Copyright 2014 Christopher D.B.

This story is written by Christopher D.B, please send comments and appreciation to christopherdb113@gmail.com

It was early and the small bedroom was dark and cold when she awoke. Fall weather seemed to be coming early this year. Looking at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock she saw it would be going off in just a few minutes, so she got out of bed.

In the kitchen she fumbled through the heap of dirty dishes in the sink and pulled out a coffee mug. After blasting it with hot water under the faucet, she found only half a spoonful of instant coffee was left in the jar on the cluttered counter top and mumbled soft curses about having to do the morning chores while only half awake. It would not be the first time.

Zipping herself into some worn brown coveralls and tying her long thick dark wavy hair in a yellow bandanna, she stepped out onto the porch of the tiny cottage and pulled on a pair of floppy rubber work boots.

Walking through the early morning darkness, she saw a few warm lights were on in the big house across one of the pastures, but her destination was a single point of harsh blue light, the mercury vapor lamp mounted high on the gable of the horse barn.

The usual morning of feeding and watering the horses, and then turning them out of their stalls. Some neighbor kid would muck the stalls out later in the day, a task he did in exchange for riding lessons.

"Hey Julia, I heard you teach barrel racing," he had said to her one day, and asked how much she charged for lessons.

"You need more experience riding first," she said.

Somehow over the few years she had lived at the farm, she had become the barrel racing instructor. No one ever stuck with it for long, but teaching was always a good way to pick up extra cash. Otherwise barrel racing had never been kind to her, despite trying so hard to compete in what seemed like a long time ago.

Walking back to her cottage, the sky now starting to brighten, she smiled just a little bit, knowing that she would be meeting Steven later in the morning.

They had met last weekend at a festival that she attended every year. Julia had caught a brief glimpse of him and that was all she needed. The young man however, could not keep his eyes off of her.

. . . .

Earlier in the week Steven had been flipping though radio stations on his drive home from the office when he was intrigued by a commercial on a country music station. It was for a festival a few miles outside of the city. Old machinery would be on display, and there would be homemade wines and live music. Having nothing better to do, on Saturday he took a drive outside the city limits to a remote corner of an adjacent county.

It seemed like there were hundreds of old tractors lined up in rows. He knew names like John Deere of course, but there were others here that had probably been out of business for over a hundred years. There was other farm equipment as well, though he couldn’t have guessed what most of it was used for.

Some of the tractors and other equipment were rusty and broken as if they had been recently dragged from overgrown fields on an abandoned farm, while others were gleaming like restored museum pieces.

There was a monstrous steam powered tractor, looking a lot like an old locomotive, that was set up with a wide flat belt to power a dangerous looking sawmill. Steven had seen it running in the distance when he pulled in, but once he finally made his way to the exhibit, he found the giant circular saw blade had stopped, and the tractor was venting steam in places where it probably shouldn't.

A young man was looking out from the cab of the tractor and trying a few of the controls with a look of frustration on his face. A group of old men stood around, trying to give him advice or instruction. Then he saw her, a stunning brunette that might have been about his age, fearlessly standing close to the steaming boiler.

At this festival, Julia liked to dress up in her interpretation of an old fashioned country girl. A snug fitting flannel blouse and a knee length skirt made of ruffled tiered denim. She also wore a pair of black leather Victorian style ankle boots, with short chunky heels that were curved like the legs on an old piece of furniture.

One of the old men said something to her, and she walked gracefully through the trampled grass in her sexy ankle boots towards an old tool box that looked as if it had been made from scrap planks. She pulled out a massive wrench and walked back to hand it to the old man.

She gave some parting wisecrack to the young man at the controls and turned to walk away, her denim skirt whirling around her legs. Suddenly she changed course and walked right up to Steven.

“It’s going to be a while until they get that fixed,” she told him.

“Looks like your man is having some problems,” Steven replied.

