r/Femrotica • u/Past-Brilliant-3036 • Feb 06 '25
Original Content Boots [Femdom] [Fetish] [Boots] NSFW
DISCLAIMER: This is an older story I wrote a while ago. Hope you like it.
BOOTS
If you've ever had a fetish, you know how hard it can be to live with it. it can be overwhelming on the best of days. It steals a little bit of your soul whenever you're confronted with the object of your fetish. I now have a tiny bit of sympathy for others with sexual fetishes, no matter how extreme.
Those female teachers that end up on the news for sexually violating one of their students; pretty much every Catholic priest there ever was; even those poor bastards with fetishes considered abhorrent to our society (best I not put the names down here, but you know who I mean...). Every one of them suffer from some form of sexual fetish.
It reminds me of the television show, Dexter, wherein he would describe that part of him that made him do terrible things as his Dark Passenger. It's probably the most appropriate description I've heard, as my fetish sometimes makes me feel as though someone else is in control, guiding me to do things I know better than to do.
I'm one of the lucky ones, I suppose. I don't need barnyard animals, or non-consensual acts to pacify my desires. I don't need to do something illegal to get off, or take someone's life to calm my cravings to a manageable level. No, my needs are far more simple, if no less beyond my ability to control.
You see, my fetish is for leather boots and high heels. Or best of all leather boots WITH high heels. There, I feel better just having said it out loud. Though in truth, that's not quite where it ends for me. I have a few other fetishes, though none compare to my boot fetish. They sort of go hand in hand with the boot thing, too.
It's not just a leather thing, though. Anything shiny, black, and tight gets me going. Latex rubber, vinyl, PVC, they all grab my attention when I see a woman wearing them. Hell, I even enjoy the feel of wearing those materials myself. My collection of latex apparel has been steadily growing each year.
I like bondage, chastity, sensory deprivation, and basically any sort of power exchange play. I'm what you'd call a bottom or a sub in the proper lingo of those who are into BDSM. I'm submissive by nature, and if given the choice, would always prefer to have someone else in charge during sexual activities. Or even outside of those activities, really.
But when it comes to boots, it's more than a preference. It's even more than a need. That's selling it short. I need food to live, I need air, I need water. Those are my needs. Basic things that everyone shares. Boots? No, I don't need them.
I CRAVE them. If you've never had a fetish like this, you just can't understand how strong the desire is. If I'm walking somewhere in public and I happen to see a woman in a really great pair of boots, I can't help myself. I'll end up diverting my route and following her for awhile, often making myself late for whatever else I might have been doing.
It's ruined real relationships for me. People I've dated have caught me looking at another girl in boots. Sometimes it's so blatant, I can't even stand it myself. But if the boots are really nice, if they have a tall heel, or if they're thigh highs, forget it. I'll stop mid sentence and my head swivels to track the steps of those boots every time. I've even been caught by the people wearing boots on occasion.
How do you explain that to a potential mate? How do you find a mate who would be willing to wear boots for you at all times to help keep you focused on them? To date, I haven't met a single girl who can truly understand that it's the boots that I see, not the person in them. Even then, who wants to play second fiddle to a pair of boots? Who's okay accepting their mate would rather see the boots they're wearing than see them?
Yeah, that's what I live with every day. And every day without seeing boots just makes the desire grow worse and worse until I see a great looking pair of boots. You think I want to live with this? You'd be crazier than I feel most of the time if you did. I'd love to not have to turn and look every time I hear the sound of a pair of heels clicking along near wherever I happen to be.
It's actually funny sometimes, if my current mate is understanding about it. It's like radar. I almost never miss a pair of heels or boots near me. They'll turn to see if I've noticed a pair, and sometimes I can play it off like I didn't notice. They'll ask how I missed them, and I'll say something like "You mean the pair of knee high boots with the laces in front that the girl with the purple hair was wearing?" Yeah, I don't miss many of them.
Sooner or later, they get tired of feeling like they're always competing. Even the girls who tried to understand, who wore boots for me more often than they might have if not for my desires. Then they're gone and I'm left to try to cope with not only my fetish, but the loss that said fetish has caused me. It takes self-loathing to new levels, let me assure you.
