Well Booted...

"Simon, I'm going to need a lift this evening. Pick me up at 8.00pm." The voice was not to be denied. It wasn't unpleasant, or unfriendly. It was just not to be denied.

"Yes, Miss Bloxham."

"And you'll take me home when I am ready." Miss Bloxham was always in charge, and always "Miss Bloxham". Miss Bloxham stood tall, with her long black hair tie into a "bob," always wearing a black suit and white blouse at work. No-one called her by her first name -- Frances. And NEVER by any shortened version of it. Only the senior partners in the accountancy firm would call her by her first name, and it was said in a formal tone.

"What do you think I should wear?" It was the sort of question Miss Bloxham would ask out loud in the office, but everyone knew their answer would be pointless -- Miss Bloxham would decide. But this time Simon couldn't help himself but to answer, and answer with a sort of "young person" enthusiasm.

"You could wear your leather boots."

As soon as Simon had said it he regretted it, and went bright red with embarrassment. Especially as Miss Bloxham sharply turned her head and stared at him. There was almost a smile on her face as she replied "So, young man, you like women to wear leather boots." There was a pause. In an instant Simon knew he had been found out. Miss Bloxham realised she had some more power, she had discovered something about Simon. She simply turned on her heel and disappeared to her office......

It had all started 7 months before, when Simon had started work at the accountants. They had wanted someone to work as "clerical officer" with the promise of advancement for the right person. The company had a reputation for being a difficult place to work. Simon was desperate to find work after finishing his degree the previous summer. He had left university to a good job, but the company he was working for had suddenly gone bankrupt, the ex-managing director sunning himself with the company money on a Caribbean Island. Hence his application for this job, needing a new job with some urgency simply to pay the rent. He was the only applicant.

Simon was 22, and some said mature for his age. He was also alone. His parents and only sister had all been killed in a car crash 3 years before. He was mature for his age. He had to be independent, living in a small flat. However, Simon was friendly, without a hint of malice and no bitterness for losing his family, although he still missed them terribly and at times felt very alone in the world. In other contexts Simon might be called a nerd, but he was slim and good looking, although never called handsome. Some said cute, boyish, with curly fair hair......

Simon knew the reputation of the company as a difficult place to work, but he had settled in reasonably well. There were three male partners, all around 60. There was a woman partner -- Mrs Dixon, wife of one of the male partners, in her mid fifties. There was a receptionist cum secretary -- Jean, again in her late fifties. And there was Miss Bloxham.

It was a difficult place to work because almost everyone kept themselves to themselves, beavering away in their offices or out meeting clients. Simon supported all of the staff as he could, and found himself quite good at it. He shared an office with Jean, the secretary, but she kept herself to herself -- friendly when she had to be, but caught up in her own work. He had made himself at home within the company probably because he wanted to please and serve by nature. But the one thing that seemed out of place -- Miss Bloxham. Frances Bloxham -- he only knew her first name because he had heard the older partners call her that. She was always "Miss Bloxham," or "ma-am" to Simon.

Miss Bloxham was probably in her early forties. She was an extremely good accountant and brought a lot of money into the company. She wasn't cold, quite. She was strong, powerful. She wasn't uncaring. But she was right, and in charge. She always dressed formally, she was a power dresser. Occasionally in his early months of working at the company, Simon thought she was a bit like one or two of the dommes he read about on porn stories, but dismissed that from his thoughts. In many ways Miss Bloxham was an enigma -- she lived behind a screen. No-one seemed to know anything about her past, or her personal life. While he called her "Miss Bloxham" Simon didn't even know if she was married.

Things changed in the November, after Simon had started there in the spring. It was only a small thing and probably brought on by the weather. Miss Bloxham started wearing leather knee length boots to work.

