Jamie2

I am a lover of toe cleavage. I think that a woman's foot can be sensual and I find myself looking at other women's feet as much for a glimpse or her shoes as to see her foot. I like shoes that expose a woman's foot, including her toes. I realize that everyone has their likes and dislikes, and that everyone is entitled to their opinion; however, I wonder if those who stated that they dislike toe cleavage wear or like sandals. Sandals expose the entire toe. Some sandals expose the toes but conceal the cleavage. I love toe cleavage. I like my own and I like seeing other woman's toe cleavage, particularly when I (or they) are wearing sheer nylons. I also have seen others that appreciate seeing women's feet. I like wearing shoes that expose my instep and shoes that expose my heel. My favorite shoes are heels that are low cut to expose cleavage, open all the way back to the heel, which a thin strip of vertical leather that holds an ankle strap. The shoes do not have to be heels either. I like ballet flats that expose my toe cleavage too.

Is your coworker a child? If he can't cause himself not to be distracted, then he should seek help. And your manager should not have talked to you but instead told your coworker to grow up and told him that if he cannot concentrate at the task at hand, maybe he ought to find a new job.

How tall are you?

6ft 0in

Are you happy with your height?

Yes. I was bothered by my height growing up because I shot up during high school. But now I've found that there are men out there that are intrigued by a tall girl.

Does your height have any bearing on why you wear heels?

No, I wear all types of heels.

What would be your perfect height?

I wouldn't mind what it would be like to be one of those petite little girls who are less than 5 ft. 6 inches without heels; but I think ideally I'd like to be about 5 ft. 8 in.

How does your height compare to your partner?

My BF is 6ft 1in so when I wear heels, I'm actually talller than he is.

I know that this is the High Heel Place, but truth be told, I do wear other types of shoes. I'm hoping you can provide me some assistance. Does anyone know where I can purchase a pair of those ballet shoes with the really super low-cut vamps? I want the ballet flats that expose your toe cleavage and which the sides barely cover the sides of your feet. Any help would be appreciated.

The posting about being locked in shoes intrigued me and prompted me to write this short story.

In retrospect, I believe that my problems began at a young age. I was the younger of two sisters and all I wanted was to be like my older sister Brenda. She was pretty, had and abundance of friends and dressed so much like a grown up. Even people who weren't her friends wanted to be her friends; and I wanted to be her.

So at the young age of fourteen, I began wearing clothes that were inappropriate for my age, or so my mother repeatedly told me. At first, I just borrowed Brenda's clothes. Then, with money I earned from baby sitting, I began to buy my own things. Things like lace panties and bras, sheer nylons, short skirts, tight tops and shoes with high heels. My mother complained bitterly, but there was nothing she could do. She was raising two girls as a single parent, which required her to work two jobs. She was gone to work before I left for school and after dinner she went to her second job. She was home though to see me arrive from school, and she rarely like what she saw in those days.

Even Brenda tried to reason with me. They both said that dressing the way I was would only garner the attention of boys. . .the wrong type of boys. I didn't care. That is exactly what I wanted.

Somehow I managed to get through high school and college without getting knocked up. The entire time, I dated guys that were cool and good looking, but who treated me badly.

Oh, it wasn't all bad. They were usually nice at first taking me places and buying me things, but eventually they began to treat me badly; to take me for granted. Basically they discovered that they got what they wanted and they didn't have to try to win me over. They got a cute girl that dressed sexy, and they got sex in one form or another. It took me a long time to come to this realization and learn from my mistakes.

So that is how I came to be in the situation that I found myself in when I was twenty-four. I had been working as an assistant store manager. I had moved up to that role because I had accepted the advances of the store manager; a thirty-two year old divorced male who most girls would kill to call their boyfriend. He took notice of me immediately. He coached me and told me what I would have to do to get promoted. I started as a stock clerk and worked my way to assistant manager, which involved four promotions in a little over two years. The one thing he insisted on, was that I dress "appropriately". Well, working in an up-scale woman's clothing store meant that I wore dresses, nylons and heels. That was no problem for me because I had been dressing like that for years.

