Leather & Lace, Co.

Chapter 19 Let the training commence!

Leather & Lace
Chapter 19 - Let the training commence!
By the White Knight

When we arrived home I was tired, exhausted and in great need of a shower.  Greg
made it clear though that the evening was not over for yours truly.  Showering
as quickly as possible, I blew dry my hair, reapplied my makeup before donning
my pink fluffy bath robe to re-enter the bed room.  To my surprise he wasn't
waiting for me, though the clacking of computer keys in the other room answered
that question.   The outfit laid out on the bed answered the other that was what
I was expected to wear.

I slipped into the form fitting gold and black bustier and fussed with the hook
and eye closures in the rear.  There were set in three rows which allowed me to
custom fit it to my own body, but it was a true pain reaching behind my back
time and time again.  The good thing was that despite looking like a corset it
didn't have that immobilizing effect and this meant that I could put on the
golden toned stockings and the black patent leather pumps with ease.  I was
happy to see that the heels that he had picked were a mere five inches with a
sexy double ankle strap.  These were easy to walk in and not totally unpleasant
to stand in.

The last piece of my wardrobe was my brand new collar.  The color clashed with
my outfit, but I could see that the significance of its meaning over shadowed
that minor concern.  I sat down on the bed, crossed my knees and rested my hands
on top of them.  'Master, I have completed dressing as you requested', I called
through the open door.

'I'll be with you in five minutes', he responded, 'don't move.'

True to his word he showed up shortly afterwards and ordered me to stand.  'Step
to the foot of the bed, about three feet from the post and bend over and hold
onto it.  I'm going to give you two dozen lashes and I want you to count each
one.' 

This explained my lack of panties and the sturdier heels, but I couldn't for the
life of me understand why I was being punished.  I followed my orders and
despite my own better judgment hesitatingly asked, 'Did I do something wrong
Master?'

I received no answer until all twenty-four strokes had been a given and
accounted for.  My ass and thighs felt like they were on fire as he said in a
happy voice, 'No you did everything just right.  But a feather is not a whip and
your initiation should have been just between us.'  With that he gave me a pat
to my fanny that felt like I had been struck by the whip again.

'My God, I'm not going to be able to sit for quite a while!' I moaned as I felt
my ass reverberating from its rough treatment.

'That's fine', he replied, 'you stand just as you are for another hour, I'm sure
your heels will be happy to keep you company.  After the hour is up you can come
to bed.'  He looked at my questioning eyes.  'Yes, you can remove your heels
when you come to bed, but make sure that you put your slippers on in their
place.'  Then he gave me a resounding whack to my aching ass as he said, 'I'm
off to bed.'

He slid under the covers and turned away from me as I stood there silently
suffering while I held on to the bed post.  He turned back to me and I hoped
beyond hope that he was going to change his mind and let me come to bed with
him.  'Oh, when you come to bed, wake me with a blow job.  I never did get a
chance to get off this evening, unlike some people!'

'Is that all Master?' I asked acidly. 

'Yes, I think that will do nicely baby', he said with a smile.  Then he rolled
back over and I heard him murmur softly, 'I think that I am going to like this
catch up training!'


The next morning began with a bang or in my case a sharp slap across my rear.
'All right out of bed sleepy head time to start your training', Greg said to me
brightly.

'But what about my aerobic work out?'  I asked fuzzily as I was still waking up.

'You've a hour until you normally get up for your workout so don't worry', he
told me graciously.  'During that half-hour you will change your outfit entirely
three times, blow me and then strip and put on your work out leotard.  Is that
clear?'

'Yes, I suppose', I answered as I climbed out of bed.  'But what three outfits
do you want me to wear?'

'That would be Yes Master, we are in training', he told me sternly, yet let my
mistake slide. 'There is a typed list on your vanity table.  Also I have laid
out all of the items on that list in three piles on the hope chest at the foot
of the bed.  As you finish putting on each outfit you will come into the
computer room for inspection, where I will be working on our strategy for the
contest.  Oh by the way you're being timed as of now!'

With that he left and I ran over to the vanity and retrieved the list as I began
pulling my bustier off.  The first outfit was a peignoir set to which he had
added a garter belt, stockings, spike heel mules and gloves.  I threw it all on
quickly and then ran as fast as I could, in the five inch heels, into the
computer room.

'Stop', he called as I ran through the door.  I slid to a stop and he told me to
stand up straight.  Walking over to me he looked me over and the look he was
giving me made me scared.

'Your gown is rumpled, your hair is a mess and you still have the make up on
that you wore yesterday evening', he said with an air of detached animosity. 
'Turn and lift up your gown', he ordered.  I did as instructed.  'And your seams
aren't straight.'

'Turn around and drop your skirts', I again followed directions.  'You are under
the ten minute mark, but you have received four demerits for your lapses.  If
you receive ten demerits, yesterday nights whipping will feel like a love tap. 
Do you understand?'

'Yes Master', I said in a frightened voice.

'Here' he said as he threw me a pair of my isotoner slippers.  'Put these on,
drop and give me ten push ups.'

I slipped quickly out of my mules and put on the soft slippers, knelt and began
my push ups.  As I did them I asked, 'You want me to follow your commands
unerringly, is that it Master?'

'That's part of the reason', he answered easily.  'The other is that I want to
build more definition to your muscle groups and slim your waist just a bit for
the finale when where we are going to turn you into a seductress.'  My face
heated at this as I knew that my body was pretty darn spectacular.  'I shouldn't
have to explain my motives, but you are still so new to this that I will.  You
are incredibly beautiful baby.  Your aerobics keeps you fit, trim and graceful
looking.  What I'm looking for is just the hint of muscle definition in both the
legs and arms to give you that more sensuous caged feline look.  Dangerous
unless kept in check.  Do you understand?'

I felt relived as I regained my feet, 'Yes, Master I think so.  Thank you for
your explanation.'