It was the knee length boots that made their mark on Simon. They were black leather, with buckles and zips on the side, with a mid height pointed heel. They were the sort of boots he had seen those dommes wearing on porn sites. Well, perhaps the heel was not as high, but he knew Miss Bloxham would never risk stumbling, and in these boots she wouldn't. And he realised that the tall, slim, dark haired Miss Bloxham actually had a good figure. Which the boots enhanced. And Simon had to admit: there was something about leather boots.......

There was something about leather boots that made Simon look at Miss Bloxham in a different way. Somehow they seemed to lift her ass, and made it look stronger. More defined. Her legs seemed longer. He would stare at her booted legs when she walked ahead of him down the corridor. Simon thought he was being discrete. Miss Bloxham was fully aware of the impact her boots had on Simon. It had taken her a few weeks but she knew for sure it was Simon's fetish........

Every year the company had a Christmas dinner, in a room in a local restaurant. It was rather formal, but friendly enough. The partners insisted all the staff went, and they took their wives with them. It was on a Friday evening, the Friday evening that Miss Bloxham demanded a lift from Simon.

Simon was at Miss Bloxham's by five to eight. Truth was Simon had low expectations of the evening. The older folk talking, pontificating. Simon expected to laugh at their jokes. Occasionally being patronised. Simon rang the doorbell and waited. After a moment Miss Bloxham opened the door, put her head out and told Simon to wait, then shut the door again. Simon wasn't stupid -- she was deliberately making him wait outside to feel small. Five minutes later she appeared in a fur coat (fake fur) wearing................... simon checked her out -- wearing her knee-length leather boots.

The evening was very much as Simon expected. The food was good but traditional. The conversation rather formal amongst the older members of the company. Simon had been quite pleased to end up sat between Mrs Dixon, the partner, and Miss Bloxham, but for a lot of the time he was left on his own to eat as they talked to the people on the other side from him, their backs half towards him. And it was worse -- he couldn't drink because he was driving.

About eleven the rather strained evening came to an end. Miss Bloxham had simply turned and said to Simon: "take me home." The surprise came as Simon was about to drop her of at her house, to return to his small flat. "You will come in and have a coffee with me." Was it an order? Simon wasn't sure but it was not something you could say no to. As they entered Miss Bloxham told Simon to hang his coat -- to sit in the sitting room while she made some coffee.

Miss Bloxham took 10 minutes to make the coffee, giving Simon time to look around the room. It was simply furnished with a two seat and three seat settees. There was a television. Some cupboards, some picture on the walls. Just ordinary, if classy and expensive. At last Miss Bloxham appeared with a tray and put in on the coffee table. It seemed to take her rather long to make some coffee. She poured coffee, handed Simon a mug, and sat opposite him in the middle of the three seat settee.

Miss Bloxham chatted in a rather formal way to Simon as they drank the coffee, talking about the food, the restaurant, comparing it to other restaurants she had been to. It was really Miss Bloxham who made the conversation -- Simon was tongue tied with just her in the room and rarely said more than "yes" or "no." At last both had finished their drinks and Miss Bloxham had suggested to Simon he put the mug the floor. And then the strange question. "Simon. Do you like this dress?"

Simon looked -- he was a typical man -- not looking at the clothes the other person was wearing. Now he did. It was a rather formal dress, black, just below knee length, with buttons all down the front. Still severe, but different from the suits she wore at work. And a pair of leather boot clad legs appearing out of the bottom. Simon found it a bit embarrassing to be looking so overtly at a woman, particularly as severe as Miss Bloxham, but couldn't help looking at the boots.

"Perhaps this is what you would rather see?" Simon was confused, then startled as Miss Bloxham began to undo the buttons, from the bottom. Slowly, one at a time, leaving the dress covering her. Simon had a mixed reaction. Embarrassed. Suddenly aroused. Frozen to the spot, frightened of what was happening. Uncertain.

