Locked At Her Feet

"Slave -- fetch that black shoebox you brought in with my things earlier today! I think I want to wear my new boots out tonight..."

I purred as my husband took the glossy box from the pile and brought it over to the chaise where I had been reclining. I couldn't help but grin as he opened the box, revealing the dazzling new black leather ankle boots which I had brought home earlier that day. There was no doubt about it -- these boots just

screamed

sex

,

from the sharp, 6" spiked stiletto heel to the wide cuff that wrapped around the top of each boot, to be secured with a pair of shiny, silver padlocks that came with a little hidden secret of their own.

"So do you like them, slave?" I asked innocently as I gestured for him to slip the boots onto my awaiting feet, savoring the view of him naked on his knees before me, helping me to prepare for a night of which his fantasies could only speculate. The heels were high and the leather hugged my feet provocatively, but what really made my heart race as my husband fitted the ankle boots around my feet and laced them up snug was the final *click* without question as he finished each boot off by wrapping the wide cuffs around each of my ankles and locking the padlocks also found in the box through their respective hasps.

It wasn't until he had finished with both boots that I let the padlocks jingle in front of his face for a moment before presenting him with a new question to ponder - "I'll bet you'd like to know where

the keys

to those padlocks are, now wouldn't you???"

I smiled a sinister grin as I laid back on the lounger and placed my locked ankles on each of my husband's shoulders, laughing to myself with delight as I stared dreamily up at the ceiling and explained, "If you must know, my slave ...

Cristopher

bought these boots for me. He never actually gave me the keys, though ... something about giving me a little more

incentive

to come and see him again soon!"

His eyes fixated on the locks as I pressed on...

"Aren't they just so

sexy,

though, baby??? They make me feel like doing

all sorts of dirty things

while I'm wearing them! Between these boots and a tight, leather miniskirt, and maybe a low-cut halter top to show off plenty of cleavage, I just feel like

a total

slut

when I look in the mirror -- like I should have Cristopher's cock in my mouth

right now!"

"...boy,

that

would sure be a sight to see, now wouldn't it?! You, on your knees at my feet, ogling the boots locked on her by another man, while your wife casually sucks him off on a random Saturday afternoon!"

"I'll mention it to Cristopher and see if he's interested, but so far he's pretty much only wanted me all to himself. I think that's why he bought me the boots, so I'd have something that bound me just to

him

... you know, kind of how that lock around your tiny penis binds you

to

me."

I then sat up and put my ankles back down on the floor, crossing them suggestively before indicating that he was to worship them with his tongue...

"That's right, slave..." I purred, "polish up your slut mistress's boots so they'll be all nice and clean for her boyfriend later on tonight."

His tongue traced up and down the leather seams, never going off the boot leather and touching my actual skin, like he's been strictly instructed for times like this, and paying particular attention to the cuffs that were wrapped explicitly around his wife's ankles with padlocks that stared him right in the eye.

"You're lucky," I smirked. "He did tell me that you have permission to lick and clean my boots, though ... I guess he enjoys the symbolism of the whole thing and frankly, so do I. If you knew

the half

of what your wife has been through wearing

these boots

-- like, for example, he's got these steel cuffs attached to the headboard of his bed ... he likes to lock my ankles in them way over my head to give him a better angle while he's fucking me, and the boots just let him pound me

that much longer

because he doesn't have to worry about the cuffs chaffing my ankles through the boots anymore!"

"He also seems to like taking me from behind while I'm on my knees, so he can hold my ankles as he thrusts -- I can tell he's got a leather fetish just like you because of how his fingers run over the boots, around my ankles, and over the straps that he's locked in place. It makes me feel really submissive to him, like I'll do

anything

for him while I'm wearing his special boots!"

"Does that

excite

you, slave boy? Knowing that your wife dominates you, but is also submissive herself to another lover? Knowing that after she dresses up in her tightest, most revealing dresses and her most provocative heels ... that after she checks the padlock ensuring that your own chastity cage will never come free and locks you in the cage in her closet ... that's when she falls into the arms of her dark and handsome lover who gropes her publicly and then binds her privately before giving her the fucking of every slut's wildest fantasies???"

"Does it make you

ache

to think of your wife bent over at the waist, her cocktail dress still hugging her hips as she's told to grab her own booted ankles while Cristopher fucks her in the coatroom while the attendant nonchalantly looks the other way?"

"Or how about when she grinds up seductively on him at the club, feeling his strong hands grope her like a piece of meat while her tongue dances as if she's ready for him to lay her out on a table right there in front of everyone and fuck her properly??"

I stood up, taking the first opportunity to admire myself in the mirror across the room, my fishnet-clad legs disappearing just under the edge of my leather miniskirt on one end and adorned with these perfectly decadent fuck boots on my feet. It was then that my perspective began to take its change for the evening as my gaze lost sight of the slave worshipping at my feet and instead refocused on the seductive, sex-crazed woman who was ready to go out and claim her piece of the night with no remorse.

Slave boy would be here when I got back -- what I needed now was to get my freak on, and I had a handsome boyfriend waiting to hear me call out his name in ecstasy...

I dialed his number on my cell phone.

"Hey baby, I'm almost ready."

"Yeah, I've just got to freshen up my makeup and lock him in his cage."

"Of course I'm wearing them! He just locked me into them a little bit ago and I've been thinking all sorts of naughty thoughts about you ever since..."

"As long as she's cute, that sounds like fun -- maybe you could tie us up together!"

"Just as slutty as I am?! We'll see about that -- these boots have got me all sorts of horny, I might not make it out to the car!"

"Oh, he's been polishing them already, but I'll be sure to tell him. See you soon, lover..."

I laughed out loud as I hung up the phone and looked back down at my obedient husband, who now was just kneeling there, his gaze fixated on my new favorite boots.

"Cristopher's going to be here soon, so I have to go touch up my makeup now before we head out to the club. He wanted me to tell you that if my boots aren't polished to his satisfaction,

he's not unlocking them so that I can come home tonight.

You've got another 10 minutes at my vanity while I'm getting ready, then you're going in your cage until I get home."

I snickered as I settled into my chair and picked up my eye shadow as he took his place at my feet and he too got to work at the task ahead of him.

"You know..." my taunting continued, "I think maybe I should put you in those rigid, metal restraints inside your cage tonight -- wouldn't want you getting

too comfortable

if I'm going to be out all night..."

I glanced down to see him passionately lapping at the black leather, as if anything he could possibly do was really going to change the course of the night's festivities at that point. But we both knew deep down exactly how it was going to play out -- he would be securely bound and locked in his cage like the good, little cuckold that he is, my lovely Cristopher would take me out for a night on the town that would be filled with more naughty fun than my mind could imagine, and then the next morning I would return home and if he was lucky, give my cuck the honor of cleaning up after Cristopher ...

and whichever other friends he was planning to bring along for the ride!

Of course, if I was

still sent home

wearing my special boots after all of that, I suppose a little discipline might be in order to teach my slave how to satisfy my boyfriend's expectations -- a girl like me can't wear slutty boots like these around

all of the time...

Or can she???