Edwardian Afternoon How did it happen? What sequence of events has led to this most unusual afternoon. I, Lara Smith, am driving home with a warm glow and happy memories. It was an afternoon I would never have expected, would never dare tell anyone about, and wouldn't have believed possible. Before my mind drifts back to the demands of my job and school I spend a few moments wondering how I may return to that small Victorian home on the quite tree lined street between West LA and Santa Monica. This is what happened. There was nothing about him that made me guess at work. He had moved into an office on my floor a month before. He was older, always in a suit even at his desk and on casual days. He spoke with a slight British accent, which he used, for an occasional polite comment. I had caught him looking at my legs and heels. This is one of my work hobbies. I must wear conservative business suits, but I make up for that with higher heels and sexier shoes than are necessary. I then study the reaction of the male drones. I also try to wear leather on casual days but this is limited to a blazer by our stodgy company. One day I came by is office and he had a large doll, one I recognized as an antique siting on his desk. I had seen a similar one on the Antiques Road Show and asked him about it. A short conversation followed and I was invited to his home on Saturday for "High Tea" to see his collection. I asked about the address and time and was told 4:00 PM in the condescending manner of the English when speaking to the uncultured Americans. This comment led to trouble. I would show him who was ready for high tea, and I would make sure my shoes transfixed him. For this cool late fall day, I choose a slim mid-calf gray skirt, ruffled blouse with a high neck and gray jacket. I even found a cameo for the center of the blouse at my throat. I put my long brown hair up in a tight bun at the back of my head. I had a wide brimmed hat with a plume. Simple ear rings and light makeup completed the look. I was the picture of Victorian propriety. Next the shoes - black leather pumps with an ankle strap. The five-inch heels are set at the back of the sole so that they look extremely long. They are shiny black; contrasting with the smooth black calf of the rest of the shoe. There was to be more. From the back of the ankle strap I attached a black tassel which hung down to cover the heel. When I walked the tassel covered and exposed the flashing stiletto and seemed to whip it, all at once. I was sure he would not be able to keep his eyes off the shoes. Will see if that rocks that British composure. I drove west and found the quiet street with tall trees and smaller homes. His driveway was empty. I walked to the door of his modest Victorian home. He greets me wearing a suit, holds the door and welcomes me as "Miss Smith". I am tall and tower over him in my heels as he shows me into a quaint Victorian parlor. It was filled with antique furniture, lamps with velvet shades and fringe, and every surface was covered with small figurines and other knickknacks. I seated myself; in charm school fashion on the edge of a red velvet sofa and adjust my legs so that a tassel is displayed against the side of my properly crossed ankles. He seemed not to notice and after a brief conversation excused himself to fetch the tea. The teacart was a complete silver service and I feel underdressed for not wearing white gloves. I don't really like tea, I wasn't having fun with him, and this was getting boring. I was wondering how I could steer the conversation to the dolls and escape when I saw something on a table; a bizarre leather mask. He had followed my gaze. "Miss Smith, you appear to be more Edwardian than Victorian", he said glancing at my shoes. My confused look caused him to explain the Edwardian reaction to Victorian morals. They had explored all manner of sex including bondage, body piercing, spanking and whipping. "Would you care to try some Edwardian experiences Miss Smith," he inquired. I don't know why I nodded, it seemed so safe and proper in this Victorian sitting room, and I felt so secure in my proper clothes. I was surprised when from a drawer he took a remote control for the room had no electronics. A push and a chain descended from a dark recess in the ceiling. Two cuffs hang at its end. I stand and without much thought; allow them to be fastened to my wrists. They are suspension cuffs with a strap that goes up the palm and fastens to the chain. He moves aside the teacart and raises the chain so that my hands are slightly above my head. He steps back and says "Miss Smith, there are only two words that you can now say that will matter; Mercy - to slow down an activity and Stop for immediate release." I am somewhat reassured and interested in what comes next. I keep quite. From behind a soft blindfold covers my eyes and I am quickly, expertly, completely stripped. First one hand and then the other is freed to remove my blouse, jacket and bra. My hair is let down and the blindfold is removed. He wheels out the tea service and leaves the room. I look about and see myself in an oval mirror. In this room with thick wool carpets and antique velvet draperies and all the little accouterments of civilization; my naked body stands out like a flame. I spend time noticing my tattoos and trimmed pubic hair the only contrasts to my cream colored skin. He returns, still in his suit, and inquires, "How can we give you pleasure Miss Smith?" "Whip me," I whisper much to my own surprise. He opens a polished antique wooden secretary and it reveals all manner of bondage gear. From the door hang a number of whips. He dons gray gloves, which match his suit, and takes a many-tailed flogger. He moves behind and I flinch waiting for the first blow. It arrives across my shoulders with more impact than anything else. After several it feels like a massage, there is no pain. I can see him in the mirror, and I like the idea that he is making all of the decisions - when to strike, how hard, and which parts of my body will receive the attentions of the whip. It makes me wet. He works down my back, ass, thighs and calves. Every part is stimulated by the stoke of the whip. He starts up the front. Will he swat my pussy? - no, breasts - yes. He steps back and asks, "Would you like an orgasm Miss Smith?" It is exactly the same tone he used when asking about sugar in my tea. I nod and the flogger begins to work between my legs. I tremble and my knees collapse as the spasms of pleasure surge through my body. I end hanging in the chains. He lowers the chain, wraps me in a warm fur lined throw, and seats me on a stool with my bound hands at chest level. "I think that you are capable of a second Miss Smith would you like to try?" he asks. I nod again. He approaches with a soft tissue and dries the juices from my sex lips. "What is your shoe size?" I tell him. As I continue to rest he returns with ballet bondage boots. The shoes are so highly arched that the heels are 9 inches long the toe points like a ballerina's foot. These bright red calf high boots are laced on and then locked with a small padlock at the ankle strap. A 12 inch long steel bar is used spread my feet. The wrist chain is raised and I am forced up till my wrist support some of my weight. I wobble on the fantastic heels and pointed toes. The blindfold goes back on and I feel brief suction and then weight at each nipple. The process is repeated at my clitoris. The blindfold comes off and the mirror shows that I have a red tassel at each breast and one hanging from my clit. The tassel fringe rubs lightly on the under sides of my breasts and my inner thighs. I am not sure how they were applied but they do not hurt. The mask that first caught my attention is placed on my face and I study the exotic creature that I have become in the mirror. "Some readings Miss Smith?" He works on my mind with bondage stories by Anne Rice, and John Willie. I wiggle, twist and hip thrust in my chains as I work stimulation from the tassels as the brush my sensitive skin and tug at my sex buttons. A description of leather clad sex slaves triggers the next orgasm, which last a full 30 seconds. I collapse and dangle from the chain. I am quickly released and carried to a bed where I am placed face down. He carefully massages my stiff and sore shoulders until they fell better. The boots and tassels are removed and he directs me to a bath where an old fashion tub is brimming with warm water. After a long soak I begin to wonder, what's next. Will he expect something in return? I am spent and just want to get home for a nap. I get up and dry with the soft towels and find the bedroom empty. My under things and hat are carefully laid out on the bed. My clothes hang on satin hangers and look freshly pressed. I dress and notice that he has provided white gloves. As I leave his only comment is "Good afternoon Miss Smith", and I do feel that I am now a proper Edwardian lady.
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