Into the Curiosity Shop

Alison felt his eyes on her legs and she pressed her knees together tighter until he finally found her face. She stared at him, her face a mask until he spoke, taking the one boot in her hand and nodding. She sat and unlaced, over and over, the silence and tension in the room building. She once in a while would glance up, only to find herself staring at some kind of sex toy. When he finally spoke it startled her and Alison let out a little gasp. Turning to look at him she quirked her eyebrow quizzically. "What?" she asked, thinking this must be one of many firsts, she would hope.

"You'll be the first to try these on," he said, smiling, noticing the hesitation and confusion in her voice. He looked down at the laces, steadily working them out and loose until he felt she could put her foot in. "Here, put it in," he said, and he held the sole of the boot with his right hand, splaying the leather open with his other hand. He could feel himself continuing to swell, and he didn't mind. He liked the feeling, and wanted her, willed her, to look down at his jeans, where his hand waited with the boot, just inches from his crotch.

She looked down at where he held the boot open for her. She lifted her foot and saw how she would be thrusting it down, down into the waiting hold of the black leather boot, pushing down towards his crotch. She tried not to focus on his crotch but couldn't help doing so, the way he held it there. Somehow he had transformed the action of putting on a shoe into a deliberate piece of erotica. She carefully did not look up as she pressed her bare foot forward and slid it into the leather grip of the boot, feeling the boot dip down toward his bulge as she did so.

He had considered allowing the pressure of her push to bump against his cock, but he decided to be more subtle than that. "All the way in?" he asked, looking up at her, the inside of his forearm brushing against the side of the boot as he held onto the heel. "Now the other," he said, repeating the process on the other side. Once he felt her foot securely inside, he said, "Ok, I'll start lacing this side. You take the other. First to the top wins."

She felt the small jolt as her foot found its perfect fit deep into the boot. It was almost perverted, that sense, and the look in his eyes as he asked her if she was all the way in. She could feel a sweat breaking out in a cool wave on her skin as he took her other foot inside the other boot, the heel landing on his leg. She just stared at him as he attempted a little joke. The air was too thick to lighten at this point. Especially as she was forced to either pull her foot up to the chair, exposing most of her leg, or bend down over it. She chose to bend, preserving some modesty as she reached down and tugged on the lace.

He was always a little surprised when women didn't realize what they were revealing when they leaned forward, and her action so caught him off guard he almost didn't look at first. But there it was. As she had leaned over, her school uniform blouse had dropped down, providing him a delicious view of the tops of her breasts - fuller than he would have thought - peeking out of a white lacey bra. The sight brought his cock to full erection, and it brought her face that much closer to his, almost side by side. She smelled wonderful. He started to lace his side, grasping her calve to hold her leg steady, switching his hands back and forth, pushing the laces through their holes. He realized it was one of the most intimate things he had ever done. Close enough to kiss her, staring at her breasts, working methodically. He finished first, almost disappointed that she would have to sit up and shut down his view.

Alison was keenly aware of his hand on her calf through the leather, more affecting really than it would have been on bare flesh. With each tightening of a lace he pulled her leg slightly toward him with a jerk, the boot tightening on her. It was like some obscene sex, all in microcosm. She fumbled with her laces, slower than him, distracted by the feel of his rhythmic work on her leg. When she finally finished she felt him sitting and staring at her, blushing fiercely as each tug of her own laces seemed dirty somehow, encasing her tanned legs in dark leather for his benefit.

He held her calf tightly with one hand, the other underneath the sole. Her face appeared flush. He took a deep breath through his nose to see if he could smell her. "Let's take a look," he said smiling, finally putting her foot down. "Now these aren't going to feel like a soccer cleat," he said. "Not only does it have a high heel, but the sole is about three inches thick too. Here, I'll help you," he said, standing up in front of her, knowing his thick swollen cock would be visible through his jeans at her eye level. He extended a hand to her.