'Good', he replied, 'now give me ten squats'.  He demonstrated by bending his
knees and lowering his hips towards his spread ankles while he kept his back
straight.'  I had done moves like this in both ballet and yoga so after
spreading my arms gracefully I dipped and straightened the ten times that I was
required.

'That's my girl, now off with you to your second outfit.  I'll start timing you
in fifteen seconds so that you can get back to the bedroom.'  Greg intoned as he
sat back down at the desk and began typing.'

This went on for two more outfits and both times I received more demerits. 
Despite taking more time and effort to create 'the look' I still received more
crummy marks.  First was for taking to long when I put on my make up and than on
the next outfit because I hadn't changed my make up to the new color scheme. 
Unfortunately they weren't the only demerits as I received more for my garter
belts being misaligned, my panties bunched and my breasts not seated properly. 
Thank God, that only made nine, yet regardless I looked at my Master worriedly.

'Not to worry baby, you squeaked by today.  Give me thirty more of those squats
that you do so gracefully and will call it even', Greg said warmly. 

I breathed a sigh of relief and moved into position.  Bending my knees I began
to count.  In between beats I said conversationally, 'The reason that I do them
so... two... gracefully is that these are a ballet move called... three... a
demi-plie or a half plie.  I did them for years and years... four... when I was
younger and thank God my body still remembers!'  I continued my counting as Greg
continued to type.

He finished and turned to me, 'Listen to this strategy that I've concocted for
the contest.  During the first three qualifying events we are basically limited
to the same outfits as all of the other contestants, but in the electives we get
to pick our own outfits and that is where the rubber is going to meet the road.'

'The electives', I repeated perplexed.  'You were just saying yesterday that we
only had a one in ten chance of getting to the electives.'

'If we are going to do this, we are going to do this to win baby', Greg replied
determinedly.  'I can't do this any other way.  How about you?'

'No. Master, that's perfect.  I'm sorry for interrupting you.  You were saying?' 
All right I screamed to myself as I listened attentively, we were on the way!

'The way I see it you look like the perfect girl next store and Malibu Barbie
all wrapped into one.  We want to use that to our advantage by portraying you as
the sweet little innocent, you know Rebecca of Sunny Brook Farm type, right up
until the finale.  Then we change the pace and turn you into the total femme
fatale!

'The girl next store', I repeated thoughtfully.  'No, more like Alice through
the Looking Glass'.

'Hmmm, what was that?'  Greg asked me in a distracted voice as he looked back
towards something on the computer screen.

'Actually, I feel more like Alice in "Alice through the looking Glass"' I
responded.  'You know the innocent girl delving into a fantasy world.'

'Oh, you mean "Alice in Wonderland"', he replied now that I had his attention.

'To you plebeians perhaps, but to the informed English major the name of the
original work was "Alice through the looking Glass", I jested mildly.

He snapped his fingers, 'You know you may have something there!  What if we
dress you up as a sexy Alice during the elective events.  Your blond hair
hanging loosely about your shoulders, perhaps even add a few curls.  That blue
dress with the white apron that she wears could be shortened to hip length and
add some petticoats to fluff it up.  The shirt could be of a white transparent
material in a peasant style with short puffy sleeves.  The panties of course
have to be ruffled and crotch-less.  The stockings should be white tights, but
also with an open crotch.  The shoes to go with it... hmm, perhaps some low
heeled Mary Janes.  No, I'm not crazy about that, we'll have to figure out the
shoes later, but what do you think about the rest of the idea?'  He asked me
with unconcealed excitement in his voice and eyes.

'I think it is a wonderful idea Master', I answered equally excited.  We were
finally both on the same page and it felt great to be working like this with my
lover.  'I'm a pretty fair artist so when you free me from my training today I
could whip you up a couple of drawings that we could take to a seamstress.'

'Excellent', he responded as he stood and hugged me tightly to his chest.  'The
best thing about this plan is that you can wear that outfit in all four of the
elective events and that will eliminate the entire need for the quick change
routine', he said in glee.  'Which means that we can stop wasting our time on
that chicken shit and get down to the real work at hand!'

He turned back to the computer, to re-work his strategy and said off-handedly
over his shoulder.  'You are free to go do you normal work out and take your
shower.  Afterwards I want you back in here in a short skirt, stockings and
bring two or three sets of your six inch heels.'

It was hard to keep my mind on my work out as I wondered what next Greg had in
store for my training.  Obviously it had something to do with high heels, but I
continued to mull over the possibilities.

I arrived back in the room dressed in a simple tartan skirt that was a shade too
long to be called a mini and a sleeveless button down white top.  In my hands I
carried three sets of red heels. 

'Excellent', Greg told me as he looked me up and down, 'that outfit will do
perfectly.  Now put on the most comfortable pair of the heels that you have with
you and lets see you walk.'

I slipped into the red patent leather sandals and stood up hesitantly. 
Fortunately, I had never put a carpet in this room so the hard wood floor made a
solid foundation.  I walked sluggishly across the room trying to remember
everything that I had learned, but the one inch difference between five and six
inch heels made a noticeable difference.  Being third in line at Cassy's party
had made it easy to hide my naivete, but now I was embarrassed at how evident
that it must look to Greg.

'Hmmm', he said thoughtfully.  'You were doing much better a couple of days ago,
are you sure that those are your most comfortable heels?'

'Yes, Master, they are the most comfortable pair of six inch heels', I answered
pointedly.  'And the reason that I was doing better before was because they were
only five and a quarter inch heels and the extra inch does make a big
difference.'  I told him honestly.  He had me continue to walk back and forth
for another thirty minutes, until he called a halt.  I fell exhaustedly into a
nearby chair.

'You not getting any better baby and you say those are your most comfortable
heels?' He asked in a concerned tone.

I nodded glumly.  'Yes, unless you let me wear the five inch heels Master.'

