Diane was at the water cooler, pulling a cup from the dispenser. I gazed at her from my desk across the room in the small office. Diane was my Goddess.

She had been hired as our new office manager a few months earlier. There’s always some petty animosity when management hires from the outside instead of promoting from within. And when the new hire looks and dresses like Diane, well, all hell breaks loose.

It didn’t take long for her to establish her competence. You couldn’t spend half an hour with her and not notice that she was talented and well suited to the job. She also proved to be an excellent boss, demanding but fair. She expected hard work, but always did more than her share. She looked after her staff’s best interests and would accept, rather than deflect, blame.

After a month on the job even her harshest critics admitted she was a great addition to the office except, they’d add in a whisper, for that thing with the boots. And it was that thing with the boots that held me captivated.

Nobody really noticed at first, but Diane was always wearing boots. It started out subtly, boots under pants or a knee length skirt. Slowly the skirts got a little shorter and boots a little taller. It was always tasteful, appropriate office-wear, but perhaps a little more fashionable and expensive than usual.

It was on "casual Fridays" that Diane really went wild. She had only been with the company a few weeks and one Friday she walked through the door wearing a pair of Chanel thigh-high riding boots and an exquisite riding habit. She explained she was spending the weekend at a friends estate and wouldn’t have time to change.

The next Friday she wore a pair of black leather Wild Pair crotch-highs with a zebra striped spandex body suit and big Aqua-net hair. She told everyone about "80’s night" at a local night club.

Every Friday it was a different outfit and a different theme, and always a different pair of boots.

All leathered up in thigh-high, tripled buckled Wesco engineer boots? Friend with a motorcycle.

Vintage Frye OTK’s, jeans and a fringed jacket? Going out square dancing.

Thigh-high waders? Fishing of course.

White vinyl miniskirt and matching thighboots with a red stripe? Costume party-going as Barbarella.

It became part of her persona, she seemed to quietly enjoy the attention and it was treated as eccentric rather than freaky. Of course it got so I would have paid to go to work every day just so see her.

Diane was about thirty-one or two, certainly no older. She was tall, probably about five foot 10 inches, with wavy black hair.

Today she was in a long-sleeved, tight-fitting red dress that reached half-way down her thighs. A pair of sleek leather boots with killer four-inch heels disappeared under the hem of her skirt.

They were gloss black with  little straps around the ankle and tiny chains hanging from each heel.

"Are you looking at my boots, Danny?" she asked. I woke up from a sexual day dream. She was looking right at me.

"Excuse me?" I asked, turning red.

"I said, were you looking at my boots?" she said, both hands on her hips and in a stern voice.

"No, I was just thinking of something, zoned out, you know," I said. I didn't sound very convincing.

"I didn't mean to break your concentration," she said, "I just thought you were appreciating my footwear." She drank her small cup of water and pranced back to her desk across from mine.

So I sat there and had my little fantasies about her, and her boots. I pictured those heels walking on me, dominating me, doing all the kinky little things that would no doubt make her go off on one of her tirades about what pigs men are. And I had to agree, most men are pigs. And I should know, I'm a man.

Later that day Diane put one leg up over the other, giving me a good look at her from her thighs to her toes. Her legs were strong and well formed. You could almost see her muscles flex under the leather. I felt my pants get tighter almost immediately.

I let my eyes wander up her leg, to her small waist, wondering what it would be like to have her sit that tiny behind of hers right on my face. Then I gazed up to her chest, then to her face. She held a mirror in one hand, red lipstick in the other, and was slowly applying her makeup. My hand fell to my lap and I pushed my penis over to one side. If I had to get up it would not do to have a hard-on.

My eyes went back down to her feet. Ah yes, those boots and all the kinky things a man like myself would do with them. I'm not sure how long I was lost in those thoughts, but the mood was broken when Diane gave me a loud, "A-hem!" just to get my attention.

"You were looking at my boots, weren't you, Daniel?" she said with a smile.

"I was just looking that way," I said defensively.

"Don't give me that, you were looking at my feet. What's the problem? Thinking about my high heels? Maybe I should walk on you with them sometime," she said.

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"Well, I want to see you after work to get your help with a project. Until then, you keep your perverted little mind on your job. I'll tell you when you can check out my heels," she said, dropping both feet under the desk. I was red faced and didn't know what to say so I agreed that I'd be there after work. For the rest of the day I made a point of not letting my gaze wander to her side of the room.

Four-thirty came about quickly. Everyone left the room and Diane told the custodian to skip our office that night. Soon it was dark, and the outside parking lot was empty.

"Okay, let's get to work," she exclaimed. We had about an hour's worth of books to look over. We sat our desks trading information. 

About half an hour later, I looked up when I heard her say,

"So what do you think of these heels, Dan? Are they alright?" she asked, turning her feet to the side a bit, giving me a good look.

"They look fine and go well with the dress," I muttered.

"Yeah, they bring out my legs too, don't you think?" she said as she pulled her skirt up a few inches and giggled. Now then, this was not the Diane I was used to.

"Know what I could use?" she asked, looking down at me.

"What?"

"A nice foot massage. Get a chair and pull it over." She didn't have to ask twice

I pulled a chair over and sat across from her. She placed one foot in my lap and said, "Go ahead and just rub it through my boot."

She placed her other booted foot on my knee. With her leg bent in such a way I had a glimpse of her legs, all the way up. Those were some tall boots. They ended less than an inch from her crotch. Now then, pantyhose are not as sexy as a garterbelt and stockings, but they looked fine on her. My eyes went up to the crotch and I saw the black patch of short hair through the material. She wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Start rubbing," she said, poking me lightly in the gut with her toes.

