Anonymous - Miss High-heels:the story of a rich but girlish young gentleman under the control of his pretty step-sister and her aunt

Miss. Priscilla nodded her head in approval; she turned to me and said, "Have you your big diamond buckles on your satin slippers?"

"Yes, Miss. Priscilla," I replied blushing.

"Lift your skirt and let me see!"

With a shy smile of pleasure-I could not help smiling-I raised the hem of the exquisite satin frock in my delicately gloved fingers. There came into view my slender feet in exquisitely cut, new, glistening, white satin slippers with wonderful arched, narrow Louis Quinze heels. They had pointed toes embroidered with pearls and butterfly bows of dainty white tulle. Mounted on the bows were big blazing diamond buckles. The slim little slippers were posed with the heels together and the toes turned out as Phoebe had arranged them. I pulled the skirt higher, exposing a pair of round arched insteps and small finely moulded ankles. My flesh showed prettily pink through tightly strained stockings of white silk with lace insertions. I had never before seen such stockings, never even dreamed of things so beautiful. They were of the finest gossamer, transparent as cobwebs. They were filmy delicious ornaments, rather than coverings, with a soft sheen that was lovely. Such stockings and slippers were fit for some blushing beautiful debutante of high birth and enormous wealth, to make her curtsey in before her Queen. No one else could have afforded them.

Miss. Priscilla stooped and held out her hands.

"Give me your pretty foot."

Coquettishly I hesitated, just like a pretty girl who pretends modesty, the better to display what she knows to be her best points.

"Oh, Miss. Priscilla," I demurred.

"At once, Denise."

I extended a foot. She took it in her hands, tried the buckle to make certain that it was secure, felt the slipper to see that it was tight enough, and measured the heel.

As she took my foot between her two strong hands, I felt familiar erotic sensations aroused in my body and blood. My heart began to move and I felt the heat rise to my head and to my cock. The simultaneous pleasure of being ordered to obey Miss. Priscilla and the exquisite sensation I was experiencing as she held my foot, admiring its grace and form. It was almost all I could do not to swoon right there as Miss. Priscilla held my foot.

I had felt these same stirrings only under very specific circumstances before. There was that experience with Guy Repton that was quite an adventure. And while I was at the girls' school, there was a girl named Nellie who had a great fascination with my body, and whom under the cover of night, I had allowed into all my secrets. Ah, Nellie's hands! She liked to massage my soft flesh so, and she was fond of tickling my titties. She even loved to play with my cock and balls and on especially randy nights she would let her fingers roam to the little virgin rosette of my bottom. Oh! Oh! But I shall write more of Nellie on pages to follow.

I return our attentions to the strange and wonderful passions that were being excited in my flesh as Miss. Priscilla held my foot firmly in her gloved hands. I felt the blood rushing to my loins, and I sensed that my pink nipples were soon erect because of the excitement I was experiencing. I moaned a little, trying very hard to stifle my pleasure, but Miss. Priscilla heard me. She looked at my face sharply. I could see in her eyes a form of pleasure and a special kind of powerful recognition that she was giving me great delight by holding my foot thus.

"They are very pretty," she said with cold content.

"Put them together again, Denise. You disobeyed me."

"Miss. Priscilla, I only hesitated."

"You were trying your little coquetries on me, Denise," she said with a shrewd smile which brought the blushes to my face. "I punish coquetry. You were indulging your vanity by making play with your dainty slippers and I punish vanity, Denise. You will go down to dinner and sit through dinner with your pretty mouth gagged."

"A very good thing for Miss. Denise," said Phoebe delightedly.

I was startled. More than startled, I was appalled, perhaps a little excited.

"Oh, Miss. Priscilla! Am I to sit among the guests at a dinner party -in this lovely frock-in these satin slippers and stockings- with my mouth gagged!"

"Yes, Denise!"

"Diamond shoe buckles and high heels for my feet and a gag for my mouth. Oh, oh!" I gasped.

Poignant emotions stirred me, troubled me, provoked my passions. I will tell the whole truth. I was ashamed, but I also anticipated the impending punishment with a strange secret thrill of delight. Ever since I had been a boy, I had been besieged with queer fancies that at first I had ignored. Soon the fancies began to fascinate and frighten me. I recognized that my fantasies of correction might be a danger to my character. My fantasies might be an obstacle to the great career that lay before me.

I had dreamed of an exotic, extravagant world in which ladies would punish me. I imagined myself as a girl in the most exquisite of frocks and high-heeled shoes. I imagined gloves and corsets and them laughing at my pretensions to a career. These dominating women would keep me in bondage and subjection. A toy for their amusement. I had fought against these fancies because I felt them to be unusual, impossible, and bizarre. I had ridiculed them in my own mind as preposterous. Yet now these fantasies seemed part of my nature. They were being translated into fact, and in the process, I was fascinated and obsessed with an erotic force a thousand times stronger than before. It had thrilled me with strange delightful emotions to imagine myself dressed in the luxurious gowns of a fashionable girl, undergoing punishments and humiliations and dainty tortures at the hands of a laughing beautiful woman deaf to my prayers. How thrilled and excited was I when my dream became true!

I tried, however, to struggle against the strange, sweet pleasure invading my senses. For I knew that Helen hated me, and she thought I had, by inheriting my father's fortune, robbed her. I was afraid that she and Miss. Priscilla were seeking to master me completely, therefore getting it back. I was afraid that Miss. Priscilla, with her knowledge of psychopathia, had guessed my secret fancies and by translating them into fact was seeking to reduce me to willing servitude. For now, though, the pleasure mastered the fear. It was the scintillating pleasure of a dream fulfilled that had made me offer so miserable a resistance to my first corset and my banishment to a girls' school.

Miss. Priscilla had one more question to ask of me as I stood there before the closed mirror with my ivory ankles gracefully together and the big buckles flashing on my glistening slippers.

"There was a third tight white kid glove I arranged for you to wear. Have you it on?" I went scarlet. But if I did not answer I should be punished. I hung my head.

"Yes, Phoebe buttoned it on," I replied in a whisper of confusion. Miss. Priscilla was content.

"I must see it!" Miss. Priscilla charged.

I blushed more deeply than before as I sighed, "Oh, Miss. Priscilla, please…"

"I want no disobedience from you, young lady!" she snapped at me.

Her voice terrified me and thrilled me, as there was a subtle form of threat occurring underneath the calm exterior of her cruel face.

"Phoebe, arrange her skirts so I might see that the third glove is buttoned and in its place," Miss. Priscilla shrilled with authority.

"Yes, Miss.!" Phoebe chirped, happily obliging. She went to work carefully lifting my dress and soft white satin slip so that Miss. Priscilla could take a look at the little glove that had been sewn especially for my cock.

Miss. Priscilla had ordered a tailor to construct this fascinating little belt, suggesting that the piece be sewn from soft kid leather. The tailor had obliged, and had managed to create a fabulous little sheath that kept my cock and balls in place so that the lovely lines of my dresses would not be marred by the bulge that showed without the third glove. Thus the prettiness of my appearance would not be disrupted by the distraction of my male sex. The leather sheath cupped my member closely, while delicate little straps went round the slender part of my waist and met in a V that went down and between the cleft of my buttocks.