Vicky's Toe Vixens
Copyright© 2025 by DonaldBelle
06 - Fran
Erotica Sex Story: 06 - Fran - Vicky is a single, attractive, lesbian woman in her mid 40s. As she plans for her early retirement, Vicky instead must find a new purpose in life. That purpose is feet. Join Vicky as she fulfills her lifelong obsession with feet. She embarks on a journey to seduce 100 different woman with the art of foot sex. Straight, gay, kinked or vanilla, Vicky's quest leads her to try and seduce them all... Vote for girls to return for the final foot orgy by commenting on your favourite girl's chapter!
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Consensual Lesbian BiSexual Fiction Vignettes DomSub FemaleDom Light Bond Rough Spanking Anal Sex Analingus Double Penetration Fisting Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Spitting Squirting Big Breasts Foot Fetish Leg Fetish
Vicky’s heart raced as she scrolled through Tinder, her thumb pausing on Fran’s profile. The bio was blunt: “Dominant butch seeking submissive plaything. Feet and ass mandatory. No limits.”
Vicky’s fetish for feet had always been her secret thrill, and this ad hit every nerve in the right possible way. There was something so deliciously no-nonsense about it. She swiped right, of course, and the match came almost instantly. Messages flew. Fran was direct, commanding Vicky to her apartment that night. No questions, just “Be there at 8. Wear nothing under your skirt.”
Vicky was not used to such direct and brutal orders. Usually, Vicky was the one giving the orders. Not tonight, it seemed, and so she did what was asked and wore her skirt with no underwear.
Later that night, after a swift Uber from her hotel, Vicky arrived at Fran’s door, nerves buzzing with anxiety and excitement combined. She knocked, and Fran opened it, the woman towering over Vicky in a tank top and cargo pants; her short-cropped hair and muscular build screamed: “I am going to eat you alive”.
“Inside,” Fran growled, grabbing Vicky’s wrist and pulling her in. She more or less dragged her up the stairs to a first-floor apartment.
The door slammed shut behind them. Fran eyed her up and down, smirking. “On your knees. Now.”
Now, Fran was not exactly Vicky’s type. This was very clearly true; Vicky had a penchant for all kinds of women but generally they were young, beautiful and perhaps naive or new to the world of “feet” or even just same-sex fun completely. Vicky liked to teach them; to dominate them. Now and again, she supposed, it was good practice to be the one getting dominated. She believed it kept your perspective fresh and your ideas sharp.
Vicky dropped to her knees as ordered, her skirt riding up, exposing her bare pussy; her lips already slick with arousal. Fran kicked off her chunky boots, revealing thick, calloused feet still warm from the leather.
“You like feet, huh? Prove it then!” She planted one foot on Vicky’s chest, and pushed, kicking her to the floor.
Vicky felt the breath go out of her.
“Your safe word is “halcyon”, you got that, foot girl?”
Vicky nodded.
“Repeat it, foot girl!”
“Halcyon,” Vicky muttered.
Fran planted her wide foot flat on Vicky’s chest, pressing down until Vicky gasped. Fran stepped forward, her weight shifting onto Vicky’s body, trampling her slowly across the floor. The breath left her body a second time.
“That’s it, foot girl,” she teased, “you like to be walked all over don’t you?”
Vicky’s back scraped the carpet as Fran’s heel dug into her stomach, then her thigh, pinning her in place. The pressure built, Fran’s sole grinding against Vicky’s ribs, making her wheeze.
She coughed.
“Pathetic, utterly pathetic,” Fran sneered, lifting her foot to Vicky’s face. She rubbed it all over her for a moment or two, roughly smacking Vicky’s nose.
The dominant woman walked away, and returned dragging a chair across the carpet. She sat, and it creaked. A smile appeared on her twisted face.
She shoved her toes against Vicky’s lips. “Open.”
Vicky parted her mouth, and Fran forced her foot in, the salty skin filling her mouth. Vicky sucked obediently, tongue swirling around each toe as Fran twisted her ankle, smearing sweat across Vicky’s cheeks. She’d dare not say a word, but she struggled to keep it in her mouth without gagging.
Sat, Fran was able to employ the use of both of her foot weapons. She kicked her skirt up roughly, dragging it up about Vicky’s waist. Fran’s foot then stomped down hard on Vicky’s pussy, rubbing roughly, the arch pressing into her clit until Vicky moaned around the toes.
