RetroXotique - Kinky Boots & Leather Suits

Dorothy could see the writing on the wall. As the Americans say, “Shape up or Ship Out”. The next day she had thought long and hard about what to do. But what options did she really have? She did not want to lose Dave, for if she did, where would she go? She was 44, never had a job in her life, living in sin with a man 15 years younger and still legally married to a man in Bedford. That evening, she made her decision, when he came home, she was dolled up to the nines and dressed in the latest bedroom outfit he had bought her. The subject had not been mentioned since and Dorothy had bit her tongue as over the years, she had to wear increasingly embarrassing outfits when out with Dave. And in the privacy of the flat it was a continual parade of bizarre costumes and other more bizarre fixations.

Back to tonight, Dorothy went into the bathroom and had a quick flannel wash, making sure there was little steam, as her beehive hairstyle would fall. Once dry, she got dressed again in a bedroom bra and short corset, this was done as quickly as she could, but she was hampered by her 1” long nails, and she had to be very careful as Dave got so angry if she broke one. Dorothy took care not to check the mirror until she was covered, as she really did not want reminding of how her 50 year old, overweight body sagged without the buttressing of her resolute foundation garments. Dave was of the same opinion and got angry if she walked past him in the nude. He wanted her looking like a pneumatic pinup girl at all times. She sat down at her dressing table, put her glasses back on and pulled on a pair of dark seamed nylons and then stretched around to clip the eight wide garters tight, slipped her 5” stilettos back on and started on her make up. She removed her glasses and squinted at the mirror. Dave did not like her wearing glasses and certainly not out at night. If they went to the cinema, the only pair she was allowed to wear were some pink, horn rimmed glasses with rhinestones all over them.

First, she cleaned off her restrained daytime face and started on her ‘full’ evening look. Two layers of her heavy pinkish pancake on her face, with a lighter layer below and to the sides to try to hide her burgeoning double chin and jowls. Next came the pink blusher high on her cheeks. Then, with a little grimace came, her largest set of black false eyelashes, Dave’s Favourite, they were so big and heavy that by the end of the night her eyes would be sagging. She carefully glued them and adjusted them so that they stuck out a full half an inch, and then 5 layers of thick mascara top and bottom, dusting them between each application to get a thicker effect. When they were finished, it was so thick she could hardly blink. Next came the three bands of eye shadow, starting on her lids with a deep pink, blending to a light pink at the top, stretching from the bridge of her nose well out to above her cheeks in an extended teardrop shape. Above she used a thick black eyebrow pencil to create high arched brows. Out came the thick, deep pink lipstick and she built up 3 layers and edged her lips with eye pencil. She wiped off the excess with a tissue and she was done. She peered dolefully through the thick lashes at her reflection and frowned. No matter how much makeup she applied, there was no hiding it, she was getting old. Dave insisted she wear this much makeup every time they went out and had for years, at least every other women was wearing a lot these days. She checked her hair, her high peroxide blonde beehive had been freshly done this morning. She tidied up a few tendrils back and front and frosted it with half a can of rigid hairspray. She had been a blonde for five years now, at first in a Jayne Mansfield style who Dave worshipped, but when the bouffant styles had come around, he got Dorothy to pile hers higher and now with her beehive it stood fully 12” high, rising in an inverted cone, and on occasion it had been even higher.

Dave loved it, but she loathed it. It was, so false, and to hold it steady until the next week’s appointment, it was absolutely solid with lacquer. She shook her head and it did not move an inch. She finished off by applying dabs of perfume to what little flesh was still showing. It was Dave’s favourite, but Dorothy found it so overpowering it sometimes made her feel sick.

Right, finished! She popped on her glasses and got up. She hoped Dave was not feeling too amorous when he got home, as he would mess up her face and it would take ages to repair. She went to the wardrobe and pulled out the new boots. She was going to be very embarrassed wearing them on their first trip out, she would even much prefer her normal stiletto’s. It was not that she had not worn boots before, there were several pairs in the wardrobe, it was that she had not worn them outside the flat. It would have been seen as too “kinky.” But, now they were just in fashion sparked off by Honor Blackman in the TV program the Avengers. But Honor never wore anything like these. They had 7” heels; which was just about as high as she could manage even in the flat. The boots were close laced with shiny black laces all the way up to the top of her thighs. Dave had ordered them especially from Regent Shoes and this was there first trip out.

