Walter climbed out of the shower and dried himself. He had just finished shaving when he heard the tinkle of Heather's bell. She was back from her exercise walk. He wiped his face and hurried into the living room. Heather's hair was in two pigtails tied with red ribbon. She was wearing a black sports bra, red short shorts, black ankle socks, and red running shoes tied with black laces. "Sweetie," she said as she sat on the couch, "Bring me some white wine, and grab one of those big fluffy beach towels."
"Yes, Heather." He quickly returned with her wine, and a red towel under his arm.
She sipped and nodded. "Spread it out on the floor in front of me.... like that. Very good. Now, kneel."
Walter obeyed.
"On the towel. Right in front of me."
Walter obeyed.
"Knees further apart. At attention, hands behind your back."
Again, he obeyed.
"
Very
good."
She sipped wine and admired her house-boy's physique. (Walter was forbidden clothing when he was alone with Heather.)
She crossed her legs, purposely brushing his thigh with her elevated shoe. She chuckled as Walter stared at her shoe. She began to purposely wiggle her foot.
"Do you like these shoes?"
"...uh, yes, Heather."
"Let me guess. You like my sandals better."
"Yes, I do."
"Well... if you are
exceedingly
sweet, I might wear them when I go out tonight."
"Yes, Heather."
"You don't sound very happy."
"I don't
like
it when you go out."
"But I might find myself a girlie!"
Walter's shoulders slumped. "Yes, Heather." His voice was low.
Heather sighed. "How about this? You pick out my outfit... including my
shoes
. For each compliment I get, you'll get a kiss. And I
don't
mean a peck on the cheek from grandma. OK?"
"Yes, Heather. Thank you."
"You're welcome. And if I find myself a yum-yum,
and
if you are
sweet
about it ... let's just say you'll enjoy yourself. I
promise
. Will that make up for it?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"You're welcome. When was my last orgasm?"
"Last night. Thank you for letting me pleasure you."
She chuckled. "Which would you rather do? Receive an orgasm, or give me one?"
She continued to wiggle her elevated foot. Walter's gaze followed it, like a Mongoose following a snake.
"
Well
?"
He stared at her wiggling shoe. "I-"
"Look at me," Heather ordered.
"Pleasuring you is the most important thing in my
life
," he whispered.
"Aww!" She extended her foot and caressed his face. He shuddered.
"Maybe you like these shoes more than you want to admit."
"Uh... Heather, may I give you another orgasm?"
She toyed with the idea of letting hum peel her shorts off. She would lie back and sip wine while his tongue performed its inevitable magic. If she wrapped her legs around his head and pummeled his back with her running shoes, he would love every minute of it. Then she would push him onto his back and have him right there on the floor. Then make him beg for release.
Yum
! But he could give her an orgasm anytime. "Not now. I want to have some fun."
"Oh. I mean - yes, Heather."
She giggled at his reluctance. "Do my feet."
Walter always washed and massaged Heather's feet after her exercise walks. It was a task he particularly enjoyed; she would usually allow him to slip in a bit of foot worship. "Yes, Heather!" But when he reached to untie Heather's elevated shoe, she pulled her foot away.
"Hands are
boring
. Let's do something... interesting."
"I-"
"You can put your hands on the towel to balance yourself. But you may
not
touch my shoes or socks."
"But-"
"Your mouth is very skilled."
"Oh. I mean, yes, Heather."
Walter leaned forward to get her shoelace in his teeth. She purposely wiggled her foot to make it harder.
"Come on, I don't have all day!"
"Please hold your foot still," he said.
"It's
my
fault you don't want to take my shoes off?"
"I- No, it's my fault. Could I please have a little help?"
Heather pulled one leg up on the couch and crossed the other one over her knee. "You're
sure
you want me to hold my foot still?"
"Yes, please."
"Ok..." She placed her foot level with Walter's mouth.
Walter got the shoelace in his teeth and pulled the bow lose.
"Careful, don't tear my laces!"
"Yes, Heather."
Loosening the laces was considerably harder, but eventually he was ready to pull the shoe off. Unthinking, he reached for it.
Heather kicked him.
"Oww!"
"What did I
tell
you?"
"Sorry."
"Not as much as you're going to be. Start with the heel."
"I can't
reach
it."
Heather had purposely positioned her foot too close to the couch.
"You asked me to hold my foot still."
"Please, Heather?"
"No."
"
Please
?"
"I'm already doing what you asked. It's too late to change your mind."
Walter squirmed around and after some effort, managed to get at her heel from the side.
"Took you long enough. Now pull it down... good boy. Take the toe of my shoe in your mouth. That's it. Now,
pull
!"
Walter struggled but eventually her shoe was about to come off of her foot.
"Don't let my shoe drop. Get the edge of it in your mouth."
Walter complied.
"Now, set it down nicely!"
He wiggled the show away from Heather's sock clad foot and lowered it to the towel.
"Excellent. Does my shoe taste good?"
"
No
."
"
No
? You assured me that my Louboutins taste
wonderful
. I guess you're a picky eater." She crossed her legs the other way and wiggled her elevated shoe.
Eventually Heather's shoes sat side by side on the towel.
"Was that fun?" She asked.
"Uh, I guess."
"You
guess
? You got to be close to my feet,
