Learning to Wear the Heels He Lies

"This is not a big deal," she said. "Do not make this a big deal."

He raised his eyebrows. "Do we need to talk? Should I call you?"

"What? I'm standing right in front of you."

"I'm just thinking of more alarming ways to start a conversation."

"Shut up. I'm going to wear a pair of very low heels on our walk."

"Whoa. You never wear heels. What's the occasion?"

"I want to learn how to walk in them."

"Why?" Then he figured it out. "Is this about the sex shoes?"

She had worn a pair of wildly impractical heels for him. They had fucked with a sort of unbridled lust that had become sadly rare ever since they had started trying to conceive in earnest. It was an unfortunate side effect of having sex every day for a week straight, month after month.

"It's about acquiring a skill most girls learn sometime in their teens."

"Look, I'm really fine with leaving that in the bedroom. You're not a heels kind of girl. I understand that. I accept it. Besides, they're bad for your feet."

"I'm not planning to become a 'heels kind of girl,' whatever that means," she said, making quote marks with her fingers. "I just want to be not completely bedridden once you put them on me. I'm not into bondage, okay?"

"You really don't have to do this."

"I didn't say I had to. I said I wanted to. Are you going to try to tell me what shoes I'm allowed to wear today?"

When she put it like that. He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay. You're going to wear a very low pair of heels." He paused. "Can I put them on?"

The abrupt pivot must have caught her off guard. She laughed, the tension broken. "If you want. I'll let you see them before you decide."

She went into the closet and came back with a pair of knee-high nylons in one hand and a pair of sensible pumps in the other. They were basically flats. The heels were blocky and maybe 30mm high, hardly the sort of thing that got him excited.

He reached for them, but she pulled them back.

"Where's the romance? When I wear heels for you, I expect the full treatment." She arched one eyebrow, then giggled. Even she couldn't get that out with a straight face.

So he ushered her to the bench by the door. He knelt in front of her. He said, "Please, miss, may I help you with your shoes?"

"You may." She crossed her legs and presented him with one foot.

Lavishing her foot with kisses at every step, he pulled off her slipper and sock, put the knee-high on, then put the shoe on. It took two or three minutes for each foot. By the time he straightened up their initial sillyness had become something more taut.

She lifted her gaze from the very plain shoe on her foot to the definite bulge in his pants, then up to his eyes. "You had a name for these shoes. What did you call them?"

He licked dry lips. "Minnie Mouse shoes."

She extended her leg and nudged his cock with the toe of one shoe. "So how long have you been into Minnie Mouse?"

"It's different when you're wearing them."

"Yeah?"

"They change you." He moved his hands as if physically reaching for the words. "You become...slower. More deliberate." Like a cat stalking her prey. "It's sexy," he concluded lamely.

"I can see that." She smiled creamily, giving him another gentle nudge. "The question is, will anyone else?"

"Uh..." It was one thing to share this moment with her in their own home. The thought of parading down the street at half-mast was like a splash of cold water on his fevered imagination. He twitched backward and his pants deflated.

He glanced back up and caught her smirk. She could play him like an instrument. "Thanks," he said.

"Uh-huh. Come on."

They went for a long walk through the park a few blocks away, wending their way between the trees and talking about this and that. Their workdays, the grocery list, dinner. With both of them now fully remote, this had become their commute, a liminal period to disconnect from work and reconnect to each other.

When they came back, he put away his shoes, hat, and pants. He turned away from the closet to find her sitting at the bench, still wearing her shoes, a shy smile on her face.

"You're plotting something," he said.

"Remember when you said you were happy to leave that stuff in the bedroom?"

"Yeah?"

"What if I wanted you to come over here and help me with my shoes?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." He started toward her, but stopped short at her raised hand.

She licked her lips, took a deep breath, said, "What if I wanted you to crawl over here and ask to help me with my shoes?"

He looked at her, dumbfounded. It wasn't the first time she had joked about making him crawl for her. She had gotten bossier and bossier in the bedroom and to be honest he had loved every moment of it. But he had never done it, much less in their front hallway.

As if entranced, he sank to his knees, crawled the few steps, and kissed her foot. "Please, may I help you with your shoes?"

