SANDAL SEASON
Chapter 2
I followed the Irish goddess and her feet around town, without even knowing where we were going, or for how long we were going to walk. Every time she gave a new step, I got a glimpse of her lovely silky soles, and that was enough motivation for me to keep moving forward. Streetlamps were on, the sky was dark, the air was getting chilly, but I didn’t care. My thoughts were still muffled from all the flashes, the evening-long masturbation and the earth-shaking orgasm; the image of my goddess’s emerald eyes and her feet dangling in the air and rubbing against each other still floated in my mind, pushing anything else to the back.
And then, suddenly, she stopped and turned to me, waiting for me to catch up with her.
“We’re here”, she said.
I looked up from her feet for the first time, and saw that, very appropriately we were in front of a shoe shop, and even more appropriately, the shop was called “Sandal season”. It was obviously closed at this hour, the lights were off, but that didn’t seem to bother the Irish girl: with her knuckles she tapped on the glass door three times, waited a second and then tapped two more times. After a while, she repeated the same series, knocking a bit harder.
We didn’t have to wait long before a light went on inside, a sliding door opened in the back of the room and a woman walked all the way to the door to let us in.
“Another one?”, she said, while opening the door. “Wow, this is like shooting fish in a barrel. Janet is processing another one in room 3 right now…”
The word ‘processing’ gave me an uneasy vibe, but it was just a passing thought, as almost immediately the Irish girl softly pushed me forward and into the shop, and the electric shock of feeling her touch for the first time left my mind numb.
Even as spaced out as I was, I couldn’t help noticing the woman inside the shop. She was completely different form the girl in the park, more of the Caribbean type, and yet it would be difficult for me to say which one was more beautiful. Everything that was subtle and delicate in the Irish girl, in this new girl was stronger and more overtly sensual. Her hips were rounder, her ass was rounder, her tits were rounder. She was shorter than the Irish goddess, but everything seemed well proportioned and harmonious about her. Her skin was darker, a milk-chocolate tone and seemed to glow with a particular smoothness to it. Her face had more angles, it was what you could call ‘a feline face’, and her hair flowed long and curly down to her shoulders.
And well, being a foot enthusiast as I am, and considering that my mind was full of sexual foot images, I had to look down her lovely shaped legs, to her lovely shaped feet. They were small, compact, fleshy, probably flatter than those of the Irish girl, with shorter toes and wider soles, but they were just equally immaculate and sexy.
The only thing that was the same in both the Irish and the Caribbean girl—and I mean exactly the same—were their eyes. They were both equally green, equally big, equally bright. And I don’t mean that they were just both green and beautiful: they were exactly the same shade of emerald green, the iris had the same size, and they both seemed to reflect light more clearly than an eye would normally do.
(In fact, now that I could see them closer, I could see that they had some patterns and signs inscribed in them, all around the iris, patterns that, I guess, when the light hit them would be projected to whoever was looking into them—in this case, me. But once again, I could not hunt that thought to the end, because the Irish girl was softly pushing me to make me move forward).
We walked al the way through the shop towards the door in the back. The Caribbean girl was leading the way, which gave me the opportunity to admire how her hips swayed when she walked. She was wearing a tank top and short jeans, and a seductive strip of flesh was showing between them as she walked. Did she have a tattoo on her back? Almost definitely.
Behind the sliding door were some flights of stairs going down. On the lower floor, just underneath the shop, there was a corridor with four doors in it, two on each side; three of them were numbered, the other one had a “Private—do not enter” sign. The Caribbean girl walked to door number 1 and opened it with some sort of key card.
“Tell the others to be ready”, she said to the Irish girl.
“Yes, Samantha”, replied the other one.
“Oh, and Julie… you did well today”, said Samantha (which was apparently the Caribbean girl’s name).
“Thank you, Samantha”, shily replied Julie (which was apparently the Irish girl’s name)
Samantha entered room 1 while Julie disappeared behind the Private sign, and I was left standing in the hallway, without knowing what to do. Then Samantha’s head appeared through the door and shouted at me.
“What are you waiting for? Come here!”
I obeyed, because I didn’t know what else to do, and also because something deep inside was telling me that I had to obey.
The room looked like a mix between a dentist’s office and a recording studio. The walls were padded with some black foamy material, probably for sound proofing; In some places of the ceiling and walls there were round speakers and a few dim lights. And then, in the middle of the floor there were two ergonomic reclining chairs, facing each other; they were also black, and one of them had what looked like supports for the legs, as the ones in an OB-GYN’s office.
