leave this for a cleaner, either. He’d have to do it himself. Christ, and what a mess. Holes, dents, and splinters all over the floor. His phone… useless. Papers and pictures, from confidential files, all covered in women’s footprints. And sticky now, too, where whoever it was that had walked in with Kassidy had… trodden his spunk into stuff, as well as getting it on the chair wheels, little isolated blobs... What the hell had he been thinking?

How the hell was he supposed to account for it all… even just the marks and dents all over the floor, which had the most obvious explanations… if Melanie ever saw it, she’d be so disapproving, so full of the rights of trees not to be cut down and abused by moronic fashion victims….

And even now, even with his sacks pretty much fully emptied, there was a tiny stirring, deep down, that reminded him of the devil inside, that had talked him into it… but he couldn’t see how it had ever got so powerful, so uncontrollable, so completely demonic. It didn’t make the same sense, now that the logical side of his brain was more in the ascendancy. The thing was, with the sacks empty: he couldn’t see himself losing the plot again, quite this badly, ever.

Nick made a clear decision. For the last bit of this week, it would be work as usual. She could stay – because she was good, and because she wouldn’t get to him in that way, ever again. And because, anyway – what if he told her to go, and she cut up fumy, started mouthing off… She had something of the working class loud-mouth image about her, if he was honest… although maybe that was unfair. He couldn’t say this was all down to Kassidy, no matter how much he tried to convince himself. So she could stay. As a data inputter, and receptionist-come-… Come nothing. No come at all. Capital letters, full stop.

- - - - -

Kassidy Sharp slid into bed, tucked herself up, and let the recording run on the computer: a bit of ‘late-night TV’. She wasn’t really expecting much – but she had major curiosity, nonetheless, especially after a couple of drinks and a grilling from Lizzie over the how she’d managed to drive her car over Nick’s phone…

Her expectations were pretty much in line, too, to start off with. Not much prime viewing at all: mostly, the top of his head… he must have been right down low, somewhere by the peg where the camera had been. But then, just as she was about to give up… it got unbelievable. He moved over by the desk, and she could see exactly what he was doing… He was just acting crazy… licking the shoes that she’d left… kissing them… pressing them into his face…

Kassidy was cross, at first – even a bit upset, and… but her emotions had been weird, from the start. Like with Lizzie treading in his come… and it had to have been his come… and the images on the screen looked like they were about to prove it… but Kassidy had been a bit jealous, on that one… like it was Lizzie had gone somewhere into Kassidy’s territory that she shouldn’t have… trampling his unborn babies… fuck, that was kind of horny and, like, how could Kassidy top that one? Run her wheel over the factory? Crush his balls… No way. Come, once it was out, was one thing, but… although, maybe a good kicking…?

Shit, where was all this coming from Those were really spiteful ideas – so why did they suddenly appeal..? And if Kassidy could think all these kinds of things and… kind of get turned on by them… then who was she to judge the man who she was watching crawling round her office, kissing and licking her shoes, worshipping where she’d walked…

No point lying, she liked the kissing. Kassidy had always liked a man who was ready to kiss her feet, and there hadn’t been enough of them… she’d enjoyed the yoghurt thing, best – who was that now..? Rick..? So it was pretty horny, when she let it be, watching her boss giving his adoration to the ground she’d walked on… because that’s what it was he seemed he was doing. And if she could just get the doubts more in proportion..? Because sex is sex, whichever way… nobody ever said it was safe, or clean… But then that was another problem, of course. If it was sex, it was…cheating. For both of them. Or was it just lust..? Didn’t really count? A kind of game, but not actually..?

Jesus, it was just plain horny, when she’d let it be. After a while, it wasn’t just the film of Nick that had masturbating going on in it. Kassidy was doing some stroking of her own, live… and then when she saw him go into the archive room, and place those shoes on… his face, then….fuck, fuck, fuck! It got so that, in the end, he was pressing one of her sandals against his naked cock, like he was pretending she was standing… not on his things, not on his possessions, but on… Christ, maybe she hadn’t been so wild, thinking about crushing his sperm even before it came out… that would have outdone Lizzie’s little stunt, actually trampling it whilst it was still inside him…

And not what you expect, when you start a job with some flash sod – that you could end up squeezing the contents out of his genitals, from the outside, by crushing them under your feet… like one of those women who tramples grapes, forcing the juice out… talk about walking all over your employer..?

Every now and again, she’d lose the thread – come back to thinking it was completely wrong, being so turned on by… violence, and humiliation: there was no other way of looking at it. There was no other argument, surely: some of her thoughts were… wrong…. And she’d say that it was just fantasy, but then – it wasn’t fantasy she was looking at, on her laptop screen.

Or maybe it was..? One thing him holding her shoes on him, another thing him actually letting her… maybe he was just pretending, and maybe she should, too – and then she could stop worrying, and think of him under her feet – think about his sperm squirting out under the pressure, like toothpaste being trodden out of a tube… like that advert, not so long back, with the high heeled shoe, forcing it all out onto the floor…

MMMMMmmmmm. Oh shit, that was good. Real good. Real, real…

- - - - -

Nick didn’t sleep so very well, the night of the big orgasm. He was more in control, it was true – but the obsession count was already creeping up, without him thinking about where that would take him back to. For a while, guilt and responsibility were winning against Kassidy, and her painted toes, and her sandals, and… but…


Melanie had sandals, too. …they were by her side of the bed, waiting for her, as she slept. They were safe, durable, practical… which was the way a shoe ought to be, surely… Nick had never imagined himself, wanting to kiss them, and couldn’t see that changing in a hurry… He kissed her back, softly. And yes, he would have kissed her feet, if not her shoes – which was more the way normal people would have done it – but she wouldn’t have thanked him. It worried Nick a little, that he hadn’t thrown away the phone,,, that he kept thinking of having another look at it, even… but then, there was the SIM to consider. That might still be useful..? Either way, the last day of the week was going to be strictly professional. No more of this… nonsense.

- - - - -

The last day of the week was in some ways a disappointment. But in other ways, Nick’s choice to suddenly switch to the cool professional lawyer type made things even better. Those occasional thoughts of him as some chap sleaze bag just couldn’t get though, during any of that day.

Kassidy enjoyed being chauffered in his car. It wasn’t the sporty gas guzzler she’d expected. Nice, though. He definitely had cash. She liked the feel of the carpet – but then didn’t like it, for some odd reason, to think that other feet had been there first. Other feet had more claim, even… and she was continually surprised by how she could feel jealous about all this, like the way she’d felt about Lizzie getting his spunk on the soles of her boots….

She was mostly in black today, with patterned stockings and thin black heels from Shuh. It ws a good look, if she said so herself, and she knew he was noticing… but there was nothing to show for it. No family memento, down under the dashboard, waiting, for her to drill holes into, to stroke her soles over, to give those sharp heels a little morsel to feed on…

Great restaurant, too. Couldn’t have faulted it – being taken out for lunch, all paid. But the more he was charming, calm, and sauve, the more she found herself back with the fantasies. This man would look even better, on the floor, begging her… and offering not his stuff, but himself, as her own rug… to use as she felt fit… But then, if he really couldn’t manage that…. At least he could be taking off his suit, his pants… laying it all in the mud in a country lane, for Kassidy to step on, or even to drive over - slowly and deliberately, like Lady Muck… but the body itself would be best…. The ultimate thing to lay at her feet…

She contemplated a prod in the groin, under the table, with the classy looking toe of one of those courts… or even the heel! That would wake him! But it had to be his move. And if all he was offering now, was unadorned carpet in the family saloon… well, then she’d play the waiting game. For a while. After all, there was stuff she could use as leverage, to make her fantasies back into realities. But. Maybe..?

It would be kind of disappointing, though, if she had to start making the running, completely?

- - - - -

Nick felt it had gone well, the day. He felt he’d regained some poise, some respect – and she’d looked great. He’d seen guys, looking her over… And all weekend, he felt confident he’d cracked it, with her. So confident, he didn’t bother to pull himself off, not once. And Melanie didn’t give out, either. Which meant he was back in on Monday, with a much fuller tank. And two sexy as fuck feet, there in that office, waiting for him. He really should have known: that was not a recipe to keep him on the safe path… not safe at all.

Monday was to be another day of lost ground, for Nicholas James. And it was amazing, really, that he didn’t see it coming. Because it was building, all weekend. And the way the phone got more and more important to him, the more and more he should have taken the hint – and taken the phone, and stood for ten minutes in the toilet.

But he didn’t. And that was a huge mistake – depending on how it’s judged, looking back on the terrible consequences..

[LuvsHerHeels]

wow...this is a very well written story.
thanks.

[Steel Etto]

Part 9

Monday, July 9. Kassidy had left for work early. She’d felt like she had to be in the office first, for some reason. As though, if there were going to be any surprises, then she wasn’t going to be the one on the receiving end. The car park was pretty empty, and she swung in, turned off the engine, grabbed her bags.

She had a trouser suit on, today, kind of pin stripe. She liked that one. And sandals, for the driving – Kickers, but they had nice heels… not too thin, but stylish, and with like studs all along where the soles met the straps… In the bag, though, the same shoes as she’d had on during that meal on Friday. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t fallen for those courts in a bigger way. They were owed some attention. So they were going to get at least one more turn! Kassidy loved the buckle across them, that made the pointed front of the shoe look even more…. More…? it was kind of like a lock clasp, over her toes… not prissy at all. More like…. Keys and chains..? And the heels were near on four inches, and thin, with a tiny metal tip… Just the business, for a business suit.

She was into the office at around 7.45. This time, the alarms were all on. So no way could he be hid in some cupboard, surely? But she had he wits about her, as she made her way into his part of the building, sinking her shoes into the carpet.

Very different Nick’s office, to Kassidy’s. Both were decked out nicely, but his was really plush – with furniture that she thought was probably pretty pricy, although not always what she’d have chosen, and not always even new. The desk was like the kind of thing they’d have drooled over in Bargain Hunt… and then the two chairs, where people sat when they came in to see him, and… that little leather topped footstool, brown, that he tended to put files on as he worked… And his chair. Now, the chair was cool, no denying. Leather again, and brown, like the other chairs – but it tilted, and wheeled, and…

Basically she had to try it. She’d been itching, from almost the minute she’d first come through the doors. And now was her chance… She put down her bag, wheeled it back from the desk, went to sit…. And then had a nice little thought, and took a pace or two across the room, grabbed the footstool, placed it nicely in reach… and then she sat, nuzzled herself in… put up her feet.

That was when she noticed that her toenails cold do with a touch up.

She leaned over, scrabbled round in the bag… please, please… Bingo. She had it with her, the red. Kassidy took off one sandal, rested it on the footstool, just to one side of the middle, and then rested her bare foot dead centre, right next to it. Got to work on the paint job.

- - - - -

Nick’s journey in wasn’t a good one. It hadn’t been a good weekend, and this wasn’t a good start to Monday. He knew that he should have thrown away everything, from that Thursday evening. So why he’d taken stuff home, was a mystery? – especially because then it had meant he’d kept sneaking peeks, every time he could get free of Melanie. Maybe that should have told him something. He couldn’t let go of the irony, either – sperm, squished into a birth certificate. That was one of his favourite parts of the haul… and there it was again, Haunting him, almost like it had been haunting him on the Thursday it happened…

He hoped to hell it was all safely hidden. And, in truth, he was wondering if he shouldn’t have brought it back to the office – but then there was the problem getting everything back into the car…

Nick knew enough to know it was all welling up again. But he was sure he could keep hold of it, now he knew where it might lead. He’d be there before her. He could get settled in, bring himself down, do the same professional thing he’d done on Friday..?

When he pulled into the car park, stopped, grabbed his case… he already knew part of his plan wasn’t going to work out exactly as he'd thought. He’d seen that red Mini, and that was all the clue he needed. What..?

Nick climbed the stairs, quietly opened the door. If anyone was going to be surprised, this time, it was going to be…

Him! She wasn’t in her office. She was in his. In his chair, bold as brass, with her bare foot on his dad’s antique stool, the shoe resting next to it… painting her toenails! Mr James senior would have hit the roof…

Shit, but those feet..! Sex on legs.

‘Morning?’ he said. Trying to work out how to handle the mess he was already in, trying not to let his voice sound strangled, panicked… He really wanted her foot moved. Right now! The arrogance of it wasn’t just annoying him – it was churning his stomach, rousing the new seeds in his groin… Already, just seconds into the day and he was getting an erection. And it was coming up fast, somehow being made more powerful by his attempt to will it back down…

- - - - -

‘Oh, hi?’ She tried to keep it bright and breezy. She thought about moving her foot, immediately – but she knew, somehow, that she had to hold her nerve. So she kept it there, although she stopped the painting. Just sat with the brush in her fingers, smiling innocently… putting it back in his court.

He just looked more and more uncomfortable. It didn’t seem like anything was going to come, by way of response – other than being kind of white in the face, and terrified looking…

‘Shall I finish this in my own office?’ she asked. ‘ I mean, don’t worry, it won’t be on my timesheet. I’ll put myself down from nine – and then at least by then I’ll look the part?’


He kind of grunted, kind of nodded. Kassidy waved her hand around her toes, to dry them as much as she could before she moved them… but she kind of knew there could be a point where she played the card for too long… so, after ten seconds or so, she picked up the shoe, put it on the floor, and dropped her foot down, slid it carefully in through the straps. She glanced at him again, still white as a sheet, and she decided that if she was right about what was going through his mind, then it might be worth a big risk…

‘It’s a bit cheeky boss – but do you think I could just borrow this for a little while? She poked at the stool with the toe of the other sandal.

It definitely got a reaction. But no words. Just a kind of unconvincing nod, and then he turned away… Then he turned back. ‘I’ll… I’ll sort it,’ he said.

Five minutes later, Kassidy was in her own office. It was pretty tidy. Looked like it might even have been polished? She logged on to the PC, and waited. True enough, within five or six minutes, Nick came in with that stool. And with a kind of embroidered thing.

‘You, er… you can put it over… if you want?’ He handed her the cloth. Felt like cotton…looked like it was hand embroidered..?

‘Ta’, she said. And she draped it over the stool, and then slipped her right foot back out of her sandal. Placed it on the edge of one of the patterned flowers… It didn’t help, the cloth. It was slippy, on the leather. But Kassidy went with it, for the time being. And just to try and keep him there, watching, she hit him with a question.

‘I was thinking… you know the wedges I had last week. You know, the ones I left, that were dusty..?’

His face! Like he’d just found his house was on fire. She saw his Adam’s Apple jump, saw him struggle to…

‘Wedges? Oh, yes… wedges… shoes. Yes, I, er… I’ve put them safe…. I… The thing is, I need to go out of half an hour or so. Can we…. You know, when I get back?’

‘Sure, sure.’ Kassidy carried on painting. This seemed like it was right back on track. And when he came back into the office just before leaving, she knew for sure that all that calm and cool of Friday was being blown to kingdom come, all by an accidental bit of touching up....

‘I need a favour’ he said.

‘Yes?’

I have a client coming, in ten minutes. We just need this form filling in, and copies of his documents. Could you…. stand in..?

Stand in? Oh yes, Kassidy could stand in, all right. ‘No problem,’ she said.

Gotcha! No question, surely? this was right back in the ball park?
- - - - -


Nick walked out to the car park, in a worse state even than he’d been in on Thursday. He was furious with her arrogance, and turned on by it beyond anything ever before, even counting the end of the last week. But he was really trapped this time, too. He had to get those shoes out of the garage… shit, how stupid was that! And it was worse… he had to somehow get crap on them, that would look like the crap off of the archive room floor. Because otherwise… he could hardly see himself telling that cocky bitch that he’d actually licked her shoes clean, after all the damage they'd caused…

Worse still, a part of Nick was saying that he should do exactly what he was fighting against. Give in, tell her what she was doing to his insides, crawl to her feet and…

If there was one little thing that fell in Nick’s favour Melanie was out. So getting the shoes was easy. And getting a pair of Melanie’s shoes was easy, too. One of the nicer pairs. Because maybe, if he was going to lose his head again, then… it wouldn’t be quite so bad, would it, if he could get..?

