As she boarded the train, my day was transformed from one of mediocrity and ordinariness into one of passionate lust.
She could have been around 20, with tall, slim figure, loose-fitting clothes and innocent, lighty freckled face, however her brown eyes spoke of mischief and playfulness. Her dirty blonde hair tied up into a girlish ponytail, her personality speaking about youthfulness yet combined with being somehow above other things, as if she did not care for the faults of us, dirty humans.
You could say she looked like the classic French beauties, and indeed she very well could be, for she did not speak a word for the whole time we were on the train, sitting so near each other.
My voyage on the subway through the deep rocks upon which our glorious city was built was bound to be a long and tedious one at first, but the goddess of fortune, or perhaps even her personification overruled that fate. As I had been traveling across the whole city map from one end to another and even further, the girl that boarded just a few stations after me had stayed sitting right opposite me. At every station I thought she must be getting out now, yet she stayed and kept illuminating my day with her precious, sunny, light-warmed face and her fantastic feet.
She has been wearing flip-flops, black from production, so one could not really tell how much imprint have her powerful feet made on her lowly companions. Truth is, that the brand marks have long been worn off and the shoe sole was of uneven height, indicating that her footwear was with her certainly for multiple seasons, caressing her gorgeous heel and toes.
Her sole was slightly black as it must have collected a lot of dirt in the windy underground tunnels, through which she had arrived. Her toes were lazily painted a frivolous kind of orange, almost pinkish color, one could tell, as the loving glaze covered only a part of her toes, though a substantial one.
I had the perfect view as she played with her foot quite vigorously and romantically at the same time – she let the flip-flops slip down as if to show me her insteps, she dangled them from her lovingly from her childish yet long toes and she scrunched her arches to reveal the dead skin of her heel and big toe. All the time she didn't respond to the signs of my near addiction to the lowliest part of her body, as she kept staring into the neverland with the playful look of hers, or as she laughed at the misbehavior of other occupants of the train.
At the last station, I presumed she will leave for her part of the city, as I had to wait for yet another train to transport me to my destination. You can imagine how my psyche (and not only that) sprung back again to life as I found her sitting on the same bench as I planned to sit, now with tantalizing look in her eyes, the sort of you would expect from a girl not only looking for adventure, but also for an addition to her lust, for the fulfilment of her desire.
„Those shoes are thieves, who once tried to rob my apartment,“ she quite shocked me by the topic she chose for her first sentence. „They ended up transformed into things of my daily use, quite unlucky for them, as the dead skin from the inside of my heels now numbed they brains into gooey paste after so many years of wearing.“ Her non-chalance during the train ride was striking as I realized what was happening under her feet, what those poor bastards must have felt...
„But now, as the vapors of my feet have finally fully intoxicated the foamy material and as I have sensed your great passion, I release those two sinners from their suffering. Instead, I choose you to be my more worn right shoe, living with me every step of the way, when I go visit friends, when I go to a party, when I go to work. Being as close as two humans can be.“
That was the moment my mind snapped. I already knew this was going to be the end of my life of craving, searching and wishing for my raison d'être. Now I had it sitting on a bench on a deserted subway station.
„This is the final question.“ One could tell she spoke more firmly then ever before in her life. „Do you really wish to be the most humble of slaves beneath me, to serve me indefinitely as the device to soathe my steps, to drink my sweat and let yourself be battered while I enjoy my time in the city?“
There was only one answer I could give.
And so I became the right flip-flop of this frivolous, childish, slender, truly beautiful, passionate and loving girl. Now I absorb her disgusting sweat into my already moldy form. I am full of repulsiveness, as her feet are full of the true beauty of life. Every step the heel slams into my brain and destroys my balls, and when she bends the shoe, my spine feels like breaking. The dirt is vile and when her nails or sharp pebbles of the streets burrow deep into me, it hurts like nothing else.
But everytime I see her piercing young and caring eyes, or every time her feet touch my body and move around it, I feel like I had a thousand orgasms. Even the tiniest flick of her toes, not even talking about walking itself, is like playing with the very soul of my desire. I can lick her feet and drink her sweat all the time - it is as if the insole of her shoe is both my penis and my tongue. I see every bit of her foot, and it is like I had eyes all over the insole, but it also hurts because of that. Every move of her soft, slightly dusty foot atop me is better than any of the feelings a human male can live through in his earthly life.
It all feels so, so good yet it all hurts so, so much – but indeed that pain I praise, for I know I am taking it in instead of my mistress, the wonderful goddess of happiness.