That was it; there were no windows, no other furniture, not a single element of color in the room. Even in my dizzy state, instinctive alarms went off and I gave one step back. But Samantha, who was probably expecting such a reaction, was quicker than me and slammed the door shut.
“Where do you think you are going, silly? We haven’t even started here! Believe me, you are going to love it”, she said, seductively running her fingers through my chest.
“Take your clothes off”, she added, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“W-w-what?”, was the first and only thing that I was able to mutter.
“You heard me, take your clothes off”, she repeated, while she started unbuttoning her own shorts and pushing them down her gorgeous legs.
Once I overcome the shock and I was able to breathe again, I left my bag on the floor and took off my t-shirt, which also fell on the floor next to the bag.
“Not there”, Samantha said, while stripping off her t-shirt. “It could interfere with the process. Put it in the basket behind the chair”.
“Sorry”, I said, while I picked my things and put them where she had instructed. The word ‘process’ continued to bother me, but I still could not think clearly enough to reach any conclusions; I was also unable to ask myself why I was following her every order, or why I was taking my clothes off in front of a complete stranger, no matter how sexy.
When she unhooked her bra any possible thought just went straight out of my head. I just stood there, my pants unbuttoned and unzipped, with my mouth open.
“Well? Do you need any help?”, she teased.
“Nnnnnnh… no”, I replied, as embarrassed as a child in front of an adult woman.
She was now completely naked, and I was close behind. The air was warm, not dense and oppressive as in a sauna, just the perfect temperature and humidity. It seemed as if there was no separation between the inside and the outside of the body, and you could just melt into the room.
We looked at each other, a few steps away from each other. Samantha’s body was flawless, there was no other way to describe it. Even in this semi-darkness, her skin seemed to irradiate light and warmth; even in this semi-darkness it was impossible not to admire the curves of her body, that started with the twirls of her hair, down her breasts, her belly with an inviting navel in the middle, her ample hips, her firm muscled legs and, of course, her delicate little feet, which I was right now looking probably more intensely than I should have.
Samantha crossed the space between us, pressed herself against me and kissed me with her fleshy and sumptuous lips. Her tongue played its way into my mouth while her hand found my sex and my balls and started playing with them.
It was merely seconds before I was hard as a rock.
“That’s better”, said Samantha, walking away and positioning herself in one of the chairs, the one with leg supports. “Please, sit down”, she added, pointing to the other chair in front of hers.
I, of course, obeyed. To say that the chair was comfortable would be an understatement: it seemed to have been made precisely for my body, accommodating my every bone and every muscle. I felt that I had merged with the chair, that the chair was embracing and I never wanted to leave that embrace. I rested my arms in the arms of the chair and close my eyes to savor the feeling. Samantha leaned forward in her own chair and, with fast and skillful movements, tied my hands to the chair with a black strap that I had not noticed before.
“It is ok, don’t worry, it is for your own good”, she explained calmly. “You do not want to interfere with the process…”
This time I didn’t even notice the word. I reclined back on my chair, asking myself why I wasn’t panicking as I probably should have. Samantha also reclined in her chair, placed her legs on the leg supports, and did some test moves: up, down, left, right, back, forward… She then took a white plastic bottle that was attached to the side of her chair and sprayed her soles with some transparent gel, which she then proceeded to spread with her hands.
Because of the placement and position of both chairs, I had a perfect view of her now moist feet, flowing through the air, her pussy, wide open and inviting, and her face, with her eyes irradiating their emerald green light even in this dark place.
And then, suddenly, without any warning, Samantha motioned her chair and placed both her feet on my cock, her soles encapsulating it tightly. I gasped in surprise. The gel in her soles made then feel cold and slippery, and even softer than I could imagine by looking at them. They were there, on top of my cock, covering it with gel, but perfectly still for now, in a promise of wonders to come.
“Are you ready for this?”, she asked.
“Y… yes…”, I answered, because I thought that was what I was expected to answer.
“Oh, you are so NOT ready for this”, she said with a cheeky grin.
And just as she said that, the lights of the room went out, and we were engulfed by total darkness.
The process, whatever it was, was beginning.
I tried to relax my body and focus on the glorious feeling of Samantha’s feet on my shaft. I even closed my eyes to feel it more intensely, and because there was nothing else to see in this black whole. But Samantha’s voice came to me from the other chair—or was it through the speakers?
“Don’t close your eyes”, she said.
So I opened them. And just a few seconds after that, two things happened: first, Samantha started gently moving her feet up and down my sex, very slowly, applying very little pressure, teasing and tickling more than actually massaging it. And secondly, there was a bright flash of light, just as the ones that I had (indirectly) seen in Julie’s phone; a flash that filled the room but seemed to be particularly directed at Samantha’s eyes, which multiplied it in my direction.
