Let’s begin at the beginning, with a story about how I fell feet first into the fetish world. You could call it accidental, but I like to say it was meant to be. xxx
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Or, when the times get tough, the tough get going. Often this means resorting to scouring the job postings on craigslist. My work as a professional makeup artist had slowed down along with the economy. In addition, a recent traumatic break-up had left me reeling, and doing way too much retail therapy. The combination had decimated my small savings, and I knew I had to be proactive in generating additional cash flow. I’ve always considered myself to be a very resourceful person, but these days it was getting tougher on everyone, and all I could find online seemed to be jobs paying barely over minimum wage, which given the cost of gas in LA, and the driving time, hardly seemed worth it.
As I continued skimming through the postings in the “creatives” job section, I paused out of curiosity at a post seeking “live action models” for foot parties. Yes, foot parties. I thought, well, I have decent feet. I mean, I do love a good pedicure and, some might say I have a shoe fetish but really, what woman doesn’t love shoes! I read the post again. Must submit photos of feet to be considered for LA private parties. I did a bit more online research, and thought, nothing to lose. Foot worshiping parties, interesting, and it sounded relatively harmless. I grabbed my iphone and got to work taking some pretty feet pics. I love photography, and feet do photograph well if you just use a bit of imagination! I posed them, pointing my toes in one, flexing the arch in another. I have a high arch and slender smooth feet. Long story short, I was accepted as a foot model, and that’s how I fell feet first into the foot fetish world.
It wasn’t long before I got an invite to my first foot worshipping party in LA. I accepted, of course! As the date approached, I received an email suggesting to utilize social media prior to the party, to generate clientele. I quickly set up an instagram with a “stage name”, and began uploading sexy feet pics. Shockingly, I started getting followers and compliments immediately. I thought the flurry of activity was just random, but no, it escalated. Of course the instant gratification factor got the best of me, and I elevated the quality of my images. As I said, I love taking photos, and I quickly developed a vibe to my page that reflected my own sensibilities. The likes kept coming, and I took note that the majority of the comments were respectful, and some even worshipful. This was becoming addictive. I would wake up in the middle of the night to check my stats and read comments. Occasionally, I would respond to comments, but mostly just read through them. Most were simple things, like “love those arches”, or “love your feet”, but a few some were more risque. It was fascinating to me and intriguing. A whole new world to explore.
Needless to say, the followers kept following, and I kept posting. As the first foot party approached, I wondered, would any of these followers attend? The week before the party, I did my pedicure myself, due to budget concerns, and got my outfit together. I paired a lingerie set with a vivid silk robe. As suggested, I packed up a case with alternate shoes, stilettos, sandals, boots, and even a pair of flip flops. Something for everyone. I did my makeup and hair, dark and vampy, enough to feel under cover. I packed everything neatly in a bag, along with a lock for the dressing room, and headed out into the night.
As long as I’ve lived in LA, I have never been to the industrial area where the club was located. As I got closer, the streets got darker, and the buildings more ominous. I saw nobody around and I started to get nervous. But, after all of the effort I had put into this so far, there was no turning back. I pressed on. After parking across the street from the address, I headed over to the gate, where a security guard stood in the shadows. The man at the gate pointed to the door without saying a word. The walkway was dark, but as I pushed open the door, I entered a well-lit hallway which led to a reception desk. At the desk, I had to give my “stage name”, and then I was allowed to enter into the main area. Apparently, this place is normally a swingers club, but the foot party people subleased on occasion.
The main room looked like a dance hall. A large, dismally lit room, with a few girls, standing around, looking awkward. Across the room, a couple of men stood by the wall, observing the girls. I walked into the ladies room and put my stuff in the locker. I decided to just go with one pair of shoes, and keep it simple. I chose the tan platform stillettos. At 20 bucks, these were my best investment! Cheap, but, ok to walk in, they looked much better in low light. The other girls in the lockerroom ranged from a famous dominatrix, in all of her black spandex glory, big, tall curvy with jet black bob and fangs. The fangs, I think were actually natural. She had fascinating brows, and as a makeup artist, I’m sure I was staring too hard, but I was mesmerized.
I stepped out of the dressing room, adjusting my robe tightly around my waist. My hair was over one eye, and I walked slowly over towards where the men were standing. I was aware of my steps and the positioning of my feet. I paused far enough away so that they could stare at my precious toes. Get a look at the goods, so to speak. Honestly, at this point I still had no idea what would happen next, but I had read the fine print in the party invite, and it had claimed that absolutely no sexual activities were permitted at these parties, so I felt safe.
Looking around, I noticed a young handsome man sipping on a drink, alone at a table. I walked up to him. He had curly dark hair, a nice build and gorgeous green eyes. He was well dressed. I told him it was my first time at a party, and he said it was his first as well. He asked me if I wanted to “session”, and of course I said yes. I mean, he was fine as hell, so how could I decline. And, I was gonna get paid for this? Yes. Score.
He held my hand and we walked down a hallway, lined with doors into rooms. The sound of conversation drifted from some rooms, and moans from others. I glanced in to see men, kneeling in front of women, rubbing their feet. Some women had their feet on the men’s faces. And, there was one room with a lot of beds in it, which is the one that my first client led me into. In that room, all of the beds were occupied, except for a sofa, which we took. Since the sessions were in 10 minute increments, I set my cell phone alarm first. Then, I laid back, as he sat at my feet. He gently removed my shoes, slowly unbuckling each one, then slid them off my foot in a very sensual way, one at a time. The entire time, I just watched his face. He was absolutely beautiful, this Adonis. I felt at ease, since he was young and so respectful. Once both of my feet were bared, he lifted them to his face and placed them over his eyes. He stayed like that for a few moments, inhaling the scent as though it was a perfume. He pressed them into his face harder. I was kind of shell shocked, since I had never experienced this before. Oh, did I tell you, I am a “mature” woman. I mean, I am not 20 anymore….I won’t divulge, but trust me, this is not something I would expect to be doing at this point in my life. But, hey, who wouldn’t want a hot guy massaging their feet?
Then he started to suck on my toes. I’m not too ticklish but at first, I was kind of worried and thought about the fresh toenail polish, and how it must taste. He seemed not to mind, and he started to suck on all of my toes at the same time. I looked at him and he stared into my eyes as he hungrily sucked on my toes. It was a little bit odd to me, but I thought, I’m here, just go with it. Soon the timer went off. He cleaned my feet with the wipes and sanitizer provided by the club, then he asked me if he could put my shoes back on, and carefully did so. He paid me my fee, which I put in my purse, and we walked out. He told me he loved it! I told him it was fun, and we went back to the “dance hall”. Now there were a few more customers and a few more “girls”. He drifted away as I scanned the room. Now, I saw a short man drinking a coke. He smiled and I guessed that was my cue to move in for the kill. I stepped to him and he asked me would I like to “session”. Again, I said yes. And, it continued like this for the evening. All of the clients were so respectful and full of compliments. Most of them paid me before the session even started. All in all, it was a very positive experience. A win win for all involved. I left with the cash I needed to pay some bills, and better than that, an introduction into the foot fetish world.