'No', he shook his head adding permanency to his decision.  'I've been reading
all of the web site documentation and message boards and it looks like five inch
is the price of admission this year.  So if we want to win we really need to
have you in six inch heels from the start.  Unfortunately, I've never had to
train anyone to walk in heels before so this is all new to me.'  His face
cleared up and he added with his usual optimism, 'Alright then why don't you
take a rest while I finish reading all of the contests literature.  Afterwards
will put our heads together to come up with our strategy for each event and that
will led us to our training regime!  As for the heels maybe I can get some ideas
from Mike or Sam.'

I brightened up at that thought.  Sure Samantha's video was teaching us newbies
how to walk in heels.  She would definitely be able to help us!  But right now I
was just happy to be taking off my heels and sliding back into my comfy satin
slippers. 

I gathered up a pad and my colored pencils and set to work sketching out some
ideas for my "Alice" costume.  I started with my memories of the very innocent
little girl dress, with white knee socks and low heel Mary Janes.  It was a good
start, but the skirt was too long, so I tried again.  This time I shortened the
skirt length and added the petticoat so that it barely covered my rear end.  I
colored in my legs pure white to simulate tights, but left my feet shoeless as I
agreed with Greg that the Mary Janes just wouldn't cut it.  My eyes were now
drawn to the dresses bodice, it was to blah... to unrevealing. 

Idly, as I waited for inspiration to strike on the "Alice" costume, I was
sketching a corset as the first event of the competition ran through my mind. 
All at once it hit me.  I grabbed my L&L catalogue and flipped to the custom
corset section.  Yes!  I began sketching again changing the bodice to a
Victorian under the bust corset with straps.  The straps were wide and the
corset pointed in an inverted V between my breasts totally emphasizing my
breasts in the see-through peasant blouse.  The short skirt with the petticoats
and white stockings all worked perfectly together.  Now it was just the right
footwear for the outfit that eluded me.

I went back to my sketch of my corset and added my legs and then my new ballet
shoes.  As I worked at getting the arch of my foot just right to make the shoes
look right it all fell together.

I went back to my Alice costume and added baby blue pointe ballet slippers
complete with the ribbons about my ankles.  This was it this was the innocent
yet sexy Alice that Greg wanted to create!

I hurriedly picked up my sketches and ran back into the computer room.  I
spilled out my story to Greg as he looked over the picture.  'Oh yes, this is
excellent.  I can definitely use this.  Think about it we do the hogtie the same
as at Cassy's and you arch your feet in the ballet slippers.  Then we use the
stool and tie you over it so you can again show off your highly arched sole. 
Then for the suspension and the pole I tie you up with just the toes of your
ballet slippers touching the ground.  What did you call that position?'  He
asked.

'On pointe', I said off-handedly as my thoughts turned to my very rusty ballet
skills.

Greg didn't realize that I was lost in thought and went on, 'And I love this
sketch of you in the corset with your ballet heels from last night.  We have to
use something like that as the finale.'  Greg's face began to cloud.  'Off
course that means that you would have to at least be able to stand in those nine
inch heels and we haven't even got you into the sixes!'

Spurred into motion he picked up the phone and dialed.  'Hi Mike. Sharon and I
have been working on her training and wondered if we could ask your lovely wife
a question or two?'  I couldn't hear the reply and motioned this silently to
Greg.  He nodded and put the phone onto speaker mode so that we could both hear
and talk.

'Hello, Greg', Sharon answered brightly, 'what can I do for you two?'

He motioned to me to speak, 'Hi Sam, its me Sharon, I've been trying to walk in
six inch heels that we will need for competition and I just can't seem to get it
right.  I've been following your instructions from the Bondage Instruction
videos which has worked fine for five inch heels, but the six inch heels...
ugh!'

'Let me guess', Sharon said lightly, 'you feel like the Leaning Tower of Piazza
in that you're always leaning too far forward?'

'That's it exactly!' I responded.  'How can I fix it?'

'You're not going to like my answer, because there is no easy fix', she said
gently.  'The key is to find your center, so that you are always keeping your
back straight and you weight centered just a bit forward of directly over your
heels.  The best way to do this is to just stand in front of the mirror and
watch your posture.  In conjunction with that you have to make sure that your
ankles aren't wobbling and that you are able to keep them straight.  Once you
have the standing correct just remember to lean back and relax when you walk. 
Heel touches first and toe shortly afterwards.  After you've done all of that
its practice, practice and more practice.  I'm sorry honey, but I don't know of
any short cuts.'  She paused and then added, 'And for your own health, don't
practice for long periods of time all in the same day, you'll mess up your
tendons.'

I sighed in resignation then asked, 'Do you have any tips for walking in my nine
inch ballet shoes?'

'Yes, honey, don't!'  Samantha said more forcefully.  'It is barely possible to
walk in ballet boots which give a lot more support to your ankle and that still
takes years of practice.'

Tears began to form in my eyes as all my plans for participating in the contest
began to fall into ruins.  'Thaaannkkss...' I stumbled over my words and had to
stop entirely as I began to sob.  Greg thanked Samantha, hung up and took me
into his arms.  I crawled onto his lap like a hurt child and just let my tears
run free.

'I'm sorry', I said through my sobs, 'I've failed you Master.'

'Nonsense baby', Greg said softly, 'we've only just begun.  There has to be
another way.  Someone else that knows something that Sam doesn't know.'  He
paused as if he was sure that he believed his own words, yet continued brightly,
'Heck, if not we'll just go to plan two and use five inch heels and ballet
boots.'

Now I was in total devils advocate mode and responded hotly, 'You said it
yourself, if we want to win that I would need to be in six inch heels.  As for
the boots I'm sure you saw in your reading that they were the big loser last
year.  On top of all of that you want me to stand "on pointe" in ballet
slippers, which is something that I haven't done in half-a-dozen years!'

'There has got to be someone that can pull all of this together', Greg said
disgustedly.  'Ballet, Ballet shoes, high heels... who knows about all of those
things and would help us?'

No one is who, I thought to myself as my tears continued to fall on his
shoulder.  Maybe just maybe I could master the six inch heels in six weeks time,
but the nine inch ballet shoes... impossible.  I couldn't even imagine walking
in them when Lucinda gave them to me.  Lucinda...

