"Heels desire" - now open

Welcome, Diamantine

I'm very glad you accepted to join my on this trip trough fantasy.

* * *

The chimes of the entrance door awake me as I was day-dreaming in the storage room. I wasn't satisfied with the drawing of a new knee-high lace-up pair of boots I was designing with an Italian shoemaker I usually worked with. I wished the heel to be higher, but at the same time didn't want the sole to be too thick. So I draw and draw again, unable to find a solution to this problem.

I took a quick glance at the woman who just entered, half hidden by the velvet curtain that separates the storeroom from the shop.

I wonder about the pictures she is looking at. What may it be? A dress she wishes to find matching shoes for? A pair of shoes she saw in a magazine and want to buy? I secretly wish I can fulfill her wishes… And, Ohh,, she is browsing the spike heels shelf. But no, she doesn't look like someone who wears such stuff. She looks like a business woman, one of those powerful women that haunt the business district. Her shoes, although simple and low-heeled, are shiny and well waxed. A good point for her.

Stepping forward, I greet her, smiling:

- Good afternoon, Madame, my name is Philipp and I'm the owner of this shop. Is there anything I could do for you?

As always when working, I am formally dressed: a conservative grey suit, white shirt with golden cuff links, a dark blue silk tie and black Oxfords. Only a careful observer could notice that, instead of socks, I wear a pair of fishnet black stockings.

She smiles back, white pearly teeth flashing:

- Ohh, yes, thank you, I was just wondering if you could help me find….

* * *

I notice her blushing… how nice she looks, rosy cheeks, running down her throat.

- Let me see… XVIIIth century, yes…Merteuil and Valmont… very daring, I must admit, not a dress for everybody to wear, I said, glancing at the photograph, trying to fill the gap between her business-like appearance and this incredible creation of silk and lace. Could you please follow me?

I lead her to a desk, from where under I take a large, black leather bond book.

- My private collection, of special orders, I explain to her while I flip through the pages – pages and pages of drawings, exhibitions catalogues cuttings, movies stills, even some pictures from S&M magazines.

She steps closer, I can now smell her perfume of lavender.

- Here we are, I tell her, turning the open book towards her. XVIIth century, guaranteed. Inspired by the pair Marie-Antoinette wore, when painted by Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun. Of course I can have them made for you, Madame.

She stares at this magnificent creation of the Baroque craftsmen, a marvel of leather and wood; a fine slipper made of red leather, embroided with an intricate silver flower pattern. The 5-inches heels are delicately curved backwards, giving the steps a graceful allure; the front is pointed, to make the foot look thinner.

- If could suggest, Madame, some minor improvements to the original model. I take a sheet of paper, a lead pencil box. The color could be… a darker red, to match the burgundy color of the corset. Here, slightly thinning the heel, and lowering it a bit, for the sake of comfort. I suppose that you shall dance, at this party this, ah, friend of yours invited you ?

- Yes, I shall dance and, of course, euhh, move around, she answers, while her delicately manicured fingers stroke the drawing on the table between us. But no, keep the heels at this height, please.

- I must admit that they will look very graceful. Could you please allow me to take your foot size, Madame?

Slightly touching her arm, I lead her to one of the armchairs; while I grab the low stool.

- A size 5 1/2 , if I guess right?

* * *

A whiff of hot leather and light perspiration catches me as I free her delicate foot from its yoke, a smell of lust and desire. Of course, how can she be a size 5 1/2 ; all swollen and sore. Ahh, the time of the Marquises is long gone, the time of caring, loving servants that would massage, oil, pamper, take care of these beautiful feet…a Virginia creeper infusion, or some rosemary oil… And ticklish she is, of course, as most sensual women are…. Unfortunately, as of today, people run straight to the most obvious, the most easy parts…lips, tits, ass, dick… as if other parts of the body didn't exist…weren't erotic… calves, ankles, toes, shoulders, knees, and upwards, back, neck, shoulder blades, earlobes, ….

While I let these thoughts trail, her nice foot rested on my thigh, and I massaged it gently, careful not to tickle her, as promised. The soft feeling of her smooth silk stocking, the warmth of her tender and soft flesh… I let this moment trail, long enough to enjoy it, short enough not to upset her.

I smile inwardly as Ms Ellis expressed the wish to try some tall heels I have in store. Of course, dear, you can try all the pair I have in store, from now until dawn, as long as you let me take care of these attractive lotus flowers of yours, sweet... of these and other things…

- Do not worry about the money, Ms Ellis, we shall talk about this later. I'm a shoe seller by trade, of course. But for some extra orders that that flatten my tastes, I can be very generous. Such opportunities are seldom…. Let me see…. What could suit you most… Lets start with this, I think.