“I don’t have a man right now, and if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be him. That machine has been in his family forever, his grandpa and then his dad used to run it every year, but now his dad is too old and sick to make it here,” she said. “You have to fire something like that up weeks in advance and get it working right. Not just show up with it and hope it runs.”

“It sounds like I need to stick around because this might be the last chance I’ll ever get to see it run” Steven said.

“Something like that. Is your wife or girlfriend willing to wait around all day?” she asked.

“My ex-girlfriend is out of state. Medical school. I’m Steven,” he said.

“Julia,” was her reply, with what might have been a slight forward thrust of her breasts.

The two had stood there for a moment, facing each other. It had been quickly established that they were both single and it was more than obvious that they found each other attractive, but the silence was starting to grow long and awkward. Steven was quick to not let that happen.

“I thought there was supposed to be homemade wine here,” he said, glancing around as if looking for a vendor.

“They don’t break that out until later,” Julia told him. “Come with me. I know where we can get some right now.” She led the way through the exhibits of old machinery.

“You do pretty well walking in those heels in the grass,” he complimented.

“I love heels,” she said. “Thanks for noticing.”

“Those are cute boots. I hope I’m not coming across as some sort of pervert,” Steven said shyly.

“If you have a boot fetish I’m okay with that,” she said, but there was no more time for conversation as they had arrived at a grove of mature trees that was serving as a campground during the festival.

Julia walked up to an old school bus that had been painted a light brown and looked as if it had been converted into a camper of some sort. There was a group of older couples sitting in lawn chairs under a large roll-out awning. One looked like he was putting new strings on an electric guitar, and another was making some adjustments on a banjo. Almost all of them were holding a glass of wine or had one close at hand. She spoke quietly with one of the men, and then motioned for Steven to follow her inside the front door of the bus.

Steven was immediately impressed with the interior. While it would never rival any luxury RV, it was by no means a slapped together redneck's camper. The design of the cabinetry and built-in furnishings was simple yet the craftsmanship was high quality.

"Really nice," was all he could think of to say. He stopped by the driver's seat where several cases of wine bottles had been stacked.

"Daryl, the man I was talking to, did all the work himself. His wine is even better. Don't bother with that stuff," she told Steven who had pulled a bottle from one of the cases. "It’s good, but I’ll find something better in the private stock."

She went to the galley area and took a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and set it on the counter while she looked for a corkscrew and two glasses. Steven eyed the label, Sauvignon Blanc. It had been run off on a home printer. There was the name of a small town that he knew was to the east, and what must have been a family name, which was something with two many syllables and probably of German origin.

"So are you with the band?" Steven asked as they sat on a couch in the front lounge area of the bus.

"No," Julia replied flatly. "I know Daryl’s parents from when I was little." She raised her glass for a toast. "To our chance meeting," she said, and they clinked their glasses together.

Steven would never consider himself to be a wine connoisseur and often found them to be too dry or bitter, but this wine went down smooth with a hint of sweetness.

Julia's legs were crossed and she swiveled the ankle of her raised foot, perhaps teasingly showing off her boot.

"There's a bit of dried mud on the bottom edge of my heel," Julia told him. "Since you like my boots I'll give you the honor of cleaning that off for me."

Steven leaned forward in his seat and rubbed his fingertips around the base of her boot heel, the small bits of mud falling to the soft carpet on the floor.

"You need to get down on your knees and make sure its all gone," she said perhaps to tease him or as a dare, but he was actually thrilled to hear her words.

Julia was reasonably sure he would play along with her for a while, but was surprised when he quickly knelt before her, cupped her ankle in one hand and gently raised her foot towards his mouth.

He didn’t just lick the heel of her boot, he caressed the gentle curves of it with his tongue, and then began to give the black leather uppers the same treatment. Julia eased back on the couch, sipped her wine, and before he could finish worshiping her boot, she pulled it away and raised the other to his face.

Julia was well aware that a lot of men had a fetish for women’s boots and shoes, especially anything with a tall heel. However, it was rare to find a man that was so willing, one with real enthusiasm for worshiping her boots. The fact that they had just recently met and here he was, on his knees, licking every inch of the soft black leather, thrilled her.

