Date: Sun, 26 Nov 1995 23:04:01 UTC
Subject: Wife's Killer Shoes (2/2) (mf, beastiality, shoe/foot worship, femdom, forced castration, snuff)


        After about one month of bliss, Cheryl approached me with a
problem.

        "I'm having real trouble with Buck," she said.  "I think we
should consider either having him fixed or giving him away."

        "What?  Have Buck fixed?  Why do you want to do that?"  I
exclaimed.  You could imagine my concern over such a tender issue.
"What's wrong with him?"

        "Well, to put it bluntly, he won't stop having his way with my
shoes, and he's beginning to ruin them.  As you know, I have great
taste in footware, and I really don't look forward to the expense or
the inconvenience of replacing my entire shoe collection every few
months because of Buck's indiscretions."

        Uh-oh.  Now I really was in a pinch.   I'd been having a grand
old time giving my imagination free-reign and living out my hidden
fantasies, but now MY indiscretions had gotten Buck into trouble.  It
may not be over yet, though.  Everyone deserves a second chance,
especially a nice dog like Buck.

        "Come on honey," I replied.   "There are other alternatives.
All we need to do is keep him out of your closet and he won't be able
to play with your shoes."

        "I've tried that.  I've kept the door to both my closet and
our room closed over the last few weeks but somehow, when I'm not
around, he gets in there.  I really don't want the hassle of keeping
all my shoes on the closet shelf or having to lock them down in the
basement."

        More trouble.  I hadn't noticed she intentionally keeping the
doors closed, but of course since it was the two of us at play, doors
were never an obstacle for Buck.

        "What about some simple discouragement.   I'll keep an eye on
him, and if I see him lurking around our room, the closets in
particular, I'll scold him and swat him one.  That should change his
behavior."

        Of course I wouldn't really have to go this far.  I could
always clean up a little better, or, if need be, stop fooling around
for good.  God, I hoped it wouldn't come to the latter.  The least she
could do would be to leave Buck and me one pair of shoes that were
already "ruined."  Otherwise, I'd have to buy a new pair of shoes, and
those are always so much rougher and are not quite as enticing; not to
mention I never have enough nerve to get a really good pair of women's
shoes myself.  They only sell good shoes in quality shoe stores where
a man looks quite conspicuous if he buys a pair.  The only women's
shoes I've ever bought myself were from some big department store
chain where I could bury them along with many other items and pretend
Cheryl had picked them out but was waiting for me in the car.  Those
shoes were mostly synthetic leather, i.e., plastic, and never as
stimulating as Cheryl's own shoes.
        But alas, even this alternative would not be acceptable.

        "I'm afraid that won't work either.   For the last few days,
whenever he came sniffing around by my feet or shoes, I'd give him a
sharp kick in the balls.  The way he yelped and backed away made me
think it was working.  He has been keeping a good distance from my
feet now and I can tell he's not all that happy to see me anymore.
But even with that, this afternoon I found more of his dried dog cum
in the bottom of my brown Candies.
        I know you are attached to him and all, but he's certainly not
my best friend and I'd just as soon get rid of him."

        With that last statement I saw a look of real resentment in
her face as if she intended to hurt him more than she did with her
"sharp kicks."  I didn't realize it then, but that streak of sadism
would end up being both an incredible turn on and an incredible
nightmare for me.

        "So that's why you brought up the idea of castration.  It's
not that you want to stop him from boinking your shoes, you want to
make him pay for having already done it."

        "I guess you may be right.  I hope you don't think I'm crazy,
but when I picture him screwing my shoes I somehow just want to
destroy him.  I want to squish him into a little ball and stomp on
him, reducing him to nothing but his little pool of dog jism."