Now I didn’t want to close my eyes anymore. Those eyes, just as Julie’s eyes in the park, had a mysterious magnetic effect on me: once I saw them lit by the flash of light, I only wanted for the flash of light to come back.
Samantha’s feet kept moving gently up and down, up and down, even in complete darkness, so subtly rubbing my cock that if felt almost as a breeze of air. Because the soles were colder than the rest of the room, and because of the complete darkness and silence in the room, it felt as if my body had disappeared, and my sex was all that existed: my sex and my desire for another flash of light to be able to see Samantha’s emerald eyes again.
Another flash came, and I used those very brief moments to dwell into Samantha’s eyes. Was it my imagination or did Samantha apply just the slightest pressure on my dick coinciding with the flash of light?
I didn’t know, and my mind was not clear enough to think about it. It was just absorbing the sensations irradiating from my groin, unable to focus on anything else until the next flash came. My consciousness was unguarded and the flashes were just widening its doors.
Another flash came. This time I distinctly felt the pressure of Samantha’s soles against my cock, sending a stronger pleasure signal through my nerves, lowering my defenses even further. I just wanted to feel, to keep feeling, never to stop feeling what I felt at that moment.
I have said that the room was completely silent, but that was not exactly true. Apart from the ever-so-subtle sound of Samantha’s soles rubbing me between my legs, there was also another very soft sound, kind of a buzz, like the static from a radio or a television. It didn’t seem to come from any point of the room, so I assumed it was coming from the speakers in the walls and ceilings.
Another flash, Samantha’s eyes getting bigger and bigger, me falling deeper into them, a slight pressure from her soles on my cock, a ting of pleasure running through my spine.
My thoughts faded away, as I once again focused on the sensations her feet were giving me, that subtle teasing that was just the promise of something more and something better to come. In fact, it was just easier to just let go, relax, submit to the feelings, submit to her eyes, feel the pleasure, submit, surrender…
Wait, were these my thoughts? Was I thinking these things? They were obviously in my head but at the same time they did not seem to come from me… I forced myself to focus and I noticed something: the buzz in the room had gotten slightly louder; not so loud as to be easily heard, but loud enough that I could now identify that it was a mix of female voices—several female voices speaking at once or in turns, making a continuum of sound that I mistook for a buzz.
I could not understand what those voices were saying—and yet, I thought that I identified some words here and there: relax, submit, surrender… words that I recognized from the thoughts in my own mind… Could it be that…?
Another flash: Samantha’s eyes bigger than ever, engulfing me, breaking my ability to think clearly, and her soles caressing my cock harder now, not teasing any more: rubbing. Up and down. Up and down. Playing with the tip as they went up, leaving it wanting more as they went down. And then again, up, pleasuring me, and down all the way.
It was in fact easier to just relax, submit, surrender, feel the pleasure, let the process continue, submit myself to my goddesses…
I tried to focus again, I tried to resist, but just when I was regaining control of my mind a series of three consecutive flashes hit me, making me gasp in surprise. Samantha’s eyes seemed angry now, and her feet stopped their movement and moved away from my cock. Could they see my thoughts too? Could they know when I was trying to resist the process and punish me for it? What would the punish be? Losing the touch of Samantha’s feet… maybe forever?
“N…. no, please, don’t stop”, I asked, as I tried to grab her feet and put them back on my sex—but my hands, of course, were tied to the chair.
There was a long pause, in which I thought that I had lost it all, that I had lost all the promises of endless pleasure that her feet and her eyes were giving me. No flashes, no rubbing, just the buzz of voices feeling the air…
And then, just when I was about to start sobbing in desperation, I felt Samantha’s soles back on my dick again, grabbing it more firmly, taking possession of it.
The next flash calmed me down: the process was on again. Samantha changed the position of her feet: while once sole was rubbing my shaft all along, from bottom to top, the other foot was going underneath, playing with her toes on my testicles. New sensations, even more pleasurable, that were enhanced when the next flash came, and I say that Samantha had her eyes wide open, and her mouth also wide open, and she exhaled a sigh of pleasure as she kept rubbing me.
It was in fact easier to just relax, let go, submit, surrender, feel the pleasure, submit myself, submit my will, become her foot slave, surrender to my Goddesses, relax, submit, feel the pleasure.
Flash—eyes—feet—pleasure—buzz—moan.
Flash—eyes—feet—pleasure—buzz—moan.
