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Story Notes:
I was told my stories were a tease, i was asked where the "good stuff" almost like I hadn't written a fetish story before. It's not that I can't write a fetish story i just usualyl choose not too. However, it seems as if I need to prove to people that I still can write a fetish story when i choose. So to all your doubters, here you go.

A Prison of Fuchsia and Black

By

Asukafan2001

©2008. AsukaFan2001. All Rights Reserved

 

                I walked down the halls of school confidently peeking in through the windows as I walk by some of the classrooms.  I think back to when I was student and walking these halls. However, those thoughts were shoved out of my head as I heard giggling around the corner. I quickened my pace while straightening my tie. As I round the corner I see a young woman at her locker with her cell phone pressed against her ear. In one swift motion I grab the phone, closing the flip phone.

                “Hey” the young woman shouted.  

                I scoffed in my head at the sight of her. She had brown hair with black streaks, a Ramones t-shirt on that’s partly hidden by a pink and black checkered hooded sweatshirt.  I couldn’t help but notice her black skirt was way too short, and she had on fuchsia and black striped knee high socks going into black doc marten style shoes.

                “I’m not surprised to have found you hear Ms. Davis. I have your usual spot prepared for you in my office.” I reprimanded.

                “Principal Benson my phone” she yelled.

                “This is mine, and now let’s go” I snap as I grab her by the arm and start to pull her down the hall towards my office when she trips me. I fall roughly banging my head against the tiled the floor. I roll over in a bit of pain as Ms. Davis looks down at me smugly.

                “I told you, that you were going to be sorry, oh I didn’t? I must have forgotten.” She laughed as she slides her foot out of shoe and slams her foot into my stomach. I could feel the air leave my body as I now desperately gasp for air. A liquid of some sorts splashes against my body and almost immediately I start to twitch and flail my arms.  I try to scream for help but nothing escapes my mouth as my arms grasp at her knee high socks.

                I beat my arms against her ankle and legs furiously, however as I do so I can’t help but notice my much smaller arms which are continuing to get smaller by the moment. Soon I find myself unable to reach her ankles; her foot now covers my entire chest. My arms now hidden beneath her foot I begin to feel the true weight of the young Ms. Davis. I sputter help one last time before I find myself engulfed beneath her foot.

                I desperately struggle beneath her foot. The acrylic and spandex mixture which make up her socks presses against my face. The slight dampness of the sock causes my stomach to churn in disgust as I breathe in the musty sweat filled air from beneath her foot.  Tears form in the corner of my eyes as I continue in vain to struggle for my freedom. 

                “Becca, what are you doing?” a loud firm voice shouts seemingly from the heavens themselves.

                “Nnnnnn…nnnothing Mrs. Warner.” Becca Davis stammers finding herself caught off guard by her professor.

                “Well why don’t you do nothing in class, and put your shoes on. Hurry up now.” Mrs Warner snaps.

                Becca’s toes rake across my body a couple times before I watch her toes stretch upwards for but a moment before slamming back down to the ground grasping me as if her toes were a hand.  Ms. Davis’s toes curl around my body creating a tomb of fuchsia and black. I frantically call for help but her socked and foot muffles my cries as my back sinks into what feels like firm cushion. I realize in a horrifying fashion is the insole of her shoe.

                “Stop, stop, please help” I deafly sputter out as my suit jacket and shirt are drug the length of her shoe being shred to bits like cheese on a grater.  As her foot comes to a halt her toes lift up and thump down onto the floor of the insole behind me. A moment later her toes flick me against the toe end of the shoe.

                Complete voidless darkness encompasses my vision. I wave my hand across my face and barely am able to make out my own digits.  In a state of distress with my back pressing against the toe end of the shoe I desperately press my hands against the roof of the shoe. The thickly constructed toe end of the doc marten gives not an inch as I press against the roof causing me kick against the floor in anger over my helplessness.  However, almost as if in reaction to my angry kick everything shutters about like an airplane going through turbulence. My body rocks left and right as my stomach presses against the back of my throat because of the sharp ascent.  Then for a split second everything is calm and still, however the momentary nirvana is interrupted by the sharp descent which sends my stomach from the back of my throat to bottom of my feet.

                My head slams against the roof of the shoe as Ms. Davis’s foot drives her shoe into the earth. I fall forward landing atop her toes. As my body slaps against her toes the abrasive acrylic and spandex material once again rakes against my body.  However, her toes to start lift upward slamming my back against the roof of the shoe. Ms. Davis’s toes press my back harder and harder against the roof of the shoe as her foot ascends back into the air. My bones creak and my muscles spasm in pain on our way up, this time the blissful nirvana does not overtake me, only the pain and agony of my already battered body by this mere step and a half. 

                As we hang in the air for a moment I reminded of the tower of terror at Disneyland.  How you rise up seemingly infinitely and then for a moment which feels like an hour you hang in what seems like mid air, then a fast sharp descent sends you hurtling towards the ground so fast you comprehend nothing except for the lack of control you have over everything around you. This situation dreadfully reminds me of that, only I do not get the joy of stumbling outwards and away from the ride.

                As Ms. Davis’s toes move away from me, for a split second I hang there and then I am pressed firmly against the roof of the shoe. My body to sore and bruised to respond to my commands to pull itself away, however, whatever is holding me here be it gravity, sweat, filth or a mixture of all the above. Whatever the fateful concoction which creates my turmoil gives way, sending me freefalling as her foot once again presses me back towards the floor. My chest explodes against Ms. Davis’s toes then her foot slams against the floor, ricocheting my body back into the air, before once again, slamming against the tops of her toes. I slide down the front of her toes, the sock seemingly grating my skin away as I tumble downward. As I reach the end of her toe it starts rise up once again pressing my back roughly into the roof of the shoe. The process repeating itself again and again for what I would only assume, would be hours if I didn’t know it was just a simple two or three minute walk to class.

                I feel my body encompassed by pain as if it’s a mother lovingly hugging her child.  All I hear is constant thunderous explosions of her shoes and feet hitting the ground, again and again ringing in my ears like a song you can’t get out of your head. It is only as I hear a chair pull out and everything comes to a crashing halt, only then do I realize it’s over and the journey concluded. I slide off her foot and tumble onto the soft insole of the shoe. I cry in pain as I move my body away from her giant toes which wiggle joyfully in front of me.

                “Please no more, Ms. Davis, no more.” I beg, but her toes stretch out and cover my body dragging me back to their domain.  My eyes bug out as I watch powerlessly as the pink and black striped socks crush against my body. I claw against the bottom of socked foot as the toes of her foot stroke against the length of my body further shredding my clothes.  Desperately I try to fight off her toes as they envelope me. This time instead of stroking me Ms. Davis’s toes spread apart and the net like sock presses against my face and throat.

                My body tries to thrash violently from beneath Becca Davis’s foot as her sock presses against my throat. My mouth opens wide in an attempt to suck in air, however grime soaked lint balls fall into my mouth causing me to gag as I fight for oxygen. Spots start to form in my vision as I finally black out unsure if I will ever awake again.

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