The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

CHAPTER 1

Sandal season was finally here!

For us, let’s say, foot enthusiasts, sandal season is the best part of the year. When temperatures go up, the sun goes out and the rain goes away, apparently forever, girls look for their sandals, flip flops and any other kind of open footwear and run to the streets to voluntarily show us their feet. And not only that: because they know that they are going to show them, they care specially good care of them: they clean them, polish them, moisturize them, trim their nails and maybe paint them, embellish them with an anklet or even a toe ring…

Imagine that: looking around and seeing, almost everywhere (in the street, in the subway, in class or at work), such a delightful part of the female body. It is difficult for us to concentrate during sandal season. The equivalent for other guys would be if girls decided to walk with their boobs out from May to September.

Of course, not all female feet are equally beautiful, just as not all women (or men, for that matter) are equally beautiful. But among such a varied and ample display of lower extremities, I am sure every foot appreciator will find something of their liking.

I for one most surely do.

In my case, the beginning of sandal season also means the beginning of one of my favorite hobbies: reading in the park. Or more precisely: bringing a book to the park as an excuse to admire the bare feet of all the girls around me. Because, yes, even those girls who do not wear sandals, flip flops or any other kind of open footwear, love to go barefoot as soon as they see a bit of grass lit by a warm sun.

Parks during sandal season are my idea of heaven. (Beaches are also ok, but I don’t like sand: It’s coarse and rough and irritating, and it gets everywhere).

Among all parks, my absolute favorite is a small one downtown; so small that it is even a stretch to call it a park; it is more of a square with grass and a few trees. So why is it my favorite? Firstly, because being in the city center, between the university and the financial and commercial districts, it gathers a very heterogeneous set of people, and when I say people I mean girls: students after class, office workers going out of work, shoppers, waitresses waiting for their shift, all different kinds and shapes of girls with their different kinds and shapes of feet…

Secondly, I love this park because, being so small and so central, it is always crowded, which means that I could sit on the grass less than a meter away from the girl whose feet I wanted to admire, and she wouldn’t find it weird, since there is not much place to choose from to begin with.

(Does this sound a bit stalkery? I guess it does, and I feel a bit ashamed about it. Although I really don’t. At least I am not one of those guys who film “candid videos” in parks and upload them to youtube or youporn. I just look at what is shown to me. There is no harm in looking, right? Right?)

Anyway, on the first warm day of Spring I get excited as an inmate on his first day out of prison. So when one day in April I heard on the radio that temperatures were over 30ºC for the first time in months, and that it would be a clear sunny day after a week of grey skies, I knew my time had come.

Of course, I had to wait until the evening, when people flowed to the parks to enjoy a little sun after class or work. I also had work to do for my clients during the day, but it was really hard to concentrate. Hours seem to pass way to slowly.

When the clock stroke 4:00 I could not take it anymore: I grabbed my bag, packed a couple of thick books that could serve me as excuse or shield, and almost run towards the subway. Twenty endless minutes later, I was coming out of the other end of the line. I only had to walk a few meters and turn a few corners and I would be in the park. And…

…and when I got there I felt so happy that I almost cried. The park was already full of people of all ages, shapes and colors, with much exposed skin (shorts, t-shirts, miniskirts, even a few courageous bikinis), and yes, even at first glance I could see that there were barefoot girls aplenty enjoying the first rays of sun.

I scanned the crowd, looking for the best spot. It is important to choose well because, once you sit down on the grass, it does look weird and suspicious if you stand up again and change location. Sometimes you choose a spot because of a specific girl with sexy bare feet, and then that girl leaves after five minutes, and you are left there, surrounded by young boys drinking beer and a church choir practicing their songs for Sunday Mass.

I looked around: there was this promising group of girls, maybe college students, maybe work colleagues, sitting in a circle and laughing: they were still wearing their shoes, but it was possible that, as the evening progressed, they would get rid of them. Then there was this black woman lying on her back, with her eyes closed, probably asleep; she was barefoot, and had gorgeous soles indeed, but she was already surrounded by people from all possible angles…

And then I saw her.

Sorry: Her.

She was just a few meters away from me. She was lying near one of the corners of the park, on the edge of the shadow of a tree. Her head and upper body were in the shadows; the lower part of her body was under the sun. Maybe she wanted tanned legs without burning her face.

She looked mid-twenties; she was wearing a short blueish dress that barely covered her ass. I instinctively classified her as the Irish type: thin but not skinny, pale skin, dark hair, a few freckles around a cute round nose… and of course, amazingly extraordinary green eyes.

Oh, those eyes. Even from where I was standing, I could see the bright, sparkling color of her eyes. It also helped that they were wide open, as if she was reading something really amazing or surprising on her phone, which she held quite close to her face. They looked huge, almost like the eyes of a Japanese manga, and the shade of green was not your typical is-it-green-or-is-it-grey kind; this could perfectly be called emerald green without exaggeration.