That was the point when Nick saw the pillows, where the bed had been neatly made… and how his latest idea had anything to do with bringing his wife into this, without actually taking the piss completely, wasn’t clear to him. But he went ahead, anyway – walked out to the airing cupboard, got two of those pillows… with more of that hand made stitching, and the two little butterfly motifs sewed on… and he sandwiched the two pairs of shoes between then, and set off back to the car. And back to…

- - - - -

Kassidy’s first ‘interview’ was fun. She enjoyed being in the chair. And she enjoyed that the guy – John Murdoch, aged 27 – obviously fancied her. She got him to fill and sign the forms, whilst she copied his documents. And she laid the originals on the floor by the copier, whilst she tided and ordered the others. It could easily have been one of her accidents, when she stepped to one side and pinned the edge of his P60 under her left heel for a second or two, with quite a bit of her weight on that foot… but, actually…

It made a kind of rustling sound, as her shoe pressed down and then lifted off. She was sure as she could be, that he noticed, even then. He certainly noticed when she did the handback. There were folds in the paper, all converging on the one deep horseshoe imprint - like rays from a kid’s picture of the sun - where the paper had crumpled underneath her. Still, he’d get another in a year…

He thanked her, with a peculiar expression on his face.. and then… ‘I don’t suppose you have time for a coffee? He asked.

‘Well I do’, she said, smiling. ‘But I’m going to be having it on my own.’

Fair enough,’ he said. And he smiled back. ’Can’t blame a guy for trying?’

True enough. Kassidy showed him out, just the same. And went off to put his stuff somewhere safe. In the end, she decided she might well start a new row in the archives, and then it could all be part of the inputting, as the updating carried on. She went back into the office, and she took the stool, and she took hold of that kind of Laura Ashley looking cover thing…

No way was that staying on there – she’d break her fucking neck. Instead, she just laid the stupid thing on the floor near the door, where at least it could help stop dirt going everywhere, including onto Kassidy’s shoes…. And then she placed a couple of the files down there, too, and then carried in the stool – making sure she only walked on the stuff she’d just carpeted the floor with...

Lastly she got a new box, labelled it, and stepped up onto the footstool, to reach up to the highest shelf. She couldn’t quite get the box along to the end – her carpet hadn’t been long enough, but… it would do, for now… And that stool was a whole lot easier, to stand on, without the cover - especially with Kassidy keeping her shoes on, so that her feet pressed the the metal tips nicely into the leather where there was no chance at all of them sliding, unti she jiggled each foot free, and stepped back down …

Jeeze. Four or five fairly deep horseshoe imprints, to show for Kassidy’s labours (not so very different to the ones in the P60) which was a bit of a surprise, when she noticed – what with it being a footstool? Surely, she couldn’t have been the first to have actually stood on it? Maybe they'd just fade...?

- - - - -

When Nick got back to the office, he was in a fair old state. When he walked into Kassidy’s office, it got no better. He asked about the interview. She said it had gone well. He didn’t see inside the archive room, at first – not until he asked if he could check the documents… when, to his surprise and horror, she got up and headed towards…

She’d actually laid more stuff on that floor. Even that embroidered… but worse than that, was that stool… that had been valued at a grand! And it looked like she was intending…

No, no way would anyone do that. Or, at least… maybe without the shoes, maybe barefoot… maybe that was why the carpet… which she was already trampling into the dirt, on her way… but no sign of…

Right at the last, she slipped one off, looked back at him… placed her bare foot on the leather. ‘You could have helped me up?’ she said, as cheeky as fuck. ‘Well, come on then – I’ll pass it to you…and then I can put it back up when you’ve checked I’ve done it right. I’m not some kind of Jack-in-Box, going to be up and down here for people’s entertainment?

Nick tried, he really did, not to make himself look even more stupid. But he just couldn’t walk on that embroidered cloth, or on those files. So he kind of skirted round, feeling idiotic… with the bag in his hand, that maybe, somehow?… boths pair of shoes were in there, still cushioned in these pillows. If he could somehow get those sandals onto the floor, into the dirt… but he couldn’t concentrate on that, whilst picking his way through, and whilst occasionally glancing, unbelieving, at her up on that treasured antique… her feet, those painted toes, on that leather…

To cap it all: there was even a bit of him that had been disappointed, at that final moment, when she’d kicked off those… but then no-one, no-one, would have been so destructive as to…

Nick didn’t really see anything of the documents she passed down to him. He looked, but nothing went in through his eyes… he passed them back up. She slid them onto the shelf, and then… he was just going to try and get the wedges out onto the bit of floor that was uncovered, right at the end – and he was kind of bending, almost kneeling, with her right up above him…

‘You couldn’t pass me my shoes, while you’re down there? It’ll be awkward, otherwise?

Shoes? What… the wedges? No, not yet, please, just… She’d twig, she was bound too. So when Nick saw where she was gesturing, he was relieved, for a second… he passed her those two black high heels, holding them by the buckled fronts, and then he kind of bent down further and tried to tip his bag, whilst she seemed busy, distracted…

- - - - -

Kassidy placed the shoes on the footstool, and then slid one foot after the other into the uppers. She got her balance straight, stood there a second, and then prepared to step down… she’d expected a real reaction, except… Nick wasn’t noticing all this. He was kind of like groveling in the corner, right at the end of the aisle, where there was nothing covering the floor… almost on his knees, but like he had something underneath that she couldn’t quite see… and he was kind of in the leapfrog position..

Back in the younger days, if someone had left an invitation like that, some cocky sod would have…

That was when it occurred to Kassidy… and she knew she wouldn’t have long to decide. She stretched out one foot toward him… then pulled it back…. Heart pumping. No way could she do this? Come on girl, you don’t get chances like this that often. She stretched out a second time, picked a spot between his shoulder blades. Because from there, she could get the box slid right along to the end, which would be her excuse… and… if she could only get the nerve to hold… Christ, that looked good. The ravry ws coming through, and the black of her shoe was just touching on the white of his shirt, for the first time…

She had to go for it. She musn't stop now. She needed to get the words out. Even if she could hear the fear in her own voice…

‘I hope you don’t mind’ she said. Taking the punt of her life. ‘But… hold still a moment. While…’ (should she give him a choice..? No…) ‘While I just quickly stand on your back…?’ she finished up saying.

- - - - -

Just as Nick thought he’d been clever, he started to realize… he’d felt a bit of pressure on his shoulders, and he’d thought maybe it was her, with her hand, steadying herself… and all he’d been interested in was trying to rub those wedges into the floor… but suddenly he understood what she was planning. She was about to step off of that stool, and onto… him. He’d actually be under her feet, taking the full weight of her curvy, blond, arrogant body on,,, his own flesh. And the one thing he calculated correctly, was that she hadn’t so much just asked him a question, as given him a warning. Hold still, whilst I quickly stand on your back…

So all he did, was what she’d asked. He braced himself. Although what he was braced for, was different in the extreme to what he got next…

- - - - -

She saw him do it. Brace himself. And she knew – now or never girl. If you’re ever going to trample all over this guy, for real, then here you are, the toes of one foot already on him, and he’s braced for the rest of you…

If anything, it was a bit hurried, the way she stepped across the gap. But she kept her balance pretty well, and straightened up, got herself back in control. She looked down – fuck, that looked good.

‘You ok there?’ she asked. I mean, it’s not like I’m a big fatty, or anything..?

- - - - -

OK?! Was she kidding. What the fuck..?! The two searing pressure points on his flesh were incredible, even through a shirt. And within what seemed like just a second or two, even the pressure of the soles was… Nick could feel himself sweating, with the pain and embarrassment, together. One of his workers was standing on his back, using him as a footstool… he knew the bitch was up there, in business suit and those sharp as fuck shoes, and… why hadn’t she said… how in the world had she thought it was all right to…

And to think, on Thursday, he’d fantasized… and now…. And if she didn’t get off soon, he thought he might pass out with the pain… one of her heels had kind of trapped his skin against his spine…

‘OK, keep still one more moment. I’m going back to the stool, now..’

Nick couldn’t have imagined the situation in which he would be grateful for some hard-headed, selfish cow to step onto his father’s antique stool in shoes that ought to have been given out only on license… but that was the fact of it, as his back took one more visciously firm half second of her concentrated pressure on it - where it felt like she might even drill right though his skin, with the weight momentarily on one foot… and then the immediate agony was gone. Just the humiliation left, on his knees, having to turn and face her. Which he couldn’t for a moment. And still he couldn’t, as he heard her leaving the room, hearing the files softly crumple under the shoes that had just... Never said a word, either. Just went back to he desk, left him there…

- - - - -

Kassidy felt as high as she’d felt, ever. That had been fucking amazing. Maybe she’d gone too far. In fact, she must have done, surely..? But shit, she’d have done it again. She’d actually stepped on someone, to get what she wanted. Both feet, full weight. For real. Just to move a box, too – nothing that vital. She’d wanted to make the filing more tidy, and she’d stood on her boss’s body, to do it. Fuck. And…

He finally came out. He looked lost, broken. And she’d done that to him. Like with that toy warship – only now she’d crushed a real person, reduced him to – but then, could he be put back together, just the same, with maybe just a few bits missing….?

Not yet, maybe?

‘Want a coffee’ she asked. ‘You look like you need one.’

He nodded,

‘You really want one,’ she asked. Like really?’

He nodded.

Kiss my feet then, she wanted to say. Come on, don’t be shy. One little kiss on each one, and they might feel like walking to the kettle?

Poor love. He definitely, definitely wasn’t seaworthy right now. But still she wanted to make him take another hit. Kassidy had never though of herself as mean before. But then she’d never had this kind of head-fuck, to turn her into the person who was sat there, right now, weighing up the next move…

[LuvsHerHeels]

wow...and the tension between then is building....Kassidy seems ready to be that dominating foot and trample Goddess.

[gerryl]

Brilliant story. Can't wait for the next instalment.

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

You do a great build up in your stories!! Just great, and can't wait to read more!!

hhhmmm:)

[Steel Etto]

Part 10

Nick was just standing, holding that ridiculous bag, wondering how what had just happened had just happened. There was no undoing it, either. His self-serving, curvy blond, prick teasing office assistant had... his skin still felt sore, where...

He tried not to keep sneaking glances at her feet, and at those shoes... but... the thing was, Kassidy’s shoes and feet were definitely a part of all this 'forbidden' turn on... and the heels she had on now were an even more sperm jangling proposition than the sandals she'd had on earlier in the morning, when she was painting those toenails... she must have done that quick change act, whilst he was out getting... the wedges, as she called them: the ones he'd already licked and kissed - like she was some kind of altogether superior being, that deserved...

But what made all this all the more scary was, What the fuck had made this so called Kassidy Sharp – half the dream governess, half the bitch from hell - take such a liberty with his body, and with his pride, when only a few days before Nick had been the one to have a fantasy about her doing exactly those things? It wasn’t like she could have known...? Or was it so obvious? Was there something about these weird turn-ons of Nicks, which this young woman knew all about, and was kind of laughing at - even using against him..? Did she somehow know even more about what was happening to him right now, than he did..? Had she just taken his own psyche, wooden spoon style, and wickedly stirred his balls with it.

'You all right?' she was asking.

'I'm sorry,' was all he could say. 'I kind of... I don't know, I've just been doing some really stupid... And you... your shoes...' He went to try and reach into that stupid bag, to give her the wedges - feeling so ashamed that he’d actually taken them away with him, carried them off to his house, pretty much worshipped them… without any permission, and where she might have thought he was mentally sick if she'd known he'd been... eating the dirt…

'My shoes?' she said. And then she kind of looked down, spun her chair round a little, angled her feet. 'Oh yes, my shoes. I thought these would go well with the outfit – especially if I was going to be actually meeting a client… do you like them, then?'

Did Nick..?! No, that wasn't what he'd meant... He hadn't even been talking about those ones. But now he knew he was redding up really badly, because he knew the answer to her unexpected question alright, even though they were at cross purposes. They looked fantastic, despite that he wanted to be supercilious about them, the way Melanie would have been. He wished he could do better at forcing himself to watch her, sat there, with her feet still angled so that just her heels were touching the floor - where he could kind of see her right foot in profile, side on, and even see the shape of her arch where her trousers were just riding up high enough, with her sitting down, and... she was one sexy bitch, and he hated having such a problem with her... but then she'd just humiliated...

Shit, Fuck all the bullshit. If Nick had been given half the chance, and if he could have risen to the challenge… he’d have wanted her in a bedroom, wanted her feet, her hair, her eyes, her arse, her meanness, her… everything. There! Completely honest, at least for three seconds! He fancied the arse of off her, and her attitude. That was the truth of it.

'My partner bought them' she went on. (And she kind of pushed her feet out further in front of her, as she spoke – but still sitting sideways on, and still with the left foot mostly hidden by the right, still with just the heels touching the pine... she’d probably just gouged two more of those evil little scratches into the wood, too, sliding her legs out that bit further, without lifting..) ‘'Well, he paid for them, is more the truth. Actually… he's even cleaned them for me, a couple of times... which is sweet, although... he's not the greatest of cleaners... A girl likes a bit of spoiling… But, what makes you mention them... I mean... Do you want to check them over, or something..? (She was keeping eye contact, throughout all of this. Smiling – although Nick could still do nothing but respond with half nods. His own eye contact wasn’t in the same league…) ‘God, listen to me,’ she went on - like she could tell he wasn’t ready to contribute. ‘Like you were one of my girl friends or something... I'll be asking if you want to try then on, next..?' She laughed. Although Nick didn't join in the joke. He winced... but he didn't stop her talking, It was like... this was the kind of thing the other boys would have been able to cope with joking about, when he was younger, but – the same boys who’d coped with the Piggy in the Middle stuff, with the girls’ trainers... but what had stopped him then, was his problem now... it was probing right in to something so deep, so protected... So he just stood there, dumb, trying to smile... hoping she wouldn't stop talking – but, at the same time, half of him praying that he could be whizzed away from this situation by some kind of TARDIS style machine...

'Honestly boss, if you want to look at them closer, maybe buy something similar for someone special..? I really don't mind. I love shoes, me... look, if you bring me the stool..?'

'Stool?' His heart was racing, thumping.. couldn't focus... She seemed to actually be offering him… it was like she was somehow able to see right into him, through where even his own pride wouldn’t let him go… No way could he touch..? He wanted it, too much… she’d see even more though him, if he..? But…

'The one in there,' she said. And she lifted one leg, swivelled the chair again - and actually used the toe of her right foot to point towards the archive room... 'And then I can... ? ' She smiled again.

Can what? Nick didn't know. Not at all. But he just ambled off, like some robotic prick-led moron, getting what she was asking for because... because the whole idea of what was happening was fascinating and exciting him beyond belief, in the moments when he remained honest, and when his cock was giving him the messages, loud and clear, rather than him listening to his brain or his conscience. As much as it was terrifying him... it really was like she was almost inside his mind, when he wasn't even properly inside there himself... God, she must think he was such a loser.... and still he was...

He could hardly bring himself to look at the leather... but even from a quick glance, he could see that as an antique that stool was never going to fetch even a fifty at auction, ever again - never mind a grand... she'd completely... talk about making an impression on something… Kassidy had left almost a dozen horseshoe prints all over the surface, some of them getting on for a quarter of an inch deep… but still he carried it out to her, placed it by her chair... and still he couldn't find any words...

'God, you're an angel.' she said. And she looked at him, her eyes really glowing, powerful – not like she was cross, or anything but... pleased. Although, she had to be thinking he was the lowest, surely... Because that's how it felt, to Nick. She shifted in the chair a little, and then... lifted her feet, and placed them both on... shit, arrogance, arrogance... those shoes, once again, on top of that hand crafted antique... and then she kind of dragged one heel across that leather, and... flipped off the left shoe, put her bare foot back on the stool, exactly like in the morning, with the sandals... those toenails, that slightly tanned flesh, the shape of her arch.... and there was that black buckled shoe, just sitting there - which she bent down towards, picked up in her fingers, and then... 'Go on, be brave' she said. ‘It won't bite..?

It already had. And it still was, biting like mad... into his back, into his pride, into his… confidence... how could a shoe reduce him like this..? He took it from her, but couldn't meet her gaze... He tried to look as though he was checking it over, like he was interested the way a normal person might be interested... aware of her stare, ripping into him, and her kind of kind of puzzled expression...

