Subject: STORY: College Foot Slave
From: allenp@OCF.Berkeley.EDU (Allen Pouratian)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.feet
Date: 20 Feb 1994 08:16:48 GMT

It was the first day of English class, my junior year in college. I had just seated myself when the rather plain looking teacher in her mid twenties assumed control of the class.

" ...and this is Candi Sanders, she’ll be correcting your papers over the course of the semester. " She pointed towards Candi.

Yowsa!!

Candi was seated at 2 o’clock relative to me and 13 feet across the room. Candi’s brown somewhat graying straight hair went down past her shoulders. She wore a light brown silk blouse, skin tight pants, and most interesting of all, shiny black leather dress boots that seemed to add to her 5’9 " frame. The boots had creases at the arch and ankle that suggested they’ve been worn for a while. They went up almost to her knees. She was facing slightly to the right of me, had her left leg crossed over her right. The fact she was flexing her calf and supporting the weight of her legs on the ball of her right foot only increased my fixation. Later noticed she had a very pretty face.

Needless to say, I had a difficult time concentrating in class. Time flew by as I spent minute after minute staring at her feet. Soon class was over.

The next class meeting, my troubles continued. Candi had decided to dress rather similarly. Soft earth tone blouse, tight brown jeans (not black jeans this time), and brown leather dress boots. I had stayed up late last night finishing EECS homework, and I was letting my eyes wander more conspicuously than before.

When Candi crossed her legs, she liked to either flex the calf of the foot on the floor, thus supporting both legs on the ball of her foot with her heel off of the floor as described before, or she would simply raise the ball of her foot off the floor while keeping her heel down. Over and over she would raise the toes of her booted foot, and bring it down again. I started to notice the creases in the leather at the middle of the boot, how it was thick at the top of the boot, and how it radiated out into several creases as it got closer to the sole.

The steady rhythm of raising the pointy part of her boot, and—flexing back to the floor had me transfixed again. I imagined myself on the floor, at her feet, ready to kiss the tip every time it came down. I would be ready to smother the hard, cold, tip with a soft, wet, kiss. Occasionally, she would seem to tease, and then she would let me kiss the tip of her boot again.

Continuing my obsession with her boots, I then imagined myself strapped sideways to the floor, my torso facing her feet. My exposed penis would be propped on top of a thick, wide English reader. The tip of Candi’s boot would then teasingly, and maliciously pinch the head of my cock. Once quickly pricking the tip with her tip. Next she would apply an extra generous amount of pressure over the whole head for a duller, longer lasting pain...

Suddenly, a muscle twitched in my leg, breaking the trance. I looked up into Candi’s eyes. In them, she had a look of consternation, as if I had violated her somehow. We were staring each other down, I was petrified. The superior look in her eyes somehow reduced me to the cowardice of a first grader.

Curiously, she then glanced down towards her feet. My eyes followed hers. There was a, " potato bug " crawling next to her boot. The left boot still hovering in the air; her right boot still on the ground. Her eyes glanced from the bug, over to me long enough only to make eye contact. Then she turned her attention back to the intruder violating her space.

I watched as the leather of the upper of the boot on the ground, creased and flexed as she contracted the muscle opposite her calf, thus raising the point of her boot off of the ground. Simultaneously, she was shifting her weight backward ever so slightly so she could spin her foot on the heel toward the innocent, naive potato bug. Once her boot was raised over the bug, she curled the toes of her foot, at the ball down. I watched in awe as her foot covered and smothered the intruder in a muffled crunch.

Candi’s eyes then slowly turned up to meet mine. Her look was deadly serious, as she stood up, her foot in the same position it had been to crush the potato bug. She walked across the room and left. Class was over...