And to my extreme delight, this Irish goddess was in what we, foot connoisseurs, like to call “The Pose”: lying on her stomach, with her legs flexed and her feet dangling in the air, back and forth, offering a perfect view of her soles and toes. Back and forth, back and forth they went, slowly but steadily.

I didn’t have to search any more: I had found my objective for the day.

Oh, I felt so lucky.

I walked the few meters that separated me from her, left my bag on the floor and sat down under the shadow of the same tree. I was almost directly in front of her, on her line of sight; normally I would use shades to hide where my eyes are really looking, but in this case the girl was so absorbed by whatever she was looking at in her phone, that I didn’t find it necessary.

I positioned myself for what I hoped would be a long watch: I lied down on my stomach, placed one book on top of my bag in front of me and opened it in a random page. As if I was really going to read a single word…

From that position I had a perfect view. On the foreground, this girl’s delightful face: a beautifully shaped oval of whiteness and freckles, with her dark hair cut in a sort of Uma-Thurman-in-Pulp-Fiction style, thin light-pink lips slightly open, a button nose surrounded by freckles, and, as the jewel of the crown, those almost impossible eyes from which I could barely look away.

Except that, in the background, something else was drawing my attention: her feet, flowing through the air, back and forth, back and forth, crossed by the ankles and sparkling with tiny little dots of sweat. I had plenty of time to examine them and admire them. The soles looked as pale as the rest of the girl’s skin; in the heel and in the front part, near the toes, it had a lovely shade of pink, probably where the foot touched the floor. Her arches were exquisitely formed, not too high but not too flat, giving a lovely curved shape to the foot. Her toes were small and perfectly scaled, not too long, not too thick. They looked like small buttons or sweets that I could put in my mouth and suck for hours…

But I was getting ahead of myself. Five seconds looking at this girl, and I was already getting naughty ideas…

I was in absolute bliss. My eyes flowed from her face to her feet effortlessly, without even having to move my head. I could feel my dick, pressed against the ground, growing hard with the sight of those sexy feet, in a captivating perpetual movement, back and forth, back and forth.

Oh, the things that I would do with those feet, to those feet! My imagination trembled with the idea of touching them, running my fingers through those silky soles, feeling them sink in that gorgeous flesh, rubbing the heel, pressing the toes one by one… I had to control myself from the urge to do the things that I was imagining.

My fate was to look, and so I looked. And I looked. And then I looked some more.

And then, after a few minutes of ecstatic observation, I noticed something. Whatever the girl was intently watching on her phone, it produced flashes of white light in regular intervals. I knew it because I could see those flashes through their reflection in the girl’s green eyes—they were so big and so open that it was almost as if her eyes were producing those flashes and directing them straight to me, to my own eyes.

I counted the seconds between flashes: flash—one—two—flash.

The girl barely blinked, and when she did, it was always in between flashes, as if she knew that she could not lose even one, or else… Or else what?

A crazy idea crossed my mind: was this girl being hypnotized? I felt a spasm in my mind and my groin: it was such a hot idea, having this absolute goddess being hypnotized in front of me… (On the other hand, how weak-minded do you have to be to let yourself be hypnotized?)

And then I noticed something else: the flashes coincided, almost exactly, with the swings of the girl’s legs and feet.

Flash—swing.

Flash—swing.

Flash—swing.

I could perfectly see the flashes reflected in the girl’s large green eyes—they seemed even bigger now that I was lying so close to her. And because of my position, I could also see her feet at the same time, swinging back and forth, back and forth. The more I stared, the more both images became blurred and fused in my mind: the flashes in her eyes, her sexy feet tempting me, coming and going, forcing me to follow them on their movement as the flashes kept hitting me.

Flash—swing.

Flash—swing.

At one point, ten or fifteen minutes later, I thought about looking away for a bit, just to avoid being too suspicious, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Who would like to look away from such a marvel? I don’t know what was pulling me the hardest: her emerald green eyes or her pale white and rosy feet.

My body, without a conscious command from me, had started to adapt to the girl’s rhythm: every time her eyes reflected those mysterious flashes from her phone, and her feet came and went back and forth, I would press myself against the ground, clenching my muscles, as if I was pressing myself against those sexy soles were I wanted to bury my face, my tongue, my dick.

Oh, yes, that was exactly the sensation: every time the light flashed, I felt like I was rubbing myself against her soles, while I looked deeper and deeper into her infinite eyes. My whole field of vision was filled by her eyes, the rest of the park (the rest of the world) had vanished. Her glorious feet appeared to float in space, tempting me, seducing me, calling me.

Flash—swing—rub.

Flash—swing—rub.

Who could want to look away or move away from that?

