Fuck Me Shoes
…Or FM shoes, as I like to refer to them.
I think we all have a pair of these. Even if you can’t walk in heels (and I struggle, if I’m honest!), you can still slip into them in the bedroom. Or just at home, doing something like the ironing. A good pair of FM shoes can transform my mood…and lead to lots of more interesting ones.
FM shoes play a role in my new novel, The Whored’s Prayer, which is the sequel to Chairman Of The Whored (you might remember me talking about it here; I wrote about men in suits. Yum). Leila, my lawyer-turned-callgirl-turned-heroine, is gifted a rather slick pair of black heels by her boss and client, Joseph:
I slid out of bed and my feet landed on a smooth brown shoebox, a silver logo dissecting its lid. I teased it open with a toe and tucked aside the tissue paper. The shoes were light in my hands and yet heavy with suggestion; heels higher than any I’d dared to walk in, with leather smooth as cake frosting and startling red soles. An ankle strap led to a delicate buckle. They were a perfect fit.
“Do you like them?”
I stared at Joseph, who was shower fresh and glistening, through my tousled morning hair. On any other man, the towel that clung to his hips would have offered a bit of modesty, but here was a man for whom modesty trembled and fell over itself to escape.
“I do.” I stretched a leg up from its crossed position. Naked except for the shoes, I felt wicked, and it was hard not to bite my lip. “Thank you.”
“You can keep them on, I think.”
In celebration of awesome shoes from dirty men, I’ve put together a fantasy list of FM shoes—work-friendly eye candy, people! Deep breath, now…
Décolletée by Christian Louboutin
Classic black heels. The red soles set them off beautifully. Not too high to walk around in, but too low to be utterly demure. Whether you buy Louboutins or something a little more practical (because sadly, Louboutins don’t last long when worn outside), I think every girl needs a pair of these.
Quiet by Jimmy Choo
Now we’re getting a liiiiittle bit dirtier. You’d struggle to get away with these babies at work, but they’d certainly be appreciated behind closed doors. Stripper heels, but with a lick more class. Quiet, I salute thee.
Sandals by Miu Miu
Asteroid by Christian Louboutin
Ooh, sir. Think of the damage you could do with these. Here’s another pair you could probably get away with in jeans…they’d be like the prickly little cherry on your fuck-awesome cake. Failing that, I’d wear a corset. And a dirty grin.
April by Jimmy Choo
In The Whored’s Prayer, the heels aren’t just for wearing. Mr. Joseph Merchant gets up to a few more questionable things with them, too:
He pulled the shoe off my free foot and pressed my thigh back on my belly. Ah, being exposed so blatantly…I got drunk on it, and I loved how this man, so composed in the light of day, delighted in every inch of me.
He held the shoe up. “They have a good heel.”
“They do.” I jumped as the heel grazed my inner lips.
“It’s pretty long,” he went on, watching me. “A little sharp, too.”
He pressed it inside, and I moaned as the foot slapped into my clit. It barely slid in an inch or two, and felt narrow, but the point scratched at flesh inside with razored sweetness.
God, I was going to be sore.
“How long can you take this before you start to beg?” he said.
“You didn’t break me earlier. You won’t now.”
I’m giving away a copy of The Whored’s Prayer today. (You don’t need to read Chairman of the Whored first, but it will certainly help you to appreciate it a lot more). For the chance to win, leave a comment below, and tell me about your favourite—or fantasy—FM shoes. Thanks for reading! (ed. Don’t forget your email addy. Evaine.)
Branded. Back-stabbed. Bloodthirsty. Ready for one more kiss of the knife?
Some ax murderers are nicer than Joseph Merchant–or so he’d have his law proteges think. Maybe that’s why lawyer-turned-escort Leila can’t say no to him: she’s got a thing for men with knives.
Joseph bought Leila’s services for the whole of their New York business trip. The more they explore their darker desires, the more Joseph pushes for something other than their paid arrangement…and Charlotte, Leila’s dirty secret and escort alter-ego, is helpless to resist. Now
Leila has a shot at an amazing career, a boyfriend as twisted as she is, and for the first time, she starts to accept her submissive, polyamorous self.
But somebody knows more about her escort work than she bargained for–someone who’s not afraid to abuse her secrets to get what they want. And if their blackmail succeeds, Leila will lose everything…
WARNING: Contains non-consent roleplay that’ll make you check your locks, and a girl who’s sold more than her body to a man who’ll take all of it–and then some.