Vignettes Fetish

by Jim Shue

  He leaned back on his heels and looked up at Yvette. She stood above him—her everpresent smile as pretty as ever. James steadied the headboard and started to line up the frame.

  “Can you hold this still for me?” James requested. He referenced the headboard.

  “Sure,” Yvette responded and moved a half step closer to the headboard. Her weight on one leg, the other foot back up on the ball, pressing her crimson toes gently into the carpet. James involuntarily looked at her feet. Careful to mask his intent, his glances more frequent. His arousal was increasing.

  Her feet are pretty.

  His manhood was betraying him further. Yvette’s pretty foot the likely culprit, but it was something else that tingled and teased him this time. Yvette loomed over him like a boss, watching his progress. Her pretty feet and painted toes had worked their magic in typical fashion, but it was different this time.

  James’s mind raced as he tried to mask his apparent arousal. Confused by the sensations, his thoughts distracting him from the task at hand.

  The distraction noticed by Yvette. Purposefully moved from the ball of her foot to a position with one foot in front of the other. Closer to James.

  Is she testing me? Does she know?

  Her foot now close to his knee, his glances increased. Her pretty foot too close to his knee. Yvette pressed down with her extended foot, pressing into the carpet. Her tendons and muscles in the top of her foot strained. James distracted further from his task as his manhood betrayed him.

  Yvette lifted her foot, startled James with the movement. She was playfully pressing the bulge in his jeans with her toes. A light touch, gentle tapping as Yvette tested his arousal. His hardness confirmed what she suspected.

  “What is this?” Yvette inquired. James looked up to a smirk. She had him, and he knew it. They have made love before, but his arousal at her feet was a source of embarrassment at times. He did not understand it or know how to express it. Her pretty foot was a powerful stimulus, especially as it tapped on his manhood. Something was different this time. He could not reconcile the deeper feelings.

  “Umm, the bed is almost ready,” James stammered out. He looked up at Yvette, a devious smile on his face. “Ready to be tested.”

  Does she know what she is doing to me?

  Yvette tilted her head to the side slightly, bit her lip. The prospect was enticing.

  “Perhaps after more unpacking,” Yvette said. “I still have more tasks for you.” Her foot pressed down on his hard manhood. She was just as interested but preferred the tease for now. James dropped the tools on the carpet and wrapped his hands around her ankle. A reaction to the more aggressive probing of his hardness. It felt good, but his instinct to protect his groin kicked in. She held her foot but did not want it to stop.

  “Finish your task,” Yvette raised her voice and one eyebrow at the same time. James looked up at her; the smile was less pronounced, more subdued. She looked turned on too. She pulled her foot away. “Now, James.”

  It struck him like a hammer; the revelation made clear, her foot was the catalyst, pretty, petite, sexy painted toes, but it was her firm tone that excited him this time. Yvette had lorded over him all day. It was not adverse or unwelcome. It seemed necessary at; first, she wanted to orchestrate the move. It was her apartment. James happily capitulated to her demands, a natural response to be helpful turned to something more. She has awakened a more profound desire by chance.

  The circumstances that arose were confusing at first. James’s initial thought that his arousal due to her pretty feet was confirmed but augmented by her commanding nature.

  His attraction to beautiful feet was well known to him. The fascination persisted from early childhood. He suspected Yvette was on to his preference for pretty feet, but never confirmed it. Embarrassment prevents him from pursuing anything further.

  Her domineering posture as she controlled the events was something altogether new. James was innocently bending to her will, obeying her commands, subtle power exchange that created a heightened state of arousal. James liked being told what to do, like working to please Yvette. It was his first taste of submission, and the thrill was immeasurable. The feelings were confusing, but he wanted more.

  James reached for the tools again and doubled his efforts to finish. Their copulation was imminent upon his completion of the task laid before him. He had to get this bed frame erected.