I took the boot in hand and started with the toes. I rubbed them back and forth feeling the slick material. Then I went down the foot, over the soul and arch, to the heel itself, putting pressure here and there. Diane had her head back and her eyes closed, making little happy sounds. The heel of the other foot dug into my knee. I had quite an erection by now. With her eyes still closed, and her first foot right in the middle of my crotch, her toes were pressing up against the underside of my erect penis. She brought the other foot up and I still wasn't sure if she knew the kind of reaction she was getting out of me.

I went to work on the other foot, the same way. The boot in my lap was moving around a bit, her toes rubbing my dick. It was torture, sweet, sweet torture!

"Mmmmmm, this certainly feels nice. No wonder you like to look at my boots so much, she said softly. I just gulped a bit.

As I massaged her boot, she brought the other one up to my chest and tap-tapped my tie and chin a bit. I didn't say a thing. Then the foot went up to the side of my face, my cheek and she rubbed it up and down. The soles of her boots were smooth, but still held a little street-grit. This sent a thrill through me like you wouldn't believe! I closed my eyes and tilted my head a bit, letting her run her booted foot up and down my face, very much like a cat rubbing its face on a person's leg. She put the foot over my right eye then my left, then she let the heels hover a bit in front of my mouth. The very tip of the heel touched my lower lip and I had opened my mouth a tiny bit out of instinct.

"Go ahead, open," she said softly.

I did, a bit and she put the tip of her boot heel into my mouth. I let my tongue run over it. She pressed the foot on my lap into my crotch, hard. My penis was going strong now. This was a fantasy come true!

"Come on, foot slave, a little more," she crooned. I opened a tiny bit more and "Glummmm-mph! I mumbled as she shoved her whole heel into my mouth! My eyes stayed closed as it went in and one hand shot up to grab her ankle. I held the woman's boot, sucking on it very much the same way a woman sucks a dick.

"Yesssssss, that's right baby," she said in a far-off voice.

I was rubbing her other foot into my lap now, a bit faster. She leaned over and unbuttoned my pants and leaned back into her chair.

"Pull it out and play with it, Danny," she ordered. I pulled my underwear down and it popped out, tall and strong. My right hand wrapped around it and my left stayed on her ankle. The boot in my mouth was moist now and she pulled her heel back and forth, playing a game of tag with my tongue. I jerked myself off in front of her.

Suddenly a pleasurable shock went through me! She was tapping her other boot on the head of my penis.

"Ugh!" I said, each time she tapped. And each time she did my dick got harder and harder and harder! She pulled her heel out of my mouth and put both boots on my face, covering my eyes.

"Jerk off faster, Daniel!" she kind of yelled, a thrill in her voice. I did, and a fine glow of sweat broke out on my face. The other foot rammed into my mouth, and the other one was against my dick, pressing hard into it. Then she was up and on her feet, walking behind me. She opened a drawer and pulled something out.

"Put your hands behind your back," she said. I did and I heard and felt the masking tape being wrapped around my wrists.

She taped them tightly, really tightly then taped my thumbs together too!

Diane came back to her chair and sat, placing both the soles of both boots on either side of my penis, pinching and pressing it tightly - so tightly that the skin was drawn back, sending me into a frenzy! I humped my hips up and down as fast as I could, fucking her boots, the head of my penis turning red!

"So you were watching my boots, weren't you, Daniel?" she teased.

"Yessssss," I answered.

"For a long time now, I'll wager," she teased again!

"Yeah, yes, a long time," I was panting now, tossing my head back and forth, my eyes shut tight and my teeth ground together. I twisted my hands back and forth to no avail.

"Do you want to be my boot slave, Daniel?" she asked.

"Oh yes, Diane, yessssss," I hissed, passion mounting. She was wiggling her feet now, further exciting me.

"You'll have to service them every day," she said.

"I will, I will," I responded quickly.

"And when I wear my kinky footwear it will be just for you," she said.

"Oh, thank you Diane, than youuuuu," I let the last word draw out, I was so close to orgasm.

"It's time I saw what you can do, slave. Shoot off, shoot off now or I may take my boots away," she said with a hint of anger.

"No don't, please, I'm so close." I was making the chair squeak and Diane had to brace both her hands on her own chair. She was leaning her feet into me now; the soles felt so cool and hot and silky and smooth. I was like an animal, grunting and getting closer and closer and...

All of a sudden "that feeling" came over me. I knew that a few more thrusts would get me off. I shoved harder than ever, once, twice, three times...the last thrust did it! My eyes popped open and I braced my legs on the floor.

"Oh, God..." I said. One of her boots went up and into my mouth! I sucked on it and bobbed my head up and down with a passion and the fanaticism of a starving man who was thrown a candy bar. Her other foot covered my penis, just the very teeny tiny tip pressed up against my flat stomach!

"Olmmmmph!" I cried. With every spurt she pressed in, then out, in then out and each time I shot out more and more! It seemed to go on forever - me screaming into her boot with each pulse, and her sitting there, watching me, a smile on her face! I came and came and came, over and over...more than ever before.

I sat there in a haze, numbed, floating on a cloud of orgasmic pleasure. I saw her get up and grab the scissors. I felt her cut the tape and remove the strips from my wrists. Then sat back in her chair.

"Did you enjoy yourself, my little puppet?" she asked.

"Ungh," I grunted, not wanting to move or speak. She let me sit there for a while then, after I had come out of it, she threw me a towel and told me to clean up.

"Now then, we have work to do. When you treat me to dinner tomorrow night we can discuss your future with me, and how we can begin your training." I wasn't sure what she meant by "training," but in the months to follow I was to find out…

So here it is, a year later. Diane is now the district manager and I’m very much her slave. Perhaps if she commands me to, I’ll write another story about what little games she plays with me and her feet. Until then….