The manager, Eric, and I started dating within four weeks of my being hired. Within four months, I had been promoted to sales clerk, and we were sleeping together. Eric began telling me what to wear. His "suggestions" usually involved wearing short tight dresses, skirts and tops over tight lacey lingerie. By the time of my second promotion, he was insisting that I wear slinky slips, revealing panties, garter belts and stockings, and taller and taller heels. At first I resisted, not because I didn't like wearing sexy clothes, but I argued that no one knew what I was wearing beneath my dresses. He said that I would act differently and that I would be more successful. As evidence of his theory, I was promoted six months later to the position of head sales cleark. Eric said it was because of my great performance.

He began hinting at another promotion, and began insisting that I wear other clothes. I now wore fancy lingerie, sexy stocking, including back-seam stockings, and five inch tall heels every day. I would never have been able to afford these clothes if it weren't for my employee discount. Eric said that I was a walking advertisement for the store because I wore the merchandise so beautifully.

Seven months later, I was promoted to sales manager. Eric was not choosing my clothes from the store inventory and deducting the charges from my pay. He also began buying me things from other stores. It all came to a head one day when he brought some clothes to me and insisted that I wear them. I was getting a little tired of being told what to do every step of the way. I told him that I wouldn't wear the clothes he bought.

Eric got angry and pushed me around a bit, yelling and telling me that I had better do as he said or think about finding another job. I couldn't get fired. Between Eric living part time at my apartment and not contributing to the bills, and his deducting money from my pay, I would be sunk without this job.

The next day he told me that he got me new clothes. He had me strip down naked and he handed me a pair of black thong panties. He had me reach up and grab he head of the bedroom door opening as he wrapped me in a corset and laced it up tightly. He told me to finish dressing. I put on the sheerest back-seam stockings that I had ever seen, and a tight, short red dress. He came back and saw me standing there dressed except for the shoes.

He asked why I hadn't put the shoes on. I told him that I didn't want to put them on. He pushed me down on the bed and force my feet into red pumps with six inch heels and thin straps that wrapped my ankles and which were equipped with little padlocks.

He yelled at me to finish getting ready or we'd be late for work. I got ready. It was about this time that I realized that Eric was also getting rid of clothes of mine that he didn't like.

At work, some of the company executives visited the store to see why Eric was so much more successful than the other stores. Eric talked about all of the great things he had done and I realized that many of the concept her talked about were ideas that I had thought of. Eric ended up going out with the executives and left me with the store. I hadn't thought about it at the time, but I was locked into pumps, which prevented me from taking off my stockings, and I was laced into a tight corset. My legs ached, my feet hurt, and I wanted out breathe normally.

I went home that night and slept in them. The next day I couldn't shower, so I washed at the sink. I had to wear red again, so I wore a red leather mini-skirt that Eric had picked out, and a white blouse. Eric didn't come to work that day. I found out later, that he had been invited to travel out of state to meet with the executives at the company headquarters. I spent the next two days trapped in my corset, stockings and pumps and I was furious.

When he finally showed up at my apartment after three days, I yelled at him about being trapped in my clothes. He laughed and freed me, but said that he liked the idea of my being trapped. He also said that he was being considered for a position at headquarters. This infuriated me.

Then he insisted that we have sex, except that he fell asleep before completing the act. I tried to wake him and realized that he was exhausted and he had been drinking. I decided it was time to teach him a lesson. First I tugged a pair of little panties on him. I roled his body into a corset, then attached the garters. Lastly, I pushed the shoes onto his feet, buckled them and snapped the locks closed.

The next morning, I was getting ready in the bathroom when I heard a loud thud. I assumed it was Eric hitting the floor. I looked inot the bedroom in time to see him stand up, wobble and fall down again.