While I talked to her, I browsed the shelves, wondering what would suit Ms Ellis best. These stiletto heel slipper?… no, too daring, for now… these spiked Mary-Janes? Why not, but, no, … Ahh, here we are: 3", open toed strap sandals, purple leather, gilded heel, spiky enough for the look but large enough for balance.

- Would you like to try these, Miss? I think they are perfect for a first try. Mind if I help you?

She smiled as her manicured fingers caressed the varnished smoothness of the calf-skin.

- Please, she answers, extending her foot towards me.

* * *

- Ohh, for sure, you could come back to your office wearing these, but... I let my voice trail, heart still beating from the warm feeling of her hand in mine. The soft skin. The light contact.

- But, if I may object.... I stand close behind her, as she stares at her image in the mirror. I put my hands boldly on her hips, This long skirt pays your long and beautyful legs no tribute.

Slowly, careful not to hurt her feelings, looking straight in her eyes trough her reflexion in the mirror, I lift her skirt... past her knees... up her thighs... her shiny stockinged legs look beautiful, glowing in the afternoon sun that shines through the curtains of the shop. The round softness of the knee.... The fullness of her thigh...

Tensed at first, I can now feel her slowly relaxing, her soft waist is now very close to mine, it's almost as if I could feel her, clinging to me. Her round buttocks are inches of my bulging pants, and I have to fight very hard not to press her against me. How soft it must feel... But, non, too early, too soon...

Moving very slowly, I take her hands in mine, gently instructing her to hold her skirt raised overt her legs.

- Now, walk across the shop, Miss, show your glamourous legs.. why hide your beauties?

* * *

Once again, I take her warm and smooth fingers between mine as I lead her to the armchair. This time, with her jacket off and her skirt high on her legs, feet clad in purple leather, she looks more confident, more radiant… Encouraged by her bravado when she locked the store, I feel bolder, too. With careful moves, I remove her shoes, letting her feet rest on my thigh, sending shivers to my groin. I can't resist the urge to caress her delicate flesh, still bearing the marks of the straps, thin rosy lines criss-crossing her skin. This is too good to be true, I think as I plant a smooth kiss on her toes.

- Mmm, Ms Ellis, now that you've tried these, you want to climb higher…I think you're bound to become a heel aficionado. But before achieve wearing the tallest heels, you should try these, I say to her as I reach for a cardboard box.

Kneeling in front of her, I show her a pair of matt gold silken sandals. The heels are now 5".

- This is real silk, Miss, not suitable for walking around your office, but perfectly suitable for smooth carpets or the polished ballroom parquet, I tell her while I knot the silk ribbons around her thin ankles. The color matches the one of you skirt, you look beautiful...

This time, I don't have to hold her skirt up, getting up in one smooth motion, she defiantly lifts the soft crepe high on her legs, way past her knees. She walks around the shop, admiring her allure in the mirror, her steps a little uneasy at the beginning, but gaining self-assurance at each stride.

- Imagine you're walking on a line drawn on the floor, Miss, yes, like this… good…. Try and keep these ankles straight, yes, it's getting better… Keep hour hands on your hips, and move your pelvis, follow the rhythm of your steps… humm, good, yes…

This time, I do nothing to hide the stiffness that grows inside my pants. After a few strides, she performs a catwalk tune and, with a swirl of beige crepe, defies me, eyes gleaming, lips glossy with pleasure.

I reach slowly for her shoulders, caressing her round flesh trough the fabric of her blouse. Slowly, locking her eyes in mine, I undo the top buttons, unveiling her cleavage, until her brassiere is in view. Sliding my trembling fingers under her shirt, I spread the sides, creating a décolleté effect.

- Look at you, Miss, what do you think of it? I ask her while I turn her towards the mirror. I undo her hair, allowing it to cascade down her shoulders.

The severe businesswoman seems to be forgone, a new woman comes to life….

* * *

I was speechless for a moment… The woman that stands in front of me is way different from the one that entered the shop moments ago. How bold she looks now, almost naked and yet triumphant, her long shapely legs encased in silk, her beautiful feet, and her full breasts, cinnamon and milk…. Venus it is, indeed…I stay there, stating at her, her delicious curves, drinking the details, a sparkle amidst her pearls, the pulse that race under the skin of her breasts, the golden knot at her ankle… I felt my cock aching, the situation was so intensely erotic… It was to live situations like this one that I had open Heels Desire….

