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The bar was humming with the sound of conversations, laughter and music. I sat with my colleagues from work, sipping on a rum and coke whilst soaking up the usual work chat. Now settled into the team, I had been lusting for Shannon from my department for several months but had not yet mustered the courage to ask her out. My admission of feelings for her and ultimately revealing my submissive cuckolding and foot fetishes to my downfall were some time away. I would reveal them eventually and she would ultimately not only tolerate it but go a step further to use it against me (see my other story ‘Merry Cuckmas Foot Bitch’). However, at this point in time she was still blissfully unaware of my attention or predilections. This left me with two problems. Fear and apprehension about asking her out, as well as mounting frustration in need of a release. Little did I know I would find it that very evening.
Shannon had gone out of town to visit her parents that particular weekend. She would have otherwise tagged along for drinks with our work colleagues. As the evening wore on, the numbers dwindled. Before long the older or married staff said their farewells and departed for their final bus, train or booked taxi. By the time 11pm had rolled around there were only a handful of people left. Some were from Shannon’s team whilst a couple more were from mine. The exception, and the very woman who caught my attention, walked past me on her way to the bar.
Zara was the receptionist for our building but also happened to be Shannon’s closest friend. They had been to school together, lived together through college and remained housemates after graduation. They had been together through thick and thin and were practically inseparable. When the job opportunity opened for a new receptionist for our building, Shannon had helped Zara get the job and it worked out well for them both. They shared the journey to and from the office, trips to the gym most weekday evenings as well as getting to go on work nights out together.
Zara had a strikingly different figure to Shannon. Where Shannon was of average height and slender athletic build, Zara was extremely small in stature. She stood at less than 5 feet tall with a Rubenesque, voluptuous figure. She had a generous buxom chest leading to an ample ass and short but toned legs. She had an extremely vivacious personality, always giving everyone she met a cheerful greeting and engaging in warm flowing conversation. She was so amiable and well liked that she often found herself invited on nights out by multiple teams in our building. Tonight was one such case. Even without Shannon there she fit in seamlessly.
That evening, she had attracted my attention with her choice of footwear. Fitting for her short stature, Zara had extremely small feet. Shannon would often tease her about it, joking that she practically needed to buy shoes from the children’s section. In one passing conversation, I heard her remark that she was a size 2. This evening she had opted to wear a pair of strappy red heels with a block heel and ample platform sole. The choice of a platform shoe was not surprising, given her height. What had taken me by pleasant surprise was how attractive her feet were.
Her toes looked plump and juicy, adorned with a passionate red pedicure. As I watched her at the bar from behind, rifling in her handbag, she had unwittingly started flexing her petite dainty soles against the straps of her shoes, giving me a fleeting glance of their soft perfection. I asked around the table if anyone else wanted a fresh drink and a couple said they had given Zara their orders already. I offered to go and help her.
I approached and leaned on the bar beside her, gazing down at her. My greedy wandering eyes took in her petite feet as well as her ample breasts straining against her tight dress. My eyes flicked to meet hers before she could notice my glances.
“Oh hi!” She chirped. “Caught me by surprise there. Do you want to add something to the order?”
“No, I’m good. Just thought I would give you a hand carrying them back.”
“Well, aren’t you a gentleman. Having a good night?”
“Yeah, so far. Didn’t expect things to get too rowdy. Especially given Shannon isn’t here.”
“That girl certainly knows how to party! Figured you might have noticed her absence.” Zara said, a wry smirk on her face.
“Why do you say that?” I said with a start.
“Oh come on. You may fool her but not me. I think it’s adorable, a little office crush. You should ask her out though, before she gets snapped up!”
“Hey, I will make my move when the time is right. I just like to keep things low key. How about you? Any prospects in the dating game at the minute?”
“Suit yourself, but don’t play too hard to get, even if she likes to! For me sadly not. Seems I am having a lot of trouble finding anyone decent on the swipe life. So many dick pics and guys with issues. That’s if you even get to the stage of organising a date. Maybe I’m just not that much of a catch.”
“You kidding? That’s nonsense. You look stunning. That dress is gorgeous. You’re a vision and any guy would be lucky çankaya escort to have you. Just have to keep at it.”
“Aww, you’re so sweet. Shannon will be a lucky girl I think. So hard to find a nice guy.”