'Hmmm, what did you say?'  Greg asked.

I must have spoken out loud at that thought and now as it coalesced I became
excited.  'Lucinda!'  I answered breathlessly.  'Remember she offered to teach
me to walk in the ballet shoes.  She also started to train me in walking in
heels the night she tried to make me hers.'

'Yeah, I'm still not crazy about that', Greg told me.

'Wait it gets better', I said as my eyes lit up with my excitement level.  'When
we were telling each other our life histories, she told me that she still
teaches ballet in the evening.  She said it kept her in shape, but if I read
correctly between the lines it probably also the source of her... companions.'

'I see where you are going with this and I'm not sure that I like it', Greg said
evenly.  'On the other hand we are between a rock and a hard place and we really
could use her help.'  He was silent for a second as I continued to beam my
excitement at him.  'Alright will do it!'

This time he started the phone in speaker mode as he dialed.  'Hello, Ms.
Grant's residence', was said by a young female voice.

'Hello, this is Greg Stanton, is Lucinda in please.'

'Just one minute Sir and I'll see if she is in'.

'Hello Greg, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?'  Lucinda answered in
an oily tone.

'We need your help Lucinda', Greg told her quickly.  'Let me back up a second
and give you some back ground.  Sharon has wanted us to represent L&L at the
Bondage Convention Contest for awhile now and she and my Dad talked me into it
last night.'

'My goodness that is an aggressive time frame to turn such a newcomer into a
flawless bondage partner', she said smoothly.

'That part I feel confident that we can handle', Greg answered her no-pulsed by
her obvious dig.  'It's our strategy to win that concerns me.  I need her to be
able to walk in six inch heels like a pro and be able to at the very minimum
stand in the ballet heels that you were so kind to give her.'

'In six weeks time?' Lucinda asked in a tone that didn't require an answer. 
'Hmmm, is there anything else that you need?'
 
Her barbs were starting to hit home with Greg and I could see his face turning
visibly darker...  'Yes, there is' I answered her.  'I also need a fast
refresher course in ballet, to re-master the 'on pointe' position which we want
to use during the competition.'  Greg looked at me angrily and I shrugged my
shoulders.  After a bit, he nodded his head in acceptance as he knew that we
needed her more than she did us.

'My, my, my, that's quite a lot to fit in a very short time frame', she said
airily.

'Can you do it or not?'  Greg barked.

'Lucinda, it would mean a lot to me... to us' I added as my eyes begged Greg not
to be mad at me for going against him.

'For you darling anything... both of you', Lucinda responded largely in her
exaggerated New England educated accent.  'Six weeks is tight, but as I remember
you are quite skilled for one so new to her status so I believe that we can
achieve those goals.  I'll see you at four this afternoon and we will see where
your aptitude lies so that we can decide what you need to work on.'

'Hmmm, ummm... my status changed', I told her uneasily.

'Whatever do you mean darling?'  Lucinda rejoined.

'Greg broke me to his collar last night', I said softly as I looked into his
eyes.  The anger in them vanished and I felt his love and pride flow into me.

Lucinda, to her credit, didn't miss a beat, 'Congratulations Greg you couldn't
have picked a finer young lady!  I suppose that your father and I were right
just this once.'

Even in her praise she had to add a dig and I couldn't help feel that it was
because of me.  Greg on the other hand seemed to have grown in stature at my
admission and let it fall form him like water from a ducks back.  'Thank you
Lucinda, for both Sharon and I' then he chuckled as he relaxed, 'and yes Aunty
Lucinda you were right, Sharon is the perfect woman for me.'

Greg put the phone on mute and said softly to me, 'She hates it when I call her
Aunty Lucinda.'

'Hmmm, yes well then I suppose you should come along also' She responded
sounding just a bit miffed.  'In fact it will be necessary for you to learn what
Sharon needs to be taught so that you can keep her on track.  I'm not saying
that I can transplant all of my knowledge to you in such a short period of time,
but I'm sure that I can teach you what to look for when she is doing something
basically incorrectly.'

Greg smiled, 'that would be wonderful Aunty, will be there with bells on a 4pm.'

'Fine, I'll see you then', Lucinda said in a snit and hung up the phone.  Oh,
Lord this afternoon was going to be a whole bunch of fun with those two going at
each other like this!


He wasn't in his best of moods as he ordered me into my red patent leather pumps
and bound me into a hogtie.  It was similar to the particularly onerous one that
I had been in last night and if anything my hair tie was even tighter.  That was
due to the fact that he had not bound my wrists behind my back and to my ankles,
but had attached them to my thighs.  This meant that only my hair and the crotch
rope nestled between my pussy lips was holding my ankles down until they nearly
touched my butt. 

That didn't stop him from taking his pictures though.  Even blindfolded and
gagged I could tell exactly when he was taking pictures of me.  Blindfolds
especially seemed to make my hearing work harder and even the soft whine of the
zoom sounded loud in my ears.  'A half an hour and I'll be back, then a ten
minute break and onto another position', Greg informed me as he went back to his
plotting.  So there I lay, on top of the unrelenting wood surface of the coffee
table.  I could hear the clicking of the computer keys start up in the distance
and I wondered how often he would look up from his work to check on me.  The way
the rooms were set up meant that all he need do was look out the door to his
right and there I would be smack dab in the middle of his view.  That thought
warmed me, but I wished that he had added a little stimulation to my bondage. 
The crotch rope wasn't as effective as it had been yesterday as my poor pussy
was still very tender, so I had to work hard not to saw it into myself by
keeping my feet still.  That, of course, meant no pussy pleasure!  Yuck.

The afternoon passed away in this manner as Greg bound me in one position after
another.  The rest of the positions weren't as strenuous and I found myself
enjoying being helpless and luxuriated in restful bliss in during each of our
little sessions.