I for one couldn’t. My dick was sending increasing signals of pleasure through my body, and at the same pace my mind was getting fuzzy, I was feeling light-headed and weak. I wanted to pull my dick out of my pants and jerk off, but that was not possible, first because I was in a public park and second… second… well, it was not clear, but it was obvious to me that I could not do that without the girl’s permission.

In the meantime, my breathing had synchronized with the flashes, the swings and the pressure on my cock under my body. Me and my foot goddess were perfectly in harmony, obeying to the rhythm of the flashes emanating from her phone. My mind was void for anything else.

Her eyes, her giant sparkling eyes where I was falling and falling and falling. Her feet, her toes, her soles, her arches, her heels, her ankles. That was all.

Flash—swing—rub—breathe.

Flash—swing—rub—breathe.

After that, I completely lost track of time. Next thing I knew, it was getting dark and most people had already left the park. Me and the girl were almost alone in our corner, the closest person was almost ten meters away.

Some other things had also changed in the meantime. The flashes were now much quicker: there was no two second interval between them, maybe a second, a second and a half at most. The girl’s breathing, and mine as well, had also become quicker, heavier. With less light, flashes seem even brighter, it was easier to see them reflected in her eyes, easier to follow them and to go deeper and deeper into that emerald abyss. Her lips were also more open than before, and as she breathed, she left out subtle moans and sighs, as if she was being touched in a very sensitive spot…

Her legs were no longer swinging; flashes had become too fast for that. Instead, she was rubbing her feet together, one sole against the other, also following the rhythm of the flashes. The pressure of my cock against the floor was also stronger, faster, almost painful and yet I could not stop myself: it felt just as if my cock was placed right between her soles, as if she was jerking me with her feet as the flashes kept coming and coming, faster and faster.

I, too, was moaning, maybe less subtly than her.

Flash—rub—moan—flash—rub—mona—flash—rub—moan.

As the flashes kept coming closer and closer together, almost with no separation between them, the girl’s body became tense, her back arched, her feet too, pressing her toes against the soles. Her moans filled the air, I thought that I could even smell the perfume of the wetness inside her legs, although maybe I was just imagining it. I definitely was thinking about how it would feel to have sex with her while having her feet rubbing my body or stuck in my mouth.

I was trembling, shaking in anticipation. I wanted to cum, I needed to cum so badly, against those divine feet, or at least against the image of those divine feet in my mind. But that was something else that I knew I could not do without my foot goddess’s permission.

Flash—rub—moan—flash—rub—mona—flash—rub—scream.

I couldn’t breathe anymore; if it kept going away much longer I would die right there, and I could not do anything about it. I wouldn’t even try.

Fortunately, it didn’t last long. Flashes kept accelerating until they became a long bright white light that lit the girl’s emerald eyes, just as our spasms and moans kept growing louder and faster… and then, with one last flash that seemed like an explosion of light, the girl closed her eyes, pressed her feet firmly together as if they were the very center of her pleasure, and orgasmed uncontrollably just in front of me.

And with that, I knew what was coming: I closed my eyes too as I felt the first wave of my own orgasm irradiating from my groin, running through my nerves, touching every spot on my body, transforming me. Even with my eyes closed I could see the girl’s eyes and her feet, the supreme object of my desire.

I started cumming inside my pants, groans of pleasure left my mouth, my body shaking and spasming on the floor. The orgasm seemed to last forever, my muscles tense, my cock exploding against the floor.

Oh, my goddess, my foot goddess, my absolute foot goddess!

I came, knowing that I owed it to her, to her eyes, to her feet, to the flashes in her phone. Even as I was cumming and soiling myself, I knew that I would do anything that was necessary to feel this sensation of absolute bliss and pleasure tearing my body apart.

Then, slowly, very slowly, the orgasm receded, my body stopped shaking, I was able to breathe again, to unclench my teeth. My pants felt wet and sticky, but I didn’t care, the remains of the tingling sensation of the last wave of pleasure were much more important to focus on.

Still disoriented, with my head buzzing, I opened my eyes. And when I did, I found myself looking at my goddess’s feet, just a few inches away from my face.

“Do you like my feet?”, she said, wiggling her toes in front of my eyes.

I looked up to see her standing just beside me, her gorgeous body, her beautiful face and her amazing eyes looking down on me. From that position I could she her panties inside of her dress; they didn’t look wet or messy, which made me think (although just for a split second, as a vague and unimportant thought) that maybe she didn’t cum at all, that it had all been skillfully faked.

“Do you like my feet?”, she repeated, placing her right foot so close to my face that I could have kissed it without even moving.

“Yes”, I answered, “I love them”.

“Then follow them”, she said, and started walking away.

What could I do? I stood up, cleaned myself up the best that I could and started following those feet around the city, wherever they wanted to take me.