Snug As a Bug In a Rug (M/F)
Petra sat at her desk trying to make a difficult decision. It was half an hour until quitting time and her work for the day was done. She just had to watch the second hand creep slowly around the face of the clock. Under her desk she had slipped off her shoes and was using one foot to massage the other. She would wiggle her toes and rub her soles against the other foot. Every few minutes she would switch feet. The problem she couldn’t figure out was which foot is receiving more pleasure; the one doing the rubbing or the one being rubbed.
She had dealt with this dilemma before and each time had managed to avoid making a final choice. She knew that if she actually made a decision than she would have to live with the knowledge that one foot was receiving less satisfaction than the other. If she could just delay until it was time to go than she could start the process all over again tomorrow.
Finally the second hand and the minute hand reached the twelve together and it was time to go. Today, though, she was not going directly home. Just down the street on the way to the tube station there had been a sweet shop that she had avoided the temptation of entering for years. A few weeks ago it closed and in its place a rug shop opened up. She had the willpower to keep away from treats for her tummy but she couldn’t resist treats for her feet.
The thought of running her bare feet across a new rug was too much to resist. She had no intention of buying one but was going to go shopping anyways. Most of the rug shops in town had already barred her after repeated visits without a sale.
She entered the shop and was pleased to see that it only sold quality imported products; none of that cheap domestic Marks & Spencer eastern look-alike crap. She began to examine the wares trying to determine which she would ask for a demonstration of first. Her usual routine was to try out several each visit and come back three or four days in a row. She used the excuse that wouldn’t be able to buy one until payday. After two or three weeks the proprietors would catch on and give her the toss.
A deep, smooth voice, asked her ‘May I be of assistance?’ She turned and a tall dark skinned man stood before her. He was quite handsome. He had a square jaw, dark intense eyes and a well groomed mustache. He wore a black suit with a gold ascot around his neck and a bright red cummerbund around his waist.
In an accent she couldn’t quite place he said ‘My name is Omar, I am at your service. All of the rugs are from the far east; I hand pick them myself. I relocated my business here from Egypt a few months ago.’
Petra was thinking that a new rug under her feet and some eye-candy to go with it was going to make this shopping experience a double treat.
He was without doubt the smoothest salesman she had ever met. He never once tried to suggest a product or push her towards a sale. He made small talk and before long Petra was telling him her life story as she browsed. At one point she moved on from one rug and then went back for a second look. His trained eye picked up on it immediately and he spread it out on the floor.
The awkward part was always convincing the clerks to allow her to walk on the rugs barefoot. They always cited sanitary reasons for not allowing it but Petra was usually persuasive enough to get them to tolerate it. In this case it was like he could read her mind. ‘Why don’t you slip off your shoes’ he said ‘dig your toes in. You know you want to.’
She stepped out of her shoes and stepped onto the thick rug. Her feet sunk into the soft fibers. She delicately slid her foot back and forth feeling the smooth texture rubbing against her heels and arches and toes. To Petra rugs were like lovers; the more the better but this one made her forget about the others. It was the best she had ever had; this one could be the one. She shuffled across it sensually dragging her feet, not wanting to lose contact for even a split second.
She became aware that he was standing and watching. The smile on his face told her that he thought he had made a sale. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
‘In Egypt we believe strongly in spiritual satisfaction as well as physical. I can see that to you this is more than just a pretty way to decorate your floor. A rug like this can become part of your life and even make your life better. I know you think that that is just a salesman’s load of cobblers but please let me convince you.’
The idea that a rug could improve someone’s life would probably sound like nonsense to the average shopper but she knew that happy feet meant a happy Petra. ‘Just what have you got in mind?’ she asked.
‘If this rug can give you so much pleasure by just touching the soles of your pretty feet imagine what it could do if it touched your whole body. All I ask is that you lie down on it for a moment and let it touch your soul.’
Petra preferred pleasures of the sole and to pleasures of the soul so she declined his offer. ‘I would feel odd lying down in your shop; what if someone was to come in?’ He looked at his watch and said ‘It’s almost closing time anyways; why don’t I close up shop and you won’t have to worry about that?’
The rug felt fantastic and his offer sounded too good to pass up so she agreed. He put the CLOSED sign in the window, locked the door and dropped the blinds. Petra asked ‘What’s next?’
‘Now what you need to do to experience all that this rug has to offer is to lie down on it and let it become part of you. Close your eyes and clear your mind.’ His smooth voice was hypnotic and Petra wanted to believe that she could make a spiritual connection with the rug.
She lay on her back and rubbed the rug with the palms of her hands. It was like she could feel each individual fiber. ‘Now put your arms at your sides’ he said in his mesmerizing tone ‘and feel it with your feet.’ She slowly pulled her feet up until her heels touched her bum. The friction against her soles sent warm waves of delight up her legs. She straightened them out again.
The moment her calves touched the rug he made his move. He flipped the near side of the rug over her body and rolled her over and over until she was tightly wrapped face down to the floor. Only her head stuck out at one end and her feet at the other. He quickly stuffed his ascot into her mouth and tied it in with several wraps of the cummerbund over her mouth. He tightly knotted it. She struggled but it was no use; she was helpless.
‘I am so sorry dear that my actions may have cost me a sale but you are worth much more to me this way. These days the idea of slavery may seem like an antiquated notion but I can assure you that for a good looking woman such as yourself there is always a market. By this time tomorrow you will be on your way to some dark hell hole in Calcutta to be sold to the highest bidder.’