After that, time lost all meaning for me. I just let myself drown in Samantha’s eyes, and become one with the pleasure that her feet were giving me. The buzz was now much louder, I could clearly hear the voices now, I could almost identify them one by one, but I didn’t care anymore. Those voices were my own thoughts, my mind was a blank page in which those words were getting written. I only wanted to be Samantha’s foot slave, and get rewarded for it.
Just as with Julie in the park, the flashes in the room also were getting faster and faster. And so were Samantha’s movements. She had grabbed my cock between her soles again, and was now giving me a marvelous footjob that was beyond any fantasy that I could have had before. I wanted it to end to get drowned by pleasure, and yet I didn’t want these sensations to end at all.
And her eyes were telling me that I was being a good slave, and that was just what I needed to hear to hang in there, as much time as needed.
Her moans were getting louder and faster, she was panting. Some of the voices in the buzz from the walls were also moaning loudly, as if they were getting closer and closer to orgasm. With one of the flashes I could see (just for a split second) that Samantha’s hand was deep in between her legs, touching herself in circles.
I twitched on the chair. This was already too much, I needed to cum so badly, her feet were furiously rubbing me, and yet I could not cum.
I was not allowed to.
Flash—eyes—feet—pleasure—buzz—moan.
Flash—eyes—feet—pleasure—buzz—moan.
More and more voices from the buzz had left saying words and started moaning, groaning, screaming. The room was now full of loud pleasure sounds, the flashes were getting closer and closer together.
Flash—eyes—feet—pleasure—buzz—moan.
Flash—eyes—feet—pleasure—buzz—moan.
Samantha’s movements were getting faster and more disjointed—she was probably just about to cum too.
“Please… please… let me…”, I started.
But I didn’t even get to finish the sentence. With a furious last thrust, Samantha’s legs tensed, pushing her feet right on my cock, and then started spasming up and down, trembling and shaking. She was having an orgasm, and this was no act, I was sure.
And then, when another flash came less than half a second after that, and I saw that Samantha’s eyes were hard closed, I came too.
It was just as with Julie in the park, but a thousand times stronger and longer, because this time it was not just my imagination, but the real touch of my Goddesses’ foot. It started as a heat wave in my groin, which grew to my legs, my chest, my arms, my head.
And after heat, came pleasure. Pleasure like I had never felt before. Pleasure that made every nerve in my body tingle, spark, explode. My body was not mine anymore: it belonged to pleasure itself. I arched my back, pushed myself forward, making my sex rub harder against Samantha’s soles.
I was cumming all over her feet, the chair, my own body, and it seemed like it would never stop.
All the female voices in the buzz were screaming their orgasms at once, and when one seemed to fade another one took its place. I knew that my own pleasure would not stop as long as they would keep screaming.
I must have lost consciousness just as the orgasm was coming to an end, with Samantha’s feet stopping their movements, but still hardly pressed against me, and the voices slowly fading away in my ears, in my mind, inside my very self.
Relax. Submit. Foot slave. Surrender. Goddess. Love. Pleasure. Relax. Submit.
You can imagine the type of images that filled my mind as I was unconscious.
When I came back to my senses, I didn’t know if I was really back. The room was still pitch black and even the buzz had disappeared. I was in a sensory deprivation tank. Luckily, I had just been taught to trust, submit, surrender, so I just waited for my Goddesses to release me. I assumed that’s what was going to happen; you know how it is: the guy cums and the story ends.
But instead of that, I suddenly felt another pair of soles placing themselves on my dick, just as cold and soft and subtle as Samantha’s—but they were not Samantha’s, that much I could tell somehow. A flash flashed; the buzz started buzzing; those feet started moving. The process was back on again.
I cannot say how many cycles of the process I went through that night; by the third or forth I was so deeply lost in my conditioned mind that I could not say what was inside and what was outside, what was pleasure and what was pain. I accepted it all, as a gift from my foot Goddesses, whoever they were.
I was drained, and enslaved, and happy when the lights finally were turned on, very slowly, and I saw Samantha, and Julie, and four or five more barefoot girls surrounding me. Samantha freed me from the chair. I tried to stand up but my legs were not responding; two girls had to grab me by both sides and carry me to the other side of the door, up the stairs and into the store upstairs.
They sat me down and gave me something to drink; it tasted sweet and delicious, or maybe they told me it was delicious and I agreed, who knows. I felt a bit better after drinking it, at least good enough to go out on the streets and get back home safe.
Before I left the shop, Samantha handed me a piece of paper.
“Read this when you wake up and follow the instructions”.
I put the paper inside my pocket and headed towards the subway without looking back. The sun was already starting to go up again.