“I like it that you wear your hair long,” she told him, pulling her foot away from his face and brushing back his shoulder length light brown hair with the toe of her boot. “It’s almost a seventies look, but I still think it’s cool.”

She propped that foot on his shoulder and thrust the first boot back in his face, reclining more on the couch and taking another sip of wine.

Julia noticed that Steven’s hands looked a bit soft, so he probably worked in an office. Without the long hair he might even look like a geek. Probably in his mid to late twenties and a bit younger than her, it looked like he was in good shape, though his loose grey sweatshirt hid his physique.

Just then they heard someone pushing open the folding front door of the bus. Steven quickly joined her on the couch and snatched up his wine glass moments before a middle aged lady he had seen outside came on board. She didn’t say a word to them but he thought he detected a frown on her face when she saw the open wine bottle on the galley counter. The lady walked towards the rear of the bus and entered a small compartment to one side, which he assumed was the bathroom.

“Perhaps we should be going,” Julia said.

A short time later they stood beside an old machine with two heavy unguarded flywheels that spun rapidly despite the heavy looking motor only firing sporadically. They sipped their wine from tall styrofoam cups that Julia had taken from a cabinet in the bus’s galley, and emptied their wine glasses into them along with the rest of the bottle before they stepped outside.

“What is that thing?” Steven asked, regarding the old machine.

“It’s a one-lunger,” Julia said. “You could run water pumps and all kinds of farm equipment with it. On another topic though, it’s nice to meet a man that takes his boot fetish seriously. You strike me as being a bit submissive, worshiping my boots like that without me ordering you to do so.” She thought she detected a bit of color momentarily flush across his face.

“I decided a few years ago that any time I met a woman I liked I would be open about my fetishes and fantasies. My ex-girlfriend was cool about that, sometimes wearing high heeled shoes or boots with lingerie in the bedroom,” Steven said candidly. “She would even do this domination fantasy for me. Put on this shiny black vinyl dress and spank me with a ping pong paddle. It was a real turn-on for me and always led to some hot sex.”

“So then why is she your ex?” Julia prodded. “Did she like to play too rough for you.”

“No,” Steven replied. “In fact, she was afraid to hurt me too much because she loved me. I got her to whip me with a belt a few times but that was too extreme for her so I never got the really hard whipping that I wanted.” He then explained that while she had a good job as an x-ray technician, she had gone back to school to become a radiologist.

“She was several hours away. We tried to make it work, but the distance, her studying, we didn’t even last a year,” he explained.

“Well, it’s a shame things didn’t work out for you,” Julia said. “But then again you are probably glad you got to live out your fantasies. It’s probably a smart move, getting those out on the table early on so you don’t waste any time with a woman who is put off by that.” Julia went on to tell him that she thought of herself as a lifestyle dominatrix.

“In any relationship, I like to be in control. I don’t need to keep a boyfriend on a short leash like some women do, but when we are together he has to do as I please.” Steven had no response but seemed to be hanging on her every word.

“You’re used to domination as a type of foreplay,” she said. “I can give you that belt whipping that you want right now, but that is all it would be. When it comes to sex, I move slowly. We would have to be going out for a while before I’d be willing to jump in the sack.”

“I wouldn’t want to do that right here,” Steven said with disbelief, gesturing to the meadow filled with machinery and people.

“Of course not,” Julia said bluntly. “But I know a place that we can go. Follow me.”

Julia once again led the way through the machinery exhibit, this time picking up a gravel lane that was headed towards some bordering woods. She set a comfortable pace in her low heeled boots. Although she was excited at the prospect of whipping a submissive man’s ass, she kept her emotions contained and kept any conversation casual.

“So what type of work do you do, Steven?” she asked.

Steven told her that he was an architectural designer, and worked for a large firm downtown. It was his second job since he graduated from college.

“So you know what copings and flashings are, right?” Julia asked.