At about three in the afternoon Greg freed me.  I was given time to clean up and
refresh myself, which was nice but I did feel a bit stressed that it had gotten
so late.  So despite being quite hungry, I decided against making a late lunch
and instead grabbed a couple of granola bars and a large glass of Poland Springs
ice water.  Taking my repast to my vanity table I worked valiantly to put my
make up back in order.  I was ready at quarter to four with a small bag of high
heels packed.


We were greeted at the door by a young woman wearing a Leather & Lace version of
a maids uniform.  I couldn't help but notice that she walked very well in her
heels and commented so softly to Greg.  He responded with five fingers on one
hand and a thumb down below it on the other.  Hmmm, now that I knew what to look
for I realized he was right.  Her heels were probably only about four and a half
inches or so.  I nearly laughed at that thought... only (!) four and a half
inches.  It wasn't all that long ago when those were highest heels that I had
ever worn and perhaps ever intended to wear!

We were lead down into the basement of Lucinda's large house to a room that had
been transformed into a dance studio.  The flooring was of a light colored oak
and the ceiling was deceptively high due to the diffuse recessed lighting.  One
entire wall was covered by floor to ceiling mirrors, which I knew to be
essential to learning ballet.  Lucinda was stretching gracefully at the bar set
into the wall and saw us first in the reflection from the mirror.

She stepped off of the bar and turned gracefully.  Lucinda wore a plain black
leotard, black tights, white leg warmers and gleaming white satin ballet toe
shoes.  'Ah, so you have arrived', she said evenly and then to her servant,
'Kristen you may resume your duties.'

'Yes Mam', she said curtseying before she left the room. 

'I see you found a new plaything', Greg said roughly.

Rather than rising to his bait, Lucinda walked over and hugged him.  'Yes, dear
boy and she is keeping me quite entertained so lets all relax and enjoy the fact
that you two young people have joined forces.'  Greg visibly relaxed and Lucinda
looked over to me and said blithely, 'Try to move in on the poor boys
step-mother and no one ever forgives you.'

'What?' I stammered in disbelief.

Greg chuckled, 'Lucinda took a pass at Dad about 10 years ago.  It didn't quite
work out the way that she had planned.'

'How was I to know that Cassiopeia could have sunk her claws so deeply into your
father in only six short months', she said in her own defense.  'And you were
even more under her spell than he was!'

This time Greg gave a full bellied laugh, 'Well, I wouldn't have called it a
spell, but yeah Cassy and I had become pretty tight by the time that I was
sixteen.'

'Yes, yes, I've heard the story a hundred times from your step-mother', Lucinda
said with a wave of her hand.  'How you rode in like a white knight and rescued
her all those days that your father left her bound and gagged.'

'Now, now Lucinda', Greg responded warmly, 'be nice to mom she was the first one
to forgive you!'

'Yes, well that's true enough', she said and then looked over at me.  'What's
wrong with you girl?  You look like the cat just stole your tongue!'

'But... but I thought that you liked... girls', I stammered.  Both Greg and
Lucinda laughed together and while my face reddened they both seemed to totally
relax.  

'Look at your boyfriend here', she said putting her hand on Greg's shoulder. 
'His father is still a good looking man, but at forty he was truly prime!  And
while I do very much enjoy dallying with women, not girls darling, I do also
like men.  Powerful and available men are few and far between... so what can I
say.  I was weak.'

It took me a moment to assimilate everything, but soon it all made sense.  I
only saw Lucinda as a dominant because that was all that I knew her as, but she
had told me that she had started out as a submissive and only a bad experience
had switched her onto her new track.  So obviously, for the right man, the right
dominant man she might be willing to switch back to her original role.  Wow.

'It's about time that we got down to business', Lucinda said, so I reached into
my bag and began pulling out a pair of my six inch heels.  'No, no, no.  Over
here in my class room first and then later we will see how you do in heels. 
Remember, I have a pretty good idea from what I saw back at the A frame so I am
going to start with the basics first.'

She led us over to a corner of the room which had six of those single seat desks
that you see in college class rooms around the world.  On the wall in front of
us was a large chalk board.  My eyes strayed to the padlocked door at the far
end of the room and after my recent experiences with this group I was reasonably
certain that it led to her own private dungeon.

Snap.  The sound of wood on wood made me look down to where Lucinda's pointer
had landed on my desk.  'Pay attention now or with your Master permission the
next time this rod lands it will not be on your desk!'

'Yes, Mam', I gulped as I noticed Greg nodding affirmatively in my peripheral
vision.

That is how my training started.  Three main things were up on the board,
exercises, ballet training and heel training.  'What we have to do first is get
you to the point that you are fit enough to walk in extremely high heels to do
this we will be employing a series of isotonic / isometric exercises.  By this I
mean a series of gentle movements in which the muscles hold your body in one
extended position against the resistance of gravity for a period of five to ten
seconds or so, before relaxing and repeating. This is the way to strengthen your
muscles and improve their flexibility.'  She looked at me and shook her head, '
No, we are not talking about all those aerobics' that you are so fond of, just
exercises, that build up gradually, and if it hurts you stop. A series of gentle
regular sessions is infinitely more effective than one or two frantic ones.
Don't expect miracles. It will probably take from two to three weeks to really
make a difference.'

She then went on to explain 'heel raises', 'tip toe walking' and 'calf
stretches'.  Later I was informed as I began to work in heels, I would be taught
'balance' and 'half crouches'.  But to start I was to be doing those three
exercises throughout the day for short periods until I could build up to longer
periods.  She had me perform each of the exercises, which were relatively
simple, until I had them down to her satisfaction.  At times she would tell me
to hold a position, such as standing bare foot on my tip toes while she pointed
out to Greg the muscle groups in my legs and how they should react to the
exercise.  More than once I felt the crack of her crop like pointer against my
buttocks or thighs when I didn't respond quickly enough.

During a calf stretching exercise where I had both hands firmly planted onto the
back of a chair, with my front leg flexed at the knee and my rear leg stretched
from arch to calf Lucinda graced me with a rather violent crack of her crop.  I
cried out, but held my pose and Greg made is if to intervene. 