Alison's thighs were pressed tight together, the sweat slicking her inner thighs, but that wasn't the only cause of her wetness. Each jerk of the laces had made her wetter, as if a thrust inside her, his eyes down her shirt making her breasts tingle. Now as he stood she could see the outline of his shaft, swollen, through his pants and knew that he had felt the same. She half expected him to thrust it at her, to grab and take her, and so she placed her hand in his in a sort of surrender, letting him pull her to her feet or as he wished. His cock was like a sign of his masculine power right now, her legs encased in his leather a sign of her submission. She tottered to her feet as he tugged her hand.

The direct connection of holding her hand triggered a new level. He looked right at her. She was enjoying this, the All American Girl with a dark side, he thought. She's not running away, she's enjoying this. She hasn't argued or fought back on anything I've done or said. She has potential as an incredible sub, he thought. Young, intelligent, with a beautiful sweet face and an incredible body. How far would she go with all this? He was determined to find out. His cock kept throbbing in his pants. "Want to try walking on your own?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, not at all daunted at the thought. It proved harder than she imagined. She was an athlete, she had a natural grace, but these boots were like pole vaulting with each step. She walked toward the mirror she saw, having to step slowly, feeling her calf tightened by her foot's posture, gripped tight by the fit of the boot. As she stepped away she was keenly aware of the way the boots made her ass clench and sway in her skirt, like any heel but oh so much more, her whole leg tensed and on display.

He watched her swaying in her skirt, her tight buttocks revealing themselves through her skirt, her hips swaying. I could just go over there and hike that skirt up right now, he thought, and take her from behind right in front of that mirror. The incongruity of the plaid skirt and the high leather boots was sexy. "What do you think?" he asked. "You look fantastic in them."

How could she answer that question? She looked in the mirror and saw him gazing at her from behind. The lust was apparent in his pants if not his eyes. She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the high heeled leather, the schoolgirl skirt, every man's dream, she imagined. She indeed looked like a creature out of her own dreams, not something real, not something she ever expected to be. Deep in the rabbit hole indeed. "They certainly transform you," was her answer, gazing only at the boots in the mirror, the knotted lacing, the tapered toes, the thin heels.

"Transform you how?" he asked. "Into what?"

Her eyes moved, in the mirror, up to his eyes. She hadn't expected the question, wasn't sure what to say to him. "Well, it's not something you would just wear to have a shoe, is it? It feels ... totally different than normal, like a . . . this is why people come here, isn't it? To become something for a while?"

"And what's the something you've become Alison. Do you feel . . . sexy? Do you feel like there's a different Alison looking you back in the mirror? One no one has ever seen before?" He took a few steps closer, the friction of his cock on his jeans filling his shaft with pleasure.

She saw him drawing closer in the mirror from behind as she stood, balancing on the leather heels, her whole body pitched forward at an angle by these boots. Her heart pounded like it did after a race, blood rushing through her muscles, her vision even going a bit hazy, her breath seeming shallow. He was closing in on her and she was perched in the dim confines of his shop, and they were alone and he wanted to know if she felt sexy, if she was different. "Yes, very different," she answered him, feeling like this darkened room was not in her world, but somewhere else, like that place in her mind she had always gone to think of these things.

He still didn't know how old she was, and part of him didn't care, but still, she was in high school still. "Are you . . . turned on Alison? It's ok to say yes . . . or no. I'm guessing that you are, by the way you keep looking at yourself. By the way your face is flush. By the way," he said, looking at her in the mirror, at her nipples clearly hard through her blouse, "by the way your body is reacting."

He had been so pleasant, so light in tone before. And he was not unpleasant now, but his voice was serious, or touched on serious matters, intimate matters. She felt her pussy clench, wet and hot, as he said her name, as he asked her if she was turned on. She was unaware of her hard nipples pressing at her blouse, because she was all too aware of the smell of her sex drifting up to her nose, no tights to hold it in, only a scant pair of panties. "Yes" she told him simply, no reason to dissemble, she had known it from the second she stepped in here that this was about not hiding anymore.

"Good, I'm glad," he said. "You know else Alison? I think that if you were to lift up your skirt right now, we'd see a little spot on the front of your panties, wouldn't we." He still hadn't touched her, wasn't planning on it yet. This was so new to her, he thought, but she wasn't running screaming from the store. "Would we see a wet spot on your panties Alison?"

