I love shoes. I love having my shoes tied into bondage. I love putting on my comfy brown DCs or a cute little pair of heels. Once in a while I’ll put on a pair of five inch pumps, but I really love a pair of simple, black heels. Now why am I writing about shoes? Well, I recently entered a little contest in which we had to wear shoes that descried us. Helen, the darling, wore buckles and spoke of bondage. Me, I had to think, what shoes best describe me. I’m not a sandal or a slipper. My bunny slippers have fangs, but I don’t bite nearly as often as I threaten to. I may love my little black heels, but they don’t describe me. I’m not a pair of sexy boots and I don’t really do pink. I couldn’t wear hockey skates and running shoes just wouldn’t do it.So what shoes did I wear?

None. I walked across the floor in my bare feet. What shoe better to describe me that none at all. Just a pair of feet, no hose (sorry Uncle M), no socks, just simple polish on my toes. My feet wore no mask, no cover, no clothes, just ten naked toes on my very ticklish feet.

P.S.
(Helen’s shoes would have looked better if she was in rope).