'Tell you what,' she said. 'I'll just get that coffee, like I said. And...

She did the same drag back, across the stool, with the right foot this time. Then she leaned and reached under the desk, pulled out the sandals from the morning...

'Take your time' she said. 'After all... you'll be paying for them from now on..? Well, you know what I mean… my wages? I mean, shoes is one of my big budget items, unless I can get..?' She smiled, stood, and walked out. Leaving Nick with both… two complete pairs of hers, now – counting the ones still in the bag... which was when his balls began to get the better of him, big time...

Nick waited, as long as he could. He waited to hear the sound of cups clanking, and the kettle going on, and then he brought one of those sharp looking - in every sense of the words - black heels to his lips and.... kissed it. Then he sniffed inside, and then... just like with the wedges, he turned the shoe over and began to run his tongue along the sole... slowly, savouring the odd bit of ground in dirt… whatever she’d trodden in, he was going to take it inside him, like it was his own special caviar… make it his… God, that felt so right, being so wrong…

- - - - -

Kassidy couldn't make him out, sometimes. It was like he wanted something, but he didn't want it, all at the same time? Or was he playing games..? But then, how could he have known, that time he was on the camera, that anyone else would see? So that had to have been real. Either way, it was a puzzle... he hadn't said a word, about her stepping onto his back, for whilst she’d filed that box away. He hadn't said to do it, he hadn't said not too. He'd just knelt there, and let her stand on… without a word... still hadn't mentioned it. And with the shoes... he hadn't seemed interested, when she offered him... just as well she hadn't gone with the kiss my feet idea... That seemed like it would have gone like a lead balloon. But then?

She thought it had to be worth a quick check. Kassidy slid off the sandals, even though she should have been safe enough with the carpet... tiptoed over, and … peered through the gap between the door and the frame, and... Jesus Christ!

Jesus, Jesus Christ! Bingo, all over again. There he was, licking... actually licking... and it was even better then with the recording, seeing it right in front of her eyes... made her horny, immediately, putting together the whole picture... Doug pays, Doug cleans the uppers... and her boss cleans the mess off her soles... with his tongue! Fuck, that was just sooooo....

She stood and watched, as long as she dared... but the kettle was soon boiling, and she couldn't... shit, fuck!

He’d stop. He’d be bound to... it was like he could only do it when he didn't think anyone could see... that had to be it. So what was all that about, then? Pride? Embarrassment. Kassidy had to admit, she'd have been pretty embarrassed herself if sucking shit from other people’s feet was what floated her own boat.... not a chance, though. But maybe that meant it was fair to assume… maybe it was always going to be easier for her, than for him. It wasn’t the least bit humiliating, having your shoes sucked clean... it was quite cool, in fact,… but it would be a lot more embarrassing, actually doing the sucking up..?

When she walked back in, he wasn't even holding them. They were on the floor - tidy, but like he had no interest..? yeah, right. Got your number even better now, boy. She slipped her feet back into them, smiled at him. Walked around, a couple of steps, just letting the dirty floor get back in contact with the surfaces he'd just left spotless...

That was when the phone went. He still looked pale. She glanced at him, he nodded, and she answered.

- - - - -

Nick's cock was back out of control. Seeing her put those shoes back on, walk around in them, where he'd just had his mouth, his lips... He wanted to break down, right then, and admit defeat... to tell her that he wanted to be... some kind of office assistant's shoe slut... didn't sound so great, once it got close to the words actually coming out... and that was then the phone rang. He let her take it.

'Appointment?' she said.

'Oh, God...' he said. I...

He really wasn't up to it. But she seemed ready for that.

'Look,' she said. I did this morning’s - and I think that went OK. Do you want me to..?'

What, do my job? Bloody cheek... but yes, actually... Nick nodded. He felt so shaky, so aroused and so peculiar, right at that moment, that... she might just as well walk over his whole life, not just over his shoulders and back...? - which still hurt, almost as much as his disintegrating self-esteem...

(Fuck, that was a horribly exciting idea, which would be best dropped immediately... Kassidy trampling over his life, complete... except, as always, these days - his cock wasn't for dropping. Not for anything. His sperm were wild over this whole experience, and he just couldn't contain...) So? His job? 'Thanks' he said.

'My pleasure' she answered. 'So, what's in the bag, by the way - anything interesting?'

Well, I... I...

After almost a week of fighting with himself, Nick finally gave a little more... he still couldn't actually bring himself to explain, but at least he did reach into the bag and... he chickened out with either of the pairs of shoes - Melanie's or Kassidy's. The story that he’d come up with still seemed too weird. But for some reason, it didn't seem quite so mad to offer... the pillows. He handed them to her.

'What. are these... for me?' she asked. (Looking, for once, a bit surprised.)

Nick nodded.

And then she kind of brightened up. 'Oh, I see,' she said. At least, I think I do. To make me comfy...? Right..?'

Nick managed another nod.

'So sweet' she said. And you know...' but she stopped. 'Nothing,' she finished. 'Just... thanks.'

[Cosmoc]

Wonderful story as always Steel Etto can't wait for the next chapter

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

I can see where this story might be going, and it is looking FANTASTIC! This appointment means that he is going to be stuffed under her desk to be used as a footrest, and shoe cleaner.

Later on in the story, she is going to come walking into the office wearing boots, and he is going to be a boot sole licker, as well as getting trampled on:)

I hope that is the way it goes, anyway:)

hhhmmm:)

[Steel Etto]

Part 11

Kassidy was bemused, and starting to get frustrated, impatient. She was reasonably sure what she was dealing with, now. Some kind of submissive, or Masochist - or at the very least a guy with a pretty rampant fetish. Although what fetish, exactly…? It was hard to pin that part down. Feet? Shoes? Tyres? She’d never hard of a tyre fetish before, but that seemed to have been the score with his phone... that Kassidy should run her car over it, presumably so that he could jerk off over the busted remains? Maybe it was about stuff being wrecked, or something… but then, there was the kissing, too, the licking the shit off her shoes..?

And as for the pillows. What were they in aid of? For her, or for him, whilst..? How was anyone supposed to know? It didn’t quite fit, any of it – and it felt like it could still be exciting, if only the rules were made clear. It was kind of like, he wanted to toss everything he valued out into the path of her feet or… of her Mini. (Actually, she liked the idea of that… his whole identity being slid out like some kind of snake across a country lane and her coming along… Thump, thump, both wheels… splattering his ego all over the tarmac… if only she could be absolutely certain that this was the place they were going…

Kassidy put one of the pillows on the floor under her desk, and one over by the copier. The material felt quite soft, under her shoes, when she tried it out… but when she did the interview, she found herself slipping her feet out, bare, onto the cotton - rubbing her soles over it, and against it… She kind of played with it, stroked it, throughout… which was a real buzz: talking to this uptight young woman, quizzing her on her rights to work in the UK, whilst…

There was no denying it was a turn on, all this. But Kassidy was ready to move to the next level. It felt like here was definitely room to take it all up a notch… really take some chances, kick some ass.

There was some place for her here, in all of this, that she knew she really wanted to go to – even if she still wasn’t exactly sure where that place was, or how to get there. And she wanted to arrive there soon.

- - - - -

Nick finally plucked up the courage to venture into his own office, half way through Kassidy’s interview. The truth was, he wanted a peek at her sitting in that chair, doing ‘his job’… but he got more than he’d bargained for. That pillow, pressed flat in places, under her bare toes… with her kind of kneading it, stroking it… Nick wasn’t able to buy into anywhere near enough of the logic, any more, to convince himself that he was just a regular guy and this wasn’t some kind of destiny … he wanted to be that pillow, and he wanted to sleep on that pillow, where her feet had been and… he wanted to give himself over. Like, mentally tie himself to a stake, turn himself in, tell her what was going on with his life, and let her do whit the information whatever she willed… To some extent, the worse the sentence she passed, the more it would turn him on…?

There’s a moment in everyone’s life – sometimes lots of moments – when a choice, or choices, have to be made. It’s like when you’ve taken a secretary out for a quick drink, and then you start to consider risking asking her to spend a weekend with you… The drink is one thing, you can both pretend it was just social... but a whole weekend..? each of you would know, when the idea was floated, that this wasn’t innocent, anymore. And even in asking the question, the guy puts himself right out there. She could say no, she could speak to the wife..? And, for Nick, with his particular desire, an admission of surrender to this young woman’s wicked ways – actually coming from his lips - would put him in her control either way, whether she agreed to take him prisoner, or whether she opted to let him go but then grassed him up just for the fun…?

And then the way it was all affecting his cock, that bitch’s toes on that pillow, it was all adding to the pressure to give in… and jeeze, what if his cock was where that cotton was, being stroked, kneaded…? While a client sat..? As far as Nick was concerned, the time to give unlimited sexual power to a latter day siren he hardly knew – but who felt like she was completely ruling his dick and even the inside of his head - had pretty much arrived. Just as soon as this stupid interviewee…

It felt like a long wait… seemed like forever. But, finally, Kassidy was finished. She showed the stupid thin-arsed stuck up… woman, to the door. Those shoes were back on her feet, now. Nick watched her go back to his desk, pick up the copies of the documents…

She smiled at Nick, and then walked into the other office. He followed her. He took in every move as she made make her way to her own desk, watching as another half dozen or so horseshoe imprints were gouged into his floor, accompanied by the rhythmic sounds of her heels on the soft pine… she turned to him…

‘Any chance you could pop the stool back in there? – so I can get this stuff up on the shelf..?’

‘Sure, he said. Shaky, But .. yes, actually. Sure. He followed her in to that room. He was going to do it. He was going to do it. He had to. He had to know what it would be like, being so vulnerable to someone who… She went right to the door, then turned to him again. And then..!

‘Perhaps I should have asked before’, she said. ‘But… you don’t mind me walking on these files, do you… I mean..? It’s just, the place is so dirty otherwise, and… ’ God, she looked the part. Those eyes, harder and more powerful than ever, like what she was plugged into was getting more and more juice flowing through…

‘No,’ he admitted. Fuck, he’d actually said it. And he saw her smile, a more wicked smile than ever before, and that made him feel that he could… ‘Actually’ he said. ‘Umm, actually…. The thing is… no, it’s fine...’

‘What is?’ She pinned him, eyes fixed on his.

Nick nodded. ‘The thing is,’ he tried to say. ‘The thing is… Actually, if you wanted… I mean… can I ask you something?’

‘Sure’.

‘Have you ever… ever… I mean, forgetting the files… have you ever stood on… you know… anyone…… before? I mean, like..?’

‘Oh, that…? What, haven’t you forgiven me? Or are you just interested in knowing… I mean… do you ask all the girls that one?’

Nick felt that redness streaming in to his face, like a tidal blood wave. Fuck, she could be so direct…! But then, direct was what was needed if he was going to…. Submit…

But what the fuck should he say, if his whole next move wasn’t going to be a cop out..?

- - - - -

Kassidy was kind of mentally tapping her foot. Waiting. Come on, boy… does the woman have to do everything? And actually, yes… she wanted an answer. It seemed a fair question. What did this guy actually want from her, and was it the same as, or different to, what he wanted from every other woman over 18 and under 50… Had every female member of staff who’d ever worked in this place… ‘So?’ she demanded.

Nick nodded. ‘I know’, he said. I’m sorry. But then I can honestly say I’ve never… And I really don’t want to…’

‘Want to what’

To be honest, the thing is, it’s important to me, what you think. We’ve worked together, and I know you a bit, and… I might as well be honest, I really…. Like the way… And no, I’ve never said this stuff one, not ever…

He was floundering. Again. Kassidy decided she was prepared help him out, just one last time.

‘Look – are you trying to tell me you didn’t mind that I stepped on you? Is that what you’re saying? I mean, it’s not like I minded, or that I didn’t have the choice. And, yes, I’ve stepped on people before… but never my boss, so that’s a first. But, be honest – you were pretty much asking for it to happen… if you know what I mean. So I guess, if you don’t want a repeat, then don’t lie at my feet. Hey, she’s a poet, and..? But you know what I’m saying. If it helps, I don’t give a shit if, say, I meet some guy who actually wants me to stand on him, or whatever… But, be someone's footstool or don’t, really, I guess is what…?’ Kassidy tailed off a little… it seemed a little harsh, a little direct, that last…

But then, finally, after all that delaying and floundering…

- - - - -

Nick knew she was right. He sensed, too, that if he didn’t come to a decision soon, then she’d come to one for him – and walk away. She was right, horribly right. And now was the time. Sod everything else. Sod his position, sod the risk… And he did it.

Nick slid past her, almost pushing her as he went, and put the stool at the end of the aisle – and all the while, kind of pretending to himself that she wasn’t there, that this was some kind of dream/nightmare. He created a gap in a different place, this time: between her carpet, the one she’d created with the files, and the stool itself. And this time… Still without looking at her, without stopping to think what he was really getting into, he laid himself on his back… with his legs under the stool, and his head… his hair was almost touching her toes. And that was when he dared to look up at her, and saw those powerful, cheeky eyes, looking back down. Saw that huge smile.

‘Oh now, I never saw that coming,’ she said. ‘That, I really like – you know, maybe…. I couldn’t quite figure the pillows, but..? But I guess this means you want the replay..? Huh?’

‘It…. Yes……’ said Nick. Breathless. He was there, now. He’d taken the plunge. He just wanted her to join him, to make it both of them involved – not just him, on his back in the dirt, and her… not playing… could walk away, tell his friends, blackmail him… ‘this is fine’ he said. (In a feeling mad, lying on the floor acting like a worm kind of a way) ‘it’s…’ ‘don’t worry, it’s just something… are you worried…?’


‘Oh no,’ she said. No, it’s not me who should be worrying…’ And she lifted her right foot, almost brushed his face with her shoe, kind of touched the sole onto Nick’s shoulder, and then – felt around with her foot towards the top of his chest. He could see up the inside of her trouser suit, right up to her arse. He’d have kissed that arse, right now, if his face hadn’t been down on the floor, out of reach of it… he could see the heel of that shoe, in close up… one of those shoes she’d said her partner had bought, that Melanie would have hated… without even the slightest hint of Nick having kissed them… without, God, if she’d seen where they were now…

‘Better say your prayers baby,’ Kassidy said. ‘And don’t you dare do anything that’s likely to make me fall..?’

Nick might have replied. Except, suddenly, the air was being forced out of his lungs, with her weight on his chest, and his office assistant’s heel was trying to dig it’s way through his skin, near the collar bone… he wanted to cry out, for a moment, and then it all shifted a little, as her left foot found a spot on his stomach, and sank in… and then the pain was in both places, and she… wasn’t moving… in fact… she was stood there, laughing…

‘Oh, Hell,’ she said. ‘I have to tell you, this looks and feels just grand – as my Gran would have said. You don’t have a phone on you, do you… so I could ring my friend and… she’d never believe…’

Phone? Nick could hardly speak. And, actually, no he didn’t have a phone on him. She driven over it, already… shattered the screen… she’d… and she was really hurting him, where it didn’t seem she was making any effort to keep her weight towards her toes… she was stabbing him, hard, two little pain spots… real pain…

‘I need to be careful, I s’ppose, she joked. Still not moving. ‘Don’t want to step where I specially shouldn’t.’ And, again, she laughed. Fuck, she was really milking it. Not a quick hop on, hop off, like the last time… But Nick wanted her to back up her words, now… too… he actually wanted her to follow up on that threat: to touch her foot onto his cock… to step on the baby making equipment, squash it flat, put the power of those thin heels up against the power of his blood, rushing through the erect prick… would she be able to..?

‘So, like I said… do all your staff get to do this?’ she joked. ‘Or is it just…. Sorry, I know I shouldn’t tease. But… I’m sorry, but my friend really, really would…

Would what… would be alright about you standing there, whilst I pass out with the…. Oh, God. I want to fuck you, and I want you to fuck me. Fuck me, totally. Every way possible. Just…

There’s no fucking way back. No way at all. And, despite the pain, and the embarrassment…..

Nick didn’t want any ways back. Not for a second. If he’d ever had any lingering doubts, she was lancing them, right there and then. He could feel every ounce of that fantastic, curvy woman… being carved into his sore flesh, for all to see…

Kassidy Sharp. You fucking fantastic torturess. I want to kiss…

[iwantkylietowalkonme]

This just keeps getting better:)

Thank you

[Sauur]

This last installment is awesome! Please keep going.