Dorothy gave them a polish and sat back down on the stool, slipped of her stilettos, pulled the first one on and pushed her toes, with bunion complaining, into the sharp toe box. She quickly hooked the laces, going back down one, each time to pull out the last bit of slack, making sure the gap was even all the way up the front to mid calf. After that, she heaved with all her might on each hook of the boot, as she knew if she did not there would be insufficient lace at the top. Last night, Dave had laced them as tight as he could manage and then cut the excess lace off. He loved the way it moulded her flabby thighs into a smooth, tightly restricted shape. The tight laced boot squeezed a thick ring of flesh out of the top. She continued with the second and was just finishing when she heard the front door go.

“Hiya, Babe! Be in a minute”

Dorothy quickly stood up, staggering as her feet were forced upright and forward and steadied herself on the dressing table, then quickly whipped off her glasses and put them in a draw, tottering unsteadily over to the wall. Although she had pumps as high as this, the boots were more difficult to walk in as the tight lacing left her with very little ankle movement. She turned undid her corset laces and hung them over a strong hook on the wall, with long experience, she leaned forward and rapidly pulled her waist in, not too tight, but enough so that her figure was smoothed and she had a slight wasp waist. Dave got so uptight if she wasn’t laced. She put on her long black frilled peignoir, to cover the bulges at the top of the boots.

Checking herself in the mirror and finding nothing for Dave to get irritated about, Dorothy then busied herself taking the new suit out of its cover and laying it on the bed. Dave came in and hugged her from behind.

Hello gorgeous, Ummm, you smell wonderful. How are we doing, we have got to be there by nine.”

He then spied the suit and said “Wow, ain’t she wonderful, worth all of the fifty quid we paid for it”.

The new suit was leather. Until this year, just like the boots, leather clothing had been considered too kinky for public wear; part of the fetish scene. But, Honor Blackman as Cathy Gale in the Avengers had made it fashionable and Dave, having a passion for leather gear (on Dorothy), had ordered the black suit. But like most of the special outfits for Dorothy, this had some hidden details to spice it up. On the bed laid out it looked like an ordinary pencil skirt suit, with a high collar, large puffed upper sleeves, wide white patent belt and frilly peplum. To soften it, it had a large white frilly collar on top of the leather collar and white frilly cuffs. The oddities were the tiny wasp waist, the enormous formed and stitched bosom projection for the breasts, the fact that the black gloves were attached to the sleeves and that the pencil skirt looked was extraordinarily tight and so long, that it would come down to mid calf.

He hugged her again, “You are going to look stunning in that.”

“You might think so, but what’s everybody else going think, a 50 year old women dressed in tight leather,” Dorothy silently thought.

Dorothy could feel Dave getting excited and knew what was coming next, He started to massage her large breasts, tweaking the pierced nipples through the cloth, and turned her round to kiss her.

“ Steady Dave, if you mess me up, we will never make it for nine. You know how long it takes you me to get me into that corset”

“Awww Babe, We can’t stop now, I’m ready to bust.”

“Well, be quick then. But can we do it standing else we’ll mess up my hairdo as well”

“Yeah OK, but let’s have them out, to give me some inspiration.”

Dorothy knew what he meant. The only time Dave ever wanted to see her breasts untrammelled was during sex. She took off the peignoir and then her heavy long line bra. Without support, her enormous swollen breasts hung down half way to her waist. She tottered slowly over to the dressing table and leaned forward. All this was pretty much the same every night they went out, and as such, Dorothy was wearing a short corset so that Dave could enter her. Dave entered from behind and reaching forward hauled down heavily on her flaccid tits. The faster he pumped the more he pulled on them. Dorothy was clenched teeth riding the pain and the pleasure as her breasts were stretched out nearly 18” away from her chest. Eventually, Dave came and the pressure was relaxed. They finished off and Dorothy went to the bathroom to douche herself out. She also went to the loo, making sure, as she might not be able to go again for a long time. Getting up, she dusted heavily scented talcum powder all over her body and finished off with a mid thigh, breastless silky slip that was very tight and she had to roll it past her sagging stomach and flabby thighs inch by inch. She checked it and it was smooth. She hoped it would help the corset slip round her waist as it was laced. Replacing her bra, she tip-toed back to the bedroom.

