Under Her Foot

By Scott French

Three stories of three men: a married manager with a wandering eye, a young ladykiller, and a thief; all have their lives and their views changed in surprising—and erotic—ways when they unexpectedly encounter strong-willed women.

These sexy short stories featuring foot worship, humiliation, tease, denial, ball-busting, and female domination are each crafted for the pleasure of women who enjoy having the upper hand and the men who serve them.

Note to American readers: The language in these stories is as British as their author. Feel free to imagine an exotic accent as you enjoy the variant spellings.

Note to British readers: Carry on, business as usual.

• Language: English
• Publisher: 1001 Nights Press
• Release date: Dec 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311111272

Scott French

Hi, I'm Scott French, an Englishman who has lived in New England for well over a decade. I travel a lot, all over the world. It can sound interesting to those who don't and it often is. But it also means long hours in airports and going to and from airports. I buy slip on shoes out of necessity, not choice! It was during these hours that I started penning my first stories, often inspired by the strong, intelligent women I would see sitting nearby in business class. Power play and the hold women can have over men fascinates me. I admire women's ability to tease, entrance and seduce. I hope you'll find my stories do the same for you. With all good wishes, Scott French

Book preview

Under Her Foot

Copyright © 2012 by Scott French.

Edited by Sharazade for 1001 Nights Press. Cover design by Sharazade.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Adult Content Warning

This story contains sexually explicit acts involving consenting adults. It is not intended for minors under the age of eighteen.

Table of Contents

The Gathering

Routines

The Cat’s Cream

About the Author

The Gathering

‘So, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Mr Castle...’

‘Yes, Annabelle. Yes, you will indeed.’

Jim Castle watched that tight little ass walk out of his office. He could actually see the panty line through the skirt of that little cock tease. He smiled at her as she shut the door. She fucking knew. She didn’t wear that little piece of whatever around her waist that had ambitions of being a skirt because she didn’t want him to want to fuck her.

He could picture her bare ass clearly, mostly because he’d thought about it while pumping his cock in the bathroom. He wanted to lie down on his back, have her face away from him, and watch that little peach bob up and down as she sucked his whole length into her little mouth. She must have been, what? Five-three, maybe five-four? Small enough so her could suck on her toes while she was sucking him, that’s for sure. Ass: check. Toes: check. Cock sucked: check. Perfect.

With her gone, he finally looked at his phone. He’d idly had it under the desk and snapped away during their meeting. It was like fishing. He wanted to see what he’d caught. Oh, nice! He thought he’d heard her shoe drop. There were a few blurry pics of nothing and some of his knee. But he’d got a few of her dangling those slut heels she wore, and some of her bare foot. Goddamn, it looked soft. And someone who wore that dark red colour nail varnish knew her way around a dick, that’s for sure. He wondered if at her age she’d ever given a foot job. Was she 26? 27? He smiled. He could teach her. He could teach her a lot of shit. He was growing in his tighty whiteys just thinking about that class.

Then his phone rang. ‘Fuck!’ said Jim, and rolled his eyes. It was his wife.

‘Hey’, he said, in the I’m busy, but not