Suddenly after Miss Bloxham had undone all the buttons she caught hold of both sides and threw the dress wide open. Simon startled. He was feeling terrified. She was completely naked under the dress, except for her leather boots. Perhaps she had used the time she made the coffee to remove the rest of her clothes, her underwear. As he stared she allowed her legs to drift open so that she sat opposite him, showing her pussy covered with black pubic hair, showing her tits, hiding nothing, except her feet in the leather boots. While frightened, Simon was also aroused at what she was doing and showing. Naked, except for a pair of black leather boots. It was his ultimate fantasy, his ultimate dream.

Miss Bloxham had a half smile on her face as she watched Simon struggling, as he watched her. "Do you like what you see, baby?" The words twisted Simon's thoughts further -- baby? It was the first time she had ever expressed anything which sounded gentle, which went against the severe woman her knew her to be. Baby? Subconsciously he knew why she called him "baby:" to make him feel young and childish in her presence, to add to his embarrassment and humiliation.

"Crawl over here and lick me." The moment of gentleness was gone again. She spoke in a tone that was not to be denied. Simon didn't move -- he was utterly stunned by what was happening. Miss Bloxham spoke again. "I told you baby to crawl over her and lick me." The word baby again? It broke into Simon's mind.

"NO, WAIT," Miss Bloxham snapped, as if she had changed her mind. "Take your clothes off first. All of them. Then crawl over here.

Simon was acutely embarrassed, although he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of -- 7 inches was more than enough, he knew. In the silence is suddenly wanted desperately to obey. He stood to his feet, removed his tie, undid his shirt and took it off. He removed his shoes, then socks. He slowly undid the zip of his trousers and pulled them to his ankles and stepped out of them. He paused and looked at Miss Bloxham, who was staring hard at him. He looped his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down his legs and off his feet. He stood upright, bright red in embarrassment, his cock throbbing hard.

Miss Bloxham stared at him for a few moments then repeated her earlier order. "Crawl over here and lick me." Simon lowered himself to his hands and knees and began to crawl across the ten foot gap to where Miss Bloxham sat on the settee. As he looked again at her, her legs spread wide, clad in the leather boots, he felt his cock twitch hard, and harder as he got closer. He was terrified, embarrassed, but wanted to stare for ever at the glorious sight of this woman with her leather boot clad legs spread wide.

Simon stopped with his face about 6 inches from her pussy. He looked at the hair around it, he looked at the lips, he looked at the spot where her clit was peeping out. He saw the red depths showing between the lips. He saw the moisture gathering all over her pussy. And even more, he smelt the intoxicating aroma of the pussy of a woman aroused. Simon felt his cock pulsing as he knelt on all fours motionless.

Miss Bloxham spoke again. "Quickly, baby. Use your tongue!" Simon paused then moved closer until his lips were touching her "other" lips. He poked his tongue out and began to lick, around her pussy, along the lips, then thrusting into her pussy. She tasted divine, and moaned softly as he made his tongue caress all over. For a few moments he would tongue fuck her, then, caress again then softly flick her clit with his tongue.

"Work my clit." He heard her voice ordering him, as he felt her getting wetter and wetter, her body softly squirming under him. He moved his tongue to her clit, and as he did so felt her move, wrapping her boot clad legs around his neck, his head, holding him tight against her pussy, holding his tongue hard against her clit.

As he allowed his tongue to work her clit, he felt her legs squeezing harder, rubbing around the side and back of head. It was clear she was getting wetter and wetter and more and more aroused, her moaning getting louder and louder. Suddenly her body was shuddering and shaking, she was moaning out loud, her pussy sopping wet. Simon felt she might break his neck as he felt the boots squeezing hard around his neck, shaking his head from side to side, suffocating him in her pussy. He held his breath until he felt her body relaxing, her legs releasing their grip on him, feeling himself thrown back on the floor. He waited until Miss Bloxham had relaxed, had come to her senses. He looked up and saw her smiling down at him, then felt her moving her foot until the sole of her boot was resting on his cock.

