Magic Shoes

What to wear to the office today? Verity ponders her wardrobe, although the answer is a foregone conclusion. Same as yesterday, something conservative and inoffensive, sums up how she lives lately, Verity reflects ruefully. All work and no play make this girl dull, fifty shades of grey polyester/cotton mix. However costly and well-cut a trouser suit, it isn't going to turn heads, especially when teamed with flat shoes, primly pinned-up hair and dark-framed glasses. An executive look that's the antithesis of erotic attraction. When was the last time she had sex? Verity honestly can't recall, and no, sex toys don't count. Fortunately, change is in the air.

On her customary commute to the corporate grind Verity chances upon a new shop. Didn't that used to be a baker? Whatever, the premises are now repurposed as a shoe emporium and a pair in the window catch Verity's eye. She doesn't customarily wear high heels and only owns one pair of black courts, for formal occasions. However, these are truly magnificent, a beautiful electric blue with an almost sculptural design. Verity experiences the strangest sense of being inexorably drawn towards them and before she knows it is across the threshold.

"May I assist?" A charming young man appears at her elbow as if from nowhere, triggering Verity's gaydar.

"I, um," Verity is momentarily nonplussed, "this place wasn't here yesterday," she observes lamely.

"Just a pop-up store until the space is properly re-let, I'm only staying until the wind changes," he explains.

"I'd like to try on those blue shoes," says Verity, who hadn't considered doing so until now.

"Good choice. What size?"

"Six," answers Verity, feeling as if this interaction is somehow preordained.

"How fortunate, we've just the one pair and that's what they are." The shoes fit perfectly, expertly crafted from fine Italian leather; so flattering and easy to walk in - something she never thought heels could be - the footwear might've been custom made.

"Oh wow, they're perfect."

"Well of course," agrees the attentive assistant, adding enigmatically, "because our shoes choose the customers, not the other way around."

Verity makes an uncharacteristic impulse purchase and doesn't even blink at the considerable cost. The rest of the day goes all too slowly, normally assiduous and focused Verity is unsettled and distracted and can't wait to get home and try them on. Eventually, she returns to her flat and pours a much-needed glass of wine before taking the pristine heels on their maiden voyage around the bedroom.

Naked save for the shoes, she appraises her reflection in the long wardrobe mirror. Verity's body shape seems somehow different; their height radically alters her stance, pushing tits and bum into prominence. She giggles as the vino kicks in, classy chassis you have there, looking good girl. Experiences a subtle change of mental perspective too: feeling simultaneously uninhibited and compliant. Verity suddenly has a wicked impulse, deciding on a whim (two in a day!) to completely shave her pubis.

Gathers a mirror and shaver, parts her legs, lathers up and sets to work. A pleasant and increasingly arousing interlude later, she admires the denuded result: silky and sensitive, rude and wanton. Her fingers linger on pale depilated skin, tracing the sensitive folds of her vulva, which soon become slippery in response. Verity tentatively slides in a digit then another, curls her fingers to touch the g-spot. Next thing she's frantically frigging to an explosive orgasm, stuffing a pillow in her mouth to stifle an exultant cry. Head swimming with wine and endorphins she falls into a contented sleep.

Up early the next morning, she packs for a conference, two nights in a swish hotel at the firm's expense. Scheduled to speak at one of the sessions, Verity selects an outfit, caution be damned, she thinks, time I stood out from the crowd, and boldly chooses a short dress more suited to partying. What else? The blue shoes which began this sartorial transformation, are a foregone conclusion. On the way to the train station, she makes an impromptu detour to purchase a scarlet red lipstick. Has no idea why, the idea spontaneously enters her head.

Later that day, during a discussion panel on stage, Verity's presentation is well received, by one audience member in particular. Anything to do with her crossed legs revealing a generous expanse of toned thighs? Certainly not, he's enamoured of the young woman's intellect.

She's already spotted the man, staring in her direction as if transfixed. Definitely dishy, Verity would previously have considered such a guy way out of her league. Now she's fantasising about what it'd be like to be spanked by this handsome hunk. Momentarily confused she can't think what in her subconscious prompted such submissive ideas. Blush-making, squirmy and subversive imaginings, this just isn't the sort of thing Verity does - until now.

