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Open-toe high heels in the cold winter rain…

Last night the weather was nasty in NYC, cold and rainy. The gusty wind made my umbrella a shadow of its former self. Around 11 p.m., I hurried down to the subway after dinner with friends.

On the train there were three girls who looked like they were in college. One was wearing high heels similar to these:

Strappy Platform Sandals

I looked with wonder at the girl’s toes, which were nicely polished like the ones in the above picture which I found here. I thought, “Aren’t your feet FREEZING, girl??” Her companions wore closed shoes, much warmer. They were all really cute, and one girl’s bare thighs under the short hem of her skirt were like–oh dear…let’s just say, it was hard to look away.

One of the scenes that stuck with me from the movie Moonlight Whispers (which I wrote about here)  is when the pretty Japanese student goes out in a driving rain to meet a guy with whom she is going to cuckold her boyfriend. She wears high-heeled strappy sandals, so by the time she gets to the restaurant (she walks) her feet are definitely drenched.

I must say I find something very erotic about women’s devil-may-care, almost defiant and rebellious attitude in this regard! 😉 I don’t quite understand it, I envy their immune systems (don’t they get colds from walking around with their toes out in the rain?), but I must say it gives a powerful edge to their qualities of dominance.

And of course, if they have slaves waiting for them, their toes can certainly get warmed up whenever necessary…

Speaking of the foot fetish, have you read my ebook TOES ARE FOR SUCKING which you can find here? I hope you’ll give it a try!

Femdom-Toes4SuckingCover

 
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Posted by on December 7, 2014 in Amazon.com, ebooks, Erotica, Kindle, New York City

 

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Femdom noir fiction bonus!

Here for your enjoyment is a brand new short story, never before published. You might describe it as “femdom noir,” as I blend a tough babe with a submissive guy and let the fireworks explode in a taut and tingling scene!

 

SLAP ME, LOVELY!

Her collection of vintage pulp art was unsettling, to say the least…

SUREFIRE Detective Oct1957

 

Femdom noir fiction

by Irv O. Neil 

She said she was an actress, and a freelance writer, and she dug the 1950s paperbacks and enjoyed dressing up like the femmes fatale on the covers. “Cool,” I said, “the books on my table should give you lots of ideas for things to wear.” She was already fixed up vintage-style in a Fifties dress, purse, and ankle strap shoes. You see people like this at the flea market sometimes, spiffy like they stepped out of a time machine.

She told me her name was Myrna. Not the name she was born with, but another vintage thing she liked to wear. I started to wish I was dressed retro too, in a double-breasted suit with a pocket square, snappy tie and fedora. I would have liked to talk to her while dressed that way. But it wasn’t practical to wear stuff like that to stand behind a table at the flea for eight hours on a Saturday.

She chose two books with real dangerous dames on the covers, holding guns on guys. Tight skirts and sweaters, deadly curves, seamed stockings, and cigarettes dangling. “Are you gonna dress up like one of these gals and back some lucky guy into a corner tonight?” I said, after she gave me the money. She didn’t haggle on the price.

She laughed. “Sure, tiger. I can put one of these outfits together easy tonight. And the guy could be you.”

“Me? Really? Why me?” First, I had quite a few years on her, and second, we didn’t know each other in the least.

“Why not you?” She smiled and fished a cigarette out of her purse, slipped it between her lips, and handed her lighter to me. I got excited at the ridiculousness of it, I mean, she could have lit her smoke herself. But I did it.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said. I shook my head, but if I’d spoken, the words might have come out in a squeak.

She looked at all the books I had, quite a few. Not the biggest name authors, but that didn’t matter. The covers on the unknown guys can be just as good, and cheaper too. “Come over to my place tonight,” she said, “and bring these books.”

“All of ‘em?”

“I think you can manage that, tiger.” And she gave me a smile that would have melted an orange, handed me her card, and walked away on those ankle-strap heels.

*  *  *  *  *

It was crazy, I didn’t know anything about her. But I told myself that the fastest way to feel old–I mean, older than I already was–would be to look a gift dame in the mouth. So I left the flea market early, went home and took a shower, and then put my small but impressively colorful stack of 1950s paperback mysteries and thrillers into a satchel. Luckily I did have a vintage suit to wear, pure 50s with lapels like George Reeves used to wear on Superman, so if she wanted to roleplay “guys and dolls” I wouldn’t look out of place. I had no idea what the night would be, except that she was going to dress like one of the cover dames and look more closely at my books. I wondered if she’d wanted to buy all of ‘em back at the flea, but didn’t have the cash in her purse. Together they were worth maybe a hundred, hundred and a half at the most. Hey, I was ready to hand ‘em over real cheap to Myrna for an interesting evening. Haven’t had many of those lately, since I lost my magazine editing job and have been scrambling for bucks doing flea markets, trying to pay rent and health insurance by selling some of the stuff I’ve collected over the years. Too little money for social life these days, if you know what I mean.

*  *  *  *  *

Myrna lived on the second floor of a walkup near Tenth Avenue on 47th Street, a building out of one of the old noir movies. I rang the bell and went up the creaky carpeted steps, and she was waiting for me in the doorway of her place, as bright and painted as one of the paperback dames. She had on a snug red skirt with a tight gray sweater that scooped almost to her cleavage. And she had a black scarf tied in a bow around her throat. She’d changed her nylons, these looked sheer black with no seams, and I could see the little crimson jewels of her toenails in the peep toes of her black pumps. Her blonde hair was fluffy around her face, and she gave me that same powerful smile again.