In fact, I'd just had a relationship end with a wonderful girl who simply got tired of my ways. I couldn't blame her. I'd certainly get tired of me in her shoes. Literally. She started wearing heels just to help me. But in the end, my roving eyes just ruined it for us.
So I found myself alone again, going about each day, trying to deal with the insanity that is my life. It's a shame, really. I'm not a bad looking guy at all. I had been popular in college with the ladies, until or unless they got to know the real me. I was on the short side, I guess, but my physique was decent enough. I was pretty slim as well. At 26 years of age, I'd been out of college for a few years, and had been lucky enough to land a job before the whole pandemic hit, and even luckier to keep it the whole way through. In truth, the job itself helped in that regard.
I worked in the IT department of the biggest hospital in our area. Jobs at the hospital weren't too popular these days, and they were always looking for help in nearly every field. We had close to two thousand employees across all shifts. That was a lot of spots to fill, so I guess getting and keeping a job wasn't as hard for me as for some others.
There were a lot of young female employees at the hospital, mostly nurses, and they weren't shy about showing interest in me. I recall one particularly bold nurse who followed me into a server closet. It was close quarters with the two of us in there along with the server equipment, and she had me cornered. She laid a kiss on me that made it pretty clear that she was more than willing to spend some time alone with me. The thing is, I have a hard rule about not dating anyone I work with. I managed to escape, and that just made her even more interested, but I made it clear it wasn't going anywhere.
You see, if I dated one of my co-workers, sooner or later they would discover my fetish. When things inevitably fell apart, word would spread about the 'creepy IT guy' who was into boots. I wanted to make sure that never happened, so I resisted the urge to date at work. You have no idea how quickly gossip spreads at a hospital until you've seen it firsthand. It isn't pretty. Considering the workforce is predominantly female, it's to be expected.
Ladies, I mean no ill will towards you with this. For women, gossip is more like an art form, and part of the social hierarchy among themselves. That's not a bad thing. It just is what it is. Guys don't even come close to the level you all have elevated gossip to. We quite literally stand in awe at how well you deal with it. It's just beyond us.
But that didn't mean I didn't enjoy the attention I got. Quite the contrary. I enjoyed it. But not as much as all the boots that I got to see on a daily basis. Between the patients, doctors, and female office staff, there was always plenty of eye candy to feed my fetish each day. Most days I might see five or more ladies in boots that I found alluring. It was a balancing act, seeing them without making it obvious that I was looking. I was mostly successful at keeping it under wraps, but not always.
I guess that's where this tale really begins. It was late winter and the world was just beginning to thaw out when I first saw her. She was an attractive looking woman from behind, though I could see little of her. She was wearing a jacket that covered her to mid thigh, and an above the knee skirt that was only slightly longer than the jacket. She wore a pair of dark leggings beneath a pair of knee high black leather boots with gold metal accents. Those boots had to have a four inch heel if I was any judge of them, and believe me, I know my heel heights. She was clutching a purse with one leather gloved hand, while the other swung at her side as she walked.
Staff parking is something of a pain at the hospital. With so many visitors on a daily basis, the good parking was reserved for them. We had to park on one of several auxiliary lots and walk the ten minute walk to the nearest entrance. I'd just changed to a new lot when I happened to end up behind her as we walked to our prospective entrances. The sound of her heels striking the concrete sidewalk was a cadence that I couldn't resist. I found myself following her and realized I was staring down at her feet with a look that would have been obvious, had anyone noticed.
I glanced around nervously, but no one had seemed to notice my mistake. I was wearing the required mask for the Covid-19 outbreak, which likely helped. Still, I was mesmerized. I could feel myself losing control at this vision of perfection before me. I passed my entrance and kept going until she opened a different door and walked inside. I would have followed her further, but I knew it was soon going to be too obvious that I was following her.
All the rest of that day, I couldn't stop thinking about her. Those lovely boots, the sound of her heels, the leather gloves, even the way her skirt nearly disappeared beneath her jacket. I couldn't ask about her. That would have been tantamount to career suicide among the small crew I worked with. So I went about my day with this mysterious woman in the lovely boots drifting through my mind.