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

Excellent update!! Can't wait to see what she has instore for him, with her heels:) And since you have brought up her with boots on and heels, I'm really looking forward to see where this goes:) Since I'm a lover of boot sole licking, hope to see something in that area as well:pbbbbblt:

Fantastic story, and once again, thanks for taking the time to write it!

hhhmmm:)

[Steel Etto]

Part 12

Kassidy found herself in two minds, once she’d actually been standing on her boss’s gut for long enough for the first rush of excitement to fade out. Some of her worries came to her right there and then, with Nick underneath her - and some of the worries kind of dawned over the following hours and days… but they dawned, nonetheless. There was a part of her that wanted to be really bad – and that part of her was whispering in her ear, ‘Tread on his prick, go on, right on it, just to see what if feels like... really push your foot down, hard… make his eyes water…’ And there was another part of her, going back to wondering what Nick was actually getting out of all this? Was this sex, he thought he was having, in his weird little world? Were Kassidy’s feet having some kind of an affair, even though her head wasn’t anywhere near being in that place…

(She’d never have slept with this guy, anymore than she’d have slept with the pages of free newspapers – the ones that were always blowing around the streets. Kassidy had probably left her footprints on hundreds of Metros, or on advertising handouts, or whatever, whilst making her way through subways and shopping malls… but that wasn’t what she considered to be ‘sex’. She probably wouldn’t even have registered what she was doing, most times. It was just what normal people did to the stuff that littered the footpaths and alleys … they trampled it into the dirt – except maybe sometimes wondering if one of those little men was ever going to come along and pick up the crap-covered remains, make the place actually look tidy for a few minutes…. But the thing was: Nick seemed to like people doing that to his possessions, even to his body, to the point that he noticed it a whole damned lot…. What was a fact of life to the average working girl seemed to be his sexual dream world… and if Kassidy indulged that, even to the point of touching his perverted sex tackle with her feet, pandering to him…?

In fact, even if all she did was to enjoy having him crawl round her, like he was some kind of… lapping , adoring little dog…? Wasn’t even that just a bit of a liberty, with her own partner..?)

And another thing. Newspapers, on the whole, were altogether much better designed for stepping on, than people. She found that out, immediately. It might well be a bit of a turn on, to start off with, having some fairly well off guy literally acting like a hallway rug… but… It was a bit like balancing on a water bed, or a blow up toy, or something… not that Kassidy had been upright on that many water beds, especially not with work heels on, but… it had to be pretty similar. Like taking part in some kind of amateur gymnastics event – and Kassidy had never gone much for sports. The kits and keds weren’t what you’d call snappy..?

(Nick was red in the face, and starting to sweat. Presumably that meant he was definitely getting some kind of arousal out of all this? Maybe Kassidy needed to take the pot off the heat, for a minute. It doesn’t do to overcook a man’s senses. Treat them mean, keep them… except, in this case, it was maybe the opposite that applied. Deprive them of pain, see them again..?)

‘Hold steady’ she said. And she grabbed harder on the racking, helped pull herself up on to the stool. Reached up, popped her documents up on that shelf. Then she turned, looked down at him… a long way down, too, from up where she was. Still looking red, still looking a little like a startled rabbit. It was hard to continue to give him the same respect… or any respect at all…

‘So then,’ she said – kind of matter of fact, and pretty confident… the way someone who’s just been allowed to walk over another person would be likely to feel confident… ’like I keep asking… sorry to sound like a broken record and all that, but… do you do this for all your staff? Or only the agency ones, or…?’

‘I, er…. God, it feels….’ (Nick was obviously still struggling to be honest about the deal.) ‘No, I don’t…. I mean, I don’t even know…?’

‘Don’t know what?’ Kassidy was interested. ‘Come on, don’t be shy. I really want to know. I know it must seem mean, after what I just did, but… why would you let anyone do that… I mean, I wouldn’t ever… if anyone even tried it, I’d land them one… and I’m a woman, so I don’t often get that violent… but if someone even tried to tread on my clothes, even if I wasn’t wearing them… I’d kill them. So, what, are you some kind of…. Like do you have a mission or something, like those people who get sponsored to do mad stuff, or whatever..? I mean, what’s the score? Am I missing something?’

God, she sounded such a bitch, even to herself, letting those words tumble out. Nick looked so sheepish… his mouth was kind of twitching, like a fish’s gills in the dying throws of the fish… but nothing was coming out… Kassidy decided to pursue it a little futher, even if just in devilment. After all, what was there to lose? She stepped down off the stool, and sat on it instead – one foot either side of his still prone body, almost like she was trapping him down there. And she looked him right in the face, like one of those ‘who’ll-blink-first’ occasions… surely he had to give something, in time..?

‘Ok’, she said. ‘I guess if I was you, I wouldn’t have that much to say, either. ‘So let’s try it a different way, maybe? Let’s say if I were to put my feet up… here, on the tops of your legs, that is…’ (She lifted her right foot, and prodded him almost in the groin, then dropped back down for a moment…) ‘what would you say? I mean, are you going to try and stop me? And then what if..? And I’m sorry, but I can’t help asking… what if it was your wife? What would you be saying, if she was where I am, now, and she did what I’m about to do….

And she took what people would call a deep breath, and she did it. She lifted both feet off the floor, and rested them either side of… his prick. She shunted around a little, to make herself more comfy… and then she just sat there, waiting to see what move he’d make, where now she was only a matter of centimeters from having one of his balls trapped under each of her heels… if she’d closed her legs a little more, that’s exactly what she’d have been doing… pinning a sack under each foot….

Nick went even redder than he’d been before. And… it wasn’t just his face the blood was pulsing through… Kassidy could see, and even start to feel, the bulge growing in his trousers… ‘I’m sorry’ was all he seemed to be able to say. ‘You must think… are you going to…?

Kassidy said nothing, just raised an eyebrow. Going to what? Call the police, tell his wife…? Couldn’t he see, she could already have done that, but hadn't. Maybe she could be looking for another job, that was true, but…

‘I’ve never met anyone like you,’ he said, finally. ‘I don’t know what you must think of me, but… look, whatever you want from me, then I can… I can’t explain why… but I guess… I guess different people like different things, and…. I just. Well, you can see, can’t you…?

The raging hard on? Well, sure, Kassidy could see it all right. But just to check… she pressed on it, with the ball of her foot, so that it was firmly under the sole of her shoe… ‘See this?’ she asked.

‘Oh, God. Oh, Jesus, that…. If you keep doing that, I’m going to…’ was all he said.

‘Doing what?’ said Kassidy - twisting her foot on the lump under his trousers, She didn’t have much doubt what he was trying to tell her, and she didn’t have much doubt she should be walking right away from this, going back to her partner’s bed, finding another job… but there was part of her was suddenly dying to know if this man would actually come, just from her rubbing her shoe on his sick little prick…

She gave him another good jab, using all the muscles from her hip right down through her thighs, calves….

‘Oh, fuck…. You bitch… Oh…’ he started squirming, moaning… Kassidy could actually feel his erection twitch and buck, even with the weight of her whole leg pressing onto it.. it was definitely happening.. he was coming… and this was some orgasm he was having… she pressed even harder, rammed her shoe into his flesh, where if it wasn’t for his trousers her heel would probably provided him with an alternative arse hole, or a perforated testicle, or… she gave a really wicked, hard twist… and she actually saw a dark patch appear by his belt, and…

Kassidy left her foot on his prick for about another five seconds, and then she started to think about what she needed to do next. She hadn’t meant to go where she’d just gone. She needed a break, needed time to think. She stood. Quite abruptly, even surprising herself. She walked towards the office – not on his body, this time, but beside it… she stopped, by his face, showed him the sole of the shoe… ‘you might want to just clean that off?’ she said. ‘Unless you want me treading it all into the sandwich shop…?’

She’d thought he might lick it… but he didn’t. He didn’t even seem able to bring himself to look. So she wiped the sole of that shoe on his face, anyway – partly through being annoyed that he didn’t even seem able to acknowledge reality, right at that moment… and partly… partly because it was the type of thing that she’d often thought about doing, but never had….


The she collected her bag, and went off to get herself a snack, and some thinking time. It had all suddenly taken a huge leap, without planning. She needed to regroup her thoughts. And, probably he needed to regroup his.

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

Can't wait to see where this goes. Great story, and keep up the great work:)

hhhmmm:)

[LuvsHerHeels]

damn....it gets better with each part you write.
thanks.

[pervy2]

This story deserves a bump, its captivating and has me spellbound!
P2

[gerryl]

I am eagerly awaiting the next instalment too!!!!:)

[Steel Etto]

Part 13

Nick learned a lot about his sexual identity, in the summer he met Kassidy. One of the things he learned was that if mindblowing sex had been a game, like football, it would have had one horrible rule all of its own: every time you scored a fantastic goal, you always inevitably and simultaneously conceded a penalty at the other end. Every time he was taken to the heights, he was also led to making mad sacrifices, and he’d find himself just a short while later wondering what the hell was the matter with him. And…’she’… was off, supposedly buying a sandwich. Hadn’t even offered to pick him up a sparkling water, or a Mars, or…

Nick sat up, undid his shirt. He could see the marks she’d left on him, red and angry. He could feel the dampness of the come at the top of his pants, and on the waist of his trousers… he could see the dark patch, clear as anything… but with dirt from the floor mixed in with the wetness, from where she’d sat astride of his legs… with no carpet of files under those fuck-me shoes of hers… getting crap all over the soles, before she’d lifted her feet and rubbed them all over…

How the hell did anyone explain this type of thing, even to themselves, once the mists of madness cleared? Melanie would divorce him on the spot, if she knew what had happened - and especially if she’d known how, and known that she’d even been mentioned by the bitch who’d done it, just before those shoes had been poked into Nick’s… manhood…She wouldn’t just have gone for a divorce… she’d have tried to get him sectioned… all those conversations, when Nick had nodded his agreement about sensible footwear, and spine injuries, and…

And yet the cause of all this trouble was off shopping, probably with traces of Nick’s spunk still being walked into the pavements, probably phoning her own partner and talking about what film they were going to watch that night, or something… or maybe gabbling away to that friend she’d mentioned, telling her exactly… oh, Jesus. What, or who, had Nick allowed himself to get involved with?

But then, there were waves of remembering, twinges that rolled back the orgasm, allowed him to recapture a bit of the pre-come excitement… the senses keeping returning to that crap from the floor, all ground into the wet stain on his fly… there was something about the look of that, which started the stirrings again, even if not as fiercely. She was an attractive young woman, who’d used her mind, and her body, to…to make him come under her feet. And she hadn’t even needed to take her shoes off… the dirt that had got wiped off of her soles was still on his trousers, to prove it…

- - - - -

Kassidy did buy a sandwich. Tuna Mayo. That much was true. But she hardly ate a bite of it. She was on the phone, during most of her time out of the office… to Bernie. Bernie was a good bet… broad minded. If Kassidy had let on, she’d have laughed, even pressed for more details… not to mention, she hadn’t had any of Nick’s spunk get anywhere near her feet…yet…which was getting to be true of less and less people, to Kassidy’s own explicit knowledge.


Kassidy and Bernie talked about kids, and about diets… they didn’t talk about stepping on your boss’s shoulders, chest, stomach and… they definitely didn’t talk about workplace footjobs… or shoe jobs, to be more precise… But no matter how much they didn’t talk about it, there was nothing really moving it from the front of Kassidy’s mind. And some advice was really, really needed. Maybe there’d be time, just for a quick meet, a coffee? Kassidy knew she’d said she’d go right back… but….

- - - - -

For the first part of the afternoon, Nick was glad that the girl who was causing all this trouble didn’t seem to be coming back in any hurry. Maybe she wouldn’t come at all? But the longer it went on… three thirty, four, four thirty…

What was she doing? Making a statement? Talking to her friends, her boyfriend..? Or had she just found him too weird… had she just been testing the water, to be sure he was…. some kind of freak… Was that knowledge all she’d needed, to call it a day?

The longer it went on, the longer he wanted her to walk back in that door. And as five approached… he couldn’t hold out any longer. He rang her mobile….


He was almost shaking, sweating, as he waited for a reply… and then, her voice…

‘Hello’

‘Oh, hi – it’s me. Nick’

‘Ok, hi there.’ Pretty damned cool. Didn’t sound like she was talking to someone she was disgusted by, so that was something.

‘You, er…coming back?’

‘To be honest… I was going to, but…Do you really want me to? I mean, that’s a serious question?’

‘Well… yes?’

‘You don’t sound all that sure?’

It was a fair point. ‘No, I’m… I’m sure.’

‘How sure?’ she asked. Jeeze, what kind of a question was that?

‘Well. I…’

‘Look,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you what. You ring again in an hour or so, and in the mean time think about what you really want. Because it seems to be you don’t really know what that is, and until you do…?’

‘But..?’

‘An hour,’ was all she said, again. And the connection went dead.

- - - - -

After that call, Kassidy took a deep breath. That hadn’t been easy. But Bernie was right. She hadn’t been told all the details, but she’d been told enough to help Kassidy decide. It was crunch time. She either demanded some pay to tide her over, and a reference, and they went their separate ways… or else Nick had to explain to Kassidy exactly what the deal was, and what was in it from her point of view…. Because, looking back… if it had been a hand job, she’d given him, then… then she’d have felt a right mug, doing that, not a damned thing in return… not even an acknowledgement. And for a while in all this, it had felt like Nick kind of adored her… but it hadn’t felt like that today. Not one bit. So he had an hour, and he had to get it right…

- - - - -

For the first fifteen minutes, Nick was sure. The cheeky bitch could fuck right off. She’d even fucking disconnected him, after…

But then, the part of him that was fed up with lying was coming stronger, every minute, even with his balls recently emptied. He had a fascination with women like Kassidy, if he was really honest to the core. There was a part of him, wanted women like that to walk all over him, to completely disregard his feelings… even though another part of him couldn’t stand the idea of that. In fact, it was almost as though the part of him that couldn’t stand the idea being walked over was the part the made him so fucking turned on by someone daring to do it.. and Kassidy had dared. She’d dared, to the point that he’d come like a volcano under the sole of her dirty shoe… the shoe that had left red marks all over his body, and…

- - - - -

It was almost seven in the evening, when Kassidy got the call. She was at home. She’d given up, and was curled on the sofa, contemplating the top pages… jeans, tee-shirt… They needed to talk, he said. He was sorry, he said. He hadn’t handled it well, he’d said. Although he still hadn’t said what ‘it’ was? But he said enough, for Kassidy to agree to go back… even though she was nervous about what she knew she had to do…

She grabbed a pair of trainers, and her leather bomber jacket… and picked up her car keys from the table….


- - - - -

It was eight in the evening, when she finally arrived. Nick had almost given up, and Melanie had rung four times before he’d finally lied and said he was going out for the evening…

She didn’t look the way he thought of her… casual, with trainers, leather jacket over a tee-shirt… hair down, kind of loose… but she looked good. She looked like…Kassidy. The girl who, if he was honest, he went to sleep dreaming about, these days

‘Hi’, he said. ‘I thought…’

‘I expect you did’ she replied. ‘So – are you not going to offer me a chair?’

‘Yes’ sure, he said. ‘Take a seat…?’

She smiled. ‘I will’ she said. ‘When you offer me the one I want?’

‘When… I … You want this one?’

She smiled again. And immediately, Nick was sure. She was asking him to get out of his own chair. And straight away, his hackles began to rise… and, along with his hackles… the first stirrings of something else… and more of the business of her helping him understand his own psyche… there seemed to be a real contradiction, inside him, about what he thought he wanted and what actually turned him on… and she could somehow expose that… and still it frightened him, but more and more he was sure he wanted to explore it, to understand it, to surrender to it… or else, why make that second call…? He got up from the chair, stood to one side…

And she slumped into the leather, really pleased with herself, cat got the cream, and…. Lifted her legs and put her feet up on his desk… and then just looked at him, like… what are you going to do about this, then?