Petra was conflicted. Being tightly wrapped was actually quite pleasant, bordering on erotic and the efficient gag was a bonus but the fate he had in store for her put a damper on the enjoyment that she should have been feeling. She was lost somewhere between arousal and panic.
‘I need to make a phone call’ he said ‘please don’t go anywhere until I get back.’ He walked off but didn’t go far. Petra listened to his footsteps and it sounded like he had only moved to the other end of her cocoon. She tried to hear more but all was silent. There was no sound of a number being entered into a phone; no sound of a conversation; only silence.
Then there was a slight noise, barely audible. She thought she recognized it but couldn’t believe her ears. She gathered all the strength she could and managed to roll over onto her back.
He was on his hands and knees, his head tilted forwards and his eyes closed. He was sniffing. He was sniffing right where her feet had been before she rolled over. It occurred to her that if she handled it right this was her only possible means of escape.
She had been barefoot all day in a pair of snug pumps and the mixed aroma of sweat and leather was like perfume to him. He sniffed a few more times and realized that something was wrong. His eyes opened instantly and he looked down to where her feet should have been. His eyes went wide, his jaw dropped.
She gave a loud “mmph mmph”. There was no desperation or distress in her tone; just a simple clear message to get his attention. She voiced another “mmph mmph”.
He knew she wanted to speak and he had no obligation to hear her out. He could have proceeded with the abduction had he wanted to but he was a little disoriented at having been caught. He removed the gag.
‘I realize that as a slave I am worth more than a rug. But I would like to point out to you that I am worth more to you here than I am in Calcutta. You may not believe it but I was actually enjoying our encounter right up to the part where you told me about the travel plans. Up until that point I thought you were just another ordinary everyday pervert and I’m actually okay with that.’
‘Rolling me up in a rug and having your way with me is the sort of thing that I fantasize about whenever I enter a shop like this one. I’m thinking that if you cancel the whole “sold into slavery” idea we could have a good thing going here.’
He hesitated to answer. He was humiliated at having been caught. ‘As tempting as your offer sounds’ Omar replied in a weak voice ‘how do I know that I can trust you? I have just tried to kidnap and sell you and I’m to believe that you would forget about that just to enjoy some kinky pleasures with me. How could you possibly convince me that what you say is true?’
‘Why don’t you show my feet how you really feel about them? Is that convincing enough for you?’
He thought about it for a moment and then looked down. Here was a grown man on his hands and knees at a woman’s feet. He thought that if she could make such a proposition to a man who looked as ridiculous as he did at that moment maybe there was something to it.
He moved down to the objects of his desire, her delectable feet, and he began to sniff again. She knew that in this embarrassing state he would be easy to bully. ‘Stop that’ she demanded ‘Touch them, you know you want to.’ He reached out with one hand and then reluctantly pulled it back. In a firm voice she gave him no choice ‘Tickle me (pause for effect) now!’
He moved closer, sat back on his legs and reached out with both hands. He gently ran his soft fingertips over the soles of her feet. Petra giggled. Omar tickled a bit more vigorously and she began to laugh. His fingers danced on her toes, across her arches and over her heels. He left no spot untouched and her laughter got louder.
Omar looked back towards the door to see if her loud laughter was attracting any attention. She could see the concern on his face. ‘Don’t stop’ she told him ‘gag me again.’ He gagged her again and resumed the tickling. Her muffled squeals of delight filled the air. After a few minutes he paused for a moment and caressed her heels in his hands. She looked up to see why he had stopped and saw that he was leaning closer to her feet.
He kissed and sucked her toes. His tongue darted between them. He ran his tongue along her arches tickling her into arousal. His hands embraced her heels as he rubbed the sole of one foot against his cheek while licking the sole of the other. His firm grasp, the tickle of his moustache and the soft touch of his lips was driving her mad with bliss.
Surges of pleasure raced through Petra’s immobile body. With no physical release possible the energy built up to soaring levels. As he worked his magic she was trapped in the cocoon he had created unable to respond other than to acknowledge his efforts with muffled moans. The waves of delight rippling from end to end of Petra’s body were amplified by her confinement. He pressed his face to her sole and kissed it hard and long. That was the final stimulus she needed and she reached her peak; the climax seemed to last for minutes as it echoed through her.
He ungagged her and released her from her mummification. Omar sat quietly and watched as she lay on the rug taking in slow deep breaths. He waited until she had sufficiently recovered. He offered to help her to a chair but she preferred to sit on the rug. They then negotiated the terms of their arrangement.
In return for her freedom Petra would stop by the shop each night after work. If there were no other customers or potential victims she would be mummified and both would enjoy the pleasures that the other had to offer. The arrangement would continue until such time as they found the attraction to be fading; neither of them could imagine it happening any time soon.
When Petra left the shop she immediately knew that she was going to have to call the police. She couldn’t allow this man to continue to prey upon innocent women.
About a month later, after about three or four visits a week, she finally picked out a rug to take home and Omar gave it to her as a gift. The next day, shortly after it was delivered, she called the police from a pay phone with an anonymous tip. That same day an undercover police woman with smelly feet arrested him.
As Petra watched the story of Omar’s arrest on the BBC News that evening she was sitting naked on her new rug rubbing moisturizer on her feet. She preferred when Omar did it for he. He also did a great job of polishing her nails. There was something about getting a pedicure from a handsome man while mummified that just made it so much better. When she finished pampering her feet she gagged herself and then rolled herself up in the rug but it wasn’t the same; Omar did it so much tighter.