Dave had laid out the corset, it was only a month old, and this was its second outing, outside the flat. Dave would have liked her to wear it out more, but there was no way Dorothy could sit down in it, and as such, they had to chose nights where it would not look out of place if Dorothy stood all night or at best perched her rounded bottom on a high bar stool. Ever seeking to emphasise her figure, he had ordered this one extra long and extra high, fully boned throughout to mould her into (in his eyes) the perfect shape. The busk reached to her crotch, curving smoothly out from the wasp waist and then angling slightly back and would flatten her stomach, smooth her hips and push all the excess fat back into a massively rounded bottom. The waist was 18”, which was as small as Dorothy could manage for a whole night. She had been able to manage 18” for some years. But over those years, as she had also become bigger above and below (46FF breasts and 45” hips with a 29” natural waist), it had become harder and harder to manage at 18”.

Dorothy teetered slowly back from the bathroom, adjusting her enormous breasts higher in the slip and surveyed her armour. It was a lovely thing to look at, with full length panels of alternating white and black shiny sateen, each starting 4” wide, narrowing to 2” at the waist and widening again over the hips. Top and bottom was fringed with lace, hinting at a feminine delicacy, which belied the fact that it was rigid with steel bones. Using Dave’s shoulder for support, wobbling on each high heeled boot, she lifted one foot high and then the other and passed them through the laced front apron of the corset. Dave lifted the corset up her body on to her breasts, which Dorothy had to cup a bit higher in the slip so that he could position it properly. Once it was high enough, she released her breasts and grabbed the sides of the corset and held it high whilst he fastened the 20 close spaced clips on the long front busk. Dorothy shivered a little as the solid corset enclosed her

torso, perhaps with the thought of what was to come. He then languidly strolled around to the back and tightened the laces sufficiently so that she could release her hold on the corset rim.

They had tried many methods of serious tight lacing over the years, but the one Dave enjoyed at the moment, although Dorothy hated it, was the swing method. Keeping the laces tight with one hand Dave unhitched a thick rope from behind the curtains, he put passed the solid hook on the end of the rope over the loops of the puller laces, and unhooking the other end of the rope took up the slack, running over a double pulley attached to the ceiling, when Dorothy felt the pull she leaned forward, and when it supported her weight she lifted one leg onto the stool which Dave pushed under it and then she raised the other and she lifted that on the stool as well. When she was steady, he used a long button hook to pull through the laces working from bottom and the top towards the waist. On his first run he pulled her in so that she had a 5” gap at the waist. Hearing her “Urrggh” at the last pull, he halted and used both hands on the rope to pull her above horizontal. He then left her body to settle and started to get changed.

After five minutes in the bathroom he returned, washed and shaved, with his hair Brylcreemed smooth. Picking up the button hook again, he made another run from top to bottom leaving a 3” gap. Dorothy, gasping raised her arm and said, “Enough…. for now”. Dave raised her again, and got dressed. He went off into the kitchen, cleaned his shoes and came back 15 minutes later. He started again, but this time more slowly, Dorothy was still panting, but he knew she would not be able to stop completely, after another run where he tried to close it completely at the top and bottom but only an extra 1” further at the waist. He raised her again and then sat back on the bed to admire his work. Dorothy tried very hard to keep still as any movement caused her to swing and the laces would slip through the eyelets due to the motion, increasing the pressure at her waist. Dave smiled as he watched the laces and imperceptibly he could see them move with each little swing.

Dorothy gasped, “Let me down for a minute Dave, I need a rest”

Dave got up and lifted her legs down to the ground, released the rope tie and lowered her to the ground, her large breast, pillowing to either side, he tied of the rope again to stop the laces slipping. Dorothy breathed, or at least panted a little sigh of relief.