Simon moaned as she rubbed his cock with her boot. It was clear she was gaining control very quickly. Within a minute she was back in charge again. She continued to allow the sole of her boot to rest on his cock, and gently move from side to side. After a few moments, she removed the sole, but then put the toe of the boot under his balls, and began to press and rub them. It was too erotic, Simon was losing all control, was frightened he would cum. Miss Bloxham noticed as well, and suddenly Simon felt a sharp pain in his balls as she kicked them, not too hard, just enough.....

Simon cried out, and for a moment clutched his balls with his hands, to ease the pain. The pain did ease, quickly -- it was obvious Miss Bloxham knew how hard to kick.

After a few moments he knew Miss Bloxham was leaning forward, and he felt her hand on his wrist, pulling his wrist away. He released his balls, and felt her hand holding them instead, caressing, squeezing, gently. Simon was surprised by her next words, perhaps the only compliment he had ever heard her say. "You've got some very nice equipment. Probably the best in the office." It was only later that he thought of the implications of what she had just said.

"Okay baby, I am going to lie on the floor. You will fuck me." Miss Bloxham always wanted to be in control. She lay on the floor, dragging a cushion with her to put under her head then spread her legs. Simon wasn't sure, but knelt between her legs. Miss Bloxham ordered him again: "Okay, fuck me."

Simon shuffled forward until the tip of his cock was touching her pussy. He stayed there for a moment, the tip of his cock resting between her wet, sopping lips. At last he thrust forward, his cock penetrating deeply into her cunt, lying on top of her. As he did he felt Miss Bloxham wrap her still boot clad legs around him, and pull him onto her.

Within seconds Simon was fucking her. He was thrusting his cock in and out of her sopping wet cunt. Miss Bloxham was moaning in pleasure, pulling him in and out with her legs. It was the best he had ever experienced........

Suddenly Simon felt a pain on his thigh, a stinging pain, as Miss Bloxham had scraped his thigh with her boot. It happened again, two or three times. Simon didn't know whether she was doing it deliberately, or it just happened in her arousal. In a couple of moments he felt her kicking his ass and the back of his thighs as much as she could, as hard as she could, with her boots. Simon ignored, even as the pain, the stinging grew, more insistently fucking her, as she thrust up to meet him. Suddenly he felt Miss Bloxham tense then her body shaking as another orgasm overwhelmed her. For Simon, the pulsing of her cunt on his cock was too much. He groaned and was pumping thrust after thrust of cum deep into her as she cried out in her own orgasm. It seemed like he would never stop and he pumped again and again, but at last there was no more.

As Simon's cock shrank and slipped out of Miss Bloxham's pussy, he felt the stinging on his thighs and ass hurting more and more. After Simon had rolled off Miss Bloxham he looked down and saw where her boots had rubbed him, and where he had been kicked. He saw several red marks and grazes on his upper thighs with blood oozing out of a couple of them. Miss Bloxham looked down as well then gave a laugh. "Well baby, looks like you got more than sex from me."

The next few minutes were odd. Miss Bloxham had put on a dressing gown then taken Simon to a bathroom where she cleaned his cock, as well as wiped the blood from the grazes on his skin. She had put some cream on the grazes. It was almost like she was suddenly an impassionate nurse looking after a patient. They had both returned to the sitting room, where Simon sat on the settee.

There was an awkward pause, before Simon spoke. "Do you want me to, um, um , stay the night?"

Miss Bloxham looked aghast. "Of course not. Get dressed and go. I want to sleep. I will see you in my office on Monday at nine o'clock. We'll sort you out them." Ten minutes later Simon had dressed, then left, closing the front door behind him. He drove home, and crawled into bed, his thighs still stinging, the clock saying 2.30am. Simon lay for some time trying to make sense of it. He had been used. And hurt. But he had loved it. He had adored Miss Bloxham, and even more the boots. And something was going to happen on Monday. He knew it...