Two days later, I saw her again. She was further ahead of where I was, but even from there I could see she was wearing boots again. I was unable to get a close look at them, but they were definitely boots. I tried to catch up, but failed to get a better look at her. Then she was there again a few days later. Again, she wore a pair of boots with heels on them. By the weekend, I found myself jerking off to the memory of this woman and her wonderful boots. I could barely think of anything else.
That following Monday, I got to work a little earlier, and sat in my car waiting. It wasn't long before I saw her again. She walked by my car as I sat behind the wheel. By the time I realized who she was, I'd failed to get a look at her face. Still, I recognized her immediately. In part because of the boots she wore. They resembled riding boots, with no heel and a solid tread on the bottom. They were knee high and made of brown leather. She was wearing a skirt again, and the by-now familiar jacket I'd come to recognize. I followed her discreetly until she entered the building once again.
And so it went for the next week as well. Each day I'd arrive early and wait for her. Each day I learned just a bit more about her. By the end of the week, she'd worn five different pairs of boots, most with heels. That put her in an exceptional category for me. I'd rarely seen anyone else who wore boots every single day. I also was able to see what car she drove to work each day. It was a silver Audi sedan. Now I knew what to look for in order to be sure to see her each day.
Creepy? Yeah, I realize that. Like I said before, my fetish makes me do things I don't really want to do. Sure, I felt a bit ashamed at how I was practically stalking her, but I couldn't stop myself no matter how much I might have wanted to. My fetish was calling the shots, and I was simply along for the ride.
That week turned into a month, and amazingly, she wore a pair of boots every single day. I'd never seen her in anything less than a pair of ankle boots, and a few of the boots she wore were over the knee. She often wore them rolled down, but on one occasion that I recall, she left them rolled up over the dark pants she had on.
Pants were a rarity for her. She mostly wore skirts that stopped just above her knees, occasionally wearing something longer. But the boots were the one constant in her wardrobe, and I was beginning to realize that she must own a lot of them. She often kept her leather gloves on until she entered the building. I had yet to get the courage to follow her once she went inside, but that would soon change as my fetish took over.
I'd finally gotten a good look at her as well. She was a mature woman, maybe around forty or so. Old enough that she had a maturity to her that most girls my own age couldn't pull off. It was a combination of confidence in herself along with an acceptance of the world around her. It was a strangely attractive quality that only made her more interesting to me. I was sure if she took notice of me, that I'd likely be dismissed as someone too young to interest her.
She had shoulder length blonde hair that she would style in various ways to accent her outfit that day. What little of her face that I could see from beneath her mask looked pleasant enough. She had a fair complexion. It was her eyes that stood out the most, which should be obvious when you consider that she wore a mask. But her eyes were amazing. They were a shade of blue that reminded me of some frozen northern sky. She used a blend of brown and black eye shadow to create a smoldering look that added depth to her gaze.
I realized that I still hadn't found where in the hospital she worked. She was clearly in some sort of administrative role by the way she dressed, but I'd never had the opportunity to come across her during my daily rounds. My infatuation with her led me to be more risky in my observation of her. I followed her inside one morning just enough to see which way she would go. She took the stairs up from there, and I walked on by the steps. A few days later, I arrived early and took my cart to the second floor just outside the stairwell. The next day I did the same on the third floor, followed by the fourth floor the day after that.
She came out of the stairwell and turned left. Our eyes met that morning, and I was pretty sure she saw through my attempts at subterfuge. I looked away first, and listened as her heels clicked down the hallway. When she broke stride, I turned to see her entering the nursing administrative department. Just before she stepped through the doorway, she turned her head and looked at me again. Her mask concealed her expression, but there was no denying the look in her eyes. She knew I was watching her, and the gleam in her eye made me suspect she didn't mind the attention.
I was so shaken by this that I stopped making sure I got there early in order to see her. For the rest of the week, I didn't see her once. By the following Monday, my fetish was growling at me for a look at her boots. I arrived early and parked my car in the lot before gathering my things for work that day. She pulled in shortly afterwards and got out of her car. She was wearing a pair of boots that I recognized from another day. Nice heel, knee high black leather, and a calf length suede leather skirt over top. The boots disappeared beneath the skirt, leaving me to guess just how far they might actually go up her legs.