“Not too long babe, we have got to be there by nine and it’s a fifteen minutes walk to the pub for you”

For anybody else it would have been five minutes, but in the corset, high heeled boots and the hobble skirt, she would have to hurry to make it in fifteen.

“Have a heart Dave, you know how hard this one is for me, it takes a lot out me getting down from 29 to 18”.

“Your fault babe, how many times I’ve told you to gradually tighten throughout day and every day, but you never listen. You were hardly laced at all when I got home and that white one you wore today won’t go below 22.” You have only yourself to blame”

Dorothy just gasped a little, “OK know it all” and stayed quiet.

A few minutes later, Dorothy flapped her arm and said “All right Dave lets get it over with, close it if you can”

Dave stepped up and holding her ankles with one hand, hauled on the rope with the other and Dorothy, grunting as each haul pulled at the laces. He rested the legs on the stool again, tied off the rope and started pulling out the slack around the waist with the hook. This time he went faster and pulled harder on the hook, Dorothy groaning with each pull. Then it was closed and Dave let her down to the floor again, grasped the laces tight and released them from the hook, tying the laces of firmly off at the waist, he took the excess down to the bottom of corset and stuffed it upwards, between her legs.

Dave grasped under her shoulders and levered Dorothy up. She pivoted around pointed tips and came up straight as a board, now rigid from bust to toes. She caught her balance and staggered uncertainly, coping with the hobbling effect of the corset apron gripping her thighs, Her massive bosom heaving up and down as she gasped for air. Once she was steady, Dave left her and went to the chest of draws and got the bra out; it was another special. It was faced with shiny black sateen, long line with a boned bodice and upward pointing bullet cups with heavy whirlpool stitching, except for the very tip. Dave had had them made so that the last inch was soft so that he could feel, rub and pinch Dorothy’s nipples when it was on. Another feature was the padding at the base of the cups. Not in the cups themselves, but just at the entrance where there was a ring of padding which gripped tightly around the base of each breast, forcing them out further into the cups and supporting them higher. The straps were heavy duty and 1” wide. Dorothy wobbling slightly, pulled of her bra and her breasts stayed high, levered up by the rim of the corset. She passed her arms through the wide strap holes and Dave offered the bra up one cup at a time and Dorothy had to use both hands to massage each breast past the padding, with Dave massaging the breast forward into the cup with his spare hand. Dave checked that each breast was fully inserted by finding her pierced nipples through the thin front layer.

Dorothy then used both hands to hold every thing in place while Dave went behind her and hooked the back up loosely on the outside set of hooks. He then gripped the top of the back of the bra and signalled to Dorothy and they both lifted, dragging the entire bra at least 2” higher up her back and taking her mountainous bosom with it. Dave holding on with one hand, hauled on one shoulder strap and then the other to hold the bra in place and then rehooked the bra to its innermost set of hooks.

Dorothy was panting from the effort, and Dave circled her to view their efforts.

“Babe you are something else! There ain’t a girl in the East End with a figure as good as yours. The fella’s wont be able to take their eyes of you. Harry is going to be so pissed off, Jenna’s being trying hard but she ain’t going to match you. That big beautiful big arse of yours in tight leather will make his eyes stick out on stalks. Harry’s always been an arse man.”

Dorothy managed a little smile, glad he was pleased. He might be right, but she didn’t feel very girlish. For one thing girls did not need this much ironmongery and boning to get their figures and what the fella’s would be watching was what they always watched, her massive bosom. It seems they could never take their eyes off of her huge, hoisted and projected breasts. It was so embarrassing having conversations where a bloke could not keep looking her in the eyes, always glancing down at the massive shelf on her chest. And tonight would be just as bad or probably worse. This bra gave her the most projection of all of them, and the tips of her breasts stood out fully 8” or more in front of her chest and the upward pointing cups, hauled high by the straps brought her nipples up to above her armpits. As for her arse, she turned and viewed it in the mirror, it was enormous sticking out behind, like a Hottentot woman, all the excess flesh from her hips, upper thighs and waist, had all been rounded up and added to her already large bum and then forced out backwards. It looked terrible she thought.

