At a cafe terrace
A favorite pastime for foot fetishists is stopping after a long day of work at a café terrace to unwind.
A show catches the eye and allows one to dream. A girl removes her shoes from under her chair, and everything changes, fatigue becomes life impulse, boredom becomes emotion. Thoughts are agitated, stimulate sexual appetite, excite libido …
I stay alert, and observe, avoiding all the obstacles in my visual field – chairs, customers, purses, bottles – that could hide this most exciting scene.
I position my chair to watch the show, or even change tables by choosing one very close to her, just behind and at an angle, to better see her soles and the soles of her feet. She puts her right foot on her left ankle, and slides her right shoe onto the ground, revealing all the beauty of her plantar curves, then she puts back on, joins the two shoes by clicking them on the ground, then takes them off both again …
All the details count, and all the movements provide pleasure, everything is caress and sensitivity. The feet caress the shoes that caress the feet, everything is emotion difficult to control, to such an extent that today I no longer seek to control it but on the contrary I seek to let myself be carried by it.
I am learning to accept my fetishistic impulses, to live with them and thanks to them, to appreciate the pleasure they give me, to love them.
When the feet are bare in the shoes, and one of them slips slightly, then it lets you see the heel.
If ever the heel is lined with horn, or if the feet are slightly dirty or blackened by dust, the emotion will be even stronger because I imagine myself recruited as a slave foot washer or pedicure, kneeling at the foot of the chair of this dream woman. Maybe this dirt will be for me, maybe I could taste it, it’s good, it’s a little salty, and I want to run my tongue through it …
Despite the repulsive appearance of the dirty foot, and all the negative image of submission that reason suggests to us, I experience an overwhelming attraction to slave happiness in submitting myself to the feet of a superior beauty …
Mistress Angelik knows this, and sometimes allows me to take my place, my head under her feet, held by a leash and a dog collar, in exchange for absolute loyalty. Only her feet are worshiped. Any violation of this rule will be punished by her disdain.
Rather, the whip is a reward, and the only punishment is her indifference.