“Hello, tiger.”

“Actually my name is Bill.”

“Hello, Bill. I see you dressed up for me for this time.”

“I thought maybe you’d wanna go someplace retro.”

“We’ll see, tiger. Meanwhile, we have all the retro we need right here. Come on in.”

The apartment was small, and it was decorated the way I’d expected and hoped. She had early Fifties furniture and curtains, and old copies of LIFE on a coffee table. There was a vintage television and radio too. But there was also something stranger and more surprising: she had framed covers of some of the sleaziest 1950s detective fiction digests hanging on the wall right behind her sofa.

OFF BEAT Detective Jan1960

These were some of the toughest collector’s items to find, with painted covers of violent women beating guys with guns or blackjacks or knives. There would always be lots of torn clothes on both the girl doing the beating and the guy getting beaten.

“My pride and joy, that display,” she said, coming up behind me as I put my satchel of paperbacks down on the coffee table. “Who said women weren’t strong back then?”

“Deadly dolls, all right,” I said, feeling a little weird with her standing right behind me as I looked at those sadistic pictures. These were really cruel covers, and I wasn’t sure what to make of Myrna for displaying them.

“These are the books, Bill?” she said, pointing at the satchel.

“Yeah.”

“I suppose you intend to charge me an arm and leg for ‘em?”

“Well—”

“You’re gonna give ‘em to me for nothin’, see?”

“Nothin’?”

“Nothin’.” And with that she cracked me across the mouth with her beautifully manicured right hand. I fell on the couch. There was blood trickling from my lip that I wiped off with the back of my hand. Then I reached for the satchel and held it close.

“You think I invited you here so I’d get fleeced?” said Myrna. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her blue eyes bright even with the lamplight behind her fluffy blonde hair. “You’re gonna give me all the books, tiger, just because I asked for ‘em.”

“Well, Myrna—”

She came close, grabbed me by the front of my shirt and my Countess Mara tie, and cracked me one across the mouth again. Tears came to my eyes and I let out an almost but not quite silent sob.

“No squawkin’, mister!” And she took the handle of the satchel right out of my fingers and hefted the haul away. She walked over to her small dining table. As she did, I watched her hips sway in the tight skirt…and I wanted her so bad I couldn’t think straight. It didn’t matter that she was maybe thirty years younger than me. I knew now we were really the same age at heart. The insane are always the same age. Maybe we had a chance together…

I heard her unzip the bag and dig into the paperbacks. “Beautiful, Bill. I want ‘em all. And now they’re mine.” She turned around and pointed a red-polished fingertip at me. “And no squawkin’!”

I felt it was my duty to stand up to her. “Hey, see here, Myrna—”

She dropped the books back into the satchel and hurried on her heels over the carpet with perfect balance, just like the gals in the old movies. In her shoes, she was as tall as I was, but she might as well have been taller, because she felt taller as she grabbed me by the shirt again and backhanded me and forehanded me, backhanded me and forehanded me, until I fell down on the sofa, in such a daze I almost could feel no pain. Almost…

“That’s better, you’ll be quiet now,” she said. She reached down to her coffee table and took a cigarette out of a tray, and picked up the lighter and handed it to me. “Obedience is a quality I respect in a man, Bill.” I lit her cigarette and she blew smoke in my face.

“Tiger, I think we might have the beginnings of something here. I’ll give you some iodine for your lip, and then we’ll go get some steaks and do a little dancing.”

I sat on the couch, and even though my lip hurt like hell, I couldn’t help but smile. As I said, I’d been ready to give her the books cheap from the git-go, just to have an interesting evening. But to be forced to give them for free and get a beating in return was much more than I’d hoped for. I gazed up at those violent old magazine covers and smiled. I liked the way she dressed, and I liked the way she decorated. It looked like Myrna was real relationship material.

the end!

 

SUREFIRE Detective Feb1958

 

If you enjoyed this short story, check out my much more sexually explicit adults-only femdom erotica Kindle ebooks, too! Click here for links to Amazon Kindle stores around the world.

I found the magazine covers which inspired this story here.

————–

“Slap Me, Lovely!” © 2014 Irv O. Neil

 

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Five dominatrixes want to get their hands on you!

As promised yesterday, it’s here…nothing can stop it…it’s available in the Kindle stores at Amazon U.S., UK, and Germany…my new ebook containing five stories featuring five females who happily toy with their male slaves as they practice the delectable power of their SPELL OF DOMINANCE!

"Order this book with one hand...and satisfy your urges with the other!"

This is a good introduction to the universe of my erotic fiction…wait until you encounter Verna, Mila, Dolores, Sondra, and Jennifer…they’re waiting for you in 10,000 words (or almost forty pages) of arousing female domination fiction!

Only $3.99 for an ebook you will read and re-read…that’s less than the price of a beer in most strip clubs (believe me, I know)!

Gentlemen–experience in richly described fantasies the pleasures of surrender to dominant women!

Ladies–identify with these mistresses and get new ideas about how to dominate your slaves! Or imagine yourselves under the feet of these stern but understanding goddesses…

Don’t delay…surrender to the SPELL OF DOMINANCE today!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005JFV0OG

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005JFV0OG

http://www.amazon.de/dp/B005JFV0OG

Enjoy!

 
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Posted by on August 27, 2011 in Erotica

 

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