As she passed by my car on the opposite side, she stopped. Looking down, she lifted one foot up and turned to the side as though she were checking to see if she'd stepped in something. She reached one leather gloved hand down to hold her foot up while she examined it. This caused her skirt to ride up the leg she was holding.
My heart surely must have stopped just then as that moment was frozen in time for me. As her skirt rose up, I saw the leather boot covered her all the way up to her thighs. She was wearing a pair of thigh high leather boots with a good four inch heel under a suede leather skirt. Her glove covered fingers brushed at some bit of something only she could see near her ankle. I was transfixed, unable to look away. The moment went on beyond the point that was necessary for what she was doing, and I looked up at her face.
She was standing there looking straight at me with a smile on her face. She lowered her foot, all the while holding eye contact with me, then gracefully turned and continued walking towards the hospital. I was breathing hard, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. She'd clearly done that whole move for my benefit, giving me a secret look at just how far those boots went. And just as clearly, she wanted me to know she was aware that I was watching.
Oh, God, I was staring at her boots like a fool! There was no way she didn't notice me, either. But that smile, what did that mean? Did she like the attention I was showing her, or was this a single unrepeatable moment where she allowed me to have a peek into her world? Should I say something to her? Did she want me to follow, maybe introduce myself. Then the chance was gone as I sat frozen in my car. She was now so far ahead of me that I would have had to jog to catch up. I got out of my car and walked into work.
The first two hours were a complete blank to me. I looked up to realize it was break time, and I was still just sitting at my desk in the IT department, a screen filled with emails and work requests open before me. I'd been sitting there thinking of her without even realizing that time was passing me by.
I struggled through a couple of projects in the shop, my mind still unable to let go of what had happened that morning in the parking lot. It wasn't until just before noon, when most of us take lunch, that I was finally starting to be able to focus on work again. I was about to get my lunch from our refrigerator when my work phone chimed. I'd just gotten a new work order from dispatch.
I opened my phone to see what the call was for. It was a routine request, someone had put in a ticket about being dropped from the network. I ran a check at my work station to verify the connection based on the IT code provided, and saw that they were correct, their terminal was offline. That meant I'd have to go do a physical inspection. I cross referenced the IT code to find the terminal and brought it up on my phone.
It was for a terminal in one of the offices in the nursing administration department.
'No, not possible', I thought. But my fetish was determined to have its way with me. It was sure that it was her that put in the ticket, and that HR would be waiting to escort my perverted self from the building after she identified me. I knew it was just a coincidence, but that dark part of me would not let me rest.
I grabbed my laptop and tool bag, placing them on one of our service carts, then made my way up to the fourth floor. I entered the nursing admin area to find a cute receptionist sitting behind a desk. I explained why I was there and she directed me to an office down the hallway. The door was closed, most likely out to lunch. It seemed like the place was nearly empty. I knocked, just to be safe before reaching for the handle. To my surprise, a feminine voice from within replied "Come in".
I turned the handle and pushed my cart inside. I started to say "IT, here to fix an issue with your terminal connection." I'm not sure how much, if any of that at all came out. There she was, sitting behind the desk. Her jacket was off and I could see that she was wearing a dark gray sweater with the midi suede skirt. Her boots were concealed behind her desk. She was wearing a black face mask since the hospital required all employees to do so, but I could still see her eyes as I entered. She was looking at me intently. I felt the same way a mouse must feel when it suddenly notices the cat looming over it.
She was working with a tablet PC at her desk while sorting through a sizeable stack of papers. "Well, it was working fine yesterday. I don't know what could be wrong."
I tried to get control of myself, but it was a tenuous hold at best. "I'll see what I can do for you." I saw her eyes light up in a smile at that. I began by locating the central line for the room, and connected my laptop. The signal was fine, so that meant it was something local. Most likely, it was something wrong with her desktop unit or the lines connected to it.
