I bit my lip and tried to keep the cries of mingled joy and pain muffled within. Just when I thought that I could stand it no longer, she released her iron grip.
"Now, stand up, Miss. High Heels," my maid commanded me.
I did as she requested reluctantly, fearing some further torment. I lifted my body out of the soapy water and it was revealed to Phoebe that I was suffering from a rather imposing erection.
"Well well, Miss. Denise, it seems you like that kind of torment."
I was too ashamed to answer. Plus, my prick seemed to be talking for me. I hung my head, looking greedily at my poor bruised nipples.
"Come here!" barked Phoebe, holding out a bath sheet for me.
I stepped out of the tub, and as soon as I did, Phoebe took my engorged prick in her hands and began stroking it furiously. I was shocked because she had never done this sort of thing before but of course I did not object. I moaned despite the self-control I was trying to exert over my emotions. But it was impossible: I was nearly climaxing under the pretty tortures my maid was suffering unto me.
"You like this don't you, Miss. Denise? Don't you? Tell me you like it. Say you love what I am doing to you," she whispered hoarsely. I could see that she had her own hand stuck up her skirt and was rubbing herself fiercely between her legs.
"Oh yes, Phoebe, I do! I do love it. Kiss my titties, they are so sore from your tortures. Put your pretty mouth on my poor nipples," I begged my maid pathetically, enjoying the desperate sound in my own voice.
Phoebe obliged me, stealing vicious kisses and little bites of my flesh. She sucked and licked me, all the while jerking her strong wrist up and down the shaft of my agonized prick.
"Oh, Phoebe! I am coming. Oh, yes, yes!" I cried exuberantly.
Quite suddenly, she stopped.
My eyes flew open in wild disappointment. "Phoebe," I cried, "don't stop. Please!" I begged.
"There," she said heartlessly, as she walked away from me. "This little punishment serves you well for being such a spoiled little tart. Mine is far worse torture than being caned, is it not?" She laughed at me heartlessly.
I sobbed and pleaded and begged for her to finish me off, but of course, she refused.
She led me back into my bedroom. There she dressed me in a lovely pair of new tight white kid gloves. They reached all the way to my shoulders and were buttoned with hundreds of little brilliants, while the seams on the back were embroidered in silver. She put me into the most wonderfully fine underclothing, all threaded with blue satin ribbons. I wore a filmy petticoat, a tight corset of pale blue satin, and a lovely frock of white satin covered with embroidery of silver and diamonds. Over this frock I wore a tunic of blue chiffon through which the silver-embroidered satin rippled like water. The corsage was extremely decollete, the sleeves being mere shoulder straps of paillettes and diamonds, and on the left side of the corsage a bunch of big pink tea roses was fastened.
The tunic reached below my knees, where it was caught with a bouquet of the same roses and finished with a band of blue satin, which held the dress in with a great buckle in front, and was fastened behind with a large bow. The skirt was so tight and clung so closely to my figure that my legs felt as though they were tied in it. From the bottom of the tunic, the white satin skirt, with its shining embroideries, fell to my feet, but cleared the ground all the way round. I wore exquisite transparent white silk stockings through which my flesh showed pink. My slippers were of plain white satin, pointed and deliciously cut without bows but with oval diamond buckles, and heels over six inches high. A blue ribbon of satin filleted my hair. I wore earrings of diamonds and pearls, a rope of pearls around my shoulders, a string of diamonds with a diamond pendant around my throat, and diamond bracelets over my kid-gloved wrists. Phoebe gave me a little fan of ivory and lace.
"Now you are ready," she said, "and I am very proud of you, Miss. Denise, I can tell you. Stand still." She placed one strong arm around my waist, and the other under my knees and lifted me up in the air as though I were a baby.
"What are you doing, Phoebe?" I cried indignantly, while I wriggled in her arms. "I am not a child. Put me down on the ground at once."
Phoebe held me still tighter.
"Keep still, Miss. Denise, and hold your silly tongue or I'll punish you," she said sternly. "I am obeying my orders. Your hands behind your back at once."
I was waving my luxuriously gloved hands in protest, but at the sound of her pre-emptory voice, I obeyed her.
"That's better," she said. "Now press your ankles and feet together! Arch your insteps. Make the most of your beautiful buckled slippers."
Blushing with shame, I obeyed her again. I could see myself in a mirror held in her arms, a grown-up young lady in a lovely evening frock! I could see my lovely feet in their high-heeled satin slippers obediently placed together with the insteps arched, and my legs dangling over her arm. Phoebe carried me along the corridor to Helen's bedroom and kicked at the door. Helen's French maid, Leonce, opened it. Helen was dressed in an exquisite long gown of pale green chiffon over white satin. She turned with a smile and pointed to a spot between her two large mirrors.
"Place Miss. Denise on her feet there."
Phoebe set me down. Yes, I had never looked so well. My blue tunic with the silver embroidered white satin underdress set off my fair hair and skin to perfection. I was so happy. There was a color in my cheeks, and my eyes sparkled. I had enjoyed a lovely day of fresh air, exercise and freedom, and now in my delicate underlinen and dainty frock, I was dressed for dinner. I was conscious of a voluptuous feeling of well-being and delight. My dress was short enough to give a glimpse of my pink insteps in shimmering cobwebs of white silk stockings. I could see my feet, which looked more slender and elegant than ever in their slim little pointed slippers, ornamented with the big oval diamond buckles.
"You look sweet, dear," said Helen. "Let me see how prettily you can walk in that frock!"
A strip of white kid was unrolled on the floor by Leonce.
"Keep on the strip," said Helen; and I walked, turned, and came back, pointing my toes and flashing my slipper buckles. The dress rustled deliciously about my ankles as I walked. I could take only the tiniest steps, which exaggerated my submission.
"My skirt is so tight that my legs are actually tied together," I said smiling at Helen, "and I have an extra half an inch on my Louis Quinze heels."
"I know," replied Helen. "They look lovely. In fact, darling, I think I am going to tie you still tighter."
She was smiling radiantly. She held in her hand a black leather strap with cruel steel buckles.
"Sit down on this chair, and give me your beautiful feet."
I had learned enough to know that obedience must be prompt. I extended my feet to Helen, who kneeled on one knee and took them onto the other knee.
"But Helen, what have I done?" I asked.
"This isn't punishment dear," she replied as she delicately crossed my slim ankles. "But it is very, very important that there should not be the slightest mark even on the white soles of these exquisite new high-heeled slippers when you have your conversation with Aunt Priscilla."
Why, I wondered? She adjusted the gleaming strap round my crossed ankles and bound them tightly together. Oh how delightful the sensation was! The blood rushed into my face, and into the more intimate parts of my body.
"Now, to keep your gloves clean," she said as she tied my hand in the same way with a smaller strap.
"There, darling, now we are certain that you won't walk and soil the shoes," she said. "Be very obedient to Aunt Priscilla." She kissed me, and Phoebe once more lifted me in her arms. The voluptuous thrills which had been coursing through my veins redoubled. I saw myself in the glass. With my white shoulders and bosom rising from my delicious decolletage, I looked like some wonderful doll in Phoebe's arms-except that my bosom heaved rather spasmodically. Phoebe, in order not to ruffle or tear my dress, had raised the skirt, so that not merely were my buckled feet and crossed tied ankles visible, but my silk-stockinged legs as well, to halfway up the calves.