MISSILE TOES - A CHRISTMAS STORY
andrewrue@hotmail.com



Christmas Eve - what a bummer. He missed the last flight back to the States, 
so it was going to be a Czech Christmas this year. Not that he disliked 
Prague, but he preferred to be home for the holidays. He heard the now 
familiar woman's voice call "Namesti Republiko" over the subway car 
loudspeak and the train began to slow. This was his stop. He knew the area 
pretty well now - just past the street where the hookers hung out and then 
to the "Bunkr", a bomb shelter originally built for Communist Party bigwigs, 
but  converted into an upscale bar, swept in with the tide of  the "new 
Western culture" these people were so eager to get. He had been there once 
before and found the very attractive and exciting ladies to be receptive, 
which wasn't saying anything paramount since woman found his handsome, hunky 
6' 4", 260 lb. muscular stature extremely appealing anyway, but he hoped for 
a special rendezvous to improve his Christmas luck so far.
The inch or so of snow blanketing the streets wasn't an impediment and he 
quickly reached the entrance to the Bunkr, diving into what it had to offer 
this evening. It wasn't much. The place was practically empty. Taking off 
his heavy winter coat, he sat down at the bar to survey that a few couples 
and single men dotted the establishment, and after a couple of drinks he was 
ready to cut his losses and move on. But then he heard the slap, slap, slap 
of women's heels coming down the stairs and turned just in time to see what 
must have been the most attractive woman he had ever seen. She glowed with 
beauty. Five-foot-ten with a fine porcelain complexion and jet black hair 
that caressed her shoulders as she strolled. Her high cheekbones, seductive 
blue bedroom eyes and full red lips gave her that classic, mysterious 
Eastern European look that was so prevalent on fashion magazine covers. And 
her body was a sculpted work of art. Lean, strong muscles that were cut and 
tapered to give her a look of a world class sprinter, but with the flow and 
motion of a ballerina. Her shimmering black dress accentuated her 
magnificently firm womanhood and clung to her flat hard stomach and wasp 
narrow waist. A slit up the side of her gown rose to nearly her hip, totally 
exposing her incredibly long, drop dead gorgeous leg as she walked. He was 
mesmerized by the strength her bare leg radiated, right down to the 
beautifully large, high arched and muscularly thick size 11 foot that was 
contained by her sweeping, black slide. Her presence had such an effect on 
him that he couldn't help but stare, but she didn't offer even the slightest 
bit of interest as she walked with winter coat in hand, past the bar and to 
the back of the lounge. Like a schoolboy, he kept looking to where she went, 
hoping for another glimpse of this angel while he finished his drink. Then 
from behind him he heard a voice with a sexy Eastern European accent:
"Are you looking for someone in particular?" and he turned to see the 
fantastic woman that had seized his desires, standing right beside him! He 
smiled a restrained smile and waited a long moment to time his response as: 
"Maybe for you... won't you join me?" And she did. They talked small talk as 
rehearsed many times before. He learned that she was an athlete in the old 
Soviet Russia, loved ballet and had worked for the Soviet Government, but 
not willing to give away her current situation. Then in a direct and tactful 
way she asked him to accompany her for a stroll on this special evening - he 
gladly accepted like it was the luckiest day of his life. She donned her 
long coat exposing only a bit of her bare leg and shod bare feet to the 
elements.

He looked down at her minimal footwear and thought to be the gentleman to 
ask: "Are you going to be okay to walk through this snow in those shoes?"
She smiled back at him and replied in her sweetest Eastern European voice, 
"Thank you for your concern, but I will be quite all right. I am going to be 
barefoot soon enough." It struck him as an odd answer at first, but then her 
sly wink stoked his growing anticipation and he returned: "That sounds very 
good to me!" and she took him by his arm as they strolled out the doors and 
toward the Vlatava River.
They walked down narrow, twisting and deserted streets for several minutes 
into a part of town that was predominantly warehouses and abandoned 
buildings. The extreme quiet of the streets was dominated by the slow and 
sharp SLAP, SLAP, SLAP of her high heels flinging up against bare feet.   
Normally he would have sensed the peculiarity of the area, but he was 
totally taken by this charming, beautiful woman who lead him arm in arm. 
Then in what was a dimly lit alleyway with the only tracks being their own, 
she stopped and let go of his arm to say:
"Excuse me, but I must now take off my shoes." and she immediately turned 
around and walked away from him with long fast strides.
