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Fear of Falling (30 May 2010)

The grey early morning light steals across her sleeping limbs. She stirs, stretches slowly and feels the soft lightness of the duvet shift against her naked form.

She kicks it back and lets the cool air caress her skin. She smiles as she remembers her lover and the pleasures they shared last time they were together. She can still smell his delicious scent on her hair and her hands.

She touches her breasts as she remembers his hands doing the same. She gently squeezes her nipples, one with each hand, then with a slight groan rolls onto her side as one hand slides down between her legs. Her fingers find the little bump already slick with readiness. She wishes he was there to feel it too. She wishes she had time to relieve the tension which is growing within her.

But the day has begun and she must get ready for work. Reluctantly she rises and chooses her clothes. She is expected to look neat and respectable for work so she chooses a pair of grey trousers, a grey cashmere sweater and a matching grey paisley silk scarf.

From the underwear drawer she selects a lacy black bra and a matching g-string. No one will know that beneath her sensible clothes she is wearing these. The bra goes on first. It gently cups her breasts but is too sheer to completely hide her nipples which are awake to the cool air of the room. She puts on the g-string, and gently parts the cheeks of her buttocks so that it presses snugly against her most sensitive parts. The feeling it invokes is almost overwhelmingly sensual.

She goes into the bathroom to put on her make-up and brushes her hair. She appraises herself in the mirror. The slight flush of colour in her cheeks is the only hint that she is aroused.

She continues dressing in her work clothes, steps into her shoes, grabs her bag and leaves.

As she takes her place in the driver's seat of her car, the g-string stretches, stroking her, reminding her, as it will do every time she sits down today, of her lover and how her body longs to feel his touch again.

LUNCHTIME

She meets him outside her office building at lunchtime. Waiting by the roadside, standing still amidst the bustling workers, the noise of the traffic and the smell of cigarette smoke assails her.

The traffic is heavy as his big car noses towards the kerb. She jumps in quickly and shuts the noise and smoke outside. Music is playing quietly and she nestles into the softly cushioned leather upholstery of the seat. He bends and kisses her quickly. She feels her whole body yearn towards him. But he turns away to nudge the car back out into the stream of traffic.

She strokes his knee and he smiles.

"I don't have much time," he says." I'd like you to undress for me."

"Here, in the car?"

"Yes."

She looks around. Outside crowds of office workers are hurrying about their business.

"Will they notice?" she wonders." How embarrassed she will feel if they do."

She hesitates a moment before beginning to untie her scarf.

She pulls off her sweater and struggles out of her trousers as the car stops at a red light. She sits in her bra and g-string feeling the leather seat cool against her skin.

He looks across at her, appraising her and reaches across to slide a hand between her legs.

She takes a deep breath and realises she is trembling.

As the car is pulling away she looks out the window and catches the amused expression of a man waiting to cross the road. She blushes.

"Please continue," he says.

"Do you want me to be completely naked?" she asks. He nods.

The car is speeding up now as it reaches the freeway so she thinks there is less chance of someone looking in and seeing her nakedness.

She unhooks her bra and raises her hips to slide out of her g-string.

He glances at her and sees from her bare, erect nipples that she is feeling cold. He reaches across and brushes his hand against them before turning up the thermostat on the heater.

She turns towards him, smiles nervously and then lays her head on his shoulder.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

He turns the car off the freeway and onto a city street. A minute later they are heading down into the relative darkness of an underground car park. Several floors below ground level he finds an empty spot next to the lift and pulls in.

"Put your shoes back on," he says. Then he gets out of the car and takes something from the boot. When he comes around to her side to open the door he is carrying a pale brown fur throw.

"Lets go," he says. "Leave your clothes in the car."

She is very fearful of getting out of the car, and of leaving her clothes behind. It is one thing to be naked in the relative privacy of the car but the shame of someone seeing her in this state outside the car, terrifies her.

"Its OK," he says, "Trust me."

She finally climbs out and he wraps the throw around her. It is soft and warm but she still feels vulnerable and it will be obvious to anyone who sees her that she is naked underneath it.

He calls the lift, then puts an arm around her waist as they wait.

It arrives quickly, although it seems like an eternity. And thankfully it is empty. He takes out a key, inserts it into the lift control panel and presses the button for the thirtieth floor.

As the lift whirs upwards he turns her around to face the back of the lift which is mirrored. He lifts the throw from her shoulders and admires their reflections — her naked form beside his fully clothed one.

The door opens at the thirtieth floor to reveal an empty, unfurnished floor, where pale blue carpet stretches all the way to distant floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond the windows is a spectacular view of the harbour and botanical gardens.

He takes the throw from her as they leave the lift.

"Wow!" She exclaims.

She walks over to the windows to admire the view, quickly checking that no one from neighbouring buildings can see her.

He comes up and stands behind her. He strokes his hands down her back. She reaches behind and pulls him in towards her so that he presses against her naked back. He moves in closer, sandwiching her between the cold window glass and his warm body. She feels his clothes against her back, and his erection pressing through his trousers.

