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Story Notes:

This time for something a bit different, hope it is not that offensive :).

I knew that getting into a relationship with a single mom with a young daughter would pose some problems. I never imagined what came to transpire.

 

Being a father of two old boys, or should I say men nowadays, from my former marriage, I always wanted to know what it would be like to raise a girl.

 

Aubrey was a sweet girl. Maybe a bit difficult - and a girl at 13 years of age is the most harsh time for one to jump onto the train of parenthood. The new teen is bratty, frivolous but also too delicate for the world of boys her age, not ready to be stomped and whirled into the world of strange new friendships of lust and devastating breakups.

 

Would I have succeeded? Would I help Aubrey in becoming a woman? How would I know.

 

I am her sandals.

 

Why? How? One day, not long after I moved in with my new family, I just woke up to find myself in her shoe closet. A pair among many. I've never seen myself, but guessing by the dress that hopefully goes with me, the lovely dark skirt and stylish, airy white top, I might be quite a decent and elegant shoe. I of course feel proud for my stepdaughter for her choice of outfits. I feel proud of every one of her achievements.

 

I love her as one would love a daughter. Not one of my flesh, but a young girl that one has been allotted to care for her. But alas, I have been transformed and now I can only shelter her lowliest part from the dirty ground.

 

I wished to guide her. If it even is possible with girls her age. Now she chooses where we will go and I just have to agree as I am carried backwards by her feet to the sunrise of her life. As she plays with me in her class, while several young men are secretly watching from behind, even a tiny flick of her toes as she dangles me can send me into a mesmerizing vertigo. Still, some of those boys would love to trade my place. Her feet are the loveliest of all.

 

Being bored in her room is not as bad as being worn, treaded upon and ignored all the while. When walking on the grass, she takes me off and then, half an hour later, I have to lick her foot again, as her sole is dirty with grass, soil and dead ants who just went about their business when in the summer sun approached a goddess who just wanted to feel the grass leaves in between her toes, that's all and who are the grown-ups to tell her otherwise.

 

The whole of the sandal is my everything. My eyes, my nose, so I can smell every part of her foot that touches me, and the ground as well. I fondle everything, I drink everything, I lick everything. I am fully and totally hers, and I had no choice.

 

Once one of the stupid boys devised a game. To stomp as much as they can. To take down the school or what not. God that hurt so bad. My whole face was mashed, and she had tremendous fun. She laughed with her lovely voice. I felt I must have died. No such luck.

 

She goes clubbing. And she is drinking too. Not much, and in the early hours of the new dawn she usually ends up throwing everything up. I wish I could ever do that. I wish I could get off all the dirt that accumulates in me. Licking her entire sweaty sole and her long toes that glisten in the disco lights. Being stepped into the piss and puke at the club toilets. At least it's not her lovely feet who have to endure it, I think as I lovingly, silently and dutifully worship her with my whole self, as I have to.

 

Then she does it. But not with any of the boys that secretly adore her and view her as the angel she is. There are older, rowdier boys. I don't know what she sees in them. Perhaps only that that her mother would have never allowed her any of this, had she known. As they first hug her I gently caress the ankles I hang from. As they kiss her shortly and vulgarly, I burrow my imaginary lips into her scrunched and sweaty toes. And as they **** like animals, well...

 

That's the thing. Every time she moves her feet it is as if I was, well, pleasure all over. And that's something I still feel very ashamed of. I know it's wrong. It is very wrong. She is my daughter.


She is my master and I love it. I love everything about her. I love her sweet smile. I love how she cheats on tests, I like how she has the neverending chit-chat with her girlfriends, I love every one of her toes and I love the unforgiving heel. I love how she discovers the world and I love how cruel she is to me. I love all the dirt, I love all the sweat that she channels into my soul. I love how she plays with me and then punishes me with the might of her sole. I love the sweet scent. I love how she doesn't care for anyone, not even the boys that really love her. I love how she slowly moves her toes over me. I love how the nails hurt my eyes. I love her childlike, frivoulous and heartless nature. I love her long legs that move so effortlessly. I love who she is.

 

I love how she doesn't give a shit about anyone's opinion, especially her mother and that new partner of hers. Had I been still a human, I know I would have quarreled with her constantly. Now I don't have to. I just suck her toes and she slams me to the ground. Lovely.

 

Sometimes I wonder if, apart from the classic feminine divine, she also has some other power. Her mother often mentioned that all her former wooers suddenly 'ran away', or at least one morning they just weren't there. And Aubrey has quite a large shoe collection.

 

But, nevermind that. I love her the way she is. She could have turned me back now and I would just continue to worship her lovely young feet and allow her everything. Here come her toes again.

 

* lick *

 

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