        I must admit I was over the edge by that point.   Beginning the
conversation so close to home so-to-speak, so very close to revealing
my most intimate perversion, had had me aroused and in a cold sweat.
But the sight of Cheryl revealing her dominant side, her vengeful
side, and having it all focused on her feet and shoes had sent me to
oblivion.  She was definitely in control and I wouldn't be able to
regain it until I had been allowed to leave and collect myself.  I say
"allowed to leave" because nothing on heaven or earth could have
persuaded me to end this conversation myself.  I wanted to see where
it would go.  This was a fantasy coming to life, one which my wife
could not say I instigated.  Therefore, if it got out of hand, I could
always back out later claiming it was never my idea.  But this
confrontation also had the power to liberate me by bringing my
previously secret desires out into the open for trial and inspection.
I did not try to stop her.  I interjected not a single word.

        "Look Russ," she continued, "Buck's just a dog.  Not only
that, he was basically abandoned by your boss and if you hadn't been
kind enough to bring him home, he'd be destroyed now anyway. Help me
get out a little of my frustration on him and then we'll get rid of
him.  OK?"

        She looked at me with a combination of lust and innocence, the
way a child might ask for a piece of chocolate when he knows it's
almost time for dinner.  She really wanted this and I wanted to see
her dominate him the way I realized I wanted her to take control of
me.  This was all just fuel for my private, perverted fire.

        "What do you want to do to him?"

        Her face lit up.  She knew she would get her way.  She leaned
toward me with a gleam in her eyes.

        "I want you to help me to get him to screw my shoes again.  I
want to be there playing with his balls and just when he comes, I want
to squeeze them real hard.  Then we can bring him to the pound and get
rid of him for good.  I just want to be sure that he associates my
body with pain, the way he seems to associate my shoes with pleasure."

        I had a full erection by now, but I don't think Cheryl knew
that.  She ascertained the status of my arousal none-the-less.  I gave
it away by my response.  I said "yes."  Only I didn't say "Yes, if you
really want to, I'll go along," or "Yes, I think your a pervert but
your my wife."  Instead I sort of croaked out a yes the way I had
accepted sex for the first time when I was fifteen.  I was so amazed,
and so willing, and so afraid the girl might come to her senses and
change her mind, that I simply said "yes" in a quiet, hollow voice as
if the word had been uttered not by a puff of breath floating past my
vocal cords and out through my open mouth, but rather by the rustling
of my penis within my boxer shorts.  It was a yes all right, but any
woman of any experience would have recognized it was a yes of
overwhelming eagerness rather than one of simple willingness.  Cheryl
is a woman of experience.

        "Go move the coffee table out of the living room and then go
get Buck," she said.  "I'm going to get out of my stockings and put on
those brown flats he loves so much."


        I figured I was moving the table so she'd have more room next
to the couch.  Buck and I had played with her shoes in that room
several times without having the table interfere, but we always did
our business on the far side of the room near the television, where
there was enough room to lie down and really get comfortable.  But she
must have intended to sit while Buck was extended and therefore I was
hauling the table into the kitchen.
        Buck was much easier to get into the room than the table was
out, as our escapades had made him quite eager to spend time with me.
So I sat on the couch with Buck, stroking his penis lightly to keep
him in the mood for when Cheryl came out.
        Getting out of her stockings was an understatement; she came
into the room completely naked except for her brown leather loafers.
I could tell she was not kidding about Buck being resentful of her
when she got near him.  He quivered immediately and tried to spring
from the couch.  But I hugged him tightly and assured him that
everything would be all right.  Cheryl responded similarly and we must
have convinced him of our good intentions because he settled down
quickly and quietly.  We sat there on the couch for a few minutes
while Cheryl prepared to make her move.  It didn't take long.
        Cheryl removed her right shoe and lowered it, inner sole up,
to Buck's nose.

        "Does Buckkie want to pway with mommy's shoe?" she queried
with one of those annoying Elmer Fudd voices I think Buck hated as
much as I.

        Now was the moment of truth.  Would Buck accept such an
obviously devious offer or would he read right through it.  Not
willing to chance it, I pulled her shoe from her hand and brought it
near to the floor.

        "Come on, Buck," I said.   "Time for a little fun, boy."