"You may."

This time after he got the second shoe off, he returned to her bare foot and started kissing it again. She chuckled as he dropped a trail of kisses up to her knee. He cast an glance upward before nudging her legs apart. She shivered as he kissed his way up her inner thighs. He tried to pull her panties aside but they were sensible, full-coverage affairs.

She pushed him away, then slid them off herself, scooting forward on the bench to expose herself to his tongue. "We can't do this every day," she warned, panting a little.

He came up long enough to say, "No, but how about today?"

"Okay, okay, just today." She pulled him back in and held him there.

A mixture of lust and pragmatism (it was a week night) made him go straight for the kill, no fooling around. He felt her clench her legs around his neck, panting more loudly until finally she shuddered and released him.

She pushed him onto his back and reached through the fly of his underwear for his cock. She sank down onto him in one swift stroke. He pulled her down onto his lips and they found their rhythm with the deftness of long practice. He came as swiftly as if they hadn't done it the entire previous week.

They cuddled for a few minutes before he asked, "What were our chances today?"

She checked her phone. "3%. Hang on, let me try the other app. Eh, 6%."

"Well, it was fun."

"Yeah, it was." She kissed him. "Seriously, though, we can't do this every day."

"You say this as if I initiated any of it."

"You definitely initiated."

"I was entrapped."

"Whatever. Make me dinner."

He gestured at his crotch and waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Yeah? That's so sweet. Can we grill it?"

He could only laugh helplessly, bested yet again.

Indeed, the sex did not become part of their commute, although her Minnie Mouse shoes did. He started to look forward to kneeling in front of her at the end of each day and asking to help her with her shoes.

It lasted only a couple of weeks before she shook her head and said, "Not those today."

"Oh, okay," he said, trying not to seem too disappointed.

She saw through it, of course. "Is my little boy sad he doesn't get his special time today?"

He shrugged, unable to meet her eyes. "It was fun while it lasted." He started to climb to his feet.

"You give up too easily." She pointed into the closet. "Get me the box."

There was a box he'd never seen before. He brought it back.

"Graduation day," she announced, opening the box. Inside were a pair of slightly higher heels, maybe 60mm or 70mm. "Remember how you fantasized about licking and sucking my shoes all over, even the heels and soles?"

He nodded, uncertain where this was going.

"These are brand new," she said, looking at him meaningfully. "Never been worn. So what we could do instead of a walk today is have you wipe them down with some alcohol or whatever you need to feel comfortable---"

"Wow," he said, stunned by the thought she had put into this. Of course, she knew he was a germophobe.

"Good wow, or bad wow?"

"Good wow. Very good wow." He pulled her into an enthusiastic kiss before hurrying away to wipe the shoes down.

She was in the bathroom when he finished, adjusting her makeup from professional Zoom call to something more appropriate for a night out. He fidgeted awkwardly at the doorway, not wanting to hurry her but also feeling each second stretch into apparent days.

At last, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you want to lay out some clothes for me."

"Okay!" He went into the bedroom.

After a moment, she shouted after him, "Nothing too slutty!" sounding as if she were already regretting it.

"Slutty is as slutty does!" he shot back. He had no idea what that meant and with any luck she wouldn't either.

She didn't have anything terribly out there anyway and most of it was brightly colored. He didn't trust himself to match colors. Instead, he pulled out a crisp white blouse, a high-waisted black A-line skirt, and a pair of smoky pantyhose.

He thought about how bossy she'd been getting recently and added her gloves. They were just regular winter gloves, but they were black leather and he thought they lent a certain edge to the outfit.

After a moment's hesitation, he stripped off his shirt and knelt by the closet to wait for her.

She came in wearing only her bra and panties, a matching lacy black set. Clearly premeditated. "All right, let's see what abomination---" Her voice trailed off as she rounded the corner and caught sight of him.

He felt a thrill of pride as he realized for once it was he who had rendered her speechless. "Would miss like to begin with a pair of hose?" he asked, offering her one bunched-up leg.

She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder as she stepped into it and let him smooth it up her legs. He caught a whiff of her arousal as he pulled the waistband up. So two could play this game.