Her Q&A session closes the day's formal proceedings, and everyone heads to the bar where Linton - they're almost immediately on first-name terms - seeks her out, proving charismatic and entertaining company, transparently in thrall to her manifest charms. Feeling her licentious mojo rising Verity fervently hopes his intentions are dishonourable. The serious career-driven woman who doesn't flirt at work changes her tune and accompanies Linton to his room.

"Do you usually...?" Linton enquires as the door closes.

"Chance would be a fine thing," responds Verity.

"You're being rather naughty then, what do you think happens to bad employees?"

"Perhaps they get spanked?" Verity whispers hotly - OMG! Didn't mean to express that wicked thought out loud. To mask her confusion, she takes the initiative and kisses him.

"They most certainly do," reluctantly detaching from their passionate clinch Linton takes control while Verity, propelled by a heady combination of curiosity and libido, willingly assumes an unfamiliar yet thrillingly submissive role.

"Kneel on it," instructs Linton abruptly, pointing to a chair.

Verity obeys, jiggling her pert behind in insolent invitation.

Linton promptly lifts her skirt, pulling down her panties to reveal a provocatively bared bottom.

Spank! The first of many slaps strikes the crest of Verity's buttocks, gradually progressing lower across the radiant moons until reaching her sit spot. The sensation of a strong male hand solicitously stroking her now burning bottom in between further stinging blows rapidly turns Verity on.

Linton loosens his belt. Please no, thinks Verity, unready for such a dramatic punitive escalation. Fortunately, he has a different agenda in mind, lowering his trousers and straddling her calves. The bell end of a fully erect cock presses insistently against wet labia and Verity pushes back enthusiastically to receive him.

"Steady," Linton cautions, applying an admonitory slap to her right flank - sufficiently hard to leave livid fingerprints. Verity cries out in surprise and hurt; the man has made his mark. "Shush," reassures Linton, slipping his member into her love juice-lubricated slot. Oh my, that's large, thinks Verity, wriggling and gasping as the rigid rod sinks deeper, pleasure intensifying with every inch of penetration. Her tight warm pussy grips his shaft, it's been a long time since Verity had a man thrust so vigorously and she wants it all. Linton teases, withdrawing almost completely then seizes her hips and plunges back, picking up the pace, fucking faster and faster.

"Go on you bastard, make me take it all." Such crude language, what on earth has got into her? The obvious answer is Linton's cock, stretching her lust-engorged pussy. Verity cries out, body shuddering to an explosive orgasm. At the same moment, he unleashes his load and comes mightily, filling the minx to the brim.

Breathless and abashed at their uninhibited coupling the two are temporarily lost for words. Verity's bottom throbs, a counterpoint to a post-coital glow and testimony to the intensity of their encounter. Dazed and confused, heads spinning, they return to their respective rooms, unable to comprehend this hedonistic transformation.

"Nice catch last night," smiles a female co-worker with a conspiratorial wink at breakfast the next day, "I spotted you sneaking off with lovely Linton, do you know who he's related to?"

"No," Verity replies entirely truthfully.

"Our MD, Lorraine Formby, his aunt owns the firm!"

Wearing ballet pumps seems a wise way to avoid distraction during the final day's proceedings, but by evening the blue shoes insistently beckon. Verity strides into the hotel bar seeking Linton and attracts admiring glances, including those of an elegant older woman who approaches her directly. Though they've never met Verity recognises the MD from her picture in the firm's brochure.

"Looking for Linton I suppose. I've sent him back to London on urgent business; I'm Mrs Formby by the way, you may call me Lori. He was singing your praises all morning, so I'm delighted to meet you in person. Now, please follow me."

Like her nephew, Lori has a commanding presence and without having time to think, Verity is taken by the hand and led towards the exit. It hasn't previously entered Verity's head to find a female sexually attractive, yet in the elevator, she responds avidly when sensually kissed - once again the urge to be dominated is compelling. All too soon they reach a penthouse suite and the embrace ends.