"You too, Philipp. Please take off your pants, so I don't feel underdressed." Her remark hit me like a punch in the stomach. I couldn't retreat; I couldn't turn her request down. But what will she think when she will discover how I am dressed, under the conservative suit?

- One minute, please, I croaked, running for the storage room.

There, I take suit, tie and shirt off. My hands shake as I fumble with the tie knot. My whole body shakes, actually; trembling with anticipation and fear… I only have one second to make up my mind, undress completely or stay like this? Quick, quick, she might change her mind, my thoughts are swirling, my heart beats like a mad drum… Audaces fortuna juvat…

When I enter the shop again, I pause for a moment, letting her take the picture. Apart from black fishnet stockings; I wear assorted lacy boxer shorts that too slightly hides the deep impact Ms Ellis has on my manhood; and simple, black, 3" heeled, slippers.

You cannot admire heels and fancy shoes, and not wishing to try them, just once. For the fun of it. To… see how it feels to walk, perched on 6 inches of spiked steel. And it feels great… But then, one cannot walk around, even privately, wearing sandals and plain black cotton socks. The next step came naturally: along with the heels came women's underwear… And that was fun, too. The smoothness of silk. The tight contacts of the stockings. The tease of lace.
One hand one the hip, I pace the length of the store, until I reach the mirror, and back, striding the carpet like on a catwalk. And catch her eyes, and stand her look. I feel no longer ashamed, no longer needing to hide this secret.

I catch her eyes, and hope so dearly she will smile back…

* * *

Her smile washes doubts and fear away from my mind. Her eyes, gleaming with surprise and excitement detail me from top to toe. And her look arouses me. Her hands along my legs, smooth and warm through the fabric of my stockings. The sight of her full breasts, seen from above, as she kneels before me. Her fingers, caressing my feet, the stem of my heels. And moving up again, inside my thighs, nearing my cock…

You are beautiful, Philipp,she murmurs up to him. The question I have now is...which do you prefer? Me in stockings and heels? Yourself in stockings and heels? Or perhaps both equally? I don't know. Do you?

I take gently her hands in mine; moving them away from my bulge, restisting the dire need of attention I feel. There is still one hour to go before she leaves; I do not want to spoil the moment. Instead, I caress her cheeks, her earlobe, gentle light kisses. Still holding her hands, I pull closer, until I feel her breasts pushed against my chest, the cotton of her panties ruffling the lace of mine. Her mons veneris smooth and soft through the fabric of our hosiery; pressing my hardness, imperceptibles little moves back and forth, eternal dance of desire and lust.

I like you, in heels and stockings, watching me, in heels and stockings… I like to way you look as me, Ms Ellis, this… arises me so much, I whisper to her, while pushing a little harder against her groin.

With a firm squeeze, I silently ask her to keep her hands crossed over her cheeks, moving mine along her back, feeling the softness of her skin, taking every muscle, every bone in, slow little flicks that send shivers over her whole body. Reaching the middle of her back, I unhook her bra, freeing her breasts from their white cage. How beautiful they are, full round hills, with dark areolas and stiff nipples. I shiver when she presses harder against me, desire is a torture now, our waists are glued together, hot flesh pulsing, mad heartbeats…

Ohh, please, Philipp, she moans, as I break the intimate contact of our bodies.

Wait, wait… waiting is part of the game, dear, the more you wait, the better it will become…

I lead her again to the armchair, the leather cold to her bare thighs. Kneeling in front of her, legs wide spread to show her my desire in full, I gently unknot the ribbon, take her sandal off. I roll her stockings down, careful not to spoil the thin fabric. Short cut nails run down her legs, lightly scratching, lightly massaging…

I take her left foot in my hand, and raise it, until it touches my face. My tongue traces intricate patterns on her bare skin, between her toes, the underside. She is no more ticklish now, she purrs as she discovers this new pleasure. The trip of my kisses is never ending, never leaving a place not licked, over and over again. I suck at her big toe, taking it between my lips, playing with its roundness, feeling her painted nail, while my hands caress her ankle, her calf, the tender flesh behind her knee. I suck, and then lick, sometimes moving up to her calf, sometimes a tiny butterfly lick over her skin. And stat sucking again. And licking her toes. And again… I feel in heaven, and so does she, her hands are over her breasts, she presses her nipples, fondle with herself. The sole of her sandal rests on my stiffness, she teases me by pressing and then removing her foot.

Looking up, I can clearly see a large patch of moistness, between her legs. I stand up; breaking again the intimate contact we shared. Her eyes are more beautiful as ever, gleaming with joy. Tiny droplets of sweat shine between her breasts.