  With the bed frame assembled and the box spring and mattress set into place, James shifted his attention to Yvette. A not so subtle embrace, pressing his body to hers, pulling her close for a passionate kiss. Yvette returned the passion with enthusiasm equal to James.

  Yvette dropped the bedding on the floor at their feet. A lingering kiss as James gently nudged her towards the bed. Yvette’s hands rose from around his waist and pressed into his chest, and she broke the lip lock.

  “Not yet, the bedding,” Yvette said. James still holding her tight, their hips pressing together. His manhood engorged and pressing against her with authority. She leaned back, pretty smile. “Let’s finish first.”

  “Hmm, how about now and when we finish?” James responded, holding her tight. The passionate kiss re-engaged; Yvette was receptive to his advances. The passion built as James felt his manhood was about to burst.

  “Almost done,” Yvette said through her busy lips.

  “Yes, yes we are,” James responded, his own words muffled by the lip lock.

  “The bedding and the closet first,” Yvette said. Her hands slipped up to his face, cradling his cheeks—a kiss before separating. The closet piqued James’s interest. Her shoe fetish boxed up in the corner of the room. Yvette had purchased a couple of shoe racks that needed assembly; three tiers of shoes on each frame and the intervening rods telescoped out. The two frames together would nearly cover the entire wall of one side of the closet.

  Jim agreed, reluctant agreement to put the passion on hold. A tease of what is to come when his chores were played entirely on his mind. Her high heel shoe fetish a reason to pause. Yvette brought him to the brink, her passionate kiss teased him and engorged his manhood. Still, her lording over him, while he toiled for her was an odd source of excitement. Something James did not expect; he liked her watchful eye and commanding tone instructing him on his next task. Now, a denial, passion placed on hold, gripped his mind further. New experiences were unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

  The bedding placed quickly, and James was on to the shoe racks. The boxes discarded, and the parts laid out on the carpet. Yvette knelt in front of the boxes containing her shoes. Her soles exposed, and toes flexed on the rug as she knelt in front of the first box. The collection James has yet to see in its entirety.

  Yvette started to pull the shoes from the box as James assembled the shoe racks. The assembly required little more than a screwdriver. It was simple.

  “Oh, I forgot about these,” Yvette exclaimed. Exuberance in her voice as she held up a pair of red heels with three straps across the top, one in each hand and a smile on her face. She held each shoe by the heel, showing James the top and insoles. The distraction was too much; the screw slipped from his hand. He looked at the two shoes, reminiscent of a mary jane style, but with three straps across the front instead of one. The heel was considerably higher.

  “Oh, yeah, those look nice,” James responded. He complimented the pretty shoes, careful again on hiding his fetish, but his attention was no longer on the shoe rack. He searched for the screw in vain with only his hands probing the carpet. James's eyes otherwise occupied by the two heels in Yvette’s hands. To his delight, she leaned to the side and rested on one hip. She bent her knee back and placed the sexy shoe on her foot, followed shortly by the other one. Yvette stood up, her calf muscles flexed in response to the height of the heel. She turned her ankle slightly, offering a side view from her vantage point. “They fit.”

  James was no longer actively searching for the lost screw, and his eyes fixed on the two shoes as Yvette modeled the heels.
She looked down at him, a smile on his face giving away his appreciation of the pretty high heels.

  “Do you like them?” Yvette said and stepped closer to James, still on his knees. “You seem distracted.”

  She knows. Surely by now. She teases me.

  “Pretty shoes,” James responded and pulled his gaze from her feet. The effort to refocus on task was not without challenge.

  “Glad you like them,” Yvette said. She stepped out of the heels and set them aside. The placement elicited another glance from James. “Keep working on the rack; I want to see if they all fit.”

  Another command that stirred his manhood refocused his efforts on the task at hand. Yvette unknowingly pushing his buttons. The buttons linked to the submissive tendencies that he did not know he had. Yvette pulled more shoes, mostly high heels from the boxes.