“Yeah, that’s trim pieces for roofs and stuff,” he replied.

“I work for a sheet metal fabricator and we make stuff like that for roofing contractors,” she said. “I’m a sales rep and put together cost estimates. My company is on the east edge of town and you probably drove by that area on your way out here.”

“Do you live here?” Steven asked as they came to a rusty chain across the road where it entered the woods, and Julia blatantly stepped over it and it’s hanging No Trespassing sign.

“I live on a farm a couple of miles away,” she answered. “But I know the owners so it’s okay. Now move it because we don’t want to attract any attention by going back here.”

Steven could see there was a building of some sort almost completely hidden by the thick trees just around a bend in the gravel road. Stepping over the chain and following Julia, he was surprised to see that the building was actually an old railroad caboose.

“This is so cool,” he exclaimed. “When I was a kid I used to play with my friends down by some railroad tracks. We weren’t supposed to go down there but that just made it more exciting.” Steven had learned early on that red cabooses with a cupola on the top were only in kids’ story books. This caboose was a real one. Green, with bay windows on the sides. Judging by the streaks of rust and that trees had grown up around it, the caboose had probably been here for a long time.

“There’s no train tracks. How did it get here?” he asked.

“The legend is that it was dropped here during a tornado in the fifties. A few trainmen were still in their bunks and never felt a thing. A pot of coffee was still warm on the stove,” was Julia’s answer, but she wasn’t interested in any more of Steven’s questions as she was now busy feeling for something up under the steps to the rear platform. The look of frustration on her face suddenly faded away as she pulled out a key which had been hidden out of sight.

The interior was painted an institutional battleship grey, and while it looked spotlessly clean the air smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and spilled beer, as if a group of people had partied here last night. Julia led the way past some bunk beds that were on either side of the aisle, and towards the front of the caboose. She stopped in the middle where there was more open space, bay windows on either side. She turned to face Steven, who had been following closely.

“Hand me your belt,” she told him in a low firm voice.

Without a word he removed his belt, which was wide and made of light brown leather. In Julia’s hands it felt soft and smooth to her touch, yet was rigid enough that she knew it would offer good control. Without even being ordered to do so, he had turned his back to her and lowered his jeans and boxer shorts.

“You sure are a brazen little hussy, dropping your pants like that. Did I tell you to drop your pants?” she asked in a raised voice.

“No,” he said quietly. Julia grabbed him firmly by one shoulder and spun him around to face her.

“I have only one rule, and that is you will do as I say. If I want to see your bare ass I’ll tell you so. Do you understand?” she asked, giving him a killing stare.

“Yes ma’am,” Steven said quietly and began to pull up his pants. Julia couldn’t help but notice that his penis had already started to get erect. He clumsily stuffed it inside his pants.

“I want to see you naked,” she told him. “Don’t just drop your pants. Take off all your clothes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steven quickly responded and once again dropped his pants, stumbling briefly as he bent to unlace a pair of fairly new looking hiking boots.

“Say yes, Miss Julia,” she corrected. “The only responses I want to hear from you are yes, Miss Julia, or no, Miss Julia. If by chance I ask a question like, what is your favorite color, your answer might be, yellow, Miss Julia. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss Julia,” Steven answered, now completely naked with his clothing either on the floor or one of the seats by the bay windows.

Since entering the caboose, the tone of her voice had become stern and authoritative. The contrast of the dim interior with harsh sunlight penetrating through the surrounding trees, coming through the windows in small random beams, made for a surreal atmosphere. Realizing now how vulnerable he was, Steven feared that the situation had quickly spiraled out of control.

For Julia everything was falling into place. It had been years since she had been on this part of the farm and she wasn’t even sure if the old caboose was still here and intact. Remarkably the key had been hidden where she remembered it. The owner had always threatened to take the key away if people vandalized the place or didn’t keep it clean.

Steven was ready to go as well. All too eager to take his whipping, she had fought to keep a cool façade as he removed his clothing. Breathing deeply now, Julia circled around him, boot heels clicking on the floor, herding him towards one of the bay windows.