The trainers were white, and looked clean… except underneath, where there were bits of dirt and stuff wedged into the tread patterns, and she was resting one foot where her heel was touching… the keyboard of Nick’s PC. Actually resting on it, in fact. Each time she made a move, he could hear her trainer click one or other of the keys, and he could see those bits of dirt and mud and…

‘Problem?’ she said. Like there wasn’t one. Like sitting at his desk with her feet on it, and with one foot keeping pressing on his PC keyboard was OK? And with his prick…. Getting harder by the second, watching her...

‘No’ he said.

‘Good’ she said. ‘So, where are you going to be, whilst we… talk?’

‘I. er… over here..? Nick was thinking of the chair the clients usually sat on. Although that would have meant talking to the soles of her trainers, most of the time, which…

But she seemed to have other ideas.

‘I was thinking more… more this side of the desk?’ she said. ‘Maybe… maybe here..?’ and she gestured to the floor, beside here, where there was no chair. You see, the thing is, I think there’s some things we need to get straight, here. And one of them is this. If you’ve got some kind of thing about me, or about women, or about being your self-worth or something, then you don’t get to decide the rules… if I’m supposed to be playing, it’s not like I’d just play along. That’s not the way I am. And I can tell you now, the reason I’m back here is because I think that there’s something in all this for me, including for what I want for myself, for my friends, and family… for my life… I’m not here just because of whatever it is that went wrong for you when you were a kid, or whatever. I’ve got a life to lead. And I’m going to lead it. Is that going to be a problem?

- - - - -

Kassidy tried to hide how hard it had been, to say the things she’d just said. It wasn’t that she didn’t think they were right, but… she’d never been quite that straight about anything, in her life. And he looked shocked. But he hadn’t ordered her out. So she wasn’t that far out of line.

‘No’, Nick said. ‘It’s not a problem. I think… to be honest, I think you’re right. And I think… I’m not sure what it is you’ll want, but I know that it must have been a bit… strange, the way… so I’m not surprised, if... so, why not tell me what would help…?’

‘Ok’, Kassidy said. ‘’Well, for a start…’

[hhhmmm]

Damn Steel:

You are such a tease! Can't wait to read the next installment!

hhhmmm:)

[Steel Etto]

Part 14.

‘…for a start’, she said, ‘I think you need to chose a position for yourself that says something about where we go from here. I think you need to stop hiding… or pretending, or whatever it is, and be the person you want to be, of that you want me to think you are, or whatever… I want you to be sure about what you think is supposed to happen, here, and then I can be clear about if it’s on offer, and about what I get back in return. Because I’m not playing this as a game anymore. That’s not going to work. So…?’

Christ, she was coming on heavy. Nick hadn’t ever really been spoken to like this, by anyone. She was asking him to lay stuff on the line which he didn’t even understand for himself. And who the hell was she, anyway? Was she a trained professional? Did she have the earning power of a solicitor, did she own her own business? No, was the answer. But… had he already kissed the dirt on her shoes? Yes? Had he stood here and watched whilst she’d trodden all over his wedding photo, his pillow…? Yes. Had he actually laid himself on the floor and invited her to actually step on him…. Yes. And could he really blame her for all of those things…. Could he blame her for being the woman he already somehow craved and hated, all in one…?:pbbbbblt:

Well, even if he could, it might not be that good a move to get stroppy – for all kinds of reasons. And the truth of all this was, it wasn’t even that straightforward.

‘I do know.’ He admitted, again. ‘I know I kind of… kind of owe you… you’ve done nothing wrong, here. You must think…’ God, she was so right, with what she was getting at. Why couldn’t he just answer. All the earning power, all this legal training that he wanted to make himself feel better about himself with… and yet…

‘Look’ she interrupted. ‘What can it be about this that’s so difficult. It’s not like you’re going to tell me anything that’s going to shock me, is it? I just need to hear it, to know what this is all about, for sure. And if you can’t do that… if you can’t even make a decision about where to be, when I’m giving you a ton of clues… to be honest, that makes you look bad more than anything you might actually say. I’d kind of think more of you, if you just opened your mouth…. Or wrote it down, even? Would that be a way, or do we just give up and go home? Because, I’m sorry, but I just can’t deal with this, not being able to get a straight answer..? I know it must be hard, and I know I’m not in your position, but.. Christ, I mean, if you were gay or something, then wouldn’t there be a time to come out, or whatever. I mean, it’s not like I’m family, or your wife, or…? Can you even see what I’m saying?’

Nick nodded. And… he hadn’t thought of that. Writing it down. Partly, of course, he hadn’t thought of it because it would have been like writing a do-it-yourself blackmail cheque, and it went completely against all his training and instincts, but… Actually…?

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Ok. I really can see what you’re getting at, and I’ll try… If you just…’ But just what, actually, he asked himself. Look away? Count to fifty? Somewhere in all this, there had to be some trust – in himself, and in Kassidy Sharp. He could absolutely see where she was coming from, about how pathetic he was being… wanting something, without being able even to say that he wanted it…. And she…. She was awesome, in the kind of form she was in right now. ‘Let me just get some paper’ he said. ‘Alright? And then…’

‘And then?’

And I’ll give away my fucking life… if I’m honest. If that’s what will make you happy? But…. ‘Yes… I’ll write something.’ I mean, it’s not like we’re in some kind of relationship, it’s not like we’re… but, ‘yes. OK?’


- - - - -

Kassidy was impressed. She was impressed with herself, for being so pushy. And impressed with him, if she was honest, that he seemed finally able to make some kind of step towards meeting her at least half way. Of course, she had him at a whole bunch of disadvantages – and some of them, he didn’t even know about: the films, for example… seeing him through the crack in that door… If he knew all that, the irony was, it would probably be even easier for him. If he actually knew what she already knew… but that was probably worth holding on to, at least for a bit longer…

She watched him cast an eye over his PC, his keyboard, where she knew her foot was kind of resting on it… and then he decided on a pad. Good call. The she saw him struggle with where to sit… she beckoned to him… gestured at the floor, near to his chair – the chair she was slumped in, with her feet still on his desk… Would he do it, though? Would he actually get down on the floor, next to where she was sitting… ‘You might need something to rest on,’ she said. ‘But… what’s wrong with here. That’s all I’ve been trying to get you to think about, for the past ten minutes..?’’

He shot her a look… she knew she was pushing it. But it was that kind of naughty little boy look… the one that is partly saying, Oh, sure, punish me if you dare. But she dared. She’d been caught out, earlier, and given a whole lot away without a whole lot back. Now was repayment time… And he’d better believe it. He’d better be sure he’d want what she felt capable of giving him – because she was learning she had a real mean, go-getter streak in her, bigger than she’d even realized before…. And it was burning, that evening, in that office.

It seemed like ages, the stand off. Her waiting for him to give in and get on the floor, him staring defiantly, like at any minute he night throw the toys out of the pram big time. But finally…. He shot her one last defiant glance, and then took a position with his back to the desk, so that the drawers supported his shoulders, and so that his legs where stretched out maybe a foot away from the wheels of that wonderful leather chair… where Kassidy could have reached out her hand and ruffled his hair, or reached down and touched his knee - although she did neither. She just kind of smiled to herself, and felt satisfied. Very satisfied. She hadn’t bargained on one side to this which was a fantastic buzz, in a plain evil kind of a way. Right now, there was no question about who was winning the battle of wills that she’d opted to fight – whereas, earlier…?

- - - - -

Nick sat, pen and paper in hand, His face was now on a level with this woman’s arse, and her feet were above his head, still on his table. Her face… he found it hard to look, but when he did… he eyes were just like light guns… but guns that were alive, dangerous, shooting self-confidence at him… for the zillionth time, a lightning bolt shot into his senses: fuck you. I have to fuck you… I have to worship every muscle, every inch of skin, and…

But what was actually needed, was a bunch of words on the blank piece of paper. Half a minute went by. She reached into her bag, took out her phone, started texting… fuck, who the hell..?

’Well what do you expect me to do? Just sit here..?’

And actually, she had a point. Not to mention that it kind of made it easier, once Nick had adjusted to the idea… having her distracted. He began to write. And then he crossed out what he’d written. Then he began again… and then he began a third time, but with one thought in his mind, as her struggled to write… Do you want to play? Or don’t you. Because, if you do, now’s the time to line up and get in a team. If you really want to see what this girl’s got, and if it’s all you really somehow imagine it will be…. Then give her what she wants, in return. And slowly, the words flowed onto the page…

- - - - -

It was almost nine, by the time he’d finished. But Kassidy sat in that chair, throughout – sending texts, receiving them, playing games on the phone. It seemed to her like it was important not to do anything which might hand back the reins to the man on the floor by ‘her’ chair. Finally, he finished. He offered it to her. ‘Thank you’ she said. She took it from him. And began to read it.



Kassidy (it said)

I don’t know how much sense this is going to make. My life is different, compared to the life I thought I had just a week or so ago, and I can’t even explain it to myself. That’s why I can’t explain it to you. And I know that must seem lame, but it’s the truth.

But how does a man explain something that he doesn’t understand? How do I explain that just two weeks ago the most important image in my life, I thought, was on my desk, in a frame, and I thought I’d never, ever let anything happen to that photo. And then along comes someone who tears up the script of my life, and who makes me question everything I thought I ever believed. And all of a sudden it felt like I wanted to throw everything that was important to me away, to lay it on the floor where this person, who I hardly even knew, could come along and trample it underfoot. And, of course, that person was, is, you. And I suppose, now you’ve even read this far, you may do, what, I don’t even know. I can’t even really believe it myself.

You asked me, once, if I liked your shoes. Yes, I like your shoes. I love seeing you walk in them, I love seeing where they leave patterns, and marks, to show where your feet have been. That most important image in my life, now, is of your foot resting on the photo that was so special to me, before. A marriage, that now has dirty patterns from the bottom of your sandal imprinted on it.

I feel like you can take me somewhere where I can be that photo forever. I want that. From you. I feel like that’s what I was born for, that I could risk everything for it. I could even write this letter. I don’t know if you can understand. I don’t know if I understand, myself. But at least now I’ve tried.

I hope that’s at least enough, for now.

- - - - -

Nick watched her read it. He watched her smile, in some places. He watched her eyebrows raise, in others… He waited, and prayed… He’d never been this exposed I his life, it didn’t feel like… but then…

‘Ok’ she said. ‘You’ve told me what you want. Well, sort of. Now let’s talk see how brave you are, in reality? Let’s start with an easy one. You say you like my shoes?’

Nick nodded.

‘Can’t hear you?’

‘Yes.’ Nick said.
‘Ok then’. She let the letter Nick had written drop to the floor, and then pushed herself away from the desk – not even seeming to notice that the chair wheel ran over it in the process, crumpling it right down the middle. Christ, Nick had never written anything like that, ever…. But he didn’t have long to think about how insensitive that was, before…. Her right foot was being pressed into the front of his shoulder… ‘Kiss it?’ she said.

‘Kiss..?’

‘My foot. You say all this stuff – well, OK. Now show me how much you actually mean. A proper kiss, so I can see this is all more than just words? And then you’ll be getting what you say you want from me, and I’ll start telIing you what I want from you, in return. And don’t be thinking this is going to be matchstick stakes, because it isn’t. If you want to be walked over, if that’s what you’re saying, then I’m afraid you’ve come to the right girl. That’s the thing with floors – they’ve got a purpose in life, and they take their chances. If that’s what you choose… then you take the consequences..? So?’

So? Fuck, she was… fucking incredible. The more he hated her, the more Nick knew it was somehow his role, and that he’d been waiting all his life for Kassidy Sharp to stroll into it…

‘My foot? Are you going to kiss it, like, today - or are all bets off?

Nick looked up at her. Those eyes, that smug by beautiful look of hers, the way her face oozed confidence… and her foot, still on his shoulder, prodding a little harder from time to time….

He lifted his hand to the help of her trainer. Touched it. The sole was caked in crud, up close, even thought the top looked clean… he lifted her leg, brought her foot up to his face… where only that dirt was between her toes and his lips… that dirt, and about a half an inch of air… and even then, he thought she might just kick forward, force the gap closed… but she didn’t… she waited. Until Nick moved his head forward just that little bit extra, and let his lips come into contact with the treads, and he could actually feel the roughness… and he gave in to the bad side of himself, the side that actually wanted to the human equivalent of some kind of snail on his very own wet footpath, with Kassidy coming along, the sound of her shoes on the tarmac, getting closer, his own special Russian Roulette game… knowing that if he kept playing long enough, then statistics said….

His tongue dislodged a bit of dirt. He was scared by that, unsure… but he didn’t spit it out. He tried not to think too hard, and swallowed. And then a kiss, a real kiss…

- - - - -

Kassidy just basked in it. She’d had some ideas about how this might all go. But not these. She’d had no idea what it was going to feel like actually sitting there, watching this man kissing the dirt on her shoe, whilst she was wearing it. And he was really giving it his best, like on the video… licking, kissing… It would have been easy, right then, to have considered going down a path that wasn’t the one she’d agreed with herself, and with Bernie…

But each time she thought of it, she looked at the one text that she’d left displayed, on the desk, on her phone.

Don’t let him off the hook.

Good advice, that’s what friends provide - just when a girl needs it.


.

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

WOW! Great continuation, and can't wait to read more! You the man!:)

Thanks for a great installment, and taking the time to write it.

hhhmmm:)

[iwantkylietowalkonme]

Yeah this is great...personal favourite for quite a while:)

[Steel Etto]

Part 15

That evening, with Kassidy, was one which Nick often looked back on in the way maybe an addict looks back on their first real fix. That letter, his script. There was no way he could really have pretended to himself, when he’d handed that sheet of paper over, that he wasn’t handing over an invitation which was completely open ended. He knew all about the power of the written word – even though he’d had to have admitted that he’d written better letters in his life, if anyone was looking purely at grammar and construction… but that hadn’t been the point. It wasn’t a piece of literature. It had been a statement, about accepting a part of himself, and about sharing that acceptance with a young woman – and, in the process, given her pretty much carte blanch to take him where she pleased. When he didn’t even really know her.

He’d never have thought, just a few days before, that he could do any such thing.

But then Nick was starting to realize more about himself, every day. He’d realized, for a start, about all those afternoons out in the garden, and about that district nurse and her bike…. For years, he’d been putting it all down to her: always the evil witch in the story. Except, what about Nick himself? All those wet days, where he’d have peeled his eyes for a good sized snail, glistening on the tarmac, slid out in some place where she’d have had a job to completely miss, even if she’d tried – and Nick, just waiting on her to come riding along? Sometimes he’d see one get just its head squashed, or just the tip of its tail – or, on other times: CRUNCH, crunch (direct hit, where her front wheel would smash the shell flat, before the back one ran over the remains…) But he’d have stood there, quiet, telling himself he’d like to do the same to her, like that was going to be what actually made the difference, when he could have shouted, could have…

It was hard to believe he could really have been so mean, as to have had a part of him near enough willing those ‘accidents’, whilst his conscience lied, and hid..? And although he’d never have done like some, and actually set that kind of thing up… he might as well have done, it felt like.

During the course of that summer day, Nick spent a lot of time thinking about what had really been going on in his head… about why he’d kept the pages that Leslie Salter had trodden on, about…

Not that he spent much time on exactly those things, whilst his tongue was exploring the treads of Kassidy’ trainer, teasing out a little more dirt, and a little more, whilst she…

- - - - -

It should have been enough. Him more or less worshipping her shoe. But it wasn’t, despite how much Kassidy was enjoying it (even if she still had to do a bit of work, overcoming the part of her that still thought she was behaving unacceptably…) But she was kind of so fired up, she wasn’t anywhere near thinking of putting the brakes on.

‘You know what?’ she said.

Nick stopped licking. He looked at her. Actually looked at her. And Kassidy ws right, in what she’d thought. Him being up front actually made her respect him more, not less… an adult, too, who could have not just himself respected but also his written requests and decisions..? Funny, it was a lot like the kinds of moves people made when they were getting a relationship sorted out… a normal one

‘This would be easier’ she said, ‘if you were to lie flat, instead of me holding my leg out like I’m doing physio or something..?’

‘You want me to lie..?’

‘Well, that’s what I thought I’d just said. So? That’d just be more comfortable, for me, that’s all…. and I can maybe start telling you about where my own plans fit in to this? Which might take a while, so a footrest would be good..?