“How’s that, little foot bitch?”
Vicky groaned around the toes in her mouth. The foot on her cunt was rough and uncaring in its movements but the flicks and pressure on her clit was like electric fire.
Fran laughed, angling her foot vertically with the surprising grace of a ballerina and sliding the toes up and down Vicky’s wet lips. With a little thrust in the right direction, Fran’s big toe slid inside her. Vicky squealed around the foot in her mouth. Fran laughed again, pulling her foot free with a wet pop.
“Crawl to the couch.”
Vicky obeyed, waving her ass in the air as she crawled, Fran’s foot occasionally nudging her forward like a herded animal.
On the couch, Fran stripped off her pants, revealing a harness with a great big O attachment for what could only be, well, a great big dildo.
“Stay there,” Fran barked, “you move an inch and you’ll get leather across you cheeks.”
Fran, not waiting for a response, stalked over to a glass-fronted cabinet by the doorway to the kitchen. She unlocked it with a flourish, and yanked open the door. Vicky craned her neck, watching as Fran dug into a velvet-lined drawer and pulled out a monster: matte black, vein-ridged, and thick as a forearm. Fran inspected it with a practiced squint before spinning back towards Vicky, the thing bobbing from her fist like a ceremonial baton.
“Get ready, foot girl,” Fran said, advancing with a deliberate slowness that made Vicky’s skin prickle both with fear and excitement. She could take a foot inside her, from a slim and beautiful young lover, but this ... thing ... it was a monster. Still, the prospect of it filling her was incredibly exciting.
Fran popped the base into the O-ring and cinched it tight. The harness straps squeaked against Fran’s thighs as she flexed her hips, testing the weight and angle of the cock. She prowled over and planted a hand between Vicky’s shoulder blades, pushing her face-down into the cushions. The scent of fabric, dust, and faint sweat filled Vicky’s nose as she lay there.
Fran grabbed the back of Vicky’s neck, shoving her further into the couch until the breath whistled out of her nose onto the upholstery. She could just see Fran’s shadow looming, hear the wet metallic clack of the harness points as Fran spat in her palm and greased the thick plastic cock. It slapped against Vicky’s butt, then again, harder, the reverberation ringing through her bones. Fran’s words were a soft hiss in her ear: “Don’t resist.”
That was impossible. Every muscle in her body tensed as Fran wedged the tip between her lips and pressed forward, nudging, stretching, deeper and deeper in increments so slow each one felt like a new penetration.
Vicky’s fists knotted in the fabric of the couch. Her ass arched up of its own will, welcoming the invasion with a mixture of sick terror and pulsing need. Fran’s hands were iron, gripping her hips, the huge cock filling her —so full she thought her skin would split.
“Good little slut,” Fran breathed, her grip tightening. The thrusts were brutal, the harness slapping Vicky’s thighs with each push. Vicky’s face mashed into the cushions, the world reduced to rough fabric, sweat, and the relentless stretch inside her. The burning ache blurred quickly to a wild, rolling pleasure, her insides learning how to fit around the monstrous toy.
Fran pulled out near to the tip and slammed back in, finding a terrible rhythm, and a feral sound tore from Vicky’s throat. She could taste blood in her mouth, jaw clenched too tight. Fran’s laughter rattled above her, mean and giddy, and every word was edged like a knife.
“Yeah, you love it. Scream for me. I wanna hear you.”
Vicky let go, shuddering. She moaned, the cry echoing against the couch fabric, tongue throbbing where she’d bitten it. She was beginning to wonder how much more she could take before she gave out, when Fran withdrew.
“Get back on your knees.”
Vicky obeyed, her head spinning as she got up off the sofa and came around to sit in front of her domme. Her pussy ached now that it was empty, devoid of the massive invader.
Vicky was expecting Fran to shove that dildo deep into her throat, but Fran turned, presenting her firm ass.
“Worship it.”
Vicky buried her face between Fran’s cheeks, tongue lapping at the tight hole, which was a little sweaty. Fran ground back, smothering Vicky, her weight forcing Vicky’s nose deep into the crack.
“Tongue deeper, foot girl,”
Fran ordered, reaching back to spread herself. Vicky plunged in, licking and sucking the rim while Fran’s hand came back and fisted her hair, holding her in place. The taste was musky, but not overwhelming.
“Beg for more.”