But Dave was pleased and busied himself kneeling down and attaching two leather straps around her legs, just above her knees through two loops on each boot. These held the 6 garter buckles for the 6 leather garter straps hanging down around the base of the corset. Once the leg straps were fastened tight to each boot, he hauled each garter down, securing the corset so that it would not ride up.

He stood up and slid his hands around the waist, trying to make them meet as he always did. He went to kiss her and remembered her make up so settled for burying his face between the massive breasts. Coming up for air, he manoeuvred her back and laid her on the bed with her legs sticking out. After releasing her, he went over to the suit and first undid the belt and the peplum came with it as it was not a suit at all. It was actually a dress, and the fake front opening was just one layer of leather overlaying the other which stopped behind the belt, and the actual opening was a zip at the back hidden by a double fold detail in the leather. The dress itself was a lot stiffer than it looked, as knowing how tight it would be fitted, Dave had it lined with canvas shaping. He unzipped the back, and each of the lower arm sleeves and then took it down and over to the bed. He held it open low down and fed Dorothy’s boots through the opening. Dave had to guide her feet as the rigid corset would not let her bend to see her feet, and even if it had she would not have been able to see past her bosom. He worked it up until it was all past her ankles.

He then helped Dorothy up again and started slowly to work it up the boots and over the bottom of the corset, getting slower as he had to work the tight, stiff under lining past her hips and the ledge of her bottom. Pulling a little here and a little there, he finally had it seated at her waist. He then lifted the front higher for Dorothy to insert her hands into the sleeves. The upper arms were stiff, but not too tight. She finally got her hands down past the open zips and onto the gloves. They were made to be tight and one finger at a time had to be slowly eased on. Once the gloves were on, he lifted the rest of the front into position up over the ridge of her bosom and up to her neck. Dorothy swung her head back to accept the high stiff collar. She moved her hands to support the front under her bosom, whilst Dave went behind and started to ease the strong zip upwards

.“Bloody Hell, this is tight. For Gods sake lets hope we can get it up over your waist, or else we have gotta start lacing again.”

He pulled and pulled and Dorothy, wanting to get it finished pushed inwards as hard as she could at the waist. Not that she would have much effect as her waist felt as solid as wood under the corset. Little by little it slid up and then got easier at the top of the corset, whilst still tightly following the contour off her precipitous bosom. As he reached the collar, Dorothy stretched her neck to ease the closing. All her newer outfits had high necks to cover her aging neck and chin, and the going out outfits, were always an inch or two smaller than her natural neck to give her, as Dave said, a smother profile. This outfit was just the same and stiffened to support the soft leather. The stiffening pushed her head high and the slim collar stifled her breathing a little more. Atop the collar was a 2” soft net frill, which was there to try and hide Dorothy’s double chin.

Dave then puffed up the large upper sleeves and dragged them high until the lower sleeves were showing only smooth gloves and then dragged the zippers down with some effort at the back of the lower arm of each sleeve. Dave would have preferred to have tight sleeves all the way up, but Dorothy’s upper arms were getting too fat and if the sleeves were made tight enough to satisfy Dave, Dorothy could hardly raise her arms. As it was, it was a strain to bend them at the elbow. And rather than having just slightly looser sleeves, he had ordered large puffed sleeves, to make her upper body seem larger and therefore her crushed waist smaller. He picked up the belt and peplum and placed it around her waist, making sure the peplum was in line with the false opening line above.

Then he tightened the 4” deep patent belt as tight as he could, so that it visibly strained at the buckle and over the leather of the suit. Dave liked it to seen that Dorothy’s belts were straining to hold in her minute waist even though it was really the corset that was doing the work.

“All done, lets have a look at you.”

Dorothy immediately struck the pose, hands on hips, while Dave checked her out.

“All right, you are looking so hot. I could undress you and jump your bones, but that will have to wait for later. We’ve got to meet the rest, so let’s touch up your slap, and then we can get going.”

Dorothy tried a step forward and her knees would hardly move.