        Buck jumped at the chance.  He assumed the position almost
instantly and I inserted his penis into her flat, tucking his
testicles into the heel.  As he began to pump at the shoe in my hand I
looked up to see what Cheryl wanted to do.  She responded quickly.
She told me to let go of the shoe and pushed down on Buck's back with
her foot.  That lowered him so that he was thrusting into the shoe on
ground level.  It was mostly in vain as the friction of the shoe on
his penis was greater than the shoe on the carpet and his thrusts
simply moved the shoe back and forth.  I usually helped him do shoes
without any heel by holding onto the shoe while he fucked it but I
didn't want to let on to Cheryl that I had done this before.
        However Cheryl obviously had a plan in mind.   She slowly
pushed him slightly onto his side, so that she would have access to
the shoe.  She then asked me to hold him tight.  While I clutched at
him, seemingly expending all my strength to keep him steady, she
gently placed her bare foot into the shoe and onto his penis.
        Buck relaxed completely, half from the uncertain pleasure
awaiting him, and half knowing that any movement would cause severe
pain as his balls were partially trapped under Cheryl's foot.  Cheryl
began to pump the sole of her foot up and down, stimulating Buck's
penis.
        By now Buck realized this was to be a pleasure trip and began
to thrust his pelvis in rhythm to the pumping of Cheryl's foot.
Cheryl needed more leverage and slowly stood up so she could devote
all her energy into stimulating Buck with her funny-looking one-step
dance, while also keeping her shoe from sliding across the floor.  I
in turn did my part to hold onto Buck and to keep him in place.  Not
to mention being completely aroused by this foot-shoe sex show which I
was finally witnessing, after fantasizing about it throughout my life.
Cheryl was obviously aroused as well, judging from the vigor with
which she rubbed her clit.
        As Buck started to growl and leak out pre-cum, Cheryl told me
to stand back.  She claimed that Buck might snap at me when she
inflicted the pain she intended too.  I stood up and backed up one
giant step, not able to resist placing my hands in my pockets and
stroking my penis.  Then it happened.
        With a hearty grunt and a small stream of drool, Buck spasmed
inside Cheryl's shoe.  He released jet after jet of his hot dog cum
into the toe of her flat and judging by the semi-orgasmic look on
Cheryl's face, she could feel him cumming underneath her toes.  She
allowed him to release all of his pent up sperm into his favorite shoe
and continued pumping him and his newly formed knot for close to a
minute after he came.  All the while she continued to stimulate
herself as well.  I noticed a familiar small dark brown stain forming
at the tip of her shoe.  It was the stain caused by the liquid
component of semen and would disappear within a few hours.
Unfortunately for Buck, he wouldn't see her unstained shoe again.

        Suddenly, Cheryl lifted her left foot and stepped lightly onto
Buck's midsection.  This shifted most of her weight onto her right
foot, the one on Buck's penis, and slowly but forcefully she rocked
back onto her heel.  I swear that despite Buck's yelp, I could still
hear (and feel) the crunch of his testicles under her formidable
weight.  As Cheryl had predicted, he lurched.  However, as Cheryl
stood on his side, the contraction of his side and leg muscles did
little except to rip a few threads from the carpet.  Then, as Cheryl
rocked once more onto her toes and again back onto his balls, they
finally gave way with a gulping sound as if Cheryl's foot had
swallowed them.  This time I know I heard them crunch as Buck made not
a sound.  He simply lie there wincing with his eyes closed and his
tongue extended.
        Cheryl, on the other hand, had orgasmed.   As I said, the
feeling of having him squirt his load through her toes, with his only
stimulation being from her foot and shoe, had brought her close to
orgasm.  But as she felt his vital organs, his precious jewels, crush
underneath her weight, she came in full force.
        Having been told the day before, that Cheryl would stomp my
dog's balls to mush, would have no doubt surprised me and possibly
excited me.  But her next actions truly shocked me.
        She lifted her foot from his midsection and sat back on the
couch.  She lifted the foot which crushed Buck out of its shoe and,
crossing her legs, released Buck's still hard penis and now creamy
testicular tissue.  I could see his ejaculate clinging to the ball of
her foot and her toes like tinsel on a Christmas tree.  She removed
his penis from her shoe, carefully wiping any semen off of his dick
and into the mouth of her shoe.  Putting her sperm-filled shoe back on
her sperm-covered foot she stood up.  She looked carefully at Buck's
unflinching head and closed eyes, closed her own eyes, and then
jumped.
        She came down with both feet square on the side of Buck's
head, pressing it into the carpet.  She impressed me with her ability
to balance on his pinned noggin, but she didn't balance for more than
a second.  Instead she jumped up and down on his face again, and
again, and again.  On the second thrust I heard the cartilage in his
snout crack.  By the fourth, his skull compressed with a similar but
definitely meatier sound than his testicles.  I watched dumbfounded as
she jumped on him over and over again until his head was simply a
bloody mass of broken bone and cranial tissue.  Finally she stopped
jumping and ground the oozing mush into the carpet.  It looked
remarkably similar to someone wiping his feet on a bearskin rug.
        After his head was sufficiently homogenized, she actually did
wipe the blood and gook from her feet onto his carcass and reclined
again on the couch.  She looked at me from that state of
dopey-post-orgasm-satisfaction, and motioned me over to her.