You want me to be a footrest, and..?’

‘Got two feet, haven’t I?’

- - - - -

Nick couldn’t argue with that. She moved her trainer away from his mouth, and he slid himself down, flat to the floor – kind of wriggled along a bit, like a caterpillar, except on his back, so his torso was alongside of that chair. And, almost straight away, the two feet that she’d mentioned were resting on him… and putting on more pressure than he’d have thought…

‘Ah, now that’s better’ she said. Now, where was I..? Oh, yes. The first thing is, I think I’m going to need an assistant. In fact, more of a replacement, because I was thinking of maybe quite a big promotion? In fact, if you want me to, trample all over you.. that’s what you said, wasn’t it, wherever your little note’s gone…? Well, then I think we need to swap roles…? I mean, like in work. I think I’d like to do more of what you do, and earn what you earn, and you…. Well, you can do what you like I suppose, unless I ask different..? I mean, I’ve been thinking of maybe put a deposit on a house, move my partner in, sometime..? Can’t do that, on the money I get now… oh, and who said anything about stopping kissing, by the way..?

Jesus, what? What was she saying? Completely swap roles, swap incomes..? But could she even…

The sole of her right trainer was pressed into his face, obviously backing up her comment about stopping kissing. And that made it hard to answer… but then she was soon talking again, anyway… ‘It’s not like I don’t think I could keep the money coming in. So I’d do that job, and then I’d do another job… which would be making sure you get properly walked over, every day, the way you requested… I’d make it my mission. How’s that sounding, so far..?
She lifted her foot from his lips, waiting on the answer…

And, to Nick’s amazement, the answer came out of him. The one that his balls would have given, and that his brain seemed no longer to be blocking… ‘Sound’s OK,’ he said. ‘If….’ If there was to be some kind of limit, if he could still pay his own bills, keep his marriage, keep..?

‘If what?’ she said. ‘I mean, come on – what part of that wouldn’t you be agreeing to? I mean, I think we need to be clear here – carpets don’t suddenly turn into ceilings, unless something goes horribly wrong… if you know what I’m saying? What’s the story, really, from your point of view… do you only want to play to being a victim, or do you want to experience being ground into the dirt, under my foot… the way you said you’d liked me doing it, with that picture of yours? Because, I’ve never done that to anyone before, not quite in that way… but… I’m a learner, me. And, like I say, I want that house..?’

‘So, you’d… ?’

‘Look, I wouldn’t let you starve… what would be the point… but yes, if you’re asking if I’m serious, then get real. You’re telling me you want something, that you want someone to pretty much stomp all over your life… well, all I’m saying is that you give me some bits of it, and then I’ll stomp on the rest… or one way or another, I’ll make sure it gets stomped on - and it will amount to the same, but make it worth my while… and how many times: no one asked you to stop licking?’ So?

What, and you’d really…?

‘Really, really.’ she said. What? You want the proof…?’

‘Proof?’

‘Yes, proof. If you want me to do to you, physically, right now, what I’d be doing to your head, inside and out, if that’s what you decide, then just say the word – and I promise you….. I won’t take prisoners…. Well, so, what’s it to be…?’

[LuvsHerHeels]

anticipation.....great chapter...thanks.

[Dr_Doormat]

Awaiting the next chapter with much eagerness

[superpower34]

perfect, perfect, perfect
thanks

[Steel Etto]

Part 16

Whenever Kassidy looked back on that evening – where she’d usually picture that text message, in her mind’s eye, and think about exactly how far she’d taken its meaning: don’t let him off the hook - she always wondered what it was that had made her take that leap, in the way she treated him. Had she always been that person, in truth – or did she become it, that night, because of Nick’s invitation?

Sometimes she’d look back on other things she’d liked, other things she’d done, and she’d think to herself that maybe the signs had always been there, of the kind of person she was turning out to be… but they just hadn’t always been as clear,, and had never come out in words…?

Circles in the sand – or even squares, come to that. That was one of her thought trails, whenever she got back to musing over the journey - and the way she’d behaved on a whole bunch of beaches, going back years, where even people that knew her well had always regarded her as ‘a little mare’. Because, although Kassidy could truthfully say she’d stepped on a lot of things, completely oblivious – that hadn’t been true, when it came to sandcastles (and to hell with the people who’d spent ages creating them). Inviting little heaps, that was all that they were to Kassidy, just begging for her to sink her feet into them – to be the first to leave a few nice prints, showing where she’d been. Sometimes she’d go up and ask, direct, and smile and plead until she was reluctantly indulged by one of those boys who, in the end, would always submit to a pretty face – even if he’d end up with lips quivering, as his precious works gave way underneath her. Or, where pleading didn’t look like it would be a successful tactic, she’d wait till they were distracted, and then set off like she was heading for somewhere, where people would usually think she’d go round the outside, but… she’d got called a bitch, once, where she ‘accidentally’ walked mischievously the whole length of one side of one, all along on the walls, where it was about six feet square… and, hearing what they said, she’d even done a little twist and grind, on the tower at the corner, just out of badness…

Was that the kind of thing, that showed it has always been there, in her? Possibly. Like round her nan’s - or in her brother’s bedroom, like where she’d accidentally lie so that her shoes trailed back and fore across his pillows, or where they’d kick against the posters on his wall, turning little rips into huge tears…could she really say she’d before never been the girl she was, that night..?

Big difference, of course, between a pile of sand and someone’s whole standing, their reputation. But not a difference that stopped her being up for it, in different circumstances… crushing something that mattered to someone, just because it was there to crush…. wicked fun… And once he was laid there, on that floor…

- - - - -

For Nick, the same leap happened for different reasons. It happened, because of how much Kassidy’s attitude turned him on – and the harder she was, with him, the more the one part of him wanted to indulge her… whatever the price. But the other thing was, it felt like part of that price was already paid. She had the letter. She’d already left those evil heel marks on him, where if she was to go to anyone (like Melanie, or like the police) and say what had happened, it’d be pretty much impossible for Nick to convince them she was lying… They looked like… what they were. And his marriage, and the money..? Well, here was a woman who owned shoes that he’d pressed his lips to, licking the dirt on the soles of them instead of going home and kissing his wife…

And who was to say she wouldn’t be worth giving a big say in the business..? She was no mug… In truth, the whole thing had been getting a bit stale, even before…

To begin with, she just kind of played. Prodding him, here and there, sometimes dragging a trainer across part of his face, sometimes pressing hard on his fingers, or his chest… even then, the skin would go red on occasions, particularly on his hand… but then…

‘You know what’ she said. ‘I think you need to lose the shirt? And the shoes? I think you need to have more of your flesh where I can get at it? Especially considering… it’s not like these are going to give you much to worry about…’ she twisted one foot on his cheek. And, actually, she was wrong. She might not have had heels on, but the patterns of the soles gave them really good grip, so that she his face got pulled around underneath them, like some kind of Chinese Burn… She lifted both feet, for a few moments, to encourage him to undress, and Nick could feel the heat, where she’d just done that turn and grind on his face…

How the fuck could he even think of going home. Footprints on his cheeks, as well as on his body…. Which was just about when Kassidy saw those marks, from earlier, for the first time…

‘Oh, wow’ she said. ‘Did I do those?’

Nick looked at her. Nodded.

‘Hell’, she said. ‘They’re incredible… I mean, I knew I was kind of sinking in, but I never thought… I mean, it was hard to tell anything, because it was more about just keeping balance, and I thought it was just… that’s actually… That’s actually a cut, in the shape of my heel?

It was like she was surprised, when the pain had been… but then, for her, it wouldn’t have been the same… the pressure would have been spread over the whole of her foot, same as on any other surface…

‘And you had you’re shirt on, too. Just think… Christ, I’m going to have to do well, to match that…. You still sure you want to go ahead..?

Jesus. She sounded serious. She actually seemed to be saying that she…

Suddenly, her left foot was in his groin.. not on, but in, where she’d kind of stamped down… even though she was still sitting, the dull pain was unmissable… right in the target area, where not much of his tackle managed to squeeze itself to safety, around the sides… she laughed. ‘Not completely without a chance, though, mmm? Especially if I was to be standing…. Shall I have another go?’

Nick’s eyes were watering. And his head was spinning, too. She said she wouldn’t take prisoners, not that many minutes before. But he hadn’t realized just what a bitch…. Sexy, mean, bad assed fucking bitch… that, as far as he could tell, now, was prepared to chance ruining the prospect of any little Nick’s, for ever….

Her foot was back on his tackle. This time, pressing slower, but the pressure increasing, increasing, until… she was actually standing, with his prick under one foot… and then she lifted the other foot…. And did a spin, just on her toes, right on his cock… laughed, and sat down again.

‘You know what? she said.

What? Genuine question, too. How far did no prisoners mean, and….

‘Nicholas.

‘Yes?’

‘No, I meant, Nicholas.’

Yes… and…?’

No, listen to me. I’m saying… Knickerless. And yes, funny, isn’t it – how it all seems to fit..?

‘What, you want..?’

‘Come on babe, quicken up. I mean, that’s be a whole lot more of a test, I reckon, without the protection… what do you think?’

Nick looked at her, and wondered why it was that he seemed to have been cursed with genes that loved the glow in some evil cow’s eyes, as she prepared to mash his genitals under her pirouetting body… because that was what she was obviously suggesting, and he already knew what the soles of those trainers did, even with her sitting, because of how it had felt on his fingers, and on his face… and…

- - - - -

Kassidy watched him think it through. He seemed to be getting the message. If he played this game, with her, then it would be for real. She’d take risks with him, and she’d hurt him – in his body, in his mind, and in his ego. She had no idea, really, what the result would be if she repeated that little twirl, with no pants. But if she’d done it on a lawn, in those particular trainers, she’d have ripped all the grass away – she knew that much, from experience, where…. Just two seconds of dancing, once time, where she’d had the car radio on, and got out onto Lizzie’s neighbour’s lawn….

And there was his own lawn, just waiting to be unpacked, and the his little pack of fruits and veg…

Well. In, or out?

[LuvsHerHeels]

it continues to get better.
thanks for continuing the story.

[doormat2002]

This is great! You have a gift with writing, thank you for sharing it with us.

[iceblock]

Hi Steel Etto. This is very well done, and enjoyable to read from both perspectives. Just wish I could produce something as good! Your portrayal of Kassidy as she continues to discover this fetish is brilliant. Realistic too, I sure hope she continues to explore her evil side! Such power, oh so many ways I'd like to see this story go personally. But we all know such a wonderful writer will do it great justice and if there is anything we can do to encourage you to continue with it, please let us know.

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

Been out of town, and just catching up with the story. FANTASTIC UPDATE:) Can't wait to read more!

Boots, boots, boots:) Just love them, but it's your story, and love the story:)

Hopefully she ends up doing a face stand on him, either in boots, or trainers. I love the way that you leave it to our imagination, as far as what trainers she is wearing:)

Thanks for a great story, and hope that it keeps up.

hhhmmm:)

[Steel Etto]

Part 17
Nick had always remembered the boots. That was something which occurred to him, many a time, when he did his own reflecting on why, in the end, he threw himself on the ground where he knew he’d be crushed into nothing by this amazing young blond.

The boots were black, and they had heels, which was unusual in a hospital – although the consultants observed different rules to the nurses. She’d been quite strict, that woman, quite businesslike… and the nurses had gone ahead, getting all the patients prepared, and then she’d come along in those trousers and boots…. Tap, tap, tap, walking around each bed… and Nick’s curtains had been drawn, and she’d come in and looked round the groin area…. Poked and prodded, and asked if he was in any pain… and then she’d covered his cock and balls back up, before the curtains were opened again.


The point about all of that, was that Nick couldn’t remember any other time that he’d gone naked in front of anyone in a lit room, and sober. And, in any case, it was totally different… that consultant hadn’t had any intention of walking over her patients – even if she’d stood on the occasional sock, on her way round the wards…

So when Nick began to undress, in front of Kassidy – fully aware of the fact that she hadn’t even taken her jacket off, and fully aware of the triumphant glow in her eyes – it was a whole new experience. He was completely exposing himself, physically, just for her own purposes. She wanted to step on him naked, rather than clothed.

It was kind of automatic, that he ended up on his knees, facing her. And she rested one foot on his left thigh, and then trailed the other foot across his body… stoking down his check, his chest – and then, finally, pressing the toe of one trainer into his cock. And laughing.

Then she stood, quite suddenly. Not on him, but in front of him.

‘Not here’ she said.


What?

‘I know where this has to be,’ she said. ‘To make up for your mistake, earlier. And I think you’re going to need to crawl… so, can you guess where you need to go…?’

Nick tried to think of where she might want him to crawl, naked, that would be bound to be worse than where he was now… the street? The toilet…? She must have seen his expression….

‘It’s nowhere you haven’t been already.’ She said. ‘Just, without the clothes, that’s all. ‘Just think, where’s it nice and dirty, where it’ be just right for me to have a little mat to step onto, to wipe my feet on if I need?’

Nick caught on. Where the files were. She wanted him to crawl across both offices, and then into that archive, and…

She was such a total bitch. Just like the handful of women that he began to realize, more and more, had been filed in some crazy part of his brain, and his balls, for all these years… woman didn’t care what got crushed or ruined under their feet, or their wheels… women with that attitude - where other people, and other people’s things, didn’t matter… it was all about them, and what they wanted, what they liked.

Nick had seen some rich cow, once, drive her SUV into a car park where two lads were playing with a remote control car. They saw her coming, and swerved it – and it tipped. They waved frantically at her to stop, and she slowed…. But she never changed course, and she never actually gave them a safe chance to move it out of her way before…. a direct hit: an explosion of plastic, from under her front wheel - and then a few smaller crunches as the rear wheel rolled over the remains. She parked, got out, faced the two lads…

‘If there’s any damage to my car,’ she told them, ‘you can pay for it.’

Nick remembered seeing her finally leave the car, parked, and walk off to wherever she was going... like she was some kind of other being. Like she was absolutely unaware that they might have keyed her car, or attacked her, or… like she could behave like that, and knew she could behave like it, and knew there’d never be a price… except one that someone else would pay…

And Nick had known, too, about that woman, and that little car…. There was a part of him, had laid in bed at nights, and had thought…. If that had been mine…? and had wished it, for himself, despite how much he’d hate the wishing… and now, maybe, that wish was coming true. He could be the one hating seeing her walk off, hating everything about her – and not able to take his eyes off her, not able to stop the erection she’d cause…

Nick crawled. He burned his knees a little, on the carpet, and it wasn’t that much better on the wood… Kassidy walked behind, most of the time – occasionally and playfully pressing her foot into his bum, like she was in charge of some horse… but then, at the last, the skipped round in front of him.

She walked into the archive, and began to kick files to one side… once she’d knocked the first lot away, she walked on them, crumpling them under her feet as she went, and then she began to do the same with the next bit of corridor… clearing an area of the dirty floor, where there was nothing to cover it.

The she turned and beckoned to the naked director, with her finger. Or, co-director, if Nick was to honour his bargain…

He continued on his crawl. Until he was right up in front of her again, like some obedient little dog… He had a view of her feet, his head bowed. She moved one foot. A moment later, he felt it on his shoulder. He guessed she was going to climb up onto his back, like she’d done before… but she didn’t. The pressure on the one shoulder continued to increase, but she didn’t move the other foot…

‘My carpet’s got a ruck in it,’ she said.

And still the pressure on his shoulder.

‘Needs to be flat’ she said. ‘Like a normal carpet. And then I can stand on it. ‘You know, my friend has some shoes…. Get down, I’m trying to tell you, On your front, right to the floor…. you know, my friend has some shoes which are Dr Marten’s, but they’re still like heels, except that they have a kind of tread pattern on the underneath that ends up imprinted on everything… like you give her a lift in your car, and there’s this pattern everywhere…. I wonder if she’d lend them… or maybe lend herself, to wear them…. Like, I’ve never been able to invite people to come round and stand on my pet carpet before… don’t know if I’d like it…? I wonder how much this kind of a carpet can take, though…? That’s it, down nice and flat…. Ooooh, is it a bit dirty…?