Her nipples grow firm against the cold glass and she is suddenly afraid, despite the glass, of falling. It is a long way down.

The fear of falling to her death is not quite so fierce as the fear of dying on the pavement, naked.

She puts up her hands to steady herself against the window as she feels his hand slip between her legs. Compliantly, she steps one leg sideways to give him better access and he slips a finger inside her.

The contrast between what her eyes see -- the panoramic view -- and what her body feels —the probing of her private parts -- is a completely novel sensation.

"You're so wet. I want you right now!" he says.

Quickly he undoes his trousers and urgently spears his cock straight into her. She yelps with surprise and her fingers scrabble as she fights to steady herself against the glass.

One minute he had been so gentle and protective. The next he is like a wild animal. His passion had been inflamed by her willingness to please him.

She can feel the glass shaking as her body is slammed repeatedly against it. The mixture of fear and passion overwhelms her. He pounds into her until he feels he is in danger of coming, then pulls out, spins her around and kisses her hard. She trembles as she returns his kiss, and feels relieved to be removed from the glass.

Her hand drops to his cock which is already sticky from her juices. She is overwhelmed with a desire to kiss it and sinks to her knees, covering its shaft with tiny licks and kisses. She can taste herself on him. She hears his intake of breath and feels his hand gripping her hair. She looks up into his eyes adoringly, then, carefully cups his balls in her hands and slips his cock into her mouth.

She takes in as much of it as she can without choking, her lips forming a seal around the shaft, her head dipping rhythmically as she pleasures him. She loves this feeling of kneeling in front of him, naked while he is dressed, worshipping his cock. She puts one hand around it and works her lips and hand together, hoping she can make him come in her mouth.

But he has other ideas. She looks up at him standing above her.

"Stand up and come with me," he says, "I have a gift for you."

She stands up, smiles and gently kisses him on the lips. He takes her by the hand and leads her past the lifts to the far side of the floor. They come to a partitioned area with a timber panelled wall and heavy double doors. He pushes open one of the doors. Beyond is a board room with a beautifully polished honey-coloured timber table, surrounded by white leather chairs and floor-to-ceiling built in cupboards with the same finish as the table.

Her eye is drawn to a large white box, tied with a broad black ribbon, resting on the table.

"It's for you," he says. "I hope you like it."

"Oh wow! she says, "This looks exciting!"

He watches her as she skips down the side of the table, reaches over and draws the box towards her.

He observes her slim figure, naked except for her shoes, silhouetted against the far windows of the room. He has to fight the urgent desire to take her in his arms, spread-eagle her on the table and bury himself in her warm, always-welcoming body.

"May I open it now?"

"Please go ahead."

She pulls the black ribbon off the box, opens the lid and lifts out pair of black leather ankle boots. The are beautifully made with leather soles, long pointed toes and tall thin heels. The backs and sides are inset with tiny silver studs which form a delicately swirling lacy pattern.

"Oh my goodness," she exclaims, "These are so beautiful!" She slips off her shoes, perched on the edge of a chair, and wriggles her feet into the boots."

They fit perfectly, the soft leather enveloping her feet like a warm caress. She zips them up and stands carefully, keeping one hand on the table as she was not used to wearing such tall heels.

"Walk around for me," he asks.

She walks gingerly over to the window and back. Despite their heels, the boots are beautifully comfortable to walk in.

He observes that the height of the heels make her stand on tiptoes and as a result she walks quite differently.

He has always admired women who could walk in shoes like these. He understands why they choose such apparently impractical footwear. By increasing their height, they believe it makes them appear slimmer. He wonders if they realise the other effect it has.

He has observed that high heels completely alter the way a woman stands and walks. To keep her balance on precariously high heels, a woman has first to tense her calf muscles which gives them a delightfully rounded appearance. The heels also tip her pelvis forward so that her bottom is tilted back, accentuating its curves. And finally, to balance the tilted bottom she has to tighten her stomach muscles and push her shoulders back, throwing her breasts up as though offering them to be admired.

The other effect of high heels that delights him is the way they increase a woman's vulnerability. She cannot run fast or even move quickly in case she trips and turns an ankle.

As he had suspected, adding nakedness to the picture made the attractive effect into a perfectly adorable one.

"Have another look in the box," he says.

She leans and delves into the box again.

"What's this?" she asks, lifting out another item and holding it up to inspect.

"Oh, it's a corset and it matches the boots!"

Fashioned in the same soft garment leather, the corset is decorated with tiny silver studs, patterned to match the boots.

"I've never worn anything like this" she says, stroking the soft leather. "How do I put it on?"

He helps her step into it, then comes around behind her to fasten it up. It laces up at the back, supporting her waist and stomach but leaving her breasts free. It feels strange to her to have something tight around her ribs and stomach but it is quite comfortable.

"This is so unexpected", she says, "But it's just so beautiful."

