"I trust in you, Jen! Walk like a superstar!"

"I'm glad that you trust in me, but what do you mean? I haven't seen many superstars opting for this kind of footwear."

"Spine straight, shoulders set back, and there won't be any more silly questions."

It seemed counter-intuitive, but {If She knows = true}Jen had to give it a try, as she did not want to crawl over the ice cold tiles.{else}Jen thought this must have been the reason of ballet heels' low popularity outside fetish community — fools could not figure them out!{endif}

"I said, straighten your shoulders! Oh, it makes your boobs stick out and you're hesitating to show them off? These boots are not for the shy, they are made to be worn with pride, or else you fall down and remain there along with your concerns and complexes."

Jen closed her eyes and focused on her posture, trying to shoo away the creeping feeling of the possibility that she was being watched, and made a step along the locker she was still holding securely. However, her calculations were faulty, and after a mere second she was clutching it with all strength she had just to avoid another meeting with the punishing floor.

"Ah! Fuck! Come on, stand up... Any more bright ideas?"

"I'd be happy to share some more, but you keep failing to follow the one I gave you already! Let go of your fears. And that locker."

Finally, Jen realized. She closed her eyes once more and imagined herself in the middle of a catwalk with tens of judging eyes staring right at her large, round tits. Panic and shame are no help, the one way to act is to walk your best.

The girl took a small, yet way more confident step. Then another one. Then some more. Her swaying hips caused the dildo inside her to sway as well, rewarding her mind with significant arousal just from walking. Jen opened her eyes and continued her march, disappointed by the fact that the imaginary jury was not jumping out from behind the wardrobes she was passing.

She approached a structure in the hall that got her to stop and pay attention. It looked like a large black canopy with books and journals in piles and stacks. There also was an armchair placed down for a potential reader. It was upholstered with ink black rubber and looked a bit like a massage chair, but Jen's detailed view revealed some peculiar features, such as dedicated holes for legs and arms, as well as a velcro strap for attaching one's neck.

The girl knew that her pressured feet needed rest, {If She knows = true}but she also knew better than to put her limbs inside dubious designs, so she carefully sat down on the edge.{else}but she also did not plan to sit down for too long, wasting the accumulating sexual energy.{endif} The surface was slippery due to the thinnest layer of some kind of lubricant applied to the chair, so it was rather hard to resist slipping into it completely.