        "Do me," she said as she lifted her legs in the air.  "I want
it now."

        I guess I should have been repulsed by her after seeing what
she had just done to Buck, but instead I was as turned on as she was.
I ripped off my clothes exposing my erect penis and dove on top of
her.  As I began pumping her she lifted her legs even higher and
rested her ankles on my shoulders.  I looked over and saw Buck's final
cum shot oozing down her ankle and calf.  I couldn't resist.  Grabbing
her leg I began to lick up his cum for the last time and Cheryl loved
it.  She kept cumming and cumming as I licked his spunk off of her
calf and ankle.  Losing myself in the moment, I removed her shoe and
while I sucked the remaining dog jism from her bare toes and instep, I
came as well.  She rubbed the sole of her foot all over my face and I
speculate that from her perspective, she fantasized she was stomping
on my head as well.

        After such a stimulating evening, Cheryl had the luxury of
wandering off to sleep, while I remained to clean up the room.
Kneeling next to Buck, I was surprised to observe that his penis was
still knotted and hard.  I thought rigor mortis only applied to bones
not boners, but something was giving him in a permanent erection.  I
felt his scrotum and what used to be his testicles.  Instead of
feeling like mush, they still retained much of their solid feel.  They
felt more like tiny flat cheese wheels which had been split open when
being stepped on.  I slipped Cheryl's shoe back onto his penis,
wrapped his remains in an old bed spread and carried him out into the
yard to give him a decent burial.  I figured the blood on the carpet
would come up with a good steam clean, but we've since had the front
room recarpeted.



        Things were tense around the house for a few days after that.
The next morning Cheryl woke up, showered, and prepared to go to work,
all without a single word.  She wouldn't even look me in the eye.
Finally I cornered her in the bedroom, hugged her and asked what was
wrong.

        "You must think I'm a monster," she sobbed.

        I hugged her more tightly and began kissing her all over her
face.  I got her in the forehead, temples and cheeks mostly.  She
wouldn't give me mouth-to-mouth access.  She was beginning to cry and
her face was rather salty.

        "Listen," I replied.  "I know this will be hard for you to
accept right now, but it is all right.  I'm sure you feel pretty lousy
letting yourself get out of control last night..."

        "But I killed him.  I just planned to squish his, you know,
but I ended up stomping on his head!  I'm scared because I really
think I enjoyed it."

        "Calm down.  I'm not saying that this will be easy for you to
come to terms with.  It's going to take us both some time to figure
out why we let what happened last night happen.  But I want you to
know that I love you and I'm here for you and we'll work this out
together."

        "You're such a good husband.  You always put up with me."

        "You're easy to put up with."

        I suggested that she take the day off from work but she
insisted work would help her to take her mind off this.  As I cleaned
the carpet, I realized that she was probably much better off at work.
I think I would have been as well.