This was totally unexpected and he took a long moment to slowly turn around, 
trying to understand what she said and meant, and grimaced while he spoke, 
"You must WHAT?..." But sure enough, several yards away from him, he saw 
that tall, dark, mysterious woman sliding her big beautiful bare feet from 
her high heels, expertly pointing her toes into the snow and turning to face 
him. She stood there relaxed and perfectly balanced with her hands in her 
overcoat pockets , the very tips of her pointed bare toes in the snow, 
pressing her weight into the hard cobbles of the alley! It was a sight of 
contrasts that made him gulp with anticipation and curiosity. What sort of a 
woman was this? A classic beauty, feminine in every way - a woman of any 
man's dreams, yet so extraordinary in the way she was comfortably barefoot 
in the snow and standing on the toe tips of her gorgeous, pointed feet. Was 
it possible for a woman to do that in bare feet?  He couldn't believe his 
eyes as she seductively strutted toward him so easily on those powerful 
baretoe pointes, her high arches and deep insteps flexing with each sexy and 
mighty step.
"You look so surprised" she said in her sultry Russian accent, "You have not 
seen a woman walk like a ballerina before?" She paused a moment, not 
expecting a reply. "Or perhaps you have not seen this from a woman in bare 
feet?"
He looked into her icy blue eyes, now equal to his level, and felt his heart 
beat a little faster with desire and some confusion as he conceded. "Well.. 
yes. I must say it is a little unusual to see a beautiful woman such as 
yourself, with your shoes off - outside in this snow, and walking like a 
ballerina. Don't get me wrong, I do find it very appealing, but I'm not sure 
what this all means."
"Ah.. now you are beginning to wonder. I suppose you should be a little 
confused now." as she spoke in a condescending voice. "I will tell you... I 
use my bare feet to get what I want."
He was beginning to feel unsure. Up to this point this weird encounter with 
this beautiful Russian woman was pleasurably exciting - he was so eager to 
see what might be next. But now from the commanding tone of her voice and 
the obviously uncanny strength in her feet, he was growing uneasy with this 
scene.
"What do you want?" he cautiously asked.
A wicked smile painted itself on her lovely face while she slowly reduced 
her height by coming off toe tips to plant her bare soles into the light 
snow.
In the one moment he waited for her reply and couldn't believe how beautiful 
she was, then in the next he saw a white blur come from below her thick 
overcoat and felt a tremendous blow slam up into his face. He saw stars in 
the dark of the cloudy sky as his head snapped back from the impact. His 
body froze from the shock and surprise, but his head snapped forward and his 
vision cleared to see the rippled bottom of her bare size 11 hanging in the 
air, motionless, in front of his face. He stumbled forward, involuntarily 
burying his face into the waiting cushion of foot ripples. Her long gorgeous 
leg, fully extended from the middle of her overcoat, recoiled from the face 
falling into her foot. With hands still in her pockets, standing on one leg 
and  firmly foot-holding his head, she slowly straightened her raised leg, 
gently pushing against his face, allowing him to regain his wobbly legs.
With senses returning, all he could see, smell and feel was the bare sole of 
her foot. Then it vanished, and for a split second he saw that beautiful 
brunette smiling a wicked smile again - before he felt the high arch of her 
foot crashing into the side of his head from a perfectly executed roundhouse 
kick. He cartwheeled several meters down the alley from the impact, sliding 
to rest in the snow as a heap. As he shook the grogginess out of his skull 
he looked back to where she stood.
She was unruffled, calm and dominantly smiling down at him. It was odd, but 
he saw red ruby lips and rosy cheeks, large sparkling ear rings and 
snowflakes glittering from the dim streetlight around the triangular 
silhouette of her overcoat. Silky smooth bare legs, together and stemming 
down to out-turned feet. She looked so beautiful, standing barefoot in the 
snow - as pretty as a Christmas tree. But what was he thinking? A mental 
check brought him back to his predicament. Why? What did she want? What was 
this all about? He didn't ponder answers as a wave of anger then seized him 
when he considered his bruised face and ego. How dare this woman kick him 
around the alley the way she did. But anger quickly gave way to fear as he 
saw that curiously attactive bare foot - that deadly powerful bare foot, 
lift and point in front of her like a ballerina's again, pressing toe tips 
into the pavement and effortlessly taking her full weight. He feared the 
insane strength of  her feet now. She could use them as lethal  weapons! She 
slowly, almost seductively moved toward him, her beautiful  feet like 
perfect crescents with bare toe tips stabbing into the rock hard street as 
she floated. As he began to get up, he felt a wide, solid, two inch thick 
piece of plank beside him. Adrenaline began to rush into him as this 
beautiful but deadly threat approached him, and he picked up the heavy board 
easily in his heightened state. Woman or not, he was going to protect 
himself.
