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In the second
Shoe Leather book, Shoes Your Weapon, I
wanted to evolve both the Violetta and Ellen characters as their
relationship grows and as Violetta's awareness of how her fated
feet cannot be denied comes to dominate her life. This was much
more of a sexy book than Shoe Leather, but it still contained a
few nasty surprises for Violetta when she ignores the responsibility
that comes with her power. When she forgets she's an Avenging Angel
Sex Goddess and just enjoys herself bad things happen. Like when
she slips on a pair of fetish ballet boots given to her by Tony
- a cute guy she's just met, who as she'll find out is much closer
to her and her power than she'd ever have guessed. Given all the
recent revelations about Catholic church abuse of children this
scene might be viewed as in poor taste, but at the time I just wanted
to write a Naughty Nun scene. As it turned out - this becomes pivotal
in the fourth book, Lucretia: Baddy Two Shoes. I think it illustrates
how the characters know best and authors shouldn't censor themselves
for PC reasons.
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From Chapter Thirteen
A mountain of shoe boxes and their scattered contents litter
Tony's small living room. I feel like the Queen of Shoes as he slips
each brand new pair on my feet. We ooh and ahh at how gorgeous the
shoes and boots look on my bird-like legs. Each successive unboxing
eclipses the last. I am mega-fucking-impressed with his collection.
He boasts some truly awesome styles. This is shoe heaven. The only
explanation for such a bounty of footwear is that I was right earlier
when I suspected Tony was the genie. His shoe store wasn't the cave,
though. His apartment is, and I've found the treasure.
Thanks to all the shoes the cave reeks of shoe leather and it makes
me high. And hornier than the horny I was and have been ever since
I set foot inside Tony's shoe store.
As I admire a pair of intense purple platform wedges with coiled
springs embedded in the four inch soles he pulls out yet another
box. I'm about to say enough, let's fuck, when he displays the contents
to me.
I wolf-whistle and follow my expression of adulation with an "Outstanding."
"Aren't they."
They are ballet shoes. Not normal ballet shoes that a ballerina
would dance in but lace-up rigid shoes formed into the shape of
a dancer's feet when she's standing en pointe. The shoes are impossible
to walk in. The heels are as tall as the sole is long. They're a
bondage shoe. These are exquisitely made. The black patent leather
glistens like a mirror. The stitching is precise. The laces are
as soft as velvet. They are the ultimate fuck-me pumps, the Crown
Jewels of his treasure. I have to have them.
"Want to try them on?"
"No way can you stop me."
I rip off the spring platforms, and Tony does the ballet shoe honors.
As he ties the laces on the first shoe and looks at me with an expression
close to a leer I realize that we will have sex before we get to
the motel. How can I refuse in these beauties? Ellen will have to
pass the time getting good and juicy watching a porn flick until
we get there and star in our own.
I point my foot for the second shoe. Tony loosens the laces and
holds open the throat. I slide my foot in and he pulls the laces
tight.
My sole makes contact with shoe leather. My soul makes contact with
another.
Two people, one body.
They're fuckshoes.
They're fucking fuckshoes.
I should have known that my power would sneak in somewhere, but
I didn't expect it with new shoes. Idiot Violetta.
They can't be new shoes. Somebody has fucked in these.
Oh fuck, what a genius I am. This is going to look really weird
to Tony. How am I going to explain this spaz episode to him? He'll
think I'm a nutcase having a fit. He'll run a mile. I've got to
get my feet out of these things.
I try to wrench my foot away from Tony's grip, but he holds my ankles
with that same vice-like grip with which he shook my hand. He looks
up at me and sees the panicked look on my face.
He's not leering at me. He's sneering at me.
Two people, one body.
He's fucking me. I'm tied to the bed. Only it's not me. I'm Teresa.
Sister Teresa. I'm a fucking nun.
"Tell me how bad I am, Anthony."
"You're a slut, Sister Teresa."
"Call me that word."
"You're a cunt."
"And you're punishing me for being a - "
"Cunt. You're a dirty cunt who makes young boys fuck her."
"Yes, that's right, I'm so awful."
As I say these words I struggle against my bonds.
"No, no, you must stop, Anthony. I don't want this. Let me
go," I say in my best defenseless voice.
"There's nothing you can do, Sister Teresa of the Horny Cunt
Church. I tied you to the bed like you told me to. And you're wearing
the punishment shoes."
"And now you're raping me because I'm a -"
"Say it."
"I cannot. It's filthy."
"Then you're filthy, because you're a - say it."
Tony takes his hand from mauling my breasts through my disheveled
habit and grips my chin and cheeks between his thumb and fingers.
He squeezes my mouth open.
"Say it."
"Cunt."
"I didn't hear you."
He takes his hand away and thrusts it up my habit, rubbing my sex
as his thing batters my - my - .
"Cunt. I'm a filthy cunt. Sister Teresa is a filthy cunt."
"That's better. That's what you want isn't it?"
"Yes, yes, I'm a filthy cunt who wants Anthony to - "
"Fuck her."
The wetter he makes me the easier the dirty words flow.
"Yes, fuck me, Anthony. Fuck me hard. Punish me for thinking
impure thoughts about you and all the other boys here in my care."
He sings his response like a proud schoolboy.
"I'm fucking Sister Teresa. I'm fucking Sister Teresa."
"And you're going to come on my habit."
