will order the big motorcar for you. I have some arrangements to make about the new houses.'
'Can't I help?' I asked. Since the estate was mine I thought regretfully that I ought to look after it.
Helen smiled, and said, 'Of course not, dear! Run along and put on a pretty dress.'
I went upstairs relieved by her words. I wanted nothing more than to shop with Violet. We were to have the big motorcar to ourselves, tea at the flower show. The prospect was delightful. I put on a lovely trailing dress of rose voile, tied well in below the knees with a scarf of tulle and a blue hat with a crown of pink roses. Violet was in dark grey Ninon with a gray satin hat. We drove off in the luxurious big motorcar to the neighboring town.
'Show me your feet,' said Violet, as we rode along. I raised my skirt obediently.
'As I thought,' she said. 'You don't pay enough attention to your feet, dear.'
I protested. I was wearing a very smart pair of brogue patent leather shoes, laced with black silk ribbons tied in big bows on the insteps, and black silk stockings.
'These are lovely shoes,' I cried indignantly.
'For morning wear, perhaps. How high are the heels? I don't believe they are three inches.'
'But, Violet, heels that are too high look improper.'
'Nonsense,' said Violet. 'For the afternoon nothing looks so fascinating as a neat, tightly fitting pair of dainty very high-heeled boots with black leather legs that button over the ankles without a wrinkle. Look at mine!' She extended an exquisitely booted foot before my eyes. 'Luckily we are going to fetch some new ones that have been made for you. I will have you buttoned into a pair before I take you to the flower show, though really I don't know that we ought to go now.'
'Oh, Violet!' I pleaded.
'I don't see how I am going to find time to punish you for your carelessness about your feet, Denise,' she said. 'Take care that after luncheon I never see you again without exquisite boots on your feet.'
Violet bought some hats for herself and for me and then we drove on to Binot, Helen's boot maker.
'You have been making some lovely black leather boots for this young lady, Miss. Denise Beryl,' said Violet to the girl who came forward.
'Oh yes, Madam, some very pretty boots with high heels. This way please.'
She led us into the ladies' showroom upstairs and produced some beautiful flashing boots with legs of black glace kid that would reach up to the beginning of my calves. The boots had dreadfully high and slender Louis Quinze heels, with escalloped edges around the buttonholes. The shopkeeper buttoned them onto my feet. They were exquisitely cut, fitting me very tightly but not pinching me.
'But the heels are much too high,' I said as I teetered on them.
'I like them,' said Violet. 'They are becoming to your feet and ankles.'
'They are only a little more than six inches high,' said the shopkeeper calmly. 'Stand up, Miss., if you please,' and I stood up. 'But they suit you beautifully.'
'I can't wear them, really, Violet,' I cried.
The shop girl looked at me sternly, 'I think that young ladies who want to be slovenly and object to the high heels of their dainty boots ought to be punished.'
'She will be,' said Violet sternly.
'Stand up on your chair, Denise.'
'Violet!'
'At once! And hold up your dress to your ankles.'
I obeyed.
'I will leave her under your charge in this position,' said Violet to the shop girl. 'I shall come back in half an hour for her. Will you see that she doesn't move? If she does, you may rap her on her pretty buttocks.'
'Certainly,' said the shop girl, arranging my feet with the ankles together and the toes turned out. I had to stand on the chair for half an hour in the showroom, while ladies came in and tried on their boots. Each one naturally asked what I was doing perched upon the chair, and the shop girl explained my fault.
Violet came back after what seemed to be an eternity and took me to the flower show. We had tea together at a little table on the grounds.
'Show your smart boots dear,' said Violet. 'Cross your feet in front of you and let everyone see them. You must be grateful now that I took you to the boot shop.'
I blushed and said, 'Yes, Violet.'
I couldn't help but appreciate the admiration of the men and the envious glances and disparaging remarks of the women. I was having a lovely time. We drove back to Beaumanoir, bringing with us other girls who came in and played tennis until half past six. Then Helen sent for me to come to her boudoir.
'You have had a pleasant day, Denise?' she asked affectionately.
'Oh, Helen, it has been lovely,' I exclaimed kissing her.
'I am glad, darling,' she said. 'Now run away, have your bath and get dressed for dinner. Phoebe is waiting for you. I am going out to dinner myself, but I want to see you looking your very prettiest before I go. Phoebe will bring you to my room.'
As Phoebe began to bathe me, I suggested to her that she perhaps give my titties a nice little massage.
'Oh, Miss. Denise, you are as impudent as they say you are,' she laughed contemptuously and reached down and took both my nipples between her fingers and gave me an excruciating pinch.
'Phoebe! You're hurting me!' I cried.
'Silence, or I'll hurt you more,' she said fiercely.
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