“Those new shoes?” I asked boldly, the alcohol pushing me to make the risk.
“What? These?” Zara replied, looking down at them and modelling them on her feet. “Not really. Had these for a while. They look nice but in reality are hell on my feet. Leave me so sore after dancing, which I will inevitably wind up doing tonight. Even if I want to be sensible.”
“Who wants to be sensible on a night out? Might as well go for it. This looks like our drinks coming.”
Together we gathered the glasses and bottles and made our way back to the table. The night wore on for a couple more hours until just a few of us were left, myself and Zara included. As she predicted, with the music blaring and the cocktails flowing, she found herself up on the dance floor. I joined her and our remaining work colleagues for a few spins and twirls as the band played some classics. Zara disappeared through the crowd to the bathroom. Just after she left, our remaining work colleagues said their goodbyes as they had a taxi waiting outside. I watched them go before returning to our table to make sure nothing was left behind. Only Zara’s coat and handbag remained. I caught the flash of her dress out of the corner of my eye and raised my eyes to see her staggering back towards me. She had clearly gone a bit too hard tonight.
“Where is everybody?” She asked, half shouting.
“Packed it in for the night. The band has stopped. Closing time.”
“Aww, I was just getting warmed up. Come on, we’ll find another place to go.” She replied.
I watched as she tried to fumble her coat around her shoulders. She failed miserably and found herself turning around on herself to find the other sleeve. I stepped forward and helped her put it on.
“Such a gentleman. Thank-you.” She slurred.
“No problem princess. But I think we better get you a taxi.”
I took Zara by the arm and we made our way outside into the thinning crowd. I loaded up the taxi booking app and ordered one to pick us up around the corner near a late-night pizza place. We stood under a streetlight enjoying some greasy fries.
“Such a good night. All the best ones end like this.” Zara said.
“Definitely not a night out without a greasy takeaway.”
“Yeah. Just a shame about my feet.” Zara replied, resting herself against the wall. She raised one of her heel clad feet and reached down to cup it in her hand, attempting to rub the sore points around the straps.
“What’s the problem?”
“They’re in agony. Like I said earlier, these shoes always seem like a good idea at the time but always end up leaving my feet so sore.”
“Would you like a foot massage?” I asked without even thinking. The words had left my lips before I realised what I had said.
“What? Here? Like, you rubbing my feet? Isn’t that a bit weird?”
“No, not here. After I get you home and sorted. Just an offer if you want it, to help them feel better. But maybe you’re right. Might be a bit weird. It’s up to you, just if you wanted.”
Zara looked down at her feet then back at me.
“Well, I guess one quick one couldn’t hurt. I might as well take up a gentleman on his offer of help.”
My phone pinged signalling the taxi had arrived. I looked up to see the car roll up to the curb beside us. I helped Zara clamber into the back seat before getting into the passenger seat beside the driver. I gave him Shannon & Zara’s address and he moved off. I had the usual general conversation with the taxi driver, my thoughts much too pre-occupied with other things. I had a office crush who at that very moment was home with her parents and I was about to give her best friend and housemate a foot massage. I knew what feelings it would stir in me. I knew that my desires might unfold. The taxi made its way through the quiet streets quicker than expected and we found ourselves at the tree lined street of terraced houses Shannon and Zara called home. I passed the taxi driver a note and made for the back door to help Zara out. As she clambered out she fell against me, using me as a post to hold her up.
“You alright? Got your hands full there.” The taxi driver smiled.
“She’s fine. Thanks for the lift.”
I shut the door and the taxi driver rolled off into the night. I half carried Zara to the front door and waited as she fumbled in her handbag for her keys. Finally, she surfaced them from the bottom of her handbag. After dropping them twice a third fumble at the lock opened the door. We staggered in and Zara slammed the door shut behind us. The loud bang jarred me.
“Won’t you wake your other housemates?”
“No one’s here. Shannon is home visiting her folks as you know and our other housemate is staying at her boyfriend’s tonight. We have the place to ourselves, if that’s what you’re worried about for this foot massage…” Zara said with a smirk.
Her eyes had a glazed expression after the heavy night of cebeci escort drinking.
“Not necessarily. Just curious. Anyway, you want a glass of water?” I asked.
“Yes please. I’ll be in the living room.”