        We didn't talk much about "the incident" for a while after
that; although, I could see the pain in Cheryl's eyes.  She wouldn't
go back into the living room, not until I had the carpet replaced.
The steam-cleaner did an excellent job considering the extent of the
stain, but you could still see the pale rose silhouette of Buck's
head.

        Surprisingly, one day the next week she seemed to recover all
at once.  She left for work morose and withdrawn but returned
energetic and self-assure.  That night shortly before dinner she
joined me on the couch and asked if we could talk about Buck.

        "Sure, " I said.  "What's on your mind."

        "I've replayed the whole Buck incident over in my mind a
million times since last week.  A few things still bother me about
it."

        I wanted to give her a little note of reassurance that this
was natural, but something in her demeanor suggested that reassurance
was not what she was after.

        "Like what?"

        "Well, for one, I keep picturing Buck trying to hump my
shoe. He couldn't do it.  It kept sliding away from him with each of
his thrusts."

        "Yeah.  The sole of the shoe was too slippery."

        "Of course."  She paused.   "And yet he seemed to have no
trouble a few days before when he fucked it all by himself."

        She looked directly into my eyes awaiting a response.  I
started to turn red and looked down at the floor.  She crossed her
legs toward me and started to dangle her black leather flat from her
toes.  She was wearing a short black skirt and her legs were bare
except for the shoes.  I caught my breath and looked back at her sort
of shrugging my shoulders.

        "In fact," she continued, "I realize now that either he was
able to fuck my shoes inside my closet without disturbing any of the
rest of my wardrobe, or else he was clever enough to remove my shoes,
do his business, and then replace them."

        I didn't dare to look at her this time.  I looked straight off
into the distance.  There was no need to speculate about the freedom I
might gain if she knew about my perversion.  I knew that she knew.
Right then I was just captivated by her shoe.  Even without looking at
it, I could sense the motion as she rocked it back and forth on her
toes.

        "Finally, I can't help thinking about you.   About how little
apprehension you showed in licking Buck's cum right off of my foot and
leg.  I bet a lot of men would be repulsed at the thought of
swallowing dog jism or of licking a woman's foot."

        I leaned back and looked her in the eye, trying to act normal.
I failed miserably.

        "Tell me Russ.  Had you eaten Buck's cum prior to that night?
And had you helped him fuck my shoes before, maybe eating his cum
right out of them when he had finished?"

        I turned beet red.  You would have thought a freshly boiled
lobster was pale if you looked at it just after staring at my face.  I
wanted to leave and not deal with this conversation, or maybe lie and
tell her Cheryl was crazy.  I could have turned the tables back on her
with some cutting remark about what she did to Buck.  But somehow my
head simply nodded the affirmation she was probing for.  She was not
surprised, rather she seemed quite satisfied that her suspicions were
correct.  Here I had been the one who had consoled her in her pain
less than one week ago, and now she was making my fall from grace so
very awkward.  She made me tell her all about my secret desires, and
about how I would lick and smell her shoes and even cum in them when
she wasn't around.  I finished by telling her about the last month
with Buck.  I didn't tell her all the real crazy stuff, mind you, like
the garters and blow jobs.  I just told her we'd both do her shoes and
share each others cum.  I figured that was crazy enough to keep her
occupied.

        "So tell me Russ," she began in a patronizing, domineering
voice.  "Do you want to lick my shoes right now?  Am I getting you all
aroused simply by sitting here?"

        I looked into her mocking eyes and then down to her shoe,
still dangling there on her foot.  She made it do a little dance by
wiggling her foot and toes, and then with one quick flex, she flicked
it back up onto her heel.  It made a slight whispering sound when she
did it and I could smell the leather aroma float past my nostrils.

        "Huhhh?" she continued.   "Does Russie want to pway with
mommy's shoe wike Buckie did?"  The shoe popped off her heel again.

        "I really hate that stupid voice,"   I replied frankly.

        "Is that so," she responded forcefully.  "Well maybe you'll
like this one a little better.  Get down on your knees and lick my
shoes."