"What do you want?" he yelled at her.
She took a breath and replied quite matter of factly: "Hmmm... I want two 
things. The first I am always embarrassed to ask, but... it is that I want 
your money. The second is that I enjoy to use my feet on men. Especially 
big, strong, confident  man such as yourself - breaking your will to 
resist... with my feet... and making you beg to kiss my toes to stop." In a 
moment he realized that he was going to be a kicking bag for this woman, and 
possibly a dead one at that. He swung the board in front of her yelling 
"Stay back or I will break your feet!"
She laughed hard, casually taking a step forward and then launching one of 
her feet up into the plank like a rocket. At the same moment he tried to 
swing it at her, but got no further than quarter swing as he heard a loud 
crack and the felt the plank stinging in his hands. He looked up and saw in 
sheer astonishment and dread - that she had kicked her pointed bare toes 
right through the board! She kept laughing at him, like he was such a fool.
"Oh, I am sorry for my outburst of laughter, but you swinging that wood 
would surely not hurt my feet." and she stopped laughing. "As I am sure you 
can now appreciate, I was called at the Kremlin:  Missile Toes. Very 
suitable name for what I have been trained to do in my bare feet."
The plank was pulled from his hands and he took a scared step back, but 
stopped from going any further by the brick wall behind him. He watched in 
trepidation, and yet had to marvel at her leg strength, as she easily and 
gracefully placed the heavy, toe skewered board down in front of her like it 
was a feather. She moved toward him, balancing on the toes pierced through 
the plank beneath her, and balletically bringing her free leg up and out of 
her overcoat to slowly extend her pointed foot to his face. Like a scared 
rabbit that had been caught, he stood trembling, looking into her eyes that 
glowed with absolute command and power. He felt her hard heel press into his 
throat and then the sole wrap around his neck like it was a hand, holding 
him fast. She growled slowly:
"Get down on your hands and knees and watch what my feet could do to you."
And he felt the powerful force of her leg pulling him down to the ground, 
her immovable foothold twisting his neck so that his chin pointed up while 
he fell to all fours. She released him from her footgrip and he dropped his 
head to watch her crescent curved foot retract and disappear up into her 
coat. Then with a loud "Crack!", her pointed toes smashed down onto the 
board, splitting it on impact! He flinched back in shock. Her other foot 
twisted and pulled itself out of the board to rise up into her coat only to 
come crashing into the plank, pointed toes first with a wood cracking 
"Thud!". The first foot then repeated its downward thrust and so she began 
her incredible baretoe-assault on the heavy board. Her bare feet were like 
jackhammers, pounding into wood and paving stone alike, piledriving faster 
and harder, violently smashing the board to splinters. And he watched. His 
conscious reflecting on the absurdity of beautiful feminine feet being so 
strong and invincible, and he hoped to be awaken from what could only be a 
nightmare. But he heard the din of wood being smashed beneath her 
toes-of-steel and felt bits of wood flying up and striking him from her foot 
fury. Reality rushed pure terror through his mind and body as his senses 
heighten to a level never experienced before, yet his muscles were frozen 
and shaking. He could only absorb this unimaginable display of female foot 
power before him. His arms finally gave way from his immobilized hysteria 
and he felt his face sliding into the snow and splinters of wood - falling 
closer to the fatal, mechanical piston-like motion of her board thrashing 
bare feet.
Then it stopped.
He didn't know how long it was, but he finally heard silence.