Hooking m fingers in the waistband of my lacy panties, without leaving her eyes, without flicking, I ask her, voice horse from emotion:

Do you want me to undress, Ms Ellis? Or shall I keep my stockings and heels on?

* * *

"Oh, Philipp...take those damned shorts off...but keep...everything else on. I want...I want to feel your legs...in the stockings... here… And I want to see you...and me...there."

Oh, how I love the look in her eyes, desire and lust… I like the way she looks at me... This is so crazy, me standing, in my secret feminine attire, before an unknown business woman… Someone I'll never see again, someone whose first name I even don't know… Crazy, indeed, but so exciting…

With deliberate slowness, I lower my lacy shorts. When the hem reaches the tip of my aching cock, I turn around, showing her my buttocks; just to have her wait longer. At least, my panties lay now wrinkled at my ankles. My painful dick springs free; teasingly I turn again towards her, hands cupped to cover it. This time, I let her remove my hands; her light fingers brush my dick, as she takes the full view of it. I direly want her to open her moist lips, to take me in her mouth… But no, I resist this temptation, instead I ask her to get up, to put her sandals on again. We are now both in front of the foot mirror, side by side. Her bare body presses against mine, my silk covered legs against hers. I know she wants me to fill her, I can feel her yearning, I can tell, by the shaking of her body, that she needs attention ~ close attention.

My hands run down her panties, feeling her firm ass, her round hips, her inner thighs. I move closer and closer to her mound, until she reaches for the elastic band of her underwear, pulling it down in one swift motion. Her carefully trimmed pussy in now in full view, such a beautiful sight I can't resist the urge to kneel in front of her. From where she stands, she can see my bare back, my ass, the sole of my high heeled sandals. Reflection of a strange creature in the mirror …

My face is very close to her slit. The salty scents of her lust reach me; all the details of her intimacy are engraved with burning precision in my brain. I brush her cropped hair; rub my cheek against her tender flesh.
She lifts her leg, letting it rest over my shoulder, hands on my head to keep her balance. Rosy pearly petals unfold, gleaming with dew. Light licks, just the tip of the tongue, taste of seaweed and salt, deeper, fingers grabbing her buttocks, nose rubbing, … fingers scrubbing her lips, tongue deep inside her, light intoxication… She likes it, purring and sighing, her fingers in my hair, her leg pushing closer on my back.

I get up, my dick is now close to her entrance, she wants it, I want it, we want it now, this must happen, now, now and here… I let her get hold of my dick, she guides me inside… soft tender boiling flesh all around me, the silk of my stockings, her bare flesh, thunderstorms building in my head, thunderbolts cracking in my groin. It happens, I'm in now, eyes closed, unsteady on my heels, hands running up and down, her full breasts, nipples pressed hard, pinching, kissing, her lips, her tongue, her body shaking, my heart pounding, her breath fast and deep, incoherent words, saliva, juices, sweat….electricity


Oh, how I love the look in her eyes, desire and lust…

* * *

As I lay on my back, I feel her whole body falling over me, white full buttocks moving up and down. Her wet folds engulf my cock, her legs pressing my sides. I can see in the mirror her heavy breasts heaving, rolling… And her hands over my legs, skin and silk, down my ankles, my calves, she bends forward, my cock aches at the awkward angle, her nipples pressed against my legs. Her ass is tempting near, my caresses become more insistent, I slap her lightly, following the rhythm of her moves.

I take her ankles, lift them over my chest. Her heels are close to my face, I could lick them… The tip of the tongue, metallic taste, smell of lust. I wish I could take the whole steely hem in my mouth, but the position isn't right. Her movements are fast and hard, her soles are hurting, but it feels so good. In the mirror, I can see her face, red with effort, inches from my feet. Will she lick my feet? Her hands are now under the hem of my stockings, I can feel her warm fingers running up and down my skin. Hard movements, I wish I could cum, but I fight the idea the best I can. Not now, not like this. Putting my hands on her hips, I slow her pace, bring her movements to a halt. She whimpers, disappointed. Get up, please.

I lead her to the arm chair again, spread her legs. Her inner thighs are glistering, her lips swollen. I go down on her, just to taste her, and share her juices in a wet kiss. I kneel between her legs, lift them over my shoulders. She takes my cock with her fingers, guiding me inside her, again. I enter, in one smooth movement, deliberately slowly, until she begs for more, deeper, faster. When I'm completely in her, I retreat, as slow as possible, until I'm almost out, then push forward again. My hands are on her ankles, on her calves, on her feet. I take one foot in my hands, and start liking at it again. My lips on her toes increase her pleasure, she begs me to suck her, to lick her…to fuck her… Forwards, backwards, slow and careful, until she cries with frustration. Then, I accelerate, rubbing her love button with my thumb, bringing her to a second orgasm. She whines and cries, her breasts covered with sweat. I wait for a moment, allowing her pleasure to subside. Then I move out of her cunt, planting a light kiss on her engorged pussy.