  A second pair found their way to her feet, a strappy pair of sandals, gray, again with an impossibly high heel. Yvette’s crimson toes displayed in front of the toe strap. She tried on a few more and modeled them for James as he knelt on the carpet. He was desperately working on finishing the simple assembly. The distraction of the shoe shows a constant delay. Engorged manhood was a continual reminder of the effect Yvette was having on his mind. He liked it. He had to tell her, but how?

  The added pressure of her high heel tease and the new desire to please her with completion of tasks weighed heavily on his mind. The torment, the tease, the denial was having a powerful effect. It was overwhelming. He was unable to process the sensation, not sure which one or if both created the intense arousal.

  In due course, the racks were completed and set in place. Fully extended, they were only a few inches short of spanning the entire wall. Even with that, Yvette’s shoe collection exceeded its capacity. Several pairs remained on the floor.

  “It looks like I need one more,” Yvette said. A reference to an additional rack. James placed the last pair on the stand, and Yvette lined up the remaining shoes on the floor. “Maybe I should get rid of some of these?”

  “No, we can get another rack,” James responded quickly. Her shoe fetish a perfect compliment to his obsession. He did not know how to express it to her but did not want her to separate from one pair. It was another opportunity to provide her a service. He looked forward to building another shoe rack under her careful supervision, even if she did not know the powerful effect it was having on him.

  Yvette stood up and moved behind James, who was still on his knees. She bent at the hip. Her feet straddled his bent legs, and her hands slid down his chest. She nuzzled her lips against his neck.

  “Let’s make sure the bed works,” Yvette whispered in his ear. Her tongue probed his earlobe. James felt the tingle expand from his ear to his groin. Her hands tested his manhood through his pants. His erection persisted, a combination of working to please Yvette and high heels and pretty feet assaulting his senses. The denial, the waiting was excruciating, yet thrilling. He wanted more.

  To be continued.

  The Art of the Tease

  The executive vice president stood in front of the makeshift conference room. The executive conference room was too small for the monthly staff meeting. The training room often served as a conference room for larger groups. James sat silently listening to the status report, which mainly consisted of a review of work in progress.

  The focus always on how much revenue recognized each month with the limited resources available. Most of the project managers scrambled to haggle and trade technicians trying desperately to push through their projects promptly.

  James managed mainly critical accounts. They consisted of primarily larger projects. Key accounts for a reason, they garnered the lion share of the revenue and profits month after month. The success garnered James, a dedicated team of technicians to implement the work.

  As a result, his monthly results flowed steady, more consistent than his counterparts. A status he enjoys now due mainly to extremely dedicated and hard work for many years prior.

  A familiar vibration pulsed through his slacks onto his thigh. James’s cellphone was in his front pocket, silenced; the signal noticed only by him. He waited for a moment then slipped his phone from his pocket. Just enough to see the home screen. It was locked, but he could see a text from Kathryn, his wife. She does not usually text him during the day unless it is essential.

  James pulled the phone out and placed his finger on the sensor that identifies fingerprints to unlock the phone. Kathryn’s text popped up. No words, only a picture of a navy blue patent leather pump. An image of Kathryn’s foot centered. He could tell her leg crossed over her knee, and she let the shoe slip off her heel. She was allowing it to dangle from her toes. The smooth nylon seemed to glisten.

  “James?”

  “Ah, sorry, distracted by Kathryn.” James fumbled briefly with the phone and slipped it back in his pocket for now.

  “Is everything ok?”

  “Yeah, no problem, what was the question?”

  “Are your projects on track for the month, more importantly, can you free up a technician or two for a few days to help out John?”

  “Yeah, I am on track, Bill can help out next week, we are waiting on parts.”

  “Ok, thanks to everyone, have a great week.”

  The murmur of the crowd increased dramatically after the meeting adjourned. The project managers and staff filed out of the training room turned conference room once a month.