        I looked at her to see if she was serious.

        "I'm not kidding, Russ.  You've had so much fun without me I
think it's time I got to witness your little shoe ritual."

        She was serious.
        I knelt down next to her and eyed her beautiful leather upper,
floating gracefully in front of my face.  It was black leather and had
a crest ensignia embossed right on the top.  The sole was probably
black once as well, but was now grey and scuffed from walking on rough
pavement.  Cheryl moved the shoe towards my mouth.
        I began by kissing the leather surface both on the top and
sides of her shoe.  The smell and taste took control of me as I began
licking the surface with utter abandon.  I lifted Cheryl's foot in my
hand and began licking and kissing the bottom sole of her shoe.  With
my teeth I started to scrape at the sole directly below the ball of
her foot.  I could tell that she felt that through her shoe and that
it stimulated her.

        She nudged me away from her and lowered her foot.  Kicking off
both shoes she said, "Well, go to it shoe-man.  Let's see what you do
when I'm not around."

        I removed my shirt and trousers revealing a firm erection.  I
lay down on my back at her feet, quite close I'm sure to where Buck
had been, and stuffed my cock inside one of her shoes.  She placed her
feet on my chest and I brought the other shoe up to my nose and
inhaled deeply.
        In many ways, this was a better experience than I ever had in
the past, as her shoes were still warm from her feet.  I rubbed my
cock into her left shoe as I licked the inner sole of her right one.
My entire nose and mouth were inside this shoe and I inhaled through
it as if it were an oxygen mask.  Cheryl did her part by rubbing her
feet on my chest and occasionally pressing down on the shoe on top of
my face.  It wasn't long before I filled her black flat with my white
cum.  I flipped the jism-filled shoe upright, lay it on my belly and
continued breathing through her other upper.
        She rubbed my cock with her foot, milking out the last few
drops of come and then rubbed her foot in the pooled jism.  She
wiggled this foot back into the shoe on my belly and then flipped the
shoe I was breathing through over with her other foot.  After pinching
my nose with her toes, she slid into that shoe as well.
        "I think its time we had dinner," she said as she stood up on
my chest.  "You ought to get dressed."  She stepped on my pelvis just
a hair away from my shriveling penis and then walked off of me and out
of the room.  I was left to put on my clothes and contemplate what had
just occurred.

        Dinner was quite awkward for me after engaging in such a
perverted display, however Cheryl seemed to enjoy the meal immensely.
She talked energetically about her day at work, something I had not
been able to get her to do all week.  All through the meal she kept
rubbing her shoe against my thigh as if she was some naughty little
schoolgirl breaking school code by holding hands with the boy seated
next to her.  I actually started to enjoy it after a while.  It WAS
sort of naughty in a way.  We were intimately connected through the
cum in her shoe, but if anyone had been there at the table with us,
they would know nothing about it.  After desert we remained at the
table and Cheryl lifted her feet into my lap.  I lovingly stroked her
calves and began to think I really might enjoy this new lifestyle.  We
talked about a million things, our dinner conversation lasting well
over an hour.  We were like newlyweds.
        The newlywed feeling didn't end after dinner either.  Cheryl
cleaned up while I watched television and then she bounced into the
room, sat beside me and again kicked her feet up in my lap.  We smiled
at each other and I gently rubbed her shin.  When she picked up a
magazine and began reading, I slid my arm down her leg and rested it
on her ankles.  I, in turn, directed my attention back to the
television.
        The television programming that night had a difficult time in
maintaining my interest. Cheryl kept rocking her feet back and forth.
The combination of the captivating leather aroma of her shoes, the
faint ammonia scent of my semen, and the pendulum-like rocking of her
peds was making her shoes the center of my attention, whether I liked
it or not.
        Now this whole situation may appear somewhat puzzling.  Over
the last few pages I've expoused, in depth, my interest, attraction
and lust for Cheryl's shoes.  I may not have mentioned it, but this
desire to hold and kiss her shoes is not solely a phenomenon of the
shape and scents of the shoes themselves.  The desire is deeply rooted
in the knowledge that these shoes, whether I have access to her own
shoes or am deprived to only a serrogate shoe not physically touched
by her, have caressed and continue to caress her feet daily.  In fact,
no other object or being on the planet can make such a claim.  So now
that this deep devotion to Cheryl's feet and shoes was open for
discussion and experimentation between us, it might seem strange that
I would be content in continuing to watch television instead of giving
into my perversion and resuming sexual relations with her shoes.
        It all comes back to fear.  The reason I continued staring at
the screen of that television, oblivious to whatever images were
chosen to be flashed at me, was that I was afraid Cheryl still might
not be accepting of my fetish.  I was afraid that if I began rubbing
her feet, and playing with her shoes, that she might begin to think
this whole thing might be a little bit more than she could handle.
After all, I just as well might have swept her up in my arms, carried
her off into the bedroom and made mad, passionate, unperverted love to
her.  I didn't think she'd be happy to lose that aspect of our
relationship.  Neither would I.  I didn't want her to think I was any
different today than I had been any of the days before.  So I sat
there, excited as hell, completely mesmorized by the rocking of her
feet, and I pretended to watch the damn TV.
        Soon I heard her lower the magazine and felt her looking at
me.  I pretended not to notice her stare as I pretended not to notice
her feet, but she wasn't satisfied.