Suddenly, the foot on Nick’s shoulder moved, so that it was ruffling his hair. And then, again, that pressure… his face was being pushed closer to the floor, until he could actually feel the dirt…

‘I think you should turn your head to one side?’ she said. Unless you want to risk your nose being broken…’

Nick wasn’t quite sure…

‘Oh well, she said. ‘It’s up to you.’

And, immediately, the pain was increased, and his lips and nose were pressed flat into the floor. Nick’s nose didn’t break. But he could feel the warm trickle flowing down it, and he knew there was blood inside… then she was on his back, and on his arse…. And his cock was mashed flat into the crap, and felt sore and exposed…

Kassidy was trampling his naked body into the dust and grime… and he could feel the blood dripping from his nose, mixing in with it all…

‘Oh, wow.’ She said. ‘I’ll tell you, this is so cool. I never knew… But how’s it, from your point of view, down there. You know, I’ve had other people tell me about my feet on their cushions, or floors, or whatever - but I’ve never had the carpet tell me, for itself, what it’s like to have me walking on it… So, how’s it for you? Well, come on – let’s not go back to all the silence, again – or they’ll be a price.’

[Steel Etto]

Many thanks for all the comments.

I know I willl never get it quite how I want, becasue there are some problems with writing stuff like this - not just time, but in how much planning you can do, that's not just in your head... can't really go scribbling notes.

But I've enjoyed this, and I am glad other people have too. This form has always given me a lot, so I am glad something goes back.

And I will keep going, whevener I can...

S

[iwantkylietowalkonme]

I love this story and really appreciate all the effort you put into it.

Just wanted to say thank you:)

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

I feel the same way, and hope that this is not the end of the story. Kinda sounds that way from your last post, but have really enjoyed it, and hope that it keeps going.

hhhmmm

[Steel Etto]

Part 18

It went without saying that Nick had never been asked, before, to give an opinion on anyone’s foot-wiping techniques from the point of view of their doormat. And, any time earlier in his life, he wouldn’t have been able to give Kassidy an answer, as to what it felt like now. For a start off, he wouldn’t have been in a position to have commented, with any authority. And he’d always resisted any opportunities to gain the experience, as though his life had depended upon it. Because, in actual fact, that was exactly what he had finally and fully realized: all his resistance, in the past, had been some kind of sub-conscious protection against any looming incarnation of the girl who was currently standing on him, twisting her feet this way and that on the flesh of his arse, and forcing his cock into the dirt in the process.

He could remember one of the boys he’d hung around with, being asked by a friend of his mum’s if it was alright for her to stand on his bed while she was putting up curtains – and then, even, if it was OK to stand on his pillow, if she slipped her sandals off…. And her request had been agreed. The boy in question had just stood there, and watched, as her feet sank in, and she’d occasionally smiled at him, moved her position, gone up on her toes…

The truth of it was, Nick would have refused her. And yet, more than anything, he’d have wanted it to be his own pillow she was treading all over… and she could have kept wearing the sandals - with the little heels, and the straps and bows - and been even more of a ‘cow’ in his eyes… and (the point was) he’d have wanked over her. Not then and there, but later, he’d have thought of what she’d done, and laid his face in that same pillow, and wanked… Just like he’d done with that exercise book, and Leslie Salter’s shoe prints… if he could admit it to himself, properly… and just like he’d done each time he thought back to that remote control car, and that stuck up harridan who’d deliberately driven her 4 X 4 over it …

The reason Nick had refused to acknowledge those kinds of temptations, where others might have given in to them, was that however much the others might have liked (or not liked) what those bitches did to them… with Nick, it was more than liking. It was an obsession. His cock was driven mad by inconsiderate and arrogant women, and a part of him had always known it… he loved them, and he’d always wanted, in has fantasy, to be laid on some path, or in some street, waiting - and for it to be him, whose shell got crunched under the sole of one of those pretty (but merciless) shoes – or was squashed flat by some careless nurse’s unforgiving tyres…

So when Kassidy asked him the question – the reason he delayed, this time, was because he knew precisely what he wanted to say…. Nick knew, now, for sure, that he was going to take his fantasy risk – because you only have one life…. He was just a bit worried, as to how she’d take it: complete honesty

- - - - -

Kassidy was pissed off, at first, that he didn’t answer. She’d thought that this was starting to become clearer… and she was back to enjoying it, and believing she was going to get something out of it for herself, but the silence routine seemed to have returned….

And then…

‘I bet this sounds mad – and I can’t see my parent’s agreeing - but I think it’s what I was born for.’ The words were a bit muffled – with him talking into the floor. Kassidy was sure that she heard right… but she wanted to hear again. She wanted to be sure. If he’d said what she just thought… fuck it, that was hot. Hotter even than she’d already thought this whole scene might be… more than she’d bargained for.

‘Tell me that again.’ She said. ‘I want to be sure I heard right. What’s it like to have me walking on you…? Turn over a minute, can you? I want to be sure…?’ She stepped off him, to let him roll onto his back…

Christ, he was already a mess. Parts of his back were red, from her twisting the trainers into him. He still had her heel marks on him, and his front was covered in dust and dirt… and his nose had been bleeding. In fact, it looked like he was still seeping blood from it….

Once he was fully over, she placed her right foot square on his dirt covered cock, reached out with her hand for the racking… and pulled herself up, finding a firm place for her other foot his chest…

‘Well?’ she said.

‘I feel like I was born, just for this,’ he said. ‘I feel like my mum and dad must have made you a carpet, all those years ago…. And it’s just taken this long to be delivered to its owner… but now…. Now I’m in place, and I can feel you on me, and…. It’s hard. Each step you take, it’s hard…. But it’s…. ? Whatever you want… I want you to take whatever you want from me, from my life…. I want you to sink right into me, into my flesh, my pride, my life…. To come through my chest, to my heart, and grind it under your feet….? I don’t know if that makes sense, or if that’s too much, but we’ve come this far… the one thing I couldn’t blear, was you walking out again… I thought I’d lost you… I need this. I don’t want to scare you, but… I think maybe you do, too. It feels like…. I don’t know if you believe in stars, or fate, but…?

Fuck. Fuck. Kassidy knew, when she heard him finally spit it out… she knew she was wrong, about what was sex and what wasn’t. She’d kind of made the leap, anyway, during the afternoon, deep in her own thoughts… but… Sure, walking on bits of rubbish in the streets wasn’t sex. But walking on everything that was important to someone – that was a whole different ball game. Walking on his lifestyle, his marriage, his professional standing, his body… grinding his heart into the dirt…! She knew he couldn’t really mean for her to take it quite that far – and she probably couldn’t have, anyway, outside of her imagination, but even so…

She should have told him how much she appreciated what he’d just said, how hot it had sounded, how good it made her feel that someone would offer her so much…. But she didn’t. Not straight away. Instead, she kept a good hold on the racking, lifted her foot from his cock, and pressed it into his face, onto his nose. She jerked her leg, pressing the foot in harder, like a kind stamping action, but with her foot already in contact with his nose so that he didn’t have to deal with the initial impact, and so that she could judge it…

She’d expected him to squeal, to cry out. But he didn’t. He took it. Which earned him a kind of odd respect from her. She kept her foot pressed firm onto his face, for maybe twenty seconds, and then she slowly lifted it…


There was a lot more blood. She pressed her trainer back into the red mess, and then moved her foot a little, pressing the bloodied sole to his lips…

‘Now lick’ she said.

It had sounded like he hadn’t been sure if his honesty would scare her. Well, this ought to give a pretty clear answer. And, maybe, sometimes, they’d have to talk about some limits…? If this was to go on, and not just be one night…? (And she couldn’t see it stopping – not now – but she didn’t actually want to kill the poor man.)

But if he wanted someone prepared to have his blood all over the soles of her shoes, and if he wanted to know if she was game…


He should be getting a pretty good taste, of her response…

[Steel Etto]

Not finished, just yet. Probably two or three more bits. But then, yes, I think it will have run it's course..

till another idea comes along...

Thanks again

S

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

Another great and fantastic update to your story!

Once again, thank you for the time, effort and imagination that it takes to write a story!

Just love reading your stories:)

hhhmmm:)

[RV2002]

Yes , this is probably my favourite story in a while , excellent mate!

[Steel Etto]

Happy Endings?

There were probably two particularly significant days, in which Nick’s relationship with Kassidy changed from the one he’d expected – when she’d first walked through his office door – to the one they arrived at, with her as his own special (and dangerously feminine) Mephistopheles: the woman he gave himself up to, in exchange for unlimited access to his own dark pleasures. And, oh yes, Nick would have liked to have taken credit for that comparison – but actually, it was her that referred to the similarity, and…. But we’re ahead of ourselves.

The two days in question were the one in which Nick finally gave in, wrote that note, and agreed to the consequences – and then the one in which they actually completed the agreement, and Nick signed over pretty much all of his own part of the family fortune, in return for… the right to serve at this enthralling woman’s feet. Feet that, even on that first evening, were responsible for Nick’s face and upper body being imprinted with zig-zagged patterns, red, formed from his own blood.

When Nick had first tasted the trickling liquid in his mouth, he’d been surprised. But then, he’d been surprised that he’d got himself in a situation, in the first place, where he was lying naked on a dirty archive room floor and allowing his assistant to stomp all over his face. The thing was, he’d known he was bleeding from the nose. He could feel that trickle, too – but even in all the other emotional confusion, he’d found it hard to work out how the blood had ended up on his tongue. Except, he discovered, it wasn’t the same blood. Sure, it was his – but not from his nose. Her trainers had spit his lips, too – pressing them hard into his teeth, opening cuts…

Nick looked up at her, throughout – watching her body move, and feeling the result of each of those moves, the solid and constant pressure on his flesh. The longer it went on for, the more painful that pressure became. Above him, was one very special, very horny bitch: one of nature’s special tricks, and nature made sure Nick knew it still had its own interest in her. Gravity pulled at her, doing all it could to bring her back down to where her feet would be back in contact with the ground, willing her soles back to the puckered lips of Mother Earth. And Nick’s own body was the battleground, his own skin and bones the obstacle between nature’s pull and Cassidy’s elevated position, on her raised dancefloor. He had to be strong enough to keep her up there, mentally and physically – even when it felt he could actually give way underneath her weight, where she could somehow crash down through some weak part of him, with a sickening crunch of bone – crushing his veins, arteries, organs, anything underneath her… blood all round her shoes….

And how was she to know that wouldn’t happen? She was up on top of him, prodding, shifting position, swaying, twisting each foot this way and that, making his skin more and more sore where the patterns on her trainers grabbed at it, burned it… pressing her toes hard down on his cock, and into his balls… pirouetting on his manhood, again, and again, and… And smiling, laughing, teasing…

“So what are you going to tell her?” she asked. “Your wife?” She was standing with both feet on his cock, when she asked. And she looked so full of herself.

“I think I’ll have to stay… stay here?” said Nick. Not at all sure, in fact, what was going to be the next move with his life, since he wasn’t in any state to work the next day, without some serious patching up, and…

“No. No, that’s no good. You have to go home. You have to promise me that. I want to be lying in my bed tonight, thinking of you explaining how you got my shoeprints on your face… I’d like to imagine her expression, when you tell her that you’d rather be kissing the soles of my trainers, whilst I step on your mouth, than be at home with her, kissing her instead… that you’d rather eat the dirt under my feet than eat her pussy… I mean, you wouldn’t just be telling her that you preferred being with another woman… you’d be telling her that you preferred having me walk over you, compared to having her actually make love to you… now won’t that sound just grand?”

“But…?”

“But what? That’s the choice you’ve made, isn’t it? And if she doesn’t believe you, then you can always send her the videos…?”

Videos? You’re not..!”

“No, I’m not’” Kassidy admitted, smiling. “But… not this time. You see, when you were busy making your little films of me….. oh yes, I know all about those… how do you think I guessed…? Anyway, the point is, I made some of my own.”

Nick could hardly believe what he was hearing. He didn’t manage a word – partly because he suddenly went dumbstruck, and partly because of her standing on his stomach and throat, forcing the air out of him. So she…? No wonder she…! Fucking smart-arsed bitch.

“That, and the phone, of course. And I have to admit, that phone confused me a little. But when I saw it back on your desk, after I’d driven over it…. I knew you had to have put it under my wheel on purpose… and I did kind of enjoy it, even at the time, knowing I was running it over and not sure if anyone would see me, or not even sure whose it was… But then, you’re quite a little collection of quirks, aren’t you. Wanking over my shoes…? Taking them home, even...? I bet they’ve even been in your bed… Like your pillows have been here, under my feet…? That’d be something else for your wife to enjoy: knowing she’d shared her bed with my sandals, with you lying there rubbing them all over your cock… I bet you did, didn’t you?”

She was laughing, laughing. Pressing her toes into Nicks chin, flicking his hair, his ear… He couldn’t nod. But it was true. Dead true. God, he’d had no idea how far ahead of this game she’d been… no wonder she’d had the nerve to step onto his back, when he’d knelt on that floor..? Stroking his cock, with her high heeled shoe…she’d known, all along, that it would most likely make him come… she’d known it almost before he’d known it himself…. Bitch, bitch, bitch.

* * *

Kassidy, for her part, was surprised by the way he grew on her. Even that evening, it started to be more than just some kind of game. She was always going to take him for what he had, once she knew it was there to take – that much never changed – but the plans for exactly how she’d build her future… they began to shape up differently, once Nick finally began to admit who he was, and to allow it to take hold of him.

No, she never made him go back to his wife, that night. She drove him to a hotel, and she brought him clothes there the next morning, soap, razor… open toed stilettos, trouser suit – and yes, they were for him too, in a way. She wore the suit for him, and let him kiss the shoes (before she used them to crush his complimentary biscuits into the carpet, repeatedly climbing onto his naked body, letting him lick the remains off her soles - along with any shit from the rain-soaked world outside.

Her heels left some evil little marks on him. To add to the ones left from the day before. She was pleased with those. Her carpet, with just her prints on it. Nice.

Out in the puddled car park, she took the bag off of him, with his clothes from yesterday. Even with another businessman packing up his BMW, two cars down, she didn’t flinch – shaking the suit out of the bag, and onto the wet ground by the door of her Mini. She wiped her feet on the suit jacket, and then got into the car. She never bothered to pick it up – even let her front wheel roll over it, as she backed the car out. Checked in the mirror, too, as she drove off… shouldn’t have been that surprised to see that business man walking over to where she’d been parked, picking it up – crap off her shoes on it, filthy wet tyre tracks across it – carrying his prize sheepishly back to his BMW…

Kassidy already knew what part of her plan was, for Nick’s money. There had to be more of them around… men, like this. Just waiting for someone…

She even knew what the name of her first website was going to be: Soul to Sole. She told Nick, and she laughed. “Like Faust”, she said. Nick looked at her, puzzled. “Look it up’” she said. “And, what – do you think I never had an education, boy? I’ve had a lot of things… maybe you should have checked that out, more closely…?” She laughed, again. Boys, and their stupid assumptions.

The thing was, maybe a month of so earlier, Kassidy would have known a lot less than she did now. She wouldn’t have known that it was possible for a man to have sex with her shoe, without her being anywhere near it. And she wouldn’t have known, either, than he could come to love not just the feet that had been in that shoe, but the whole woman. That he could come to give her everything, not just because she shone a light into some very dark corners, but because he came to see her for what she was, as a whole. The mind behind the horseshoes.

And Kassidy herself, she wouldn’t have known that you could grow to respect a doormat. That you could get to appreciate that it was there, to wipe your feet on. That you could get pissed about the idea of anyone else wiping their feet on it, without your express permission. Kassidy hadn’t ever thought of the possibility of her doormat and her shoes actually being part of a caring relationship. With mutual understanding, and even… love? But if your doormat can walk and talk, then stepping on it is a whole new experience… and it can grow on you.

She needed to personalize it, though. She made up her mind, as she drove to their office that morning… she was going to have to carve her name into her property, as a part of the process of agreeing their contract. And she’d need to right footwear, to sign it off nicely!

* * *

For Nick, as already mentioned, that was to be the second of those two particularly significant days. Exchange of contracts. The passport to the future.

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

Can't wait to read more of the story! Very nice:)

hhhmmm:)

[Steel Etto]

Sunset

September 22, 2006. That was the date they chose, to seal the deal. Although Nick had been ‘required’ to hand over his house keys to Kassidy, several days before.