He helped her into the blouse next, doing up rather fewer of the buttons than usual. The skirt was last. He tucked her blouse in before zipping it up to her natural waist.

She looked at herself in the mirror. "This is surprisingly tasteful, in a sexy secretary kind of way. I have to admit, I expected worse."

That was when he offered her the gloves, sinking back down onto his knees and lifting them up in both hands.

"Oh," she murmured, taking them.

She interlaced her fingers, working the leather down snugly around her knuckles.

"Black leather gloves indoors," she said thoughtfully, watching her hands flex in the mirror.

"I feel like a villainess in a movie." She squatted down to make eye contact with him. "One of those dominatrix types."

She cradled his face in both hands and he couldn't help taking a deep breath of the suddenly leather scented air. "Does that make you my slave?"

His heart skipped a beat. Yes! Yes! "If it pleases you," he said, stumbling a little over the words.

"If it pleases me." She brushed a kiss across his lips. "Would you like to please me?"

"So, so much," he said fervently. "A dream come true doesn't even begin to describe what we're doing right now."

"Aww." She rewarded him with another kiss, this time parting his lips and thrusting her tongue into his mouth. When they came up for air, she stood up and extended one foot. "Go on, then."

He kissed her foot, helped her step into the shoe, and placed another kiss on the toe of the shoe. She switched feet and let him do it all again. Finally he looked up at her.

"What would you like to do now?" she asked.

Spend the rest of the night at her feet, kissing, licking, and sucking every inch of her shoes.

Somehow, on her feet, the relatively modest heels had become every bit as arousing as the more extreme heights that typically figured in his fantasies. The muted highlights on their matte leather surface seemed like portals into a world he had never imagined could actually exist.

But he remembered the horror on her face the one time he had confessed his desire to ejaculate onto her shoes, feet, and legs. This was not her fantasy and it wouldn't do to get too carried away.

Returning to more conventional ground, he suggested, "If I'm to be your slave, maybe I need to be on a leash."

"A leash!" she said, astonished. "And shall I walk you around like a dog?"

"If it pleases you."

"That does sound fun. Maybe we could pick something up from the pet store later."

His eyes fell on a couple of belts hanging in the closet. "You could use a belt."

"Won't that become a choke collar?"

"If you turn the belt inside out it'll only loosen instead of tighten." He got one off the hook and showed her.

She took the belt and gave it an experimental tug. "How's this?"

"Completely fine," he assured her.

Taking the belt more firmly, she turned away. He crawled after her in a short loop around the bedroom, his mind a welter of sensations: the click of her heels in his ears, the pull of the belt at his neck, the smooth swell of her skirt before his eyes, the rub of his underwear on his very sensitive cock.

"If I had a dog that trailed behind me like you do, I'd send it away for some additional training." she teased.

"If you had a dog that looked at your butt like that, I'd send it away for adoption," he said.

She gave her hips a little wiggle, clearly pleased. "You like my butt?"

"I like your butt."

"Maybe if you're very good I'll let you look at it later. But right now you're pulling my arm back, so heel!"

She took him for another lap around the room, this time hard by her side.

She said, "I bet we make quite the sight right now. Let's have a look, shall we?"

She led him down the hall to the full-length mirror by the bathroom door.

He had never fancied himself more than ordinary. Being on his hands and knees only emphasized his slight paunch. And wearing nothing but underwear and socks just looked goofy.

She, on the other hand, was ravishing. He ran his eyes from her heels up her long legs to that flared skirt and crisp blouse. Looking at the scene in the mirror made him feel like he was peering into some alternate universe where smart young office workers came home, still in their heels and hose, and snapped a leash onto their men for a quick turn around the local park.

She snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. "Hello?"

He glanced away from the mirror to look at her directly. "Sorry?"

"Get a little distracted there?"

"You're very distracting."

Her lips twitched into a smile before she bit her lip, for a moment almost shy. She looked at the mirror herself. "It's a good outfit. Maybe I'll let you dress me more often."

Did that mean doing this more often? "I'd like that."

"Can we try something? I just want to see how it looks if you put your lips to my shoe."