“What’s the safe word?” Steven asked. “Miss Julia,” he added hastily.

The safe word. Of course. For him this was a game.

“You can say mercy, Miss Julia,” she said with disgust. “But I expect you to take your whipping like a man. Now stand there and grab the window ledge.”

Steven had barely gotten into position when Julia cracked the leather belt loudly across his ass. He flinched and made a quick gasp, but otherwise seemed to take it well.

He felt the sharp snap of pain and could envision a warm wide red stripe across both cheeks of his ass where the belt had landed. It seemed that their session had started a few seconds before he was ready, and the next crack of the belt also struck before he expected it, painfully landing with confidence and perfect aim. Unlike Nancy, Steven’s ex-girlfriend, Julia seemed to have no inhibitions when it came to giving a whipping.

He tried to hold as still as possible and not cry out, though it was impossible not to flinch after every sharp strike of the belt, his own belt which was now being used against him by some country girl dominatrix.

Steven wanted to take it like a man, but while she seemed to be slowing her pace, each snap of the belt blazed with new intensity across his now burning buttocks.

Julia could feel the perspiration on her skin beginning to dampen her flannel blouse. Was it the stagnant air inside the caboose, the physical exertion, or her excitement? She lashed the belt across his reddening ass again, this time backhanded from left to right.

It’s not too hard to find a submissive man, one who is willing to talk about his fantasies of being dominated, but she had learned over the years that it was best to take advantage of that situation as soon as possible. Find a place for a spontaneous session and see if he is really willing to go through with it.

Whipping Steven harder now, she saw him jump a bit more with each strike of the belt and she listened closely to the increased hiss of his gasps. He had yet to cry out in pain and seemed to be taking his beating better than most. Precious.

Seeing his pale naked body with his buttocks turned a dark red, cornered in the bay window, Julia’s knew she was completely in control. At times like this her focus tightened and any problems she might have were far away. This was her world now, where she ruled.

Steven couldn’t help but give a loud grunt as he was struck with another heavy blow of the belt. Was she going to whip him until he cried for mercy? He had to take his hands off the window sill and brace himself against the wall. Julia paused her whipping and he was afraid that he had pissed her off by moving without being ordered to do so. Perhaps the session was over. Then the wide leather belt snapped down across his right shoulder blade. The pain was so piercing and unexpected that he cried out in pain.

It was so easy for Julia to get carried away at times like this, making her first session with a new man her last. She had learned over the years to keep herself under control, but it was still difficult. A man with a taste for pain like Steven made it all that more difficult.

A devious thought had crossed her mind and she whipped the belt down upon one of his shoulder blades. He cried out, but not for mercy. Still, Julia realized she was pushing things a bit too far.

It was then that she remembered to stoop slightly and look around the side of her obedient submissive. She had an ulterior motive for having him stand here and she glanced out the bay window towards the path which led into the clearing. No one was coming, but Julia knew there was the risk of some couple who knew of the caboose slipping back here for a romp in one of the old bunks.

How long had they been here? Julia could feel her sweaty clothes clinging to her body, and Steven’s ass had clearly taken enough of a beating, but she wasn’t ready to turn him loose just yet.

“Get on your knees,” she ordered.

“Yes, Miss Julia,” Steven responded quietly. While he was glad that he had gotten the whipping he’d always wanted from a beautiful woman, it had been tougher to endure than he could have imagined. He was glad that it was over and only too happy to comply when Julia sat in the old swivel seat that was bolted to the floor near the bay window, and ordered him to worship her ankle boots.

She seductively crossed her legs and poised a boot in front of his face, then began to sip wine from her cup. Steven had finished off his wine before entering the caboose. Although he had a good buzz on from the strong homebrew, after the intense whipping he felt alert and sober.

He started by licking the gently pointed toe of her boot, the soft black leather somewhat gritty on his tongue as it must have picked up some dust on their short walk. Steven worked his way slowly back to the short curved heel.

