I remember, there was such a rock'n'roll song “I`m not your steppin` stone”, which was very popular in its time. When I was not intimately familiar with English and the meaning of many idioms was closed to me, I translated it roughly as "I am not a stone on which you can step." Now that it’s clear what it really means, it looks funny, but then I translated everything literally. And having translated this name in such a way, I vividly imagined a man lying on the ground and a woman who put a foot on his head. And suddenly I felt an explosion of adrenaline and an extraordinary excitement, because that person was me. Why did this happen? I was always fascinated by the beauty of the female figure, and, like any normal boy, I always wanted to see this figure naked. I was 10 when it happened for the first time: by chance (chess!) In the country I saw through the window how my cousin was changing clothes. Completely undressed, she looked in the mirror. For some reason, I paid special attention to her legs. She could rightly be proud of them - full thighs, filled with youth and strength, the patella, not sharp, like teenage girls, and not round, like adult aunts, beautiful legs, ending in beautiful feet - all this was in harmony with each other and did not go beyond what is called beauty. That's all right, not a single gram of excess fat; Of course, much more I was hooked by another look, but that quick glance and admiration for her legs, apparently, contributed to my further orientation. The grain was thrown and sprouted a few years later, when I incorrectly translated the name of the rock and roll song. Since then, I have often been visited by foot fetish fantasies, and more often I began to pay attention to women's legs, looking at them from a completely different position. You can say I became a foot-fetishist, although for the first time fantasies came true only a few years later, when I was 18. This also happened by chance: I lost the tape with Madness, a rather rare thing in our area. But I knew who had it and, having found this man, asked to rewrite. Naturally, it was a girl, Marina, who studied in a parallel course. And of course, she didn’t have a cassette in her hands, she had been walking on foreign tape recorders for about a month. And then, without thinking much about the consequences, I took and blurted out:

- Marish, you will get - I will do everything for you.

“I catch a word,” she said with a mysterious gleam in her eyes. And it caught the same ... That same evening the bell rang: "Come, there is a madness." It was already 9 pm, but this nonsense did not matter. After 15 minutes I was with her.

“So you said“ everything, ”she said, looking at me carefully. She sat in a soft armchair, cross-legged, with a large glass of her favorite tea with ice and lemon. To be honest, her appearance, when the door opened, hit his eyes great: it seemed that there was nothing on it except for a shirt and rubber bath slippers. Or maybe it was so. A short checkered shirt barely reached the middle of the thighs, looking at which I immediately remembered my sister's legs, where the same length was in harmony with fullness, creating an irresistible impression.

- So, you said “everything” - said Marina, holding a glass to her lips, on which a sly smile played. I sensed something was wrong, but it was too late to retreat.

- Well, within reason, of course.

- Naturally, I will not force you to jump from the roof.

- What do you make?

She was silent for a while, looking at the glass, then said softly:

- You know, I always wondered how it is to have a slave. - And having thrust eyes into me, she firmly said: - You will be my slave.

When she said “slave”, I suddenly felt an emptiness in my chest, as if something had broken loose from sudden agitation. And when the “slave” sounded, I felt the inevitability, not subject to appeal. However, when the first wave subsided, everything became much easier for perception. Marina’s gaze gained its former softness.

- Do you agree?

For a while I collected my thoughts and was silent.

“You said 'all',” she reminded her.

- I remember, wait. -

I'm a slave. She can do whatever she wants with me. If he wants, he will carve, he will, he will rape him in the ass or he will sell ... a nightmare ... and he will, he will use him as a rug for his feet ... So ... this is already interesting. The old fantasies were revived and immediately faded before the prospect of lying under the real lively girlish legs, which are right here, in front of me, you just have to say "yes." By God, I almost lost my mind: on the one hand, the embodiment of desires, and on the other hand - a painful slavery ... What should I do? However, if the inevitability does not appeal, then amendments are possible.

“Provided,” I said. - No pain, no golden rains and other nonsense.

Marina burst into merry laughter:

- Well, so be it. In general, I did not mean anything like that. I just read so much about it that it was interesting to feel the live litter under my feet.

And who said that life is prose and not a dream? All the next year I spent under her feet. She gave me great pleasure by putting my legs on my face, reading a book or watching tv or playing, forcing me to catch her mouth with my fingers, like a cat catching a bow, or thoughtfully moving my foot, rubbing my heel over my face, but more often I did a foot massage. Marina's skin was soft, silky, without any hints of corns, it was a great pleasure for me to caress them. Gradually, I learned to do it quite professionally, that my lady experienced sexual satisfaction. And so a whole year ...