A femdom fairy tale, previously published elsewhere, featuring lightly disguised versions of the first domme I ever visited and her friend. Names have been changed.
Once upon a time, there lived two ladies, and their names were Mistress Valerie and Sandra. They were very poor. Mistress Valerie worked all day, whipping and torturing men in the town prison. But no matter how many backs she lashed, no matter how many thumbs she crushed, it never seemed to bring in enough money. Poor Sandra sat at home, doing the accounts, and dreamed of having enough money to buy a new pair of shoes every day. But they were so poor, that Sandra got only one new pair a year -- a present from Mistress Valerie for her birthday. And Mistress Valerie never drank Champagne, which she loved with a passion exceeded only by her love for Sandra.
One year, for Sandra's birthday, Mistress Valerie could not even afford to buy her one pair of shoes. So instead, she bought the finest red leather her scant pennies could afford, determined to make a pair of shoes as best she could. She took the leather home and got needle and thread all ready, then sat down with a cup of tea, before starting her night's work.
But Mistress Valerie had dealt with too many stubborn men that day, and her arms were tired and her eyelids were heavy. So as she sat there in front of the warming fire, she closed her eyes with the intention of snatching no more than five minutes rest before starting to sew. But soon her head lolled to one side, and she was fast asleep.
She woke with a start to the sight of early-morning sunlight streaming in through the window, and the sound of birdsong. She jumped to her feet, horrified that Sandra's birthday had come and she had slept all the way through the night she had set aside for making a present. Sandra came dancing into the room, and Mistress Valerie felt she couldn't meet her eyes to tell her that there was no present this year.
So she looked down instead and there -- to her amazement -- on Sandra's feet were the most wonderful shoes. Obviously new, the shoes were of the same bright red leather as Mistress Valerie had bought the day before. But where had they come from? She looked up at her friend in surprise.
"They're the best birthday present ever!" Sandra pronounced, twirling and admiring her feet. And very dainty they looked too, the arches set off beautifully with small flowers artfully carved from the leather itself. Mistress Valerie looked over to the table where she had laid out the things the night before. They were gone -- except for one small item, apparently made of the same material as Sandra's new shoes.
"Not sure about that thing, though." Sandra said, looking puzzled. "Does it go with the shoes?"
"No" Mistress Valerie replied, looking at it carefully. "It's something for a boy."
Sandra looked blank. She had very little to do with boys, except for occasionally helping out at the prison when things were exceptionally busy.
"It...errr...came with the shoes. Don't worry about it." Mistress Valerie said firmly, and swept it off the table into her handbag.
After celebrating a birthday breakfast with her friend, Mistress Valerie headed into town. Once out of sight of the cottage, she opened her handbag and took out the red leather object. She turned it over and over in her hands, studying it carefully. Like the shoes, it was beautifully made. And like the shoes, too, it used no materials except the thinnest scraps of red leather and the thread that Mistress Valerie had laid out. It had been made from the same material sure enough. She had recognized it immediately. It was a cock-harness, but like none she had ever seen before. Despite the shortage of materials, it looked strong, its straps coming together neatly in a loop allowing it to be secured in a position in which artfully contrived little leather spikes would dig gently but firmly into soft male flesh.
Mistress Valerie had a brainwave. She headed for the richest house in the village, and knocked confidently on the door. A servant appeared and tried to shoo her away but Mistress Valerie calmly gave her the device and instructed her to show it to her Mistress. It wasn't long before the lady of the house appeared, delighted and welcoming. Clever Mistress Valerie knew very well that this lady had a teenage son, and she also knew that she was too soft-hearted to whip him enough to stop him playing with himself. The foolish rich lady was in a quandary, on the one hand not wanting her son to engage in such vile practices, but on the other too tender-hearted to apply the daily beatings necessary to ensure that he learnt not to do so. The cock restraint was the answer to her prayers, and she asked Mistress Valerie excitedly where she had got it. Mistress Valerie would not say, so pressing three gold coins into her hand, the kind-hearted lady bade her farewell, and disappeared to place the cock restraint on her spoiled son.
Mistress Valerie chuckled as she walked along, jingling the coins in her hand. She was about to go to the wine merchant and buy the biggest bottle of Champagne she could carry when, passing the leather stall from which she had bought the red leather the day before, she had an idea. Firmly putting away dreams of Champagne, she bought twice as much of the very finest black leather, as she had bought of red leather the day before, and some tassels and spikes of shiny chrome with the money left over.
That night Mistress Valerie set out the materials on the table, and settled down in the same armchair to see what would happen. But the day's celebration with Sandra had tired her out, and quickly she nodded off again and was soon sleeping deeply.
When she awoke she was disappointed to see that once again she had slept right through to dawn. But her disappointment turned to joy when, in the morning sunlight, she saw what was on the kitchen table. A pair of the finest high-heeled boots stood there, along with a smaller pair of black patent shoes, and a soft leather strap. When Sandra saw the shoes, she could not keep her hands off them and was soon coo-ing delightedly over the fine stitching and graceful design. But she stopped when she saw the boots and the leather strap.
"Not...really my thing" she began, but Mistress Valerie simply whisked them away. "Just samples" she said brightly, and headed off towards town again.
That evening, one of the Lady Mayor's daughters was strutting round delightedly in leather boots, while the assistant boy in the grocery store was stacking shelves faster than he had ever done in his life, as his boss stood approvingly nearby, the leather strap dangling elegantly from her hand. And Mistress Valerie was sipping Champagne, while gazing happily at an expanse of purple leather, shiny metal eyeholes and diamante studs on the table.
And so it went on. Each day, Mistress Valerie would buy leather and other materials for shoes, and each morning there would be a pair of shoes for Sandra and several other pairs or other valuable items for sale. Sandra was soon let into the secret and she delighted in trying to catch out the mysterious shoemakers by buying odd materials or pieces of inconvenient shape. But the secret people who made the shoes each night could always conjure up something stunning for her to wear on her feet, and every day seemed to bring shoes that were more thrilling, more stylish and more gorgeous than the last. The ladies had never been happier.
The townspeople were happy too. The ladies of the town strutted round in the finest fetishwear, while the men found themselves excited by their partners' clothing but increasingly restricted, controlled and tortured by the magic shoemakers' creations. Even the King and Queen had heard about the amazing leatherwork from this little town. Mistress Valerie had proudly presented the royal household with a stunning green leather harness, which the King would wear when pulling the royal carriage around, to the accompaniment of merry cracks from a whip Mistress Valerie had presented to the Queen in person.
Yet still, neither lady had ever seen the mysterious creators of the amazing leather products. They had each tried to sit up all night, but each had been defeated by drowsiness, and the end result was always the same: daylight streaming through the kitchen window, illuminating a pile of elegant fetishwear, dainty shoes and ingenious bondage devices. Yet the makers were nowhere to be seen.