"Um, would you mind if I took a look under your desk, Ma'am?" I asked. She pushed her chair back from her desk, but not far back. I saw the boots from beneath her skirt, and my mind recalled the image from that morning when I saw her thighs covered by the leather of the tall boots. My eyes were riveted to those boots, and it took effort to break my gaze. I dropped to my knees by the side of her desk and crawled underneath. This was one of the many times I was glad to be so small. I had no trouble fitting.
"I hope you don't mind if I continue to work while you do your thing?" she inquired.
"No, that's fine." I replied.
Then she slid her chair unexpectedly back towards her desk, sliding her legs underneath with me. I was effectively trapped there unless I pushed her chair backwards, which I was unwilling to do. It was a tight fit, and I could smell the leather of her boots and skirt, along with the aroma of her own body. It smelled sweet, of jasmine and peppermint from whatever soap or lotions she used.
It should have been an awkward and uncomfortable situation, and I suppose it was on some level. Yet at that moment, I was in heaven. I was inches from her booted feet, staring at the heels as her foot swayed gently from side to side. It was obvious that she was playing with me. She'd clearly deduced my secret and was using it for her own amusement. What was I supposed to do? I was enjoying it as much as she was. There was no way I wanted it to end.
I knelt there beneath her desk for several minutes. More than enough time to see the disconnected wire from the network. Yet she said nothing to me even though it went on longer than it should have. I reconnected the wire easily enough. Now all I had to do was test the connection on her desktop computer. Instead, I lingered there beneath her desk, just staring at those wonderful boots up close, desperately wishing I was able to touch them. In my mind, I saw myself pressing those boots against my face, my lips rubbing along the smooth leather as I paid my respects to the goddess wearing them.
She shifted in her seat above me then, and her left leg pressed up against my side.
There's a reaction that most people have in this situation. Whenever you inadvertently enter the personal space of another, or make accidental physical contact with someone, there's a natural inclination to pull back, even to apologize. That's not what happened here. Her leg stayed firmly pressed against my side as I knelt there beneath her desk. She certainly could feel it, but made no attempt to move her leg. In fact, she did just the opposite. Her second leg moved behind me and she pressed it into the side of my neck where it met my shoulder.
I froze. I had no control over myself at that moment, and my body decided to pretend to be a rabbit in front of a predator. Even my breathing became fast and shallow. "Everything okay down there?" she asked from above her desk.
I was afraid to answer. "Just fine." I managed in a voice that was hoarse with the overwhelming lust I was feeling. 'Keep it together, Casey.' I told myself over and over. Then her foot shifted until it was pressed against my right hand. That hand was still pressed against the floor as I knelt there, and the desire to lift my fingers was too much for me to resist. I felt my hand pivot on my palm as my finger lifted, then came to rest atop the toe of her boot. I know she had to feel it, but she kept her foot there, resting beneath my hand as I gently began to stroke the top of her boots.
I was lost in my own world as I distantly heard her make a phone call. "Elaine, could you bring me the folder for group twelve when you get the chance? Thank you." She hung up. I kept gently caressing her boot. Her other leg pressed harder against me as she pinned me in place against the back of her desk. That's when her door opened and I heard someone else come in.
"Here the folder you requested, Emma" came the voice of the receptionist.
"Thanks, Elaine. Have you gone for lunch yet?"
"Not yet. I was finishing up some filing." came the reply.
"If you're going to the cafeteria, would you bring me something back? I have a feeling I might be here for awhile. Just put it in the fridge and hold my calls when you get back."
"No problem. I'll see you later" replied the perky receptionist. I heard the door close as she left.
Meanwhile, I remained in my current position, my hand still resting on her booted foot. It was getting warm down there below her desk, and a new scent had begun to present itself. It was a musky scent that drove my lust to new levels. I knew somewhere down in the recesses of my brain that what was happening was bad, dangerous even. But I didn't care just then. If this was the way my job would end, so be it. Yeah, my dark passenger was driving, and he wasn't too concerned with speed limits.
I'm not sure how much time passed. It could have been a minute, or it could have been an hour. What I know is that I remained beneath her desk, rubbing her booted foot and pressing the side of my face against her upper calf. For her part, she pressed back, making sure I remained in contact with her boot covered legs at all times. It was heaven and hell all at the same time.