        "Don't you want to lick my shoes some more?" she asked as she
jiggled her feet in my lap.

        "If you'd like me to," I calmly replied.

        "Yeah, I would.  Lick them some more for me."

        She slid toward me on the couch, bending her legs and digging
her feet into my thigh.  She then lifted her right foot, presenting it
to my face for affection.  I grabbed her lower leg and foot and began
licking the side of her leather shoe, still captivated by the pungent
leather aroma.  I then stuck the entire toe of her shoe into my mouth
and sucked on it like a huge misshapen lollypop.  She let out a deep
sigh and pressed her left foot further into my lap, rubbing it harder
into my groin.  I continued to suck on her shoe for a few more seconds
before returning to a thorough cleaning of the side of her shoe and of
her foot.  When my tongue started to creep down inside the crevice
between her foot and shoe, she pulled them both away and again
stretched her legs out over my own.

        "I think that's enough.  We want to save some fun for later,
dear," Cheryl commented with a smile.

        I smiled back completely oblivious to what she was alluding to
and again tried to be absorbed by the television.  But my
recollections concerning the recent events of the day, the leather
taste in my mouth, and my raging hard-on made it difficult to think of
anything but the feet and shoes resting just beside me.  I resumed
caressing her shins.

        "Do you want to have sex?" she blurted out after a few more
minutes.  She didn't bother waiting for an answer.  "Come on, let's go
do it.  All this shoe stuff of yours has got me real horny."  With
that she hopped up and led me into our bedroom.  Even though Buck
wasn't there to disturb us anymore, she closed the door to our room
anyway.

        We both removed our clothes except that Cheryl had still not
removed her shoes from our previous sexual encounter.  She seemed to
be enjoying keeping some of my semen beneath her feet.  For only the
second time in our relationship I began making love to her while she
wore shoes.  Again she rested her ankles on my shoulders as I pumped
away at her.
        For my part, I was still apprehensive as to what her plans
would be concerning my shoe fetish.  For her part, she was pretty
turned on and came well before I did.  As she did she moved her feet
so that once again they pressed against my face, this time with her
shoes on.  I began licking the soles of her shoes and became more
aroused.  Cheryl never ceased being aroused and kicked her right shoe
off using my face.  She pressed her barefoot over my mouth and left
eye.  These little piggies were dry.  She then kicked off her other
shoe and pressed this foot on my mouth and other eye.  These little
piggies was slimy with my seed and Cheryl rubbed it into my face and
mouth.  I felt my passion build as I sucked my shoe-fermented cum off
of her toes and finally I exploded inside of her.  She came as well
and playfully kicked at my face as she did.
        I slept peacefully that night secure in the fact that no harm
would come of Cheryl's discovery.