  James considered Kathryn’s text. The image meant to elicit a response. Kathryn was well aware of James’s proclivities, his fetish for sexy heels often used as a tool. They have been married for 14 years, and she liked to tease him. Watch his dominant façade crumble at the twist of her heel. Secrets between them long exposed. She would use his fetish for heels and pretty feet to his delight. She relished the power his obsession afforded her.

  It was only Monday.

  James: You tease me.

  Kathryn: Is that ok?

  James: More than ok. What is the occasion?

  No response from Kathryn. The tease heightened further. She was good. Her knowledge of where his buttons were and how to push them was extensive. It might very well have been for no reason at all, just a tease.

  His business style, his style in general, was dominant, confident. James was a take-charge kind of guy, but Kathryn knew how to make him melt. Wrapped around her finger, and his lips often wrapped around her toes. Kathryn loved the role reversal as much as he did. He would do anything for her, and she relished the power she could project over him. The confident, powerful man on his knees with his lips wrapped around her toes.

  James’s mind reeled at the possibilities and struggled a bit with his growing arousal. She sent the picture of her foot intent on eliciting a response. Subtle but profound.

  What does she have in mind? She is toying with me.

  Periodically over the next few days, a text containing only an image presented itself. At times inconvenient, but always welcome. Kathryn pitted her strength against his weakness. Her pretty foot proven to be his kryptonite. A quirk of his personality that Kathryn found endearing. A tool she could use to subtly manipulate the strong, confident man she had chosen to spend her life, a ritual of sorts, submission to his wife a natural expression discovered by a young wife years ago.

  It was a fun game. Kathryn snapped random pictures of her feet and shoes. Perhaps a dangle while seated at her desk. An image of her feet pampered at the salon, or standing in line at the grocery store; her pretty foot about to slide into a pump that she wears to work often. Images of her cute toes about to disappear beneath the vamp were commonplace. Painted toes were peeking through a peep-toe pump. Sometimes bare, other times encased in nylons. A summer sandal with her freshly pedicured toes on display. The poses seemed endless—a subtle torment, a pleasurable torment that was always a prelude to something more. Kathryn liked to tease, and she knew how to push her husband's buttons.

  James was running late on Thursday evening. A
business meeting late in the afternoon downtown put him in the middle of the rush-hour out of the city. Cars lined up behind cars, behind mass transit, behind trucks—typical Chicago expressway at rush-hour, more akin to a parking lot. The Metra slipped past at a brisk pace. At times like this, James often contemplated what it would be like to have a job downtown at the same place every day. He could be on the train, winding down after a long day, bypassing the traffic. The life of a contractor does not lend itself to using the train—job sites, meetings, business lunches, all in different places, and locations every day.

  James pressed the voice recognition button on Audi’s steering wheel. “Call Kathryn cell.”

  A moment later, the car acknowledged the command and dialed Kathryn’s cellphone. The phone rang twice over Audi’s entertainment system. Kathryn’s picture inset on the center counsel screen with her phone number next to it.

  Kathryn picked up.

  “Hello, running late?”

  “Yeah, late meeting and traffic is a bear.”

  “Will you make it in time for dinner? I wanted to go out tonight.”

  “Sure, I am about 45 minutes away according to the GPS.”

  “Great, we might still make happy hour at the place on the corner.”

  The place on the corner was a dive but had great food. It was a local bar with a pretty good menu and a long list of craft beer. The wine list was terrible, but it was not that kind of bar. James and Kathryn alike preferred an excellent wine over anything else, but an appreciation for craft beer cultivated over the years. Kathryn would likely stick with a flavored vodka at the dive bar.

  James arrived home to find Kathryn nearly ready to go. She had on a blouse and a rather short skirt.

  “That is not the skirt you had on for work this morning?” James said, a questioning tone.

  “No, it is for you, after your long day,” Kathryn said. She turned sideways slightly, offering a view of the outfit.