A quick trip to the storage room, and I'm back, offering her a glass of champagne I keep there for special occasions. She accepts the drink, and, as we click glasses, her smile is a bright reward for me. Having sipped at her glass, she asks me, pointing at my still hard cock:

But you, Philipp, what about you?

It's up to you, Ms Ellis. You can leave it as it is. Or you can offer me pleasure.

Silently, I beg her to chose the latter.

* * *

It is my choice: in her mouth, or all over her face, or splashing her breasts, or...

It's too darn tempting; it would be so easy just to open the floodgates, to let it go. I feel weaker and weaker, my will power is eaten out, I have to cum… mind swirling, thunderstorms rising in my groin, my cock, shaking my body…. Her tight lips circling my flesh, rose lipstick smears… and her eyes, fierce, taunting, daring, her eyes that shout "fuck me, use me, stain my face and breasts, but you will never own me", silent challenge, her will against mine…

But my will is weakening; desire is going to overwhelm me… I sink my dick in her wanting mouth, like a deep sea diver who gets out of air, gripping her hair tight and hard, pressing her face, I want to bury in her, to erase her stare and her face; she does no longer exist, she is just a sucking mouth that pumps and pumps and pumps….

And then I come, at least, growing, an ever expanding universe of colors and feelings and pleasure and … pain. Exploding, I surrender at least, willpower annihilated, complete abdication of what I was, to give birth to something different… each climax is removing a layer of our old selves…

I… cum… for you…. I croak, filling her mouth with burning semen.

Unsteady, staggering, vision blurred by sights and visions, all senses concentrated on this very point, there, down my groin… Heaven and hell, explosion of thousand suns, eternal fate.

Falling on my knees, I face her, daring look straight at her eyes, taking her radiant face in my hands. My lips touch hers, deep kiss, tasting salt and peppermint…. Eyes closed, now, her head resting on my shoulder, peaceful tide over our exhausted bodies… Bliss….

Thank you …

**************

After a long moment, Ms Ellis stands up, unsteady and weak. I head for the storage room, absent mindedly putting my conservative suit on, knotting my protective tie.

When I come back, she is sitting in the armchair, fully dressed, business like and efficient. Her silken sandals lay, discarded, tossed at the far corner of the shop.

I open my appointment book, browsing through the pages:

Err, Ms Ellis, your order should be ready for next Wednesday. Could you drop in by, say, 4 o'clock, for the fitting?

* * *

Four won't work. When does the shop close? I could be here by 5:30 if I rearrange a planning meeting. But...I will understand if you can't stay open late. I could send a courier to pay and pick the shoes up; then I could try them on and notify you of any adjustments I need.

If only she'd know… I could stay open all night, for her, not only to experiment again this immense, mind-blowing moment we shared, to just to see her, enjoy the sight of her, walking around wearing heels, her shiny legs catching glisters of sun, massaging her feet with Chanel cream, painting her nails glossy prune…

- 5:30 is just fine, or 6, if you prefer. I don't mind being… late, and there will be few customers to, hum, disturb us… for the fitting, I mean, I add hurriedly, fearing to upset her.

- All right then, 6 o'clock next Wednesday. She snaps her appointment book shut, tucks it in her briefcase and, with a simple nod, walks out of the shop.

The gentle chimes of the doorbell accompany her exit…

The following days were endless, mindless hours. Every time I looked up from my desk, the woman on the Helmut Newton poster that hung on the wall had her face, her looks…

The only task I could fulfill was to finish her order. I draw and draw again, unable to be satisfied with the result. I sent countless faxes to the craftsman who had the dangerous task to translate my dreams in leather. I offered him a bonus if he worked late, I made his life unbearable… nothing mattered but her satisfaction…

And over and over, her image hovered around, spinning around my mind, her legs, her mouth, the salty taste of her cunt, and… her eyes, glistering, shining emeralds…

I wanted to look at my best, spending countless hours to choose what I would wear. There shall be no more surprise, then, she must know that I would don my feminine attire, but would she expect this?

Ahh, I hope she will wear the dress she showed me….

The previous night, I couldn't sleep. The slippers were delivered on time. Breathtaking, powerful creation, the leather the exact color I wished, the inlays carefully embroidered; the heel to the perfect height… And they smelled wonderful, the warm, rich smell of new leather…

* * *