Entranced and Enslaved By My High School Sweetheart
I had been dating Emily for a year when I confessed my foot fetish to her. We were both in high school discovering our sexuality together and we had a sweet, though intense, relationship. I learned what a fetish, or a foot fetish, even was, online, of course. Quickly, my sexual attention was almost entirely focused on feet and, unfortunately for Emily, I was always thinking about hers when we were together. We were at her house almost every weekend the whole weekend and we were both couch potatoes. Emily had gorgeous small feet she kept well taken care of, with white or transparent nail polish, and almost always in comfortable flip flops, when not barefoot. There was plenty opportunity to catch glimpses of them when we were watching TV. I even introduced the inside joke that her feet were very samll and often teased her for it, which led her to raised them to eye level to compare their size to various objects, including my hands, which was a delight. Emily was also an incredibly flexible dancer and often sat on odd positions, which invariably gave me vip peeks at her feet. I was threaded the fine line between honest-to-god horniness and covert creepiness a lot in this relationship and I’m not proud of it.
One day I took the courage to talk about my foot preference, I didn’t quite have the language to describe it, but I did stress that it made me very embarassed and must be kept an absolutely secret. She asked whether that was the only thing that could turn me on now. I said no, but half fearing I was wrong. She said she needed to think. Great. That was a disaster. Let’s just hope we never touch the issue again and maybe we’ll all forget. I was so scared that she thought it was disgusting or weird that I didn’t really put myself in her shoes. It took me years to consider that she may have actually just felt objectified. Imagine if I had said the same thing about her breasts? So what? The breasts are still attached to her, so I was really attracted to her, not her feet alone. What was I really attracted to?
Months later we were in bed playing around and she did something to which I didn’t know how to react. I fell on my back, with my head close to her feet, though with no hopes of getting some action there. I know, cheap move, but I was a teenager. I don’t know if Emily noticed, but she raised her feef and rested the balls of her feet on my cheeks so that her cold soft arches were just gently pressing against my eyes. My brain froze. I didn’t know how to react. Was that an accident? Was she teasing that we experiment with my foot fetish? Or was she going to see how far I go only to expose and humiliate me? By the time I could decode these thoughts, she had removed her feet from my face. I was scared for my lost opportunity but I had found out something. I was very turned on by her initiative. While she had her feet on my face, I was silently asking, begging, for her to take the wheel and do whatever she wanted to do. I would have just knelt there with her feet on my face for as long as she wanted me to, without moving a muscle, in constant suspended arousal. But we were just kids testing our own and each other’s limits. Emily never did anything like that again, and we ended up breaking up for other reasons months later.
I’ve had other relationships with different levels of feet involvement until I returned home for a class reunion years later. It was a barbecue at Emily’s house. I was welcomed in by her parents, who were on their way out. “Long time no see!” A bit awkward. I shuffled to the back of the room with a glass of jungle juice exchanging small talk with old friends. Almost all them were there! The male ones anyways. The more people came, the more the male to female ratio was skewed. I had to stand on my toes to see the door to the kitchen when Emily appeared with a huge box of snacks. She looked so pretty with comfortable denim shorts and a semi transparent white shirt with a bikini peeking through. I could barely discern her gorgeous feet bare against the white stone. I must have been trying to see them a bit too much because I was elbowed by Liza, Emily’s best friend from back in the day. I snapped out of it and said hello. She hugged me, pet me in the shoulder and turned around. “Emily! This one is yours!” Emily peeked at us from the crowd and waved a quick hello before turning to the snacks. She was a great and busy host. “Go there and be useful to her” Liza urged me while she met with Ann. There were only four women and dozens of men.
I made my way through the increasingly loud crowd and reached Emily. We hugged, updated each other in our lives. The music was so loud we had to scream into each others’ ears. She looked so gorgeous. I wasn’t doing anything interesting with my life. She had finished a PhD in Neuroscience. I asked her to tell me something about her research. She grabbed my shirt and brought her mouth close to my ear so I could hear her. I got lost a couple of times but the hypothesis was very interestng. She used a lot of jargon about compliance and human tendencies to cooperation and brain wave patterns. The music had a constant metallic beat that made it hard to focus. She talked in my ear for what seemed like a long time, but no one approached us or ate the snacks she was carrying.
At some point she let go of my shirt and looked straight at me with confident eyes, like a sculptor looking at her half-finished work. I looked at the floor, awkard, and again lingered a bit too much at her pretty small feet. I had dreamed of touching them for years. The music had words I could hardly understand. Emily said I looked tired. I was kind of tired yeah. Not sure why.
I closed my eyes for what seemed like a second. I don’t know. When I opened them, Emily was still there. Emily asked me if I was seeing anyone. I leaned in to say no, but her perfume was so good that the words died on my lips. She said I didn’t need to answer. I wasn’t seeing anyone because she was the most important woman in my life. I don’t know if that was true. I was about to say that when she interrupted me. “Do you still like my feet?". “YES” I said quickly. Why did I say that? She said “I thought so. I have a bunch of guys helping me out with stuff, but none of them really likes feet, and it’s hard to hypnotize someone to do something they don’t want to do...” This was weird, but I didn’t have time to process what Emily was saying. I was just starting to discern the words in the music; something about relaxing and finding my true self.
Emily was saying “...and that’s why you don’t have to do any thinking while you are here. Thinking is so hard and even...” I thought thinking was indeed very hard. I was learning to be an adult, learning what kind of relationship I wanted to have, learning how to get a job and pay taxes and make a budget. It was so tiring. Emily was still saying something. It was very important that I heard all her words because she was the most important person in this world. I was scared I was missing something important. “... I forgive you for breaking up with me. We are together now, and that’s your priority form now on. You want to be with me...” Was that true? Yes, Emily was the most important woman in the world and it would be nice to be with her. She broke up with me though, didn’t she? It doesn’t matter. Her feet are so sexy.
Oh shit she was still talking “... it may not seem like it now, but doing what I tell you to do is very arousing to you. You can trust that I’ll take care of you. I will think of everything. And you know thinking is so hard. I’m doing a huge sacrifice for you so you don’t have to think at all. You just have to feel aroused and do what I tell you...” Wow Emily was really the most incredible woman in the world. She was going out of her way so I can relax when I’m with her. I can’t believe I lost all this time dating other people. I shouldn’t have moved away. I should have been here, serving the most important woman in the world. Serving? But that doesn’t matter now. She asked me somehitng. “I want you to come see my feet”. It wasn’t a question. She grabbed me by the hand and lead me to a guest room past a crowd of my male friends kneeling in front of the TV with dead eyes. Some part of me thought that wasn’t right, but thinking was so hard.