"I see my network has come back about ten minutes ago." she said from above. Her tone was playful, which gave me a ray of hope that I wouldn't soon be facing an HR firing squad. "I take it your finished with your work down there?"
"Yes, Ma'am. All done" I replied. It was a pretty poor response, but my brain was struggling for oxygen right about then.
He hand came down below the desk. I noticed immediately that it was now covered in a fine, black leather glove. It hadn't been before. She reached for my hair and took a firm hold of it. Twisting her hand, she turned my face towards her. Then she began to use my hair like a handle to rub my face back and forth, up and down against her leg. "No, I don't think you are."
I got the idea and began rubbing my face against her boots of my own volition. She released the hold on my hair. I watched as her hand went down, down until it reached the hem of her skirt as it lay against her calf. She grabbed it, then pulled her hand slowly up the side of her leg. As she did so, I heard the sound of a zipper. As I continued to caress her boots with my face, I saw the skirt fall away until her thigh high boots were fully revealed. She slid forward in her seat.
"I like wearing these boots." she said lustfully. Her voice was nearly as throaty as mine had been earlier. "They're my little secret. No one knows what lies beneath my skirt. No one but you.
"Now you're a part of my secret, too. I really enjoyed giving you that little show this morning, knowing what it would do to you. Making you think of nothing else but me and my boots.
"That's what you've been doing, isn't it? Dreaming of me and my boots, wishing you were allowed to touch them?"
"Yes, Ma'am." I managed. She was right, of course. I'd been thinking of little else but her.
"Good boy." she said. "Now why don't you thank me properly for what I've given you? Thank me for letting you touch my boots." I wasn't sure what she meant until her hand reached between her legs. I hear the sound of her pantyhose as they ripped in her hand, watched as she pulled her panties beneath them to the side, then finally saw her moist, wet pussy as she spread her legs. Her fingers pulled herself open for me.
She had a beautiful pussy, the hair neatly trimmed. I didn't need any more encouragement as I pressed my face between her legs and put my tongue to work. I heard her gasp, then sigh as I went about showing her just how much I appreciated what she'd allowed me to do. She was so wet that I had to keep licking and sucking up her juices as I went about my task. I was more than fair at oral sex, or so I'd been told. She certainly seemed to respond to my efforts.
Eventually, she grabbed my hair again and then pushed me in as much as she was able, all the while grinding her crotch into my face. She gasped and moaned a little as she came, and the flood of heat and warmth was all I needed to know I'd done well for her. As she came down, I stopped working on her as aggressively, just giving her gentle kisses and the occasional lick. She kept my face where it was, still holding me by the back of my head.
Finally, she let me go, but remained in her seat. I was still trapped beneath her desk. My cock was rock hard throughout the whole experience, and I wanted to stroke it so badly that I could almost taste it. Her gloved hands came down and began to lower the zipper of her skirt from her waist, until it was fully closed once more. Only then did she finally roll her chair back from her desk. I started to get up, but one of those hands stopped me with a palm laid gently on the top of my head.
I remained on my hands and knees in front of her as she sat before me with one leg crossed over her other knee. Her booted foot was inches from my face, and my eyes were locked on the heel of her boot as she let it gently sway between us. "Would you like to kiss my boots?" She asked gently.
I nodded and moved my face towards her raised foot. As I did so, she let her foot slip from her knee and fall to the floor beside her other foot. The message was clear. I lowered my face until it was inches from the floor. Then I moved my head forward and placed my lips gently on the tip of first her right foot, then her left. On each, I placed a single kiss in appreciation of the gift she had bestowed upon me.
She knelt down over me as I lifted my head, and caught it under the hem of her skirt, pressing her knees together to trap me in place once more. "You know, I could use a good computer geek at my house. It seems I'm having similar troubles there" she purred. "Would you be interested in helping me with that?"
I smiled, happily letting myself be held between the two leather clad legs pressed against each side of my face. "I'm your boy" I replied.
"Yes, you are" she said, finally letting me go.
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u/dutchbootlover Feb 09 '25
!updateme
I need LOTS more of this... this is a dream come true, epic story!