Then he felt the stinging cold of snow melting on his cheek bringing him 
back to now. His heart was still racing from his extreme anxiety and he 
heard himself whimpering, yet he chanced opening his eyes to look in front 
of him. There they stood motionless in ballet pointe, amongst the pulp of 
splinters and broken wood - her terrifying bare feet! But a spark of  
intelligence thwarted his fear of them, and he lay still - just looking at 
them. He watched a falling snowflake whirl around them to finally join the 
rest, and he somehow felt more composed, less anxious while he stared at 
them. Regardless of how deadly - her feet were beautiful, and he remembered 
the words she spoke. Against his instincts, and with a great leap of 
courage, he pushed the side of his head the short distance through the snow 
so that his lips could touch the instep of her quarter-moon curved foot. A 
quick and lethal stroke from one of her imperious bare feet would have been 
the end of him, but they stood still, and he knew he had to worship them. He 
pressed his lips further, feeling her heat and smelling the sweet mix of 
wood, shoe leather, perfume and foot scent. He sensed that his behavior was 
acceptable when her statuesque foot swung forward so that more of her 
rippled and wrinkled sole was available to his lips. He continued kissing 
her foot with determined yet caring kisses. His trembling was subsiding 
enough so that he could reach up with his hand and gently hold the bowed 
arch of her foot while he kissed. The soft skin of her arch contrasted with 
the much harder and tougher texture of her bare sole, but he felt in awe 
that there was not a blemish, not any sign of injury to this stunning foot 
that had superhumanly toe stomped solid wood into splinters. He continued 
his subservitude to each foot, and would have willingly continued until 
signaled to do different. It was odd, but the stress built up from of his 
instinct to flight was slowly and powerfully surging to that of sex. They 
were beautiful feet in every way - magnificently curved in instep and arch 
to a prominent heel and sculptured ankle and covered in soft radiant skin. 
He wanted her femininely powerful feet like nothing he had felt before and 
he savored every hard wrinkle, dimple and bulge with his lips and tongue - 
becoming sexually charged as he went. Then her pointed, rock-like feet 
stepped back away from him. He followed them, crawling flat through the 
snow, but was met with light cuff to the side of the head from the arch of 
one foot. He stopped immediately and lay still, becoming fearful again. Then 
he heard  the word: "Up!" like a command to a pet. He carefully got on hands 
and knees and slowly raised his bowed head to look up at her. She had a 
posture that was so confident in its superiority, with hands still in 
pockets, yet he could detect a smile of satisfaction when he saw her ever 
striking appearance.
"Good boy." she spoke. "I think you respect what I can do to you with my 
bare feet very much now." And she dropped down from toe points to the flats 
of her soles while pulling a hand out of her coat to motion him to stand up.
While he obediently got up, she extended her hand and ordered: "Wallet!"
Without question he opened out his jacket to her and reached into his 
pocket, removing a long wallet, and placed it in her hand. She opened it and 
pulled out a handful of bills, tossing the wallet into the snow. She looked 
at all the green backs - the hundreds of US dollars he had only just changed 
for his return home. As she looked at the bills in her hand her expression 
turned from surprise to a wide smile of glee.
"Oh... you are a very good boy!" and she strutted toward him. He didn't 
move, not sure of her intentions, but he was comforted by her obvious 
happiness.
"Since you are such a good boy for giving me this present, that I am going 
to give you something..." and in fantastic move of flexibility and grace she 
brought her long gorgeous leg up from out of her coat and unfolded it so 
that it was perfectly vertical. She then swung it behind her shoulder and 
bent her knee so that the large, lovely toes of her wicked but beautiful 
foot nudged down on his forehead. She continued to say:
"A Christmas kiss under my Missile Toes!" and grabbing his chin and cheeks 
with her hand, she pulled herself up onto the tips of her toes to land a big 
smack of a kiss with her full sexy red lips on his twisted mouth. She moved 
his face away and raised her chin up to look down at him for a long moment, 
then pushed him away hard enough that he staggered back against the wall as 
she brought her leg from behind her shoulder back down to the ground. She 
looked at him with an evil glint in her eye and he understood that he was 
extremely lucky on the night and pursuing this event any further would 
certainly reverse his fortune. He watched her turn and effortlessly strut on 
the tips of her pointed toes - over to her awaiting stiletto slide shoes. 
Like sliding lethally deadly weapons back into their holsters she slipped 
her bare feet into her shoes and with elegant stealth, vanished into the 
falling snow with a SLAP... Slap... slap.
He slumped against the wall and began laughing with relief - he had survived 
this dreadful ordeal short some cash and sporting just a few bruises. Of 
course it was an unbelievable story that a man of his size and confidence 
had been mugged by a gorgeous and mysterious Russian woman who may have been 
ex-KGB - using her sexy, virtually superhuman bare feet, to terrorize him 
into a whimpering footslave. Who would ever take him seriously. It would 
have to be his secret, but he would remember this Prague Christmas like no 
other for the rest of his life. He stumbled over to pick up his wallet and 
walked out of  the alley towards what sounded like a tram rumbling in the 
distance.