Lucinda's calm words stopped him, 'Have you ever raised a dog before Greg?'  He
shook his head no.  'Well, there are two methods to do so.  The first is to give
the dog a reward every time that they do something right.  I'm sure that you've
heard of it, perhaps labeled as positive reinforcement.'  She looked at him as
he nodded and then continued.  'Then there is the method of swatting the dog on
his nose or hind quarters when he doesn't obey swiftly enough or does something
wrong.  That is known as negative reinforcement.'

She ran the pointer down my perfectly flexed leg, making me shiver and then
continued.  'Both methods work, but the dog that has been swatted will always
respond more quickly then the one that has been rewarded.'  Again the rod slid
up my leg and over my butt. 

'You see how Sharon hasn't made even one error twice?'  Greg nodded yes, though
it seemed to me reluctantly.  'Perhaps you should keep in mind what I've said
while you train her.'  I didn't very much care for being likened to a dog, but I
wasn't about to say anything with that rod hovering so near to my rear.  Hmmm, I
suppose that she did have a point after all.

After that I was handed a set of clothes similar to the ones that she was
wearing and told to go into the locker room to change.  It was small, only large
enough for six or eight women, but I suppose that smaller hand picked classes
would probably suit Lucinda very well.  When I emerged I was ordered over to the
bar.  'I want to see what you remember from your ballet training.  Let me see
your plie's with your feet in all five positions.'  Oh, Lord this was truly
torture.  Not so much on my muscles as on my memory!  How exactly to place my
feet?  How to crouch gracefully in that position?  What to do with my arms,
which I knew were supposed to flow gracefully.  As I raised myself from my fifth
movement Lucinda stood in front of me shaking her head. 

Crack.  I yelped in surprise as I looked in surprise at Greg who had picked up
another springing bamboo pointer and had used it on my nearly naked rear end! 
'Even I could tell that that was horrible', he said evenly.

'Your quite right Greg', Lucinda agreed, 'that was truly horrendous, yet you can
tell from her movements that at least she was well trained.'  Lucinda paused in
thought.  'Alright then lets just see what you remember, give me a releve into
an on pointe position... if you can manage it.'

I was determined now to do my best and swept my arms above my head as gracefully
as a swan raising its wings to fly.  Slowly I raised my arches, past the tip toe
position of resting on the balls of my feet in demi-pointe, until all my weight
rested entirely on my toes.  I knew I had made it and this truly amazed me, but
that split second of inattentiveness cost me.  My ankles began to wobble and I
fell back to the floor in a heap.

'I'm sorry', I said brokenly, 'I'll try again.'

'No, no not yet', Lucinda said as she opened a chest of drawers and pulled out
another pair of slippers.  'Here try these on.  They maybe a tad tight as I'm a
half size smaller than you, but they are pretty well broken in so they will
probably fit.'

'Why the slipper switch?' Greg asked.

'Her ankles began a sickling motion which is a term for putting to much weight
on the 4th and 5th toes of the foot.  The slippers that I use now that I, um a
bit past my prime shall we say, are from the makers Gaynor Minden.  They are
known in the dance world to produce the best alignment which will help offset
Sharon's problem.'  After I had finished slipping into the new shoes and binding
the laces about my ankles, I moved back into position unasked.

'Good', Lucinda said, 'lets try that again.  And this time concentrate!'  With
that word she cracked the crop against the desk to remind me of my fate if I
should fail.

I looked at Greg's stern face and knew that we were coming to the breaking
point.  If I couldn't prove to him that I could do what was necessary to win
this competition I knew that he would soon lose his desire to pursue the contest
regardless of what his parents thought.

Clearing my mind I put myself back into my dance class as a young lady.  My
breathing slowed and my arms seemed to move of their own accord.  My heels rose
slowly off the floor, moving through each of the three major arches.  With a
last smooth flexing of my muscles I stepped onto my toes.  My legs were arched
like a wish-bone and my arms formed a tulip above me.  I continued to breathe
evenly letting my body softly lock into position and held my pose.  The music in
my head, that always seemed to be there when I used to dance, mesmerized me with
its strength and beauty.  As the music changed pitch I knew it was time and I
slowly and gracefully lowered myself back onto the floor.'

I opened my eyes to see Greg clapping and grinning from ear to ear, 'That was
incredible!' He cried, 'Bravo.'

Lucinda had crossed her arms and looked thoughtful.  Her bamboo rod hung loosely
from her wrist as if forgotten.  I took that as a good sign.  'How long did you
study ballet darling?'  She asked softly.

'I'm not sure exactly because I'm not totally sure how early my mother started
me, but I didn't stop until my senior year in high school', I replied.  I
stopped because my mother cared more about me becoming the next prima ballerina
to a prestigious dance company and I didn't want anything to with it!  It was
always her dream not mine, although I had loved the beauty of it all.

'Did you have any significant roles in plays that your studio was involved in?'
She asked now looking very interested.

'Yes, I had an understudy role in 'Swan Lake' which we performed at the
Westchester County Arts Center', I answered a bit embarrassed.

'Let me guess' Lucinda said with a smile, 'Odette?'

'Yes', I answered with a tinge of pride in my voice.

'I thought that move of yours was familiar', she said with a hint of laughter in
her voice.

'What are you two talking about?' Greg asked.

'Your girl friend used to be a pretty outstanding ballerina in her youth. 
Odette is the lead female role in the classic ballet Swan Lake and she was the
understudy.'  She looked again at me.  'You refused the lead role didn't you?'

'Yes, how did you know?'  I asked perplexed.

'Yet, somehow you managed to dance the role three out of five nights, correct?' 
She said with a smile.

'Yes, but how could you know?' Now I was truly dumbfounded. 

'Do you remember the name Ms. Abbernapthy?' Lucinda continued to question me.

'Yes, she was my ballet instructor Ms. Minerva's friend.  I think she helped out
with the choreography.'  I said and than the light dawned as I looked at her
face and saw those same eyes that I had seen years ago in my youth.  'You're
Mistress Appernapthy!'