"So, you enjoyed last night's dalliance with Linton?" Lori enquires archly.

"It was wonderful," Verity smiles happily at the memory.

"Yes, he's very good at pleasing women..." Lori arches her eyebrows, leaving Verity in little doubt she has personal experience of this sexual prowess. "I rather hope you might be too. Unzip me please darling."

Rocked by this revelation Verity does so, watching entranced as her boss shimmies a designer garment to the floor, standing elegantly in nothing except stilettos, a thong and expensive jewellery. It's not easy to guess Lori's age, maybe in her fifties, although with the enviable body and flawless coffee-hued complexion of a twenty-something.

"Kneel," instructs Lori shortly, echoing Linton's command of the previous evening. Once on her knees Verity instinctively knows what's expected, draws down the thong and applies her mouth to Lori's pussy, assiduously licking and sucking the tender folds.

"Mmm, you taste so good," she murmurs as Lori grinds her pelvis urgently against her face, Verity's tongue ardently probes further, firing a potent mix of desire and adrenaline through the older woman's veins. Simultaneously she slips two fingers into Lori's eager cunt and sucks the hard nub of her swollen clitoris. Delves the digits deeper and faster.

"Fuck yeah," Lori grasps her hair, shoving Verity's head to one side as she shudders to orgasm. "Oh, oh, oh," a series of ecstatic aftershocks convulse her lower body, and she squirts copiously. "Very impressive," she purrs a short while later, "you're a talented woman - it usually takes me much longer to get off. Now it's my turn to make you come."

As with Linton last evening, the encounter seems to have gained momentum. Verity is gently propelled into a sitting position on a chaise longue where lips locking lasciviously, they become erotically entangled and Lori eventually tugs the ingénue's panties off.

"Spread your legs, baby, wide as you can," she commands huskily. Verity obeys, exposed and vulnerable. Softly Lori strokes the proffered slit. "Nice and wet for me aren't you, horny little bitch?" She dips a digit into Verity's cunt, makes the young woman lick it like a lollipop then skilfully uses her tongue to elicit a series of enraptured squeals.

Verity is breathing heavily, tense with longing and the need for release. Sensing this Lori slides manicured hands into her dress, freeing two perfectly pert boobs from the confines of a lacy bra to tease and caress erect nipples, sucking on each tit in turn and sending jolts of joyous sexual desire to the trembling girl's inner core.

Eyes closed in erotic bliss Verity yelps with surprise when Lori reaches between her parted legs to deliver lightly stinging slaps to her pussy and inner thighs. As her expression of shock and outrage abates, Lori resumes digitally penetrating Verity's pouting quim, causing her to whimper and gasp as a long-awaited climax inexorably builds.

"Oh yeah, finger fuck me, please I want to come," pleads Verity, dignity relinquished, pleasure and pain merging in a confusion of slaps and frenetic fingers. As if outside of her body and divorced from proceedings, Verity watches her pussy lips redden, whether from Lori's lipstick or the chastising impacts is unclear. "Hurts so good" she moans, lapsing into a succession of animated orgasms, losing it completely, a quivering, sated mess.

"I do admire staff who demonstrate a true commitment to the task in hand - I shan't forget this encounter," says Lori with sardonic understatement. "Now we'd better tidy up and get back to the bar before our absence is noticed."

The next day on the train, Verity's happy reverie is broken by a text from a friend in the Human Resources department: "Shouldn't let slip but can't resist telling, you'll get a promotion and pay rise tomorrow."

Back at home, Verity takes to the internet to wind down. An hour later she's belatedly aware of having achieved nothing bar checking out some butt plugs.

"Dam, I seem to be becoming some kind of pervy Cinderella."

Decisively she grabs the blue shoes, this obsessive behaviour must stop. "Time to put these beauties back into the box and lock them in a cupboard, at least for a while," she announces to her puzzled cat. "There's only so much excitement a woman can take."

When Verity next visits, the shoe shop has vanished without a trace...