I am not one to sugarcoat anything. I am a whore, and damn proud of it. I love the fact that I get Men off, and my bank account prospers from that. So when I got a call this week from the office telling me that my favorite client had requested me, I was a little surprised. I have no favorites, though my Red Shoe lover is someone I do enjoy. His foot fetish has completely grown on me.


I have a little surprise for you, sweetheart. We are going shopping. The car will pick you up at noon.


What girl doesn’t love to shop? I know when he takes me out that I will get everything HE wants me to have. It’s just how our relationship works. His taste is impeccable so that I won’t complain at all. My stomach was in knots thinking about this date, though. The last time we were together, he humiliated me in front of his friends but made it up to me with dinner and a night of passionate romance. There was no physical sex, but the mind is a dangerous organ. It can make you believe your loved when even if they don’t even like you. 

Knowing his taste, I wore a sleek black skirt, a white button-up blouse that had the first three buttons left open, sheer stockings, and a pair of 4-inch spiked heels in black. Of course, his favorite color is red, but I prefer him to choose them for me. His moods reflect the ones I would adorn my feet with for the evening. I never decide to meet him in a red pair unless he has specifically asked me to. It’s our unwritten rule, and if I want to keep him coming back for more, I do not ever break his rules. I guess that would make me his submissive, but more than that, it makes me loyal.

Uneventful, the ride took me to a showroom in the fashion district, not the mall as I assumed it would. There was no need for alarm, though. At times he would bring in vendors for a private sale. Today was one of those days when J did not want to be bothered by the crowds that littered the mall on the weekends. A Man like him rarely does. They like privacy when they are spending large amounts of cash on their whores. At moments like this, I love being his whore!

“Miss Bianca, he is waiting for you. You should not keep him waiting!”

The valet spoke in a soft tone, but Bianca knew that he was in a mood as she listened to the words. J had many moods, but she was fearful of them all. Each one could make or break the young girl. 

Checking his watch, Bianca could see he was annoyed. He was not a man kept waiting. It was not something you would do. Not to this man, not ever. An array of shoes laid out on tables, all of them with price tags that started at three hundred and ended in the thousand-dollar range. I would never spend this amount, but I wasn’t the one doing the shopping, he was.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Traffic was heavy.”

It’s wasn’t a lie, but he didn’t care. Instructed to strip naked, I would be giving him a show and all of the warehouse workers, it seemed. There was no fashion show, though. He wanted me fucked to see which pair looked best of his fiance when he was fucking her. I would have to model not only the act but the shoes. Three men were sitting in chairs off to the left, each looking at me like I was a piece of meat. I guess, in many ways, I was. I was a pawn in this sick man’s game. I will never know how I fell this deep, but I had fallen for a client, and that was a huge mistake.

“Yes, Sir!”

Those were the only words needed from me. I would comply because my client was paying me for a service. I guess as the dates came and went, I began to realize I was not special to him anymore. He had a stable of women who did the same thing for him. It’s a cold day when you realize that everything you had meant nothing at all to the other person. A frigid day indeed!

The first pair was a red, 6 inch, spiked diamond-encrusted heel and a jeweled strap that would hold them in place around my ankle. These were not made for comfort but show alone. The moment I slipped them on, my toes screamed to be released. The seven-hundred-dollar price tag couldn’t even silence them. As I walked out in nothing but the shoes, J nodded to the first man to his left. He stripped from his clothing, placing them all very neatly on the chair before walking over to me. Not even a name would be exchanged between the two. There was no need for small talk when all you were good for a piece of ass.

“On your knees, Bianca, I want to see how good those look during a blow job!”

Dropping down, the man placed his hand to tangle in my long locks as he guided the head across my crimson red lipstick, smearing the red hue over my cheeks. Opening her mouth, his cock was pushed into her mouth, the head resting on her tongue as he held steady for Mr. J to walk around and survey the whole scene. He seemed to focus on the shoes, but she could tell he love humiliating her in public.

“Thrust into her mouth. I want to see how the shoes lift when she gags on your dick.”

Grabbing my hair, the man compelled his dick balls deep in my mouth, stretching my jaw to take the brunt of his force. Lifting my feet as I gasped for air, gagging from the force of the dick down my throat. He was brutal, but all J wanted was to see how my feet arched and if they stayed on during the show. Pulling my hair back, cumming all over my face, I knew this was far from over. There were about ten pairs of shoes for me to model. It would be a long night!