email: Antonia.Femme.Fatale@gmail.com
Fiirst, I would tell you a little about myself. I am a beautiful, elegant 32-year-old woman, with long brown hair, pale ivory skin, and a passion for stockings. Not any old stockings, mind you – I have a fetish for real old-fashioned nylons, preferably fully fashioned. It's the seams, you see – there's just something about the way they draw the attention to the back of the legs, like a pair of arrows pointing right up my skirt. The way the smooth, taut, silky fabric encases my feet, ankles, calves, knees, right up to the top, and then suddenly gives way to my soft milky thighs… God, just thinking about it is making me shiver. I remember as a child, watching old movies, where the heroines were beautifully dressed, always wearing demure skirts and stockings, and desperately wanting to be just like that when I grew up. And so I amassed a wardrobe of chic tailored suits and knee-length dresses, and revelled in the voluptuous pleasure of wearing them with vintage hosiery and lingerie. The satisfaction I get from wearing these outfits out, and the reactions I get from the male species when I do, is really quite overwhelming. I think a lot of it must stem from my love of my feet and legs. Maybe it's because I'm a Pisces, but I have always had a sensual obsession with these parts of my body. I love having them caressed, fondled, worshipped, adored. And when I slip them into a pair of slinky stockings, and a pair of wickedly high heels, I truly feel like a goddess. How can I resist?
I want to tell you a story.........
It was a crisp summer day, and I was meeting a gentleman for lunch… well, not just lunch, you know… This gentleman and I were rather intimately acquainted, and the meal was to be a somewhat extended version of foreplay, like in the Japanese restaurant, which would end in a hotel room, where he would undress and worship me, kissing my thighs, running his hands up and down my nylon-clad legs, stroking my feet… you get the picture, I'm sure.
And so, of course, I had chosen my outfit with great care. I was wearing a black business skirt, just above the knee, and a simple white long-sleeved shirt. With my hair up I looked the very image of respectability, but underneath… that was something else altogether. For my afternoon of pleasure, I had chosen a black lace bra which perfectly cupped my curvy breasts and matching lace nickers, through which you could just see my gorgeous, black-coloured bush. I have choosen his favorite 10-strap suspender belt and his favorite color of grey fully-fashioned stockings.
I arrived at the restaurant, a rather expensive and discreet little place. I felt the eyes of the other men following me as the waiter showed me to our table. My companion had not yet arrived, and I ordered a drink and allowed my gaze to idly scan the room while I waited. My eyes were drawn to a man sitting at a nearby table. He was in his mid-40s, wearing a charcoal grey pinstriped suit, with slightly receding brown hair, and the main reason he caught my attention was that he appeared unable to stop himself from staring at me and at my legs! The third or fourth time I caught him at it, I gave him a very naughty look and turned away in a most definite and obvious manner, hoping he would take the hint. My drink arrived, and at the same time my mobile phone rang. It was my date, telling me he is so unhappy and sorry, but would be unable to make it for lunch, because his wife wanted him to have lunch with her. So he could not say NO to his wife, because she was the most important woman in his life!!!! Of course this was an excuse, and of course I do understand the situation. But I am also a woman and no woman fancy of being the second choice for a man !!! I was also angry because it was difficult to make this afternoon free from my work to meet him and what now??? He just does not care about it!!!! As I coldly pressed the disconnect button, disappointment warred violently with anger and frustration within me, and I downed my drink in one.
I noticed the man in the grey suit staring at me again, and this time gave him a truly filthy look - at which point, to my utter amazement, he excused himself from his colleagues and came over to my table. "Excuse me", he said, "do you mind if I join you for a moment? May I buy you a drink, perhaps?" I was about to say NO, and he must have seen it in my face, for he quickly added, "Please forgive my extreme rudeness in staring at you earlier, but I couldn't help as I have seen your stockings. You have truly beautiful legs." Well, that was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment – I certainly couldn't fault his timing! I invited him to sit down. And at that moment, the idea entered my head looking for a revenge.
He was an average-looking man, not wildly handsome, but not completely repulsive either, and exuded the subtle confidence that money and power do. I was absolutely furious at having been stood up, and feeling very emotionally and sexually frustrated. My wonderful sensual afternoon that I had prepared for so carefully had been called off at a moment's notice, and I wanted someone to pay for it - literally. I made a rash, split-second decision. I slipped off my shoes under the white linen tablecloth, leaned back, and gently ran my foot in the nylon stockings up his calf. The effect was immediate and electric. Then I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "This is how the rest of the afternoon will go. You will buy me lunch. Then we will get in a taxi and drive to my favorite lingerie shop, where you will buy me 3 pairs of stockings and a pair of very expensive high-heel shoes of my choice. Then we will get in another taxi and drive to a hotel, where you will book a room. In this room, I will allow you to help me to try on our purchases. You will worship and adore my feet and legs. You will follow all my orders, you will not have sex with me, and you will pay me 500 Euro for the privilege. Do you understand?" He looked shocked and excited at the same moment, reluctant for few seconds, but then he said, "Waiter, can we have a menu please?"