'Correct darling and though I can thank my short marriage to Mr. Grant to save
me from that name!', she told me haughtily, 'At the time I remember seeing all
of the potential that you possessed during rehearsals and in my own little way
was trying to force you to see it also.  You see it was I that had Minerva
change the lead.  And your supposition at the time that it had to do with your
mother's money was totally inaccurate.  Such a shame that you and she couldn't
reconcile your differences as it was such a waste of talent to lose you.'

'Thank you', I said lowering my eyes.

'So what does this all mean to our chances in the contest?'  Greg asked in
frustration.

'Ever the practical one, aren't you Gregory?'  Lucinda continued in the same
tone.

'Yes, Aunty Lucinda, now please answer the question', Greg responded with a
chuckle that took the sting out of his words.

'What it means dear boy is that WE still have a lot of work to do, but her vast
ballet experience is going to definitely help speed the process', Lucinda said
warmly.  'In fact I think the good news here is that with a strong dose of
negative reinforcement that we will be able to get this young lady on her toes
in nearly no time at all!'  Great now the two of them were working together,
that could only mean that I was really in trouble.  'And that dear boy is going
to be the genesis of her being able to stand and perhaps even walk in those nine
in ballet heels!'

Greg stood up and took Lucinda in his arms and hugged her close.  'Thank you
Lucinda' he said gratefully and kissed her on the cheek before he stepped back. 
For the first time ever I saw Lucinda blush and look away.

In a second though her composure was back and she turned on Greg with a
dangerous smile that I didn't like as soon as I saw it.  'Hmmm, I couldn't have
your father... so what about you?'  As I went to move in between the two, Greg
grabbed Lucinda tightly about the waist and looked down deeply into her eyes
with a wolf like glare.  'Anytime, anywhere' he rumbled in his deep rich voice,
'but don't think that you'll ever have the top role!'  To my great surprise
Lucinda pushed herself out of his grasp and smoothed out her leotard
fastidiously.

'Yes, well we will have to leave that for a later day', she said primly.  'I
think it is high time that I saw Sharon walk in heels, five inch heels first I
think.'

I went back to my bag and retrieved a pair of red pumps which sported a set of
cross straps across the top of my foot.  Lucinda and Greg followed me and as I
slipped into the heels, Lucinda told me to walk in line with the bar.  Standing
I did as directed and walked the twenty feet to the end of the room and did the
fancy quick turn that I had learned from my bondage instructional tapes and
walked back.

'Alright, now your six inch heels', Lucinda said as I smiled in victory.  Well
that took the wind from my sails.  Greg had made me take my red patent leather
court pumps.  They were plain of any decoration and unfortunately didn't even
have an ankle strap that might have provided a bit of extra support.  I stood up
slowly in the heels working hard to keep my ankles from wobbling. 

'Alright then proceed', Lucinda called to me. 

Everything that felt right when I walked in the five inch heels felt wrong in
the sixes.  I stepped uncertainly forward and took one hesitating step after
another.

'Head up, eyes forward', Lucinda ordered me.  I responded immediately as I heard
her rod smack hard against wood. 

Crack.  I cringed at the sound of the rod slamming the desk for a second time. 
'Your arms are not circus balancing poles!  They should be swinging naturally by
your side.'  I did my best to do as she instructed, but it made me feel as if I
was going to fall flat on my face at any second.  'Relax and lean back, for
God's sake', Lucinda said in total exasperation.  I lurched forward until I
reached the end of the room and slowly turned for my terrifying walk back. 
'Stop', Lucinda commanded.  'Put out your right hand and grasp the bar lightly. 
Now, straighten your back and find your center in the heels.'  With the bar in
my hand I was able to remove the fear of falling for the first time and my body
began to respond to her words.  'Good, now walk.  Your left arm should sway
gently.'  This time it felt nearly the same as walking in the five inch heels
and the tears that had almost overcome me turned to smiles as I reached my two
mentors.

'What do you think?' Greg asked in a concerned voice as if he was talking to a
doctor about some sort of surgery.

'I think that we have our work cut out for us', she responded calmly.  'It's
obvious that she hasn't been wearing high spiked heels for long and the only
good thing that I can see is how quickly she picked up on the five inch heels. 
Unfortunately, that is pretty common for most women that have been accustomed to
wearing three and four inch heels.  What is also common for most women is that
they never master anything higher.'  Lucinda held up a hand to stop Greg from
asking a further question and then continued.  'However, most women never had
the two of US to train them!'  She paused to look me over as I stood there still
holding the bar for support.  'Yes darling you were absolutely horrible today,
but in five or six weeks I promise you that you will be walking like an angel on
water in those same heels!'

Greg took both of her hands in his and thanked her.  Lucinda wasn't quite done
with us yet though.  She wanted me back every evening at nine P.M. to work with
me further.  Before we left she wrote out a list of exercises that she wanted me
to do every day for leg, ankle and foot strengthening, below that she added
another list of ballet exercises.  As we were about to leave she called, 'Oh
darling, just one last thing.  Don't wear high heels every day to work to help
sped the process along.  All you will achieve is shortening your Achilles tendon
which will give you problems which can become serious.  Swap your heels around
so you wear one, two, three, four and five inch heels on a rotating basis.  If
you can switch throughout the day even better.  Also, in doing the toe walking
exercises that I'm having you do, don't just do it at some specific time of the
day, it would be better if you just worked it into your routine.  Tip toe out to
get the paper in the morning, make coffee, or perhaps when you serve dinner. 
Like I said start with three minutes a day, but as long as you calves aren't
hurting work to push it up to at least ten minutes a day.  Understood?'

'Yes, Mam' I answered respectfully.  'Thank you, Mam.'

'You are such a lovely quick study darling', she told me with a gleam in her
eye.

'My name is baby Mam, not darling.  My Master named me that', I said with as
much force as a good submissive could.