"And you're going to come too. I'm going to make you come,
just like you showed me."
His fingers play with my clitoris. He fumbles, not knowing exactly
where to touch, but remembering the vague area I showed him the
first time I seduced him. Anthony's so young, so inexperienced,
but so eager. He learns well. Oh, dear Lord, that feels so wonderful.
Thank you God for punishing me in this way. You do work in mysterious
ways.
I see Anthony Anderson's face grimace above me. His body arches.
His young cock stiffens. His teenage balls bounce against my bottom
as he pounds into me. I feel his shaft pulse.
"Pull out, Anthony, pull out."
He does as commanded, and I feel the warm jets of his release splatter
on my thighs and drip down onto my habit. My orgasm rises. He slows.
It slows. I snap at him and he responds. He knows who's boss.
"Don't stop you lazy boy. Now that you're free of temptation
for another week, Anthony, play with me. Play with my cunt and set
me free from impure thoughts."
He slides his finger in me and rubs my clitoris with his thumb,
smearing his heated come over my sex. I melt onto his hand and begin
to cry. Holy Father forgive me for I do know what I'm doing.
I'm coming. I'm coming. Jesus Christ forgive me.
But he doesn't. He punishes me for being a slutty cunt.
"You're a slutty cunt, Violetta Cutrero," he says. "A
slutty cunt."
Tony's on top of me pounding into me like I'm his well-lubed fist
with his super-tight grip. I'm tied to his bed in a weird reconstruction
of his kinky scene with Sister Teresa. Maybe tying up a girl like
his nun from Catholic school is the only way he can get off. The
ballet shoes are still on my feet. My leather jacket's hanging on
the bed post. My tee shirt is pushed up to my neck so my tits are
exposed. He's biting them as he slobbers his insults. He thrusts
hard into me, and I like the urgency because I'm so horny from the
shoesex with Sister Teresa.
Tony probably thought that when I went into my shoesex episode I
was just trying to seduce him like that nun did, so he tied me up.
He doesn't know I'm aware of his dirty deal with a bride of Christ.
He said he had trouble with nuns in San Jose. Some trouble. And
now he's fucking me and the ballet shoes are recording it, wiping
out the old memories that he doesn't know are there. I just hope
he takes the shoes off me when we're done, or this could go on all
night. It's just like the time I lost my virginity with Jimmy Purcell.
He thought he was the world's greatest lover because I came so much,
even when he stopped for a breather. But it was my power. If he
hadn't eventually taken off my Granny boots I'd have worn off his
dick.
And he might still be alive.
Oh fuck that. Why does Jimmy Purcell keep coming into my brain.
My pussy. No, it's not Jimmy. It's Tony. He must think I'm a real
crazy nympho, but it doesn't seem to stop him from enjoying himself.
He bites my nipple and his hand clutches my cunt. He's rough with
my pussy, pressing my clit against his grinding body. Sister Teresa
taught him well. He's good.
"Oh, Anthony - Tony, that feels so good."
He looks up at me with that dirty sneer.
"You're a cunt, Violetta Valery Cutrero."
"Correction. I'm a horny cunt."
"You're a horny cunt with a big mouth."
He pulls out. He straddles my tits. The cold heat of his sweaty
thighs presses down upon me. His balls slide up my cleavage as he
pulls my head to his cock.
"Suck it, you horny cunt, suck my cock."
Not a problem. I open my lips and swallow his dick. I remember back
to when I discovered my power for the second time. By accident I'd
slipped on cheerleader Tracy Stevens' Nikes and found myself sucking
off the Oakland High's star running back Nelson Dawkins. I may not
have ever done oral for real, but I've sucked off a lot of shoesex
cock, so I know what to do.
Tony's an adventurous dude. With his cock in my mouth he rotates
his body around mine and falls between my legs. He licks at my pussy
as I gnaw at his cock. I feel the cool metal of the cross around
his neck pressed against my stomach. It doesn't feel like a crucifix.
The chain tangles with my pubic hair as he works his face into me.
The room fills with slurping noises. It sounds like a lollipop tasting
convention. I laugh at the thought, and my spasming throat does
all the right things to Tony's cock. It steels and his balls contract.
He bites my clitoris, just like he did my nipples. I scream, my
tongue battering the pulsing head of his dick.
He stops biting. He pulls out. My scream subsides. He spins around
and plunges his cock into me and before the tip hits my pussy walls
he's orgasming. His mound smashes into my clitoris, and I come as
my body arches off the bed, pulling tight against the ropes until
they burn into my wrists and ankles. Tony collapses onto me, and
his cross burns into my cleavage, but I don't relax against the
rigor mortis of coming. He kisses me and I taste my cunt on his
face.
"Tell me how bad I am, Anthony."
"You're a slut, Sister Teresa."
"Call me that word."
"You're a cunt."
Oh fuck, I'm Sister Teresa again. Our sex and the previous episode
are blurring together and repeating. Tony's on top me, mauling my
breasts through my habit. The hem is pushed up to my waist and he's
slapping his skinny-boy body into my pale thighs.
"Oh, Anthony - Tony, that feels so good."
I struggle against my bonds.
"No, no, you must stop. I don't want this. Let me go,"
I say in my best defenseless voice.
"There's nothing you can do. I tied you to the bed like you
told me to. And you're wearing the punishment shoes."
"Correction. I'm a horny cunt."
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