“You probably wish I was wearing some spike heeled boots, don’t you,” she taunted as he gently kissed the dusty heel.

“Yes, Miss Julia,” he answered.

“I wear high heels to the office all the time. Shoes, boots, I’m sure you’d like to lick your way through my collection,” Julia said.

Although Steven had an erection when he knelt before her, as Julia started to tell him how she knew that men were fascinated by high heels and loved how sexy they made a woman look, she could see his penis swell a bit more and give occasional involuntary throbs. He also started licking her boot with greater intensity.

Glancing out the window and seeing that she still had time to play with her new submissive, Julia presented him with her other boot.

“Obviously I couldn’t wear stilettos out here, walking through the meadows,” she told him. “These work well though. Easy enough to walk in, but still a bit on the sexy side, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Miss Julia,” Steven mumbled, not breaking his tongue’s contact with the low shaft of her boot.

“Now hold on just a minute,” she told him and suddenly placed both of her feet on the floor. Steven looked up at her. “I’m not going to have you dripping all over my floor,” she scolded while looking down at his penis. She was still holding his folded belt in one hand and raised it slightly from her lap.

Steven glanced at his hard cock, which was now oozing cum from the tip. To his surprise, Julia raised one foot off the floor and slowly traced the toe of her boot up the underside of his erection, lingering at the tip of the head and swirling around with an amazingly light and stimulating touch.

He moaned with pleasure and knew that if she didn’t stop he was going to cum all over her boot. Much to his frustration, she stopped rubbing his penis with her boot and held it up to his face, the toe now lightly coated with his cum and shining like black patent leather.

“Lick it clean,” she ordered in a low snarling voice. Steven didn’t hesitate, and the light salty taste was soon gone as he continued to worship her boot again.

Julia knew that at this point he was completely mesmerized by her. She took delight in lightly teasing his cock some more with the toe of her boot.

“Tell me, Steven. What do you think is the sexiest pair of high heeled shoes that a woman could wear?” She asked, feeling his cock twitch on the tip of her boot.

He described for her a pair of peep toe pumps in black patent leather, with tall stiletto heels and a platform sole about an inch thick.

“All the young hussies are wearing shoes like that now,” Julia said. “I suppose it’s a good look but I won’t wear platforms to the office. I don’t think they are professional. Perhaps we should get together again, go shopping for shoes, and you could buy me a pair,” she suggested. I’d wear them just for you.”

Steven could feel that she was now gliding the side of her boot up and down the underside of his hard cock with increased speed and pressure.

“Yes, Miss Julia,” he squeaked, his mouth dry, eyes blurring, and on the verge of a powerful orgasm.

He was shocked when Julia suddenly stood up and ordered him to put his clothes on.

“Don’t even think of touching it,” she warned, brandishing the belt as Steven looked down at his swollen erection that had been seconds away from erupting.

“Please let me cum, Miss Julia,” he begged, clenching his fists together and looking into her dark eyes. She stepped behind him, moving swiftly. He heard a brief whoosh of air and then the belt smacked loudly on his sore buttocks.

“Now do as I say and put on your clothes!” Julia commanded.

He fumbled for his scattered clothing and put it on as slowly as he dared, hoping his erection would subside enough to comfortably get inside his jeans. Trying to get his mind on anything else, Steven looked towards the front portion of the caboose, which looked like it might be original with a built-in desk and primitive galley. He noticed the stove top had a low rail around the edge, which might have helped to keep the coffee pot from sliding off when the caboose was picked up and moved by that tornado. No, that had to be a bullshit local legend.

“I enjoyed borrowing this,” Julia told him as she handed him his belt. She had already locked the caboose and hidden the key. Wasting no time she began to walk back towards the festival grounds while Steven threaded his belt through the loops on his jeans and hurried to catch up.

When they exited the woods they didn’t see anyone wandering around through the machinery. Almost everyone had congregated at a far corner of the meadow where a healthy plume of steam was rising in the air, the steam tractor evidently having been brought back to life.