She enjoyed it, the first time she used those keys to get in. She enjoyed the cost of it, and the fact that Nick had been prepared to pay that cost – all of it. Kassidy hadn’t come cheap, and Melanie hadn’t gone cheap, either. Nick had needed to sell, to meet the bills in the short term – although the man wasn’t broke yet. Not by a long way. Best for the ex not to have known too much about what could actually have been afforded, if he’d dug deep enough into his pockets – because why should some sad bitch have got her claws into the whole of that, when she couldn’t match up to the woman who actually gave the little puppy what he wanted. The stupid cow hadn’t even tried to compete… hadn’t even taken most of her stuff out of the place. Had just walked, without even waiting to find out that much about what had happened, or why, or if she could have done anything to stop it.

She hadn’t even ever seen any of the heel marks on her husband’s flesh. Hadn’t even investigated. Kassidy wouldn’t have let it go that easily. She’d have forced it out of him, used it as leverage one way or another… and then she’d either have gone out and bought even sharper boots than the woman who was trying to take her man, or else she’d have used the information to squeeze the shit out of him in a different way altogether – threatening to crush his sad little life under a lorry load of first rate blackmail.

It was fun, walking on the carpets. And on the parquet. It was her feet that had ‘stolen’ it all, from right in front of some silly bitch’s nose - and now it was all under her feet for as long as she pleased, however she pleased, so long as she kept her head in the game, so long as she didn’t let someone other chancer come and do exactly the same,

Kassidy was wearing jeans, that first day in that house – with black high heels, and a white smock. Just a bit of make up, just a bit of jewelry. Ankle bracelet, of course. And the digital video. Wouldn’t have been without that. Carefully placed, to capture even the preparations.

She unpacked the ex’s stuff first. Tossed most of it on the floor, Then set about Nick’s own wardrobes. The wife’s bits of tat felt good, giving an even softer feel to the carpet, dead comfy under Kassidy’s shoes. To be honest, she’d have binned most of this shit – wasn’t even stuff she’d have had the nerve to go up to Oxfam with – but it would make a nice little add on to the website update. ‘House Clearance’, she was intending to call it – and she reckoned it would get plenty of traffic. Amazing, what a lot of folk out in the world would pay for.

Doorbell rang when Kassidy was already about half an hour into the sort-out. Two of the Soul to Sole girls, dead on time: Rose, and Beth. Terrific pair, those two – up for anything. And what with Rose having the heavy goods license, into the bargain…

(Some rich toff had already come crawling out of the woodwork, happy to pay five hundred a time to have Rose round at his gaffe, driving twelve ton trucks over his antique pots, one every fortnight. And now he was apparently about to donate an original ‘Montisse’, for the ‘House Clearance’ project. But then, maybe a grand wasn’t much to pay to see an artwork destroyed, when it was worth over a hundred times that… if that’s what floats your boat. And, yes, it had been a temptation, to do a swap, sell the original – but hell, why shoot a golden goose? It’s not like it was something that could turn up again, without the old git knowing what had happened – what with there only being one in existence…)

Out on the driveway, it was just a Transit van on this occasion. Kassidy got the two girls to unpack the stuff into the garage, for the time being. Fucking crazy – what the stuff in that van was worth, compared to what was going to be paid to see it destroyed… but a living’s a living, and Kassidy had caught on to a market, during the time she’d caught on to Nick. Three websites, all turning over nicely, and plenty of people couldn’t wait to have their bodies and their stuff trampled all over, for the kind of money most people had to train for years to get.

Yeah, but then Kassidy had trained, too, in her way. And both Beth and Rose had been to drama college, done a few minor productions – they were classy, good, as well as sexy. Same with the other girls that Kassidy had recruited. Dead professional, really earned the money. Any of them could have strutted up and down on a line of Constables, just like they were nothing but a catwalk, as long as they got their forty an hour for doing it. Funny old world…

* * *

Nick stayed in the new flat, with Kassidy, the week of the move. He wasn’t allowed inside his old house, wasn’t even allowed to visit. Not that he was complaining. She was everything he could have asked for, and most nights he got to kiss her feet, not just her shoes. Some nights he even got to sleep at the bottom of the bed, where her toes would brush across him all night – his face, his cock, his belly…

He didn’t get to make love to her. That was a part of her life she kept separate – but she spent more time in the flat than out of it, and was in the office most days, building on her push towards world domination… no joke, actually. She’d tapped into a market with the eye of a true pro, and she seemed to be able to unerringly target people who would give their whole world away for a shot of their own special drug… like an addiction, that they could never satisfy, and would always come back for more, whatever the price. And incredible, how many rich fuckers couldn’t get enough of having a woman trample all over everything they apparently held dear, in their spare time - provided the woman had the right approach, the right style. But then, of course, that shouldn’t have come as any surprise to Nick, himself. Kassidy had already cost him upwards of a quarter of a million, even given that she used the assets wisely…

The dinner parties had been hard. Although, they were getting easier. Nick hadn’t imagined just how easy it would be for Kassidy to let on to her friends, to get them fascinated by it, so that she could use him as a waiter, even as a footstool, right in front of them. It was hard to feel like you were being taken seriously, lying half naked on the floor, with someone resting their dirty shoes on your body and face while they chatted, and drank. But, actually, no-one else seemed so bothered by it. All that Kassidy’s girl-friends cared about was that she was happy. And trampling Nick into the dirt seemed to amuse her, so they seemed to accept him fine…

The morning of the September 1, Nick was first up. As always. He made the tea, he made the toast. He ran her bath, and he got her dressing gown. He kissed and licked her feet, as she allowed the sleepiness to subside, and then he lay by the side of the bath, ready for her to step on him on her way in, and out. When she was dried, he painted her toes, and then lay under her feet as she did her make up. Then they went round to Kassidy’s own house, chose clothes and shoes… a pair of wedge sandals, and a pair of wicked boots, with heels as thin as needles.

They were ready to roll.

Kassidy pulled up outside Nick’s old house at around 11.30. At first, he was surprised that she didn’t turn into the driveway – until he realized the reason she’d parked up on the grass.

‘The removal van will need to get in.’ she said. And smiled. Because, sure, the van would need to get in, but it wasn’t quite that simple. The driveway looked like some kind of car boot sale, with stuff lined up all along it – including some of Nick’s things, and some of Melanie’s… and a train set, an old Hornby one, and what looked like an antique vase…

Sitting on the doorstep, reading a magazine and drinking tea, was one of Kassidy’s girls: Heather. Heather was a bright, pretty looking red-head, that had even done a bit of work up in the office. (Nick had often seen the footprints, on those archive files, to prove it – and even if he didn’t see them first hand, he could always watch her doing it on Soul to Sole, anytime he wanted. Plenty of people ready to send that stuff in, too – family pictures, passports, birth certificates… more good money paid, to get them sent back, trodden all over by one of the ‘models’, along with the film of it happening - and sometimes even the shoes that the girls had worn…)

‘Hi there’, she said, cheerfully. Jeans and trainers, natural in every way, like it was just another job. Which, to her, it was. That was her work, and Kassidy was… ‘Alright boss?’ Exactly. Her boss.

‘Pretty good’, Kassidy replied. ‘Take you long?’

‘Not really – there’s the three of us. Beth and Rose have gone for the van – and the big stuff will all go tomorrow. Mind you, I nearly… ‘

‘Nearly?’

‘That picture – you need to watch out when you go in through the door. You can forget… I kind of trod on it a bit, and only kind of noticed just in time… like, it got a bit of dirt off my trainers on it, but it wiped off… camera wasn’t even running. Can you imagine if…?’

‘Oh, Jesus, don’t.’ said Kassidy. ‘But worth knowing – we’ll go in through the back.’

* * *

Kassidy was pleased with the set up. She was specially pleased by the wedding dress on the hallway floor, sprinkled with wedding photos. She was even more pleased when the grey skies finally gave up a little of their load, and sent a twenty minute shower down that soaked the grounds…

She led Nick up to the bedroom, the one that had once been his. Set the camera going… well, she wasn’t going to miss the chance to get all of it on film, even if some was edited before going out… and then she signed to Nick that she wanted him on the floor by the bed. She placed the sole of her trainer in the small of his back – and then stepped up onto the bed. She turned, faced him, feeling as self-satisfied and triumphant as she’d ever felt in all the time she’d known him.

‘The boots, I think,’ she said.

Nick had got good at the servant role, when it came to changing shoes. He was quick, but gentle – and he understood how the catches worked, or when they didn’t even need undoing. The wedges were off in no time, and she was barefoot on his (former) marital bed. He reached into each boot, and took out the socks. Nicely remembered. Kassidy used her hand on the wall to support herself, while Nick helped her into first one boot and then the other. The bed wasn’t up to it… the heels actually pierced the unprotected mattress, every time she put any proper weight on them… she should have left she sheets on, maybe…

‘I think you need to be up here,’ she said to Nick. ‘Before I completely destroy it.’

‘Isn’t that the idea?’

‘All in good time – or, are you getting disobedient all of a sudden? Fine time, you pick, when this is your last few minutes of…’

‘No.’ said Nick. ‘Not disobedient. I was just…’

‘Well don’t,’ she said. Laughing. Just got yourself up here, so I can sign us up. Oh, no clothes, by the way. It’s only me, gets to wear clothes.’

Nick did as he was told. He undressed, and laid himself up on the bed. Kassidy looked down at his bruised and reddened skin – where her daily strolls and exercise regimes tended to take their toll on him – and picked a spot to plant the first heel, to dig it in, drag it around a little, see the red line trace itself out as she moved her foot.

Even a few drops of blood, where a part of his skin actually got grazed under the metal. Nice.

She stepped up, full weight. She heard him gasp, with the pain, and immediately saw his body start to sweat. All to plan. It had taken ages to find just the right boots, and they’d had to be saved for the day. No rehearsals. It would have been disappointing…

But it wasn’t disappointing in the least. They were lethal. Sharp as hell, cutting right into him.. She’d have to be careful not to make so many marks that there’d be nowhere left to carve the message…

She moved one foot onto his arse, where he’d have a chance to take the pressure of the one heel for at least a decent amount of time, whilst she carved his back with the other. The cheeks of the arse and the tops of the legs were always good bets, if she wanted to have a decent period stood in one place, when it came to stilettos. And these were stilettos of the first grade. And then she began.

The M and the Y were a bit skewed, but they were OK. The P was harder, because of the curves – and she cut him again, made him cry out in pain. But it didn’t stop her finishing the letter, before getting of him for just a few moments. Again, both heels sliced straight through the surface of the mattress – which already had a dozen or so tiny holes in it. Jeeze, these boots were the business.

And that was when Rose turned up.

‘Little break, hon,?’ Kassidy asked. ‘You might just want to watch this, anyway – through the window? I know I do. Tell you what – I’ll by you a drink later if you can guess the value of what’s on that drive, to the nearest 10K?’

* * *

Nick had to admit, even though most of the stuff out there wasn’t his, it was hard not to watch, as Rose pulled the front wheels of the truck across the road, and up onto the grass opposite. She turned the steering, and ripped up the verge big time. Nick doubted anyone had paid for that bit of damage. But then the track came slowly back. Bit by bit, until the tail was through the gate, and then Rose began to straighten it up and…

Crunchhh, Crackkkkk… A wooden carriage clock was the first casualty under the wheels. And then… CCCRUNNNNCH… like, an explosion of china, as the vase shattered under the weight of the back tyres, pieces flying everywhere. And Rose just kept right on going, until she had the truck about half way in , and then pulled forward to straighten up a bit. She’d just about driven onto the train set, before moving forward off it, and then backing over it again at a different angle. It got completely mangled and splayed out flat. And still the lorry came back, until it was as close to the front door as it was possible for Rose to get it… one last shunt, a few more cracks and crunches, and… the two girls got out, to be met by Heather.

‘Oops, did I run over all this stuff?’ Rose asked, all innocent. And then she laughed. ‘Oh well, to late to worry about it now,’ she added. ‘Let’s get this house cleared, eh?’

Nick didn’t see most of what happened inside his house, until he saw the film. He didn’t see the girls walk through the door, he didn’t see Heather’s trainers, Roses’ Doctor Marten’s, and Beth’s Pixie boots, all step through the door onto the ‘doormat’… he didn’t see those first sets of prints on that painting, and he didn’t see the girls trample back and fore up that hallway, over his wife’s wedding dress, over the photos,. Over that painting, again and again… He didn’t see the girls again, until the came up to the bedroom, to ‘check for boxes’. And by the time that happened…

He was in agony, again. He was back on that bed, and Kassidy was back up on his skin, carving the rest of her message - in between her just standing there, apparently admiring it, whilst impaling both buttocks with those cruel metal spikes. His back felt like he’d rolled around on a heap of barbed wire, and he hardly noticed Beth and Heather, standing on his wife’s clothes – where they’d been scattered all across the floor – whilst they looked on for a moment or two, kind of impressed and kind of wincing.

Beth laughed. ‘Come round this side,’ she said, to Heather. ‘’You can seed what it says.’

‘I’ve just got to underline it,’ explained Kassidy. And add one more letter.

* * *

My Puppy, Love. That was what it said, and that was what Kassidy scratched an evil red line underneath, with her right boot, before she cross crossed his back to add the final K.

Because that’s what you are, aren’t you,’ she asked, teasing. My lovely little puppy, and my own puppy love? That I can walk over, whenever I want? Isn’t that right?

She prodded the heel in, just by the shoulder blade. And that got a response. More a yelp, than a yep. But then, that’s what puppies do. Yelp.

Kassidy left that house at around four in the afternoon, with Nick following her. The truck had gone. All that was left in the house and drive by that time was a bunch of smashed up, crushed junk. But the girls would be back later, to bag it back up to post back to its owners.

There was one thing, though, which Kassidy thought could do with one extra final bit of attention. She set up the camera, whilst Nick watched – the lens pointing into the house, through the doorway. The she went back, and walked up that hallway – whilst Nick stood outside, waiting, and – he couldn’t help it – watching.

It probably could have been cleaned up, that painting. It wasn’t in that bad a shape, barring a lot of wet, muddy shoe prints. A couple of small dents, from the pixie boots probably, but…

Nick knew, that wasn’t Kassidy’s way. If the man had paid good money… and Kassidy played for keeps. He had the brand in his back, where even the lightest of shirts was agony now, to prove it…

He watched her walk slowly up that hallway, swaying seductively. The wedding dress, the photos, all crushed under those boots of hers, but they were just the starter… until

Pop, Pop. Just two little sounds, as she took her first two steps on that canvass – and drilled right through it – one tiny perforation with the left foot, one with the right – and her just standing there, with her boots sunk right through it, nailing it to the carpet. She stopped, looked down, laughed. Beckoned Nick to her.

‘Kiss me,’ she said.

Nick did as she asked, He was on the step outside the house, and she was still stood on… He felt her body move against his.

Pop…. , Pop, pop… she bit into him, then kissed for longer, all the time still

Pop.

Nick wondered what the artist would have felt like if he could have heard those sounds from under Kassidy’s heels. Again and again, as more and more bits of picture gave way under her feet, just more neat little holes in place of the carefully brushed parts of the carefully crafted image…

Pop., Pop. Pop. Pop.

Till there was pretty much nothing left but the holes, and a few bits of intact canvas bonding them together…

‘Ready then, babe?’ she said, finally.

Nick wasn’t sure anybody would really be completely ready for Kassidy Sharp. But he know one thing for sure.

He would always try to be.

[hhhmmm]

Steel:

I hope there are more updates about this couple!:) I know you like this last update, but it didn't really do all that much for me.

That being said, thanks for the update, because I'm sure there are other's out there that loved it!

I know it's very hard to write stories, and thanks for taking the time to write this and post it.

hhhmmm:)

[Steel Etto]

Hhhmmmmm - thanks

I do appreciate exactly what you're saying, but I kind of thought this needed some kind of rounding off. Apart from anything else, I think this conclusion threw up a lot of unanswered questions, even though I have the answers in my head. Thing was, from an updates point of view I kind of felt it had run its course, even though I really enjoyed doing the 'series'.

I don't see these two coming back - but when a new idea comes, that I like, I'll post it. This forum gave a lot to me, and I like to try and give a bit back when I can.

S