There was no more masquerading, no more pretending what this was about. She stood, in her school uniform and his leather boots, inside his sex shop. He asked her about her wet panties. And she knew at that point that she would do whatever he told her, answer whatever question. She had spent years avoiding this dark place in her mind, but now she was standing here, inside it, and he was its purveyor. "Yes. Not a little one," she answered, blushing furiously but meeting his gaze in the mirror, over her shoulder.

Every time she spoke, she confirmed in his mind that she was ready for more. At some point in the future, he was certain she'd protest, but now she was, and the word suddenly popped into his mind - ripe. He would take it slow, though, because he didn't want to scare her off. He wanted her to take each corner slowly, but to keep taking the corners. "Take them off and show them to me," he said, meeting her gaze.

She had already admitted her wetness. She had already taken off her tights while sitting next to him, alone in his sex shop. Suddenly taking off her panties as well did not seem outrageous. Not enough so to combat the arousal Alison felt at the thought, the pleasure in following his modestly kinky demands. There was no thought this time of asking him to turn away. She simply reached down and slowly hiked up her tartan skirt, revealing inch upon inch of bare, smooth muscled thigh followed by the rounded swell of her ass. It was encased in the tight grasp of her cotton panties, slowly bunching as Alison hooked her thumbs in the waistband, fingers holding her skirt up obscenely and slowly slid both down.

He watched her hike the skirt up without hesitation, and eyed her delicious thigh and muscular buttocks, feeling the throbbing in his pants. When she had the panties in her hand, he said, "Toss them to me."

The skirt fell again, covering the rear she had bared for just a delicious moment. She stepped out of the panties carefully, having to balance on one high-heeled boot, the sight of the simple cotton panties sliding over the kinky leather boots an erotic contrast. She stood now, looking just the same as before, but aware of the brush of the wool on her bare hips and ass, the light tickle of the skirt against the hairs of her pussy. Aware mostly of the fact that he knew she was bare now. Nodding in the mirror she turned partway around and tossed the light pair of undies at him.

He caught them and looking directly at her, first held them up in front of him like he was assessing a painting. Just holding them he could already smell her intoxicating wetness. He brought them down closer to his face, and looking her directly in the eye, held them to his nose and inhaled sharply. God, what a scent. Still looking directly at her, his eyes serious, he lowered the panties slightly, and extended his tongue, licking her young wetness with his tongue, the slick mix of her juice and the taste of her cotton panties. With a smile in his eyes, he said simply, "Delicious Alison. Now, see that three-way mirror over there?" he said, pointing with his eyes. "Walk there for me. Then I want you to do something."

Alison felt her knees shaking as she watched his lurid actions, watched his tongue scraping along the cotton that had just wrapped around her inner self, tasting the juices she could smell still rising from her pussy. It was so perverted, so wrong, yet done in such a dignified style, it made her think that all of those dark thoughts she had had through the years. There was something to them, some sort of honor and beauty to the darkness. She turned and walked to where he directed, hearing the click of the heels on the floor of his store, feeling her hot wet pussy rubbing slightly against each other as she walked, the juice threatening to wet her thighs soon.

He kept the panties in his hand, the taste of pussy still on his tongue and followed her swaying hips to the other mirror, his cock fully erect and brushing against the cotton of his tight boxer briefs. From his relatively brief glimpse, he thought she had simply one of the most beautiful asses he'd ever seen: so round and firm and perfect. He wanted to see more of it. "You feel incredibly sexy right now, don't you Alison. Embrace it, and acknowledge the power in your sexuality. I want you to see just how sexy you look right now. Lean forward and put one hand on the side mirror, and lift your skirt up again Alison, but this time hold it up on your waist, and I want you to look closely at how perfect your ass, that skirt, and those boots all look together. Do it."