He was only to happy to obey. She put a bit of tension onto his leash, forcing him to strain to enjoy the warm leather on her feet.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Does my boy need a little encouragement?" Shifting her weight onto one foot, she lifted the other and gingerly rested it on his back, urging him down toward her other shoe. "Does that help?"

"Oh, yes, miss." He had never thought of himself as particularly submissive, just weirdly fascinated with women's shoes. In the moment, though, prostrating himself under her heel was just about the sexiest thing he could imagine.

"That's good," she said, leaning harder on his back and letting the heel bear more of the weight. "Are you having fun with my shoe there?"

"Oh, yes," he said again, craning his head to look at her.

Mistake. His whole torso tilted to follow his head, and her foot slid off her back. She threw her hand out just in time to catch herself against the wall. They froze, staring at each other.

He recovered first. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Did you twist your ankle?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" he asked, confused.

She pointed wordlessly at his back. He looked in the mirror. Her heel had scraped a stark red line across his back. He felt the sting for the first time, running from between his shoulder blades out to his shoulder. He tried to shuffle closer to the mirror for a better look, but the angles were all wrong.

"Am I bleeding?"

She leaned over him. "It's just oozing a little. Actually, this doesn't look too much worse than a skinned knee."

"Yeah, that's all it feels like."

She blew out a relieved breath, then slapped his butt playfully. "Bad boy! Don't scare me like that."

His cock stirred at the playfully stern tone, at the casual condescension of 'bad boy,' at the little swat she had given him. Was he into spanking? "I'm so sorry, miss. I deserve to be punished."

Her eyes lit up. A slightly frightening smile curved her lips. "Yes, you do, don't you? Put those lips back on my shoe."

He heard her shift above him, then her heel pressed into his back again. Slowly, it scraped across his back. "Did that hurt?"

This was not what he expected. But it wasn't too bad. "Just a little."

"I'd better try harder." She repositioned her foot and scraped again.

He hissed. She had definitely broken the skin this time.

She purred like a cat. "That sounds more like it. Shall we try a few more like that?"

"If it pleases you, miss."

"Look at my hand and tell me how much you think it pleases me." She showed him one gloved hand slick with her juices. Slowly, she pushed her fingers into his mouth, thrusting in and out as if fucking his mouth.

He sucked greedily, amazed at how wet she was. He certainly hadn't heard a vibrator. Had she been touching herself? Or was she just that turned on at the thought of hurting him?

Houston, he thought, we may have a problem. But he looked at her, glowing in anticipation, and heard himself say, "Please, miss, may I have another, to remind me to hold still when you place your foot on me?"

She beamed at him. "Since you asked so nicely."

He kept the memory of her smile in his mind as she tore another bloody furrow into his back. Then he said, "Thank you for correcting me. May I have another?"

"Oh, god, no, I need you to fuck me right now." She nearly dragged him back into the bedroom by his leash, stumbling in her still unfamiliar heels. It would probably have been faster to let him stand up and walk, or even stand up and help her walk, but she was clearly far beyond such thoughts.

She somehow did have the presence of mind to throw a pillow under her hips before flopping back onto the bed. She shimmied her pantyhose and panties down just far enough to expose her slit. He couldn't help but notice the damp spot. She was literally dripping with desire. When had he ever seen that?

"Come on, come on, stop looking at it and get in there," she panted. She had dropped his leash to fumble at her panties. Now she snatched it up and jerked roughly as if trying to drag his head into her crotch by main force.

But when he started to lean in, she pushed his head away. "Do I look like I need foreplay? Just fuck me. I want us to come together."

He had actually gone a little soft, but his cock roared back to life at the sight of this wanton woman, so utterly unlike his wife. He put his cock to her slit, and felt it slide home with hardly any force.

She was reaching between them, stimulating her clit even as he thrust into her. Somehow he managed to hold himself back for the few seconds it took before her eyes rolled back and her abs started clenching rhythmically with pleasure. Then he let himself come violently, shuddering with the force of it.

He realized he had grabbed a fistful of her hair, now a tangled mess in his hand. He carefully smoothed the strands away from his fingers and kissed her temple.

Her eyes popped open. She jerked under him. "Oh no!"

"What?"

"I completely forgot about letting you lick the shoes."

It was so absurd he could only giggle.