”You look fuckin’ pathetic in those heels. You know that, right?” Snarled the 48-year-old man I’d gone on a date with. ”You look like a brass (hooker), and I’m gonna treat you like one.”
I was 21, fresh out of uni, and pretty much clueless about how dating worked. All I knew was that I didn’t want love; I wanted the degradation and hard sex I’d seen in porn.
As a woman on the spectrum, I also had no idea how to communicate this with men without fucking it up, so I followed my heart and tried to incorporate porn outfits into my daily life.
”Leave them on.” He demanded while unzipping his pants and pumping his cock, ”You came here dressed like a cheap cunt, and you’ll leave looking even more like one.”
Few of them, however, grew as prominent as that of my Pleaser heels, of which I now have an enormous collection that is largely stained with spunk and a myriad of other stains.
Today, my darlings, I want to open your mind to the allure of Pleaser heels as I kick off the third installment of the Goon Whore Mindset. If you need to catch up, here’s part 1 and part 2.
Table of Contents
I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In
That date, who’d approached me in the street and made some pretty degrading advances toward me, was my guinea pig, and it sure as shit paid off in full and is still paying dividends.
I vividly remember the look on his face when I walked into the bar he’d invited me to, a seedy old man’s place on the edge of Belfast, while wearing a pair of bright pink Pleaser heels.
I could barely walk in them, stumbling like a dumb cunt as I approached his table and almost falling over when he greeted me with a hug, holding onto him for support.
”Doubles?” he asked when going to the bar to get us whiskey and cokes, ”Actually, how about triples?” I felt my cunt flutter. I knew this sleazy old fucker was trying to get me drunk.
I got a high from the look of sexual frustration in the eyes of the old men staring at me from across the pub. My heels were like a flag being raised that said: cheap skank for pleasure.
Leave Them On, You Cheap Cunt
As the strong drinks flowed, I was pissed in no time. Drunk or not, I’d ignored the visible wedding ring on his finger that he was audacious enough to leave in full view.
When he invited me to a cheap hotel nearby, I hungrily agreed and watched him order a cab from the bar, shamelessly downing a little blue pill with a mouthful of whiskey as he did.
He linked arms to keep me upright on my heels and stop me from stumbling over. When the hotel room door closed behind me, my shaking hands fumbled to take the heels off.
”Leave them on.” He demanded while unzipping his pants and pumping his cock, ”You came here dressed like a cheap cunt, and you’ll leave looking even more like one.”
As he rudely pressed on my shoulders, my extremely pleased heels gave way, and I stumbled to my knees. Before I had a chance to think, his cock was down my throat.
In one of the rare chances he gave me a break, I managed to get in a squat position. Looking down, the sight of the drool and tears pooling at my heels was enough to make me cum.
I Bet Your Wife Doesn’t Wear Heels Like These, Does She?
Now on the groaning hotel bed with my legs spread, he was smashing into my cheap cunt with as much force as he could muster. My slit slop and spit combined for some truly sloppy sex.
With his wedding ring-clad hand pinning mine down into the bed, I caught him looking back at my bouncing fuck-me heels behind him. Sipping whiskey throughout, I was feeling bold.
”I bet your wife doesn’t wear heels like these, does she?” I slurred with a grin, causing him to stop in his tracks immediately and glare at me. His marriage hadn’t been brought up until now.
”No… No, she doesn’t,” he said in an almost somber tone as though he knew what was coming, ”She doesn’t do this, either.”
In one swift movement, he yanked his Viagra-fuelled meat out of my sopping slit, directed it south, and brutally drove it home into my (at the time) inexperienced asshole.
Fuck me, I remember it like it was yesterday. The pain was indescribable. I tried to scream but couldn’t. Yet the humiliation pushed me forward.
That, and the sight of the heels bouncing helplessly. He drove his meat into me with brutal force. I thought it would never end. I had to do something. I felt like I was being split in half.
”Nnnghhh, call me her name.” I begged like a cheap skank, ”cum in my ass; I’ll do anything. I’m sorry!”
”Vicky… Vicky… I’m cumming, Vicky!” He groaned, his wife’s name filling the air as he cum deep in my defiled bowels. With that, he was gone, leaving me to pick up the pieces.
Salvation
From that day on, I looked at Pleaser heels as if they held some form of magical power. A sensation that only grew stronger the more I saw my favorite porn icons sporting them.
They held the power to seduce men with ease, regardless of how strong-willed he was. They could mark you out as a whore to be used or establish you as a submissive man’s goddess.
I began buying as many of them as possible, with my priority being used stripper heels from eBay that had been heavily worn. I dedicated countless hours to wearing them like a pro.
I fondly recall going to the gym in the middle of the night when it was empty, slipping into Pleasers, and walking on the treadmill to perfect my skills. The wobbles were now long gone.
”My Heels Are Bigger Than Your Dick!” Oh, Honey… Stop Trying to Kid Yourself
And I always find myself grinning when I hear a woman reel off some bullshit like ”My Heels Are Bigger Than Your Dick!”
Unless you’re looking to use them to step on a man’s balls until he screams his safeword, as I have done a few times, just stop it. You know as well as I do why you wear these clear heels.
When you slide into those heels, you want to mark yourself as a whore. You want hot-blooded men to notice you standing head and shoulders above any other woman in the room.
You want their eyes on your feet as much as you want them on your tits, imagining how they’d look over their shoulders as they plow your cheap cunt balls-deep like their favorite pornstars.
I Don’t Stumble When Wearing Pleaser Heels Anymore
Pleaser heels are some of the most potent sexual accessories a Goon Whore can own, and I don’t know what I’d do without them.
They’ve graced the feet of everything from seedy street hookers and sleazy strippers to elite-tier pornstars and me, the Queen of Whores herself.
And with that, I bring this adage to the allure of fuck-me heels to a close. And that, my darlings, is how my Goon-fuelled mind was corrupted by something as simple as footwear.