He reaches down and she notices two zippered panels down each side of garment's front.

He attempts to zip the panels closed but the corset is already too firmly laced.

"Lie down on the table for me," he asks.

She lies on her back and smiles up at him. In this position he is able to zip up first one panel then the other and she feels the corset tighten around her waist and ribs.

"Now, stand up for me. "

When she stands she realises that it is considerably tighter. The clasp of it around her ribs makes her breathe quickly with shallow breaths. Despite this, it feels quite comfortable, as though she is being hugged firmly by strong but gentle hands.

"Oh," she pants, "This does feel good!"

"Walk up and down again," he asks.

As he expects, the corset has a distinct narrowing effect on her waist. Above it her pale breasts swell invitingly and below her hips are delightfully accentuated. So far he is very pleased with the effect of his gift. Combined with the high heels, she looks completely irresistible and delightfully vulnerable.

He comes up behind her, gives her a hug and kisses her gently on the neck. Looking down at her breasts and enjoying her scent mixed with the tangy odour of the leather, he once again has to fight the urgent desire to take her.

"Are you trying to re-design me?" she asks.

"No," he replies, "Nature has done a fabulous job of designing you. But sometimes I like to embellish nature to suit my whims. I hope you don't mind indulging me."

"Do I look like I mind?" she says, smiling.

He slides his hand down her leather-clad front and buries his fingers in her soft pubic hair. When he removes them, they are dripping with her juices.

"No," he says, "It appears that you don't mind very much at all."

She takes his hand, kisses the palm tenderly and then one by one, licks his dripping fingers clean.

"Please, she whispers," her voice shaking, and short of breath, "Please could you just fuck me?"

"Be patient," he answers. "First I want you to have another look in the box."

She leans over, looks into the box again and lifts out the perfect accessory to her ensemble.

It is a strip of leather about three centimetres wide. It feels soft, but strangely heavy. And it appears to have metal clasps at each end.

Like the boots and corset, it is decorated with tiny silver studs. But instead of forming a swirling pattern, the studs on this item spell out a word. She holds it up and reads the single word they form: LOVED

"Is it a collar?" she asks, looking puzzled.

He takes it from her and places it around her neck, pulling it gently tight and securing it at the back. She hears it click shut, feels the heaviness of it and realises that beneath the leather there must be a hidden metal band.

He steps back to appraise the effect of the complete ensemble. She notices that he has a tiny silver key in his hand.

"It's a locking collar," he explains. "I had it made specially for you. "I would like you to wear it whenever we meet. I will unlock it for you before you leave. I want you to wear it to remind yourself and me, that you belong with me, to me, and that in return for your willingness to oblige me and indulge my often strange whims and desires, you will be thoroughly and completely loved."

She reaches up and with both slender hands steadying his face, softly kisses his lips, sneaking her tongue into his mouth and feeling his body respond. He looks into her eyes and sees that tears are running down her face.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I'm afraid," she answers.

"Afraid?"

"Afraid that I want you too much."

"Are you afraid that I will hurt you? "

"I'm afraid that if I want you too much and you stop wanting me, the hurt will be unbearable."

"I'm going to take away those fears, little one, by showing you just how much I do want you."

He gathers her in his arms and lays her on the edge of the polished timber table. For a minute he pauses and looks down at her. Her pale legs, parted and dangling, clad in black leather boots, her slight frame made even slimmer by his tight leather corset, her breasts waiting for his touch, her neck enclosed by his collar, her eyes swimming with need, pleading for him to show her just how much he wants her.

With his eyes locked on hers, he begins lazily stroking her clitoris. He knows it will take very little effort to send her over the edge and he wants to tease her on the brink as long as possible. He watches her carefully, like a zealous chef eyeing a simmering sauce, and as soon as he senses she is about to bubble over, he turns down the heat just a touch to keep her simmering, her orgasm tantalizingly just beyond her reach.

He takes her back up to the edge and feels her begin to sob quietly. Again he backs off and watches her pleading eyes, brimming with tears. It gives him a thrill, knowing that he can so easily control her.

The third time he takes her up there, he can feel her trembling uncontrollably. But he wants to hear her beg. Instead she groans and pushes her hips up towards him, desperately grinding herself against his fingers.

He stops, stands up and walks away from her. Sobbing loudly now, and short of breath, she draws her legs up and rests the heels of her boots on the edge of the table. She closes her eyes, spreads her legs wantonly and begins stroking herself, moaning and sobbing, completely desperate now, completely out of control.

At that moment, something inside him gives way. He is overcome with compassion for her plight coupled with uncontrollable desire.

He slaps her hand away, roughly grabs the insides of her thighs and pushes them as far apart as they would go.

He holds her down for a long moment and then, while she lies limp and trembling, he strokes her slipperiness lightly with the tip of his cock.

"Is this what you want, little one?"

But he knows that in this state she is unable to reply, so he slides his cock into her, strokes her twice more with his fingers, and feels her begin to convulse.

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