        The next morning, however, things already began to change.

        "I don't want you making any lewd advances to my shoes when
I'm not around, is that understood," Cheryl ordered.  "I want you to
promise me; I know that you are a man of your word and can be
trusted."

        "I promise.  No lewd advances without you."

        "Now kiss my shoes before I leave for work."

        I got on my knees and kissed the tops of her pumps.

        "See you at six, my little puppy," she said while patting me
on the head.  "Be a good boy and maybe I'll give you another treat
before dinner tonight," she remarked as she walked out of the door.  I
could sense I was in trouble.
        This feeling of impending trouble bothered me all day long.  I
couldn't go to work because my mind was too occupied with the events
of the previous twenty-four hours.  As I roamed around the house, not
being able to fool around in Cheryl's closet, I had a terrible feeling
in my gut.  I just couldn't put a finger on it.

        IS THAT SO.  WELL MAYBE YOU'LL LIKE THIS ONE A LITTLE BETTER.
GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES AND LICK MY SHOES.

        No, that didn't bother me.  That actually had been quite a
turn-on.  No, there was something else she said that made me worry.
It finally occurred to me.  It wasn't what she said the night before.
It was what she said the week before.

        I GUESS YOU MAY BE RIGHT.  I HOPE YOU DON'T THINK I'M CRAZY,
BUT WHEN I PICTURE HIM SCREWING MY SHOES I SOMEHOW JUST WANT TO
DESTROY HIM.  I WANT TO SQUISH HIM INTO A LITTLE BALL AND STOMP ON
HIM, REDUCING HIM TO NOTHING BUT HIS LITTLE POOL OF DOG JISM.

        She had said that the night she killed Buck.   When she had
said those words, she had that same look in her eyes that she had had
last night.  She had that look when she drew the truth out of me.  She
had it when she made me lick her shoes.  She had it when she pressed
her feet on my face.
          From her perspective, it just might look like she was
stomping on my head.

        SEE YOU AT SIX, MY LITTLE PUPPY.

        MY LITTLE PUPPY.

        Finally the idea which had been bothering me all day
crystallized in my mind.

        "I'm like Buck to her," I thought.   "I'm her little puppy who
screws her shoes.  She doesn't like dogs screwing her shoes and stomps
all over them.  She wants to stomp on me like she stomped on Buck."

        I nearly fainted in terror. 
        There was nothing for me to do, however.   I was in too deep.
I had to just wait it out.



        It's been two weeks now since my initial confessions to Cheryl
and my subsequent realization of her intent.  She hasn't succeeded in
crushing me like Buck, though.  Yet every night before dinner, she
makes me insert my penis and testicles into one of the shoes she wore
that day, and then she masterbates me with her foot just like she did
to Buck.  So far, however, after I've cum, she has simply lifted her
foot to remove my penis, and stepped back into her shoe.  At night we
fuck again and I lick the cum off of her foot while she playfully
kicks me in the face.
        It's really making me nervous, though.   Last night I had a
nightmare that Cheryl was running after Buck and me wearing these huge
clown shoes.  She was crushing anything and everything in her path:
cars, houses, people, etc.  I woke up drenched in sweat with Cheryl's
feet lodged against my chest.
        This morning as I began writing this, I gave it some more
thought.  I wonder if the reason she hasn't crushed my balls yet is
that her shoes are too small.  Dogs and people have many physical
differences, some of which are in the area of the genitals.  Buck's
penis was much thinner and pointer than mine, allowing both it and
Cheryl's foot to fit into her shoe at the same time.  The knot in his
dick provided a perfect pivot from which she could shift her weight
from his penis to his testicles.  My penis is larger and thicker,
especially at the base, and I don't think Cheryl could crush my balls
that way if she tried.
        But she might be able to if she had a larger shoe...

        "Hi honey, I'm home," Cheryl called from the front door.
"Where are you?  Come and help me carry in the new shoes I just
bought.  I decided that with both of us sharing them all the time, I
should probably buy a few pair of size elevens."