He was yelling. I kept my distance. He finally got up and lunged for me; however I found it easy to push him down off of his 6-inch heels. I told him to get dressed. He couldnt't get his pants on over the heels, so I tossed him a skirt. He refused to wear it, but I threatened to call the police. He put on a skirt and blouse. Then I led him to the garage and plopped him in the car. He was now beyond anger, he was pleading with me like a little baby.

I drove to the mall, parked the car and took the keys. I insisted that he vacate the car or I would punch the panic button on my key fob. He reluctantly got out and hurriedly followed me to the mall entrance. The guard, an old man, unlocked the door and gave Eric a peculiar look but said nothing. Eric hurried to the store, but I had the key. I took my time. When the store was opened, he moved as fast as he could on his new heels and hid out in his office.

The executives called on him again. I went to Eric's office to let him know that they were here. He hissed that he couldn't see them. I told them that Eric was busy, which they didn't take well. Then I launched into a presentation of all of the ideas that I cam up with and those that I had yet to institute. They were impressed and took me to lunch.

I was going to leave Eric in the clothes but he managed to get out. It was of little consequence, since I was up for promotion. Eric was never the same. I got Eric's job and Eric was demoted to Assistant Manager. He quit within two months.

I have to admit, being trapped in those clothes was kind of interesting, and because of it, my wardrobe has changed. So I guess Eric got what he wanted as far as my clothes, and I got what I wanted.

I think that men couldn't be men as we currently know them to be because you simply can not do certain activities in high heels. I think this would lead to men having other non-heeled shoes, which begs the question as to what those might be. Would men be wearing ballarina shoes now? Possibly. The other thought I had would be whether women would have decided in the 1960s and 70s that they wanted to wear high heels too, because they want equal rights and they want to do whatever men are doing. If in fact man wearing high heels were the norm, then they would probably accept women wearing heels just as they did when women began wearing clothes that were typically male clothes. I think that men wouldn't do anything about women wearing heels.

WOW! That sounds deliciously fun and naughty. I could imagine being locked in heels for a day or two and having to go about my normal business. The thought (and a little bit of fear) of being discovered would be extremely exciting. I'll have to see about my bf doing this to me, but I want to make it seem like his idea.

Definitely! I feel sexier in heels, and part of that has to do with guys looking at me. For some reason (probably the same reason that I look at girls in heels) guys like seeing girls in heels, but particularly the ankles and feet. Heels also change your posture. In high heels, my calf muscles are different, my thigh muscles are tighter to help my balance, my tush sticks out and my chest is thrust forward. And I can't help walking differently in heels. I'm kind of forced to take smaller steps and because my center of gravity is changed, I tend to keep my stance tighter which makes my whole body move. I'm sure a doctor could explain the whole center of gravtiy/balance thing and how it affects the way we stand and walk. I like ankle strap shoes because I like the feeling of confinement. The tighter the straps, the better I feel. There is just something so sexy about that. . .maybe because it suggests something that is taboo.

My favorite shoes are a pair of pumps by Urban Original. They have a 1/2-inch concealed platforms and a 4 1/2-inch tapered heels. The leather comes all the way down to the sole without a seam to reveal the platform. They have round toes and thin straps connected at the back of the shoe that encircles my ankles. The heel, strap and the back of the shoe are covered with a soft suede like material (it may be suede) and the rest of the shoe is a low gloss leather. They are very comfortable and look wonderful. I also like my pumps that have a thin sole, 5-inch heels, and are open along the sides and back. A thin strip of leather extends up the backs of my feet and hold thin straps that encircle my ankles. These are so sexy. I like tall heels and ankle straps, but only a few of my shoes have ankle straps.

I voted for stockings. As many others have said, I feel sexier in them. Also, for fashion impact, stockings (and pantyhose) provide color, design, texture and detail (back seams, cuban heels) that can only be had by wearing sexy nylons. The guys that I have dated think that nylons are sexy and they have always thought that stockings are sexier than pantyhose; but as someone else said, if I'm wearing a short skirt or dress, I wear pantyhose; otherwise the tops of my stockings show when I sit down.