Posted at 00:09 on 6 Sep 2011 by Pandora / Blake
So you know how D likes ridiculously high heels? Well, I think we've just redefined ridiculously high.
These arrived a few days ago. He wouldn't let me put them on until firstly, we were alone, and secondly, we had ample opportunity for him to stick his cock down my throat as soon as I was wearing them.
I am not ballet trained. I don't have any dance experience, in fact, which explains why I'm so frequently clumsy and tend to collect bruises from accidentally bashing into doors and furniture. So I knew I wasn't going to be able to walk in these.
But that's okay. That wasn't the point.
They aren't shoes, not really. They're bondage accessories for feet. While wearing them, I was restrained within the confines of the bed as effectively as if I was shackled; only without ugly cuffs or chains around my ankles.
I loved them as soon as I put them on. I loved the way they made my legs look and feel three miles long. I love the way they forced me to point my toes at all times; and the indirect effect that had on my posture, hyper-aware of my legs and feet and making an effort to display them to best advantage.
I loved the effect they had on D. I loved the way they looked when I was on all fours; I loved the way they looked resting on his shoulders.
So what if I'd have been 6'3" standing up in them? It didn't matter, because I couldn't. These are definitely shoes for wearing on your back, on your tummy, and on your knees.
Lick your lips, but don't click this.