He didn't have to say 'do it', she was already willing, but she was glad he did. Something about the sound of the command made her stomach clench. She tottered over to the mirror, seeing herself from every angle, and him as well behind her. She placed her hand on the mirror, and just that itself was intensely erotic, her hand against the cool glass, the feeling of her body thrust forward, positioning herself. Her other hand reached down and pulled her skirt up, higher than before, to her waist. There she was showing her perfectly firm, round ass to a strange man, in a sex shop, while wearing his kinky boots. She looked in the mirrors, as he had directed, seeing herself in all dimensions, and she looked just as something she had imagined, her dark skin set off by the black of the leather, her legs and ass made tight and firm by the height of the heels, her dark bush the perfect complement to the leather below.

"Run your hand over your ass for me Alison. Doesn't it look fantastic? You have a very lovely ass. I know it feels good, doesn't it. I want you to something else for me Alison. I want you to give your ass just a little spank with your hand. Have you ever done that before?" He was talking quietly but evenly, aware of this zone she was in and not wanting to break the spell. "You should know that I'm very excited looking at you Alison, such a beautiful, sexy young woman."

It was indeed like she was under a spell. She did not hesitate or think, simply following his directions as she stared into the mirrors. Almost as if he was not truly there but just guiding her exploration in this dark shop, as if she was truly there alone. She reached back and stroked her own ass, the familiar delight of stroking her own skin made even lovelier by the situation. She looked a bit embarrassed at his other commands, but she answered him, "A few times," and then indeed she bent back her small hand and smacked her own ass, making a tight slap in the quiet room.

He took a few steps closer to her, his cock twitching at the sound of her hand slapping her perfect ass. "I can see you're quite comfortable touching yourself Alison. You didn't hesitate at all. Now, keep your hand on the mirror and lift your shirt up over your bra, and lift your bra up over your breasts. Show me your breasts, Alison," he said, taking another step forward until he was four feet from her, watching the many angles of her ass and long lean legs and boots in the mirror, the taste of her pussy still on his tongue.

She blushed as he pointed out her lack of hesitation. On the one hand she was embarrassed by it, and to have it pointed out. On the other hand she was happy to hear the seeming satisfaction in his voice, his approval of it. She knew somehow that he would approve of all those things in the back of her mind that she knew no one else would have. He would be proud. Leaving her skirt now, she goes to do as he says, baring her breasts to this older man. She slides the top up, revealing more and more of her smooth dark skin, her stomach the perfectly toned plane of youth and athletics, her cotton bra a stark contrast with the dark skin. Gripping it in her hand she gathers the clasp of the bra and tugs upward, popping the cups over her firm young breasts.

"Your breasts are beautiful Alison. Truly, they are quite exceptional," he said, and took another half step closer. "Alison, I want you to touch yourself for me. I know how excited you are, and I want you let those feelings loose. I want you have to an orgasm right there in front of the mirror, touching yourself, and I will have one too," he said. "I'm going to show you my . . . cock," he said slowly, emphasizing the word, "now." And he started to unzip his jeans. "Go on, Alison . . . play with your pretty pussy for me."

Alison managed to get her bra up on her chest, letting her breasts hang free in the dark shop that now felt so warm and small around her. This was no more dissembling, no more dancing around, this was what she knew it would be when she stepped in here, finally giving in to the pull that led her here. He wanted her to cum, he was unzipping his pants, and she was no longer a good little girl. No, she was leaning against the mirror and watching herself in triplicate as she thrust her hand between her smooth thighs and rubbed furiously at those lips which were so wet and swollen, ready for this.

He stood nearly directly behind her and that perfect ass, affording himself a view of her lovely young pert tits in the mirror. He finished unzipping his pants and his thick, circumcised cock finally sprang free. From his pocket he pulled a small tube, and squirted a dollop of lotion on to his hand, which he then used to start to slowly stroke his cock, a foot behind her ass. "That's it Alison, play with your sweet pussy . . . cum for me . . . cum for me Alison, and I'll cum for you."

She could see him in each of the three mirrors, looming behind her. She could see him taking out his cock - the first man's cock she'd ever seen, full and thick, unlike the boys she knew. He just stood there stroking it but it added so much to the eroticism of this moment and she cried out softly as she pressed a finger harder between her lips, stroking at her entrance and over where her clit hid, at the same time. "I'll cum for you," she told him, this young high school girl telling him this, standing in his leather boots with her fingers pressing further between her wet pussy lips.