That afternoon in the hotel was very exciting. Slightly tipsy, and intoxicated with my success, I slid the key card into the door and laid the bright yellow bags containing our purchases onto the bed. He went to speak, but I placed my finger to his lips to silence him. Then I sat on the bed, with my legs slightly parted, and slowly raised my skirt to my thighs.
He gasped, and dropped to his knees before me, reaching for my calves. "NO!" I sternly ordered, and he reeled back, mumbling apologies. "Shut up" I said. "You will do exactly as I say. First, lie on the floor and kiss my feet." He prostrated himself face down, and began to lick and kiss my black leather high-heeled shoes. As he worked his way up towards my ankles, I felt again the twin sensations of sexual excitement combined with the thrill of my own dominance. "STOP!" I barked. "Did I give you permission to move above my feet yet? NO!" As he again started to apologize, I kicked him and he stopped immediately. I pushed him roughly away with my feet, stood up, and unzipped my skirt, dropping it to my ankles and kicking it to one side. I stood above him, looking down, wearing my white shirt, ff-stockings, suspenders and heels. Reveling in my newfound sense of power, I slowly unbuttoned my crisp white shirt, so it parted to reveal my black underwear and creamy soft skin. I looked at him over the top. "Now, I will allow you to remove my shoes and stockings, and help me to try on a new pair. You may slide them gently over my feet, my calves, my thighs, and fasten the suspenders. But you must take very good care that my seams are straight, or I will have to punish you!"
He nodded his acquiescence, and reverently unwrapped a pair of luxurious, natural coloured point heel fully-fashioned nylons. He laid them on the bed, and then knelt before me as I sat on the edge. He removed one shoe, and then the other, caressing my feet and ankles as he did so. Then he looked up at me questioningly, and I nodded permission for him to unhook each suspender clasp and voluptuously roll each grey, silky stocking down my cool sun-tanned legs. His hands trembled slightly, and as he pulled them over my feet, he held each one to his face and inhaled deeply for a brief moment. I could see his excitement growing, which only served to further inflame my own desire. Then he proceeded to re-encase my elegant limbs in beautiful natural nylon, running his hands freely over my toes, the delicate arches of my feet, my firm, rounded calves, and my velvety thighs. He stood up and held out his hands, to help me up - then knelt behind me and refastened my black suspenders – one, two, three, four, five, six, and more, YES, all ten! I walked over to the full-length mirror and turned around, surveying my reflection from behind. One seam was perfectly straight. The other – crooked! In the mirror I could see his face – desire and arousal combined with fear at his prospective punishment – what was it to be? Still facing the mirror, our eyes met. "Come here and straighten this seam," I said, keeping my voice even and level. "I suspect that you did this on purpose, and that should cause you to forfeit your punishment. But as it's our first time, I'm going to punish you anyway, because I feel like that. Take off your jacket and lie down on the floor, face up."
He slowly complied, and I felt a dark thrill as I watched him humble himself before me. "Now, I am going to walk on you in my stockinged feet. I bet you like a little trampling, don't you? After spending all day in your City office, telling everyone else what to do, being a big man. And look at you now, worshipping me, doing everything I say, at my mercy. And loving it, every minute of it. I can see your cock straining at your trousers, getting harder with every word I say." I walked to his head, picked up my right foot and held it above his face as he stared hungrily at the sole, waiting for my silken tread upon his helpless body… Then, suddenly, I turned and walked away. "Sorry, I think your time's up. I'm finished with you for today. And that's your real punishment. That will teach you to make sure my seams are straight in the future. Now go." As I sat down and nonchalantly began trying on my new green suede high-heeled Manolo Blahniks, he climbed stiffly to his feet. "When can I see you again?" he asked, eagerly. "I must see you again." Still feigning total absorption in my new shoes, I said, "Leave your business card – I'll call you if I feel like it. Now you have to go."
In reality I couldn't wait for him to leave so I could get my hands into my dripping wet pants and get myself off, right there on that hotel bed. I was more excited than I had ever been in my life. I wanted to take off everything except my stockings, suspenders and heels, reliving the whole encounter while rubbing my sweet wet pussy, until the tension ripped up and through me, overwhelming me. Even just writing about it now makes me feel the same! Just the idea of a man crouched at my feet, begging me, pleading, desperate to worship and please me…
If you enjoyed the story but did not like the end - do not be upset! This is just the phantasy - one of many!
It is up to us to develop the phantasy to a more "happy end", you are wellcome to provide your wishes and your scenario.