It did the trick and took that hawk like look in her eye, 'Very well baby.  I
will see you tomorrow at 9pm.'


The two weeks in one part seemed to melt away before I even knew they had begun,
yet in another way seemed to last forever as my aching muscles strove to get
ready for the contest.  I met every day with a smile and a positive attitude,
but by the end of the evening I was totally bushed and felt a hundred years old!

I was only working half days now, but I tried to fit a whole day of work into
it.  Mr. Harrison finally stopped me when he realized that I was bringing work
home when my main goal should have been getting ready for the contest.  Everyone
at the office began to look at the two of us differently and we began to take on
a weird celebrity like status.  However it was their support and good wishes
that helped immensely to motivate me again and again to return to my arduous
training schedule.

I was up early each morning doing my heel lifts and calf stretching.  This was
interspersed with Greg's leg lifts and push ups, plus my normal aerobic workout. 
During breakfast I walked on tip-toe the entire time that I was setting the
table, putting out the food and drinks and making the coffee.  Even at work I
continued my regime, by switching between heel heights from day to day.  Back at
home for lunch was again on tip-toe.  Greg would then bind me in a number of
different ways, often leaving me bound standing in my six inch heels for half an
hour at a time. When he wasn't tying me up I had to do my ballet exercise for an
hour to an hour and a half per day.  Dinner saw me free again and let me slide
back into my comfortable satin slippers as I tip-toed for minutes at a shot
through its preparation.  After dinner was thankfully a time for relaxing where
Greg and I would talk about our day and our wishes for the future, yet
inevitably this devolved into a discussion on contest strategy.  Nine pm every
evening found us at Lucinda's house where she ran me through a vigorous ballet
workout, before working with me in heels.

During that first week Lucinda presented me with a brand new pair of baby blue
Gaynor Minden ballet pointe shoes.  We had told her about the Alice idea and
this was her very unexpected response.  I was really touched.  Unfortunately
that wasn't the only thing that she touched me with!  There wasn't an evening
that went by in which I did receive a least a half-a-dozen swats with her
training rod.

So by the end of the evening, my muscles ached like there was no tomorrow, I was
exhausted and there was my Master who still wanted to be sated.  Oh, yes, he
would take me from time to time during the day, but he seemed to live for a good
climax at the start and end of every day!  The good news was that because we
were both so busy, he settled for a blow job more often than not, which was just
fine by me.  The crotch ropes that he had me wear nearly constantly while in
bondage had rubbed my poor cunny raw and I was happy to give it every rest that
I could.  Add to that, the fact that he had been practicing breast bondage on me
regularly, complete with attendant nipple clamps and I was more than happy to
blow him.

Through it all though, despite him treating me like some recruit at boot camp, I
came to see that he truly loved me.  About ten days into our training he was
working late and I went to sleep without him.  It was the first time that I had
gone to sleep alone since he had moved in and it seemed unnatural.  It took me a
while to finally fall to sleep and that too is unusual for I normally fall
asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

When I woke Greg wasn't in our bed.  Nor was he in the computer room that was
rapidly being converted into an office / war room, with computer enhanced
pictures posted on the walls showing contestants in different stages of the
contest.  I was starting to despair when I walked into the kitchen and found an
envelope propped up against the vase of flowers.  I opened the card, the front
of which showed two people holding hands and walking contentedly along the surf
ruffled shore.

Dear baby,

Last night when I came to bed I noticed something that I had never noticed
before.  You were having a bad dream and I reached over to you and gently ran my
fingers through your hair as I whispered soothing nothings in your ear.  Shortly
your agitation turned to soft sounds like the cooing of a contented dove and
your body slid unconsciously into the crook of my own.

What I noticed however was how much it pleased me to comfort you.  I've
comforted others before, yet it always felt like an obligation, with you lying
in my arms it felt as natural as the sun coming up in the morning.  Comforting
you made me feel good as I felt as if I was giving you back some of the
multitude of goodness that you never fail to give to me.

It amazes me every time that I stop and remember not to take you for granted,
just how much I love you!  I suppose it is because that I had nearly given up on
my fantasies actually taking form, but in you all has become real.

Always,

Greg

BTW... You are doing great!  Hang in there and we are going to turn this contest
on its ear!

The tears rolling down my cheeks were like the cleansing rain bringing life and
beauty to all the earth.  I sniffed at the flowers which were roses from my own
mini-garden on my small back deck.  He must have gotten up at 5am to pick them
as they were still laden with the morning dew.  He new how much I loved flowers
and this was his way of giving me a gift regardless of our hectic schedules. 
The tears began to flow again, but I shook them off and reinvigorated by his
love for me set back to work. 


At the end of those two weeks we were well along the path that we had set out
upon to win the contest part of the bondage convention.  Greg called me into the
computer room and I walked their nearly effortlessly on tie-toe.  'Take a look
at this' he said pointing at the computer screen.  I looked and it took me a
minute to realize that the picture in front of me was a view of the lava rock
walk part of the contest from last year.  A host of women with pained faces were
running through the course.

'Ok', I said, 'It's the lava walk, but I don't see anything special.'

'Neither did I until I looked at wear all the ladies were invariably looking',
he said.

'Where they are looking? Oh, I see what you mean they are all looking down.'

'Right, now look at this shot.'  It was a top down shot of the contestants. 
Then he zoomed on one of the contestants until we could see the placement of her
feet.

'The rocks don't cover the entire floor', I cried out in surprise. 

'Give the lady a prize', Greg said with a smile.  'There seems to be a metal
grate used to let the heat from below come up to heat the lava rocks.  Look, all
of the contestants that know what they are doing are stepping carefully between
the rocks so that they don't stumble.'  Greg switched photos to one displaying a
woman who had fallen and was obviously shrieking in pain.  'Don't let them fool
you about that stupid hot cup of coffee line in the contest rules, 150 degrees
is plenty hot to give you a nasty burn.'

'So I'll do like the ladies and avoid the rocks and stay on the grate as much as
possible', I said easily.

'That's exactly right, in