Zara staggered away into the living room to the right, turning on the light as she went. I made my way to the kitchen. I poured two glasses of water from the sink and made my way back to the living room where Zara had thrown herself down on the sofa to the left of the door. She appeared to be trying to send a text.
“There you go.” I said, placing the water on the table before her.
“Such a gentleman, getting me home and looking after me.”
“All part of the service. Any messages?”
“No, just some of the girls from work sending me photos from earlier tonight. Hope most of them don’t go anywhere outside the group chat. Are you really sure you want to give me this foot massage? It doesn’t seem awkward to you?”
“Like I said, all part of the service. Unless it makes you feel uncomfortable?”
“No, I guess not. I mean my feet are really sore. I guess a quick one won’t hurt then you can still get a taxi home. So how should we do this?”
“Shift back on the sofa. I’ll grab that cushion.”
Zara slid herself back on the sofa making way for me to join her. She turned her body to raise her short but toned legs onto the seat between us. I placed the cushion on my lap and her heel clad feet came to rest on top of it.
“Very nice. You seem to know what you’re doing.”
“You can judge that after I actually get started.”
I worked at the buckles on the red strappy heels one at a time, unfastening the left then the right. With both undone I carefully removed each in turn, gently grasping Zara’s ankle and carefully angling her foot to slide free from the straps. As I did so, my nose picked up the first hints of the fragrance of her feet. Flickers of the sharp, pungent aroma from her soles radiated into my nostrils and I felt my heartbeat begin to quicken. I clearly saw the red imprints and lines across the tops and sides of Zara’s feet where the straps had cut in.
“I apologise in advance if they smell bad. I maybe got a bit carried away on the dance floor earlier.”
“Don’t be silly. They’re fine. But you’re right about maybe getting carried away. These marks definitely look a bit tender.”
“Anything you can do?”
“I’ll give it a try.”
I decided to focus on getting full circulation around Zara’s feet and so simply took one in each hand and began to softly but firmly caress each from the tops, round the sides and across her soles. I focused on rubbing the tender strap marks across the top of her feet. Zara shut her eyes briefly and began to coo with relief as my hands carefully massaged the aches and pains from her ankles down across the tops of her feet and across her soles. As I massaged, I sensed how soft and tender her dainty small feet were. With each pass of my hands, I could feel the sticky scent and sweat beginning to coat my hands and fingers and I became more and more desperate to raise my palms and fingers to my face to smell them.
“How is that working for you?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s working. They feel so much better already. You really do have a good technique. You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”
“Nonsense, it’s no trouble. A few more aspects to my patented technique.”
I stepped up my technique from the general all round massage to more focused and targeted kneading of the pressure points on Zara’s tiny soles. I began squeezing points on her soles, heels and arches between my thumb and fingers, pressing in on pockets of pressure across her soles and along the ball of her foot. I felt a particular patch of rougher, thicker skin on the ball of each foot, just below the line of each set of toes centred on the ball of her foot. I returned to this point often, pressing slightly firmer on each pass. I allowed my fingers to move up from this point to stretch between her toes before gently rubbing each toe in turn between my thumb and forefinger. Zara’s head was now cocked back, her eyes shut, as she purred sounds of pleasure.
“Oh, my, God. I can safely say I have never had my feet massaged like this before. I didn’t know what to expect when you offered at first but it’s turned out to be exactly what I needed.”
“Happy you’re enjoying it. You have quite pretty feet.”
I had said it without thinking, allowing it to blurt out. Zara lowered her gaze and her eyes met mine. Her face had a slightly vexed expression.
“Umm, thanks. I guess…I mean, it’s not exactly a compliment I would get often.” She said, half laughing.
“Well, I mean. It’s just. As far as feet go, they look quite nice.” I fumbled in reply.
“In what way?”
“Well, I mean your toes are very evenly proportioned and line up nicely. Your soles are really quite soft and nicely shaped. Your pedicure also looks really good on them. Your feet are quite small and petite. Overall, very nice.”
“Wow, you have really thought that through. I mean it’s almost like you have a thing for çubuk escort feet or something…” Zara joked.
“Well. Would that be such a bad thing?” I replied.
I raised my eyes from Zara’s feet to meet her gaze. She looked at me with uncertainty.