“Dave, have you left the zip down” It’s too tight!”

Dave checked, “No babe, it’s right up. It can’t be that bad, lets see you walk around a bit”

Dorothy knew it was that bad, but tried anyway. She lifted one foot a little and strained against the tight leather pencil skirt, putting it around in front the other and just managed. Placing it down carefully, she repeated and with arms out a little for balance, moved with tiny steps across the room. Turning slowly and wavering slightly, she minced back to the mirror, panting from the effort.

“Dave, this is ridiculous, I can hardly move and there is no way I can dance in this skirt.”

“Oh come on don’t start, you have got tighter skirts than that and you manage around the flat.”

“That’s just it, those are fooling around skirts for you, and I don’t leave the flat in those.”

“Look, you will be alright, and you look absolutely gorgeous. I will the proudest bloke in the place and all the men will be so jealous.”

Dorothy knew she would have to give in, and said, “OK but you stay close, I‘ll need your arm for support, because if I lose my footing in these skyscraper heels, this bloody tight skirt and the unbendable corset, you had better be around to catch me, because as sure is eggs are eggs, I’ll end up on my arse.”

“OK I’ll be there, now lets get on. What do you need?”

Dorothy checked in the mirror, “Ummm, powder and lipstick.” Dave handed the powder to her, and she brushed it on heavily and then reapplied her lipstick and ‘lipped’ off the excess on a tissue.

“Bit heavy, on the powder aren’t you? You look like a ghost.”

Dorothy said nothing, but thought, “I know, but I need all the cover I can get. I am going to be so embarrassed tonight, what will people think, a 50 year old women dressed in a 20 year old outfit. I have only seen one girl round here wearing anything leather and that was a simple pinafore.”

Dave took her arm and led her through the flat, and then helped her down the stairs, taking her weight as she strained the skirt to manage one step at a time, unsure of her step on the minute soles of the 7” heels, her view of the stairs ahead blocked her outthrust bosom. Out on the street, Dave did his usual and let Dorothy start up the street on her own. He said it was to check she looked OK from the back, but Dorothy knew he wanted to view her, teetering up the street, her hips swaying from side to side below her cinched waist, her large bottom, tensed in the tight corset.

He then ran over to the other side of the road and stood watching her again. Dorothy knew that he wanted her to ignore him and she walked carefully down the pavement, back straight, stomach in, head held high, shoulders back, chest out, bottom out. Not that she had any option, she would rather have done the reverse, but the corset held her rigidly straight, girded her waist to an unfeasible size, the high stiff collar made her keep her head back, the tight straps of the bra kept her shoulders back, her chest was heaved out by the cone shaped bullet bra and her already well padded bottom was thrust backwards by the pressure of the long front busk. She knew she was actually cartoon like, just like the ones you see in seaside postcards; all tits and bum, separated by a miniscule waist – just as Dave liked her to look.

Dave rejoined her and took her elbow, and then began to hurry up. He now rushed her to the pub so that he could show her off to his mates. He dragged her along as fast the tight skirt would let her, he taking slow short strides, Dorothy at a fast totter, panting for breath, always feeling as though she was going to fall, her legs straining against the tight leather to get an extra half an inch of stride, just to try and keep up. There was no use complaining, she knew Dave looked forward to this walk and he would never let her fall, he just liked to see her struggle against the restraint of her clothes.

As they entered the pub, there was a wolf whistle from Harry, but the rest of the pub was quiet. Dorothy suffered the stares as she walked over to the other side of the room where Harry, Jenna and the rest were waiting. Jenna was done up to the nines and so were the rest of the women in the gang as they were going onto a club later. Dorothy knew that Harry exhorted Jenna to try and surpass her in over the top dressing, but she neither had the will or the underpinnings to get even close. Even so, she had tried, with a wasp waist and bullet bra and skin tight red satin dress. Dave went over to the bar and Dorothy went over to Jenna.

“Nice suit! Must of cost Dave a pretty penny, bit much for the Rose and Crown though, those old biddies eyes are popping out, you’re like something off the telly.”

“Thanks! Dave chose it, and you are right though, it is a bit much for in here.”