When they made it to the exhibit, Steven saw an old man at the tractor’s controls and another with a short grey beard holding a long-necked oil can, carefully watching some moving parts on the side. The sawmill itself, while it must have been a great timesaving machine long ago, still required a lot of hard work to load logs and operate. All the while the giant circular blade and wide belt connected to the tractor spun without any guards or shielding, ready to grab an arm or loose piece of clothing.

Julia was not impressed. She had seen the machinery run many times over the years. Instead her mind drifted back to not long ago when Steven had been kneeling before her and begging to have an orgasm. He could have easily touched himself, just a few strokes of his penis would have been all that he needed to ejaculate, but he didn’t. He could be a real treasure, she thought, and her private parts began to feel warm again.

Although she would have liked to have touched herself for her own release, there was no time or place here. That would have to wait until she got home, maybe as she lay in bed alone and waited to fall asleep. Julia would be able to replay the day’s events in her mind with vivid detail. That would be just as good.

The tractor and sawmill didn’t run for much longer before one of the older men gave a signal to shut it down. Steven overheard one of the men telling the young fellow, who had been standing dejectedly off to one side, that he would have a good project to keep him busy over the winter.

The couple then made their way to small grove where tables and chairs were set up and homemade food was served, and the wine tasting began shortly afterwards. Steven had noticed that a lot of families were there at the festival and he asked if she had any family in the area. Her answer was simply, no. Although he tried to engage Julia in some more conversation, she was now coolly aloof.

He knew that she grew up in this area and seemed to know a number of people. The owner of the steam tractor, the wine maker with the camper bus, and whoever put that caboose back in the woods. However, while it seemed that most of the young adults here had married and had a few kids, Julia was still single. It occurred to Steven that there might be a good reason for that, but then again he was holding out for the right woman. No need to get married any time soon, and certainly raising a family could wait until later.

Although he knew that some live music would start soon and a bonfire would be lit at dusk with more homemade wine served, it seemed to Steven that the mood had cooled and it was time for him to leave. He was actually a little surprised when Julia asked for his phone number.

“I do want to get together with you again,” she told him. “After all you promised to buy me a pair of shiny black platform pumps. I’ll call you later next week.” She refused to give Steven her own phone number or an email address.

On Thursday she had called him and they made plans to meet at a mall on the east edge of town. Shopping for shoes, though Julia hinted that they might find something else to do.

. . . .

The sun was starting to come up when Julia walked back to her cottage. The old propane heater mounted in the wall between the living room and bedroom fired up easily. It was a temperamental piece of junk, so Julia was pleased. She stripped off her work clothes and pulled on a long terrycloth robe and stepped into some old but comfortable slippers.

Standing, looking at one wall of the tiny bedroom, she remembered how it originally had a single shelf with a clothes rod beneath it to serve as a closet. Over the few years that she had lived here rent free in exchange for chores, there had been plenty of money for clothes and shoes. Borrowing tools from the farm’s workshop and using whatever scraps of lumber and pipe that she could find to build a closet organizing system of some kind, the entire wall was now covered with an amazing wardrobe.

A good portion of her wardrobe had been purchased on clearance or from outlet stores, but no one needed to know that. This was the wardrobe of a successful career woman. A far cry from the secondhand castoffs she wore when she was little.

Julia would be meeting Steven at the mall several hours from now and she would take her time to pick out the perfect outfit to wear. It should be sexy enough to arouse him, without being too naughty to wear while shopping.

He would buy her those hussy shoes. Not just another pair of heels to add to her collection, but a pair that made him weak. Julia was delighted with thoughts of tormenting him with those shoes. They could be used to give him both pleasure and pain. So perfect. She couldn’t wait.

A note from the author:
For anyone who enjoyed the story, there was a previous series featuring Miss Julia and you can find those stories here on Femdom City. In chronological order they are: Off-Road Goddess, Paddled In the Boondocks, Lunch With A Dominatrix, A Painful Test, and She Takes What She Wants.