“Are you, admitting something? Or is that a question? Because I’m starting to think maybe you offering to give me a foot massage was more than just being nice…”
“Ok.” I sighed. “I’ll come clean. I have a foot fetish. Maybe it is all the drinks tonight, I don’t know. But my thoughts just got the better of me. I just couldn’t take my eyes off your feet tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t own up sooner. Please, can you keep it a secret? Especially from Shannon.”
Zara’s eyes widened and she looked around, lost in thought.
“I mean. I just don’t really know what to think. One minute you’re this nice quiet unassuming guy with a crush on my best friend. Next, you’re telling me you have a foot fetish whilst massaging my feet. I mean, what does having a foot fetish even mean? Are you getting…turned on by this?”
“What? No. Of course not. I mean, I would if I was actually doing stuff with your feet. But this is just a foot massage.”
“I mean how can I not tell Shannon this? She is my best friend. I don’t know what to do…”
“Zara, please. I am happy to go. Just please don’t tell anyone. This was a mistake…”
Zara sighed and looked at her feet then at me. Her mind was racing to a decision and I sat motionless, awaiting her judgment. Finally, she spoke.
“Look. I’ll be honest. Since you were honest with me. I have sort of fancied you since Shannon got me this new job. And I was a bit frustrated as it was clear you had this crush on her and I haven’t had much luck dating. Honestly, at this point, I quite like having a bit of male attention. So, this is what we will do. You will tell me a bit more about your fetish and you won’t tell Shannon about my fancying you. We keep each other’s secrets. Deal?”
I felt heat beginning to rise in my chest and the back of my neck. My pulse had quickened. I weighed up the bargain in my head. My infatuation with Shannon was still young, but could I put a potential chance with her at risk? Just for the sake of worshipping a pair of feet? My eyes flicked back and forth between Zara’s inquiring gaze and her flexing wriggling feet in my lap. A final glance at those flexing tiny soles and my decision was made.
“Sounds fair to me.” I replied.
“Good. So, what exactly do you like so much about feet?”
“Well, I mean. For starters they feel incredible. So soft and silky between my fingers. I love how smooth your soles feel. But I suppose one of the main things that would also interest me is smell.”
“Really? You like the smell of women’s feet?”
“Definitely. How they smell really gets to me.”
“Even after a night of dancing in heels?”
“Especially…” I replied.
Without another word I slowly raised one of Zara’s petite feet from my lap and leaned my face in close to it. Zara looked on wide eyed as my nose inched closer to her bare foot. I ran my nose in a long sweeping stroke across the top of her foot from just below her ankle to the tips of her toes, gently inhaling as I went. The fragrance flooded into my nose and sent my mind into overdrive. My breath fluttered and my eyes shut as I soaked in the aroma. I ran my nose in repeated strokes along the top of each of Zara’s feet as she looked on in astonishment.
“It’s almost like you are sniffing a nice glass of wine.” Zara joked, smiling down at me.
“For me, it’s practically the same.”
“Really? So, either you think wine smells really bad or my feet smell really good.”
“Definitely the latter. A nice fruity bouquet. Spicy and aromatic. A very divine fragrance.”
“You got all that from sweaty feet? And there was me thinking they would just smell of sweat from dancing and walking to and from the bar.”
“Well, I can always try getting more of the scent.”
With that I raised my other hand and used each of my palms to cup Zara’s heels. She looked on in anticipation as I raised both of her feet together closer to my face. I gazed in delight at the undersides of each dainty foot. Her plump shapely toes and small but creamy soles staring back at me. I shut my eyes and pressed my face into her soles. Zara let out a sudden shriek of surprise as my stubbled face made contact. I rubbed her small size 2 feet firmly across my face, opting for deep inhales of breath. I drew the scent into my lungs in long deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth. The heady aroma washed throughout my body.
My cock now began to grow rapidly in my trousers and I felt it straining within my boxers. My breath quivered on my exhale as I relished every trace of the strong, heavenly fragrance. A delightful concoction of sweat, pheromones and the soft leather from Zara’s sexy heels. I heard her giggling and felt her shifting herself on the sofa as she looked down at me, greedily sniffing and snorting beneath her small feet. She watched in awe as I rubbed my face around her soles, voraciously searching for every trace of the scent. Snorting sounds emitted from beneath them as occasionally my exhales and inhales found themselves trapped beneath her soles, the pressure between her feet and my face growing firmer as I desperately sniffed across her soles and between her toes.
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