“Well, if he chose it you must have got one over him, what did he have to buy you?”

“Oh, you’ll see later!”

When Harry got Jenna to wear something over the top, she made him buy some jewellery, or a dress she wanted in return.

“It must have been good! I know leather is in fashion, but that lot is a bit over the top for the East End .”

Dorothy blushed, and tried to hide nearer the bar, but Harry appeared with the drinks and before she had noticed, did his party piece of balancing her drink on the deep table top of taut leather across her bosom. Everybody had noticed before she could get it down. “This is going to be a long night” thought Dorothy. She was already feeling warm in the packed pub, and strained her tight sleeved arm up to fan herself, the leather suit was letting very little air through to her body and she could feel the perspiration trickling down the high tight throttling collar, down between her tight packed breasts as she gasped for air. Luckily they only stopped for one drink before going onto the club.

Outside they called taxi’s, and Jenna and Harry, as usual, made sure they got an old high roofed London cab. Jenna and Harry went to the far side, she turned backwards to the door and Harry grasped her waist and lifted her up and perched her tightly girdled bottom on the edge of the jump seat, with her feet straight down into the foot well. Dave repeated the act with Dorothy, the men knowing that neither of the women’s skirts would allow them to step up into the cab and that they could not bend easily (if at all in Dorothy’s case) in the middle. This method allowed them to travel in relative comfort with the high cab roof allowing space for their high bouffant hair styles.

In the subdued lighting of the club Dorothy felt a little happier, as she could fade into the background. The only time anybody stared was when they took to the dance floor for a slow dance. It was a long walk from the bar to the middle of the spot lit dance floor with all eyes following her. One dance was all she could manage, at the end of which her feet in the 7” high heels were killing her. Dave took her back to the bar and found her a bar stool and she perched her padded ledge like bottom on the edge and heaved a sigh of relief as she could at last take the weight off her tortured toes. As the night wore on, she had felt her toes slipping further and further down and being crushed into the short pointed toebox of the boots.

Under the pretext of doing up his shoe lace, Dave bent and pulled the zip down on the back slit of the pencil skirt, pinioning Dorothy’s legs together. Dorothy was now trapped, she could not leave the stool even if she wanted to. She just hoped nobody in the crowded club pushed into her, because if she slipped off the stool she would just keep on going.

By One O’clock all she wanted to do was go home and be released from the crushing corset and get out of these boots. Her eyes ached from all the make up, the smoky club and squinting. The air was hot and dry, and she panted for breath and every passing male’s eyes were captivated by the massive plateau of her bosom as it rose with every pant. She wanted Dave to take her home, but he was enjoying himself and she would have to hang on. She was getting hotter and hotter in the leather suit. Her make up felt like it was sliding off as she sweated, in the hot, smoky atmosphere of the club. At last Dave took her home, but he only half released the zip and her steps were reduced to about 3” and the walk to the cab took forever.

At the cab he did his normal and helped her down so that she could crawl in on her hands and knee’s and kneel on the floor, and on the way home behind the cover of a paper he found at the club, she sucked him off. At the flat he released her from the leather dress, then the long crushing corset. Straight away though, he swiftly laced her back down to 18” into one of her shiny black satin, short bedroom corsets, turned her against the wall and with her feet still suffering in the 7” inch heeled, thigh high boots, he took her from behind. When he had finished, he lit a cigarette and told her to fetch him a whisky. Dorothy asked if she could take the boots off first, but Dave said,

“Leave ‘em on babe you really look sexy in those beauties. So sexy in fact, I might have to have another.”

Dorothy winced, her toes on fire and went for the whisky, she came back and lay on the bed sighing, gasping as relief came at last to her toes. Dave lit a cigarette and Dorothy slowly smoked it while Dave fondled her breasts and slowly aroused her, pulling harder and harder on her pierced nipples. When she finished the cigarette, she knew it was her turn and went down on his cock once more. Kneeling down, fighting the tight laced waist cincher and her legs still encased in the tight leather boots. But Dave loved the look and loved knowing that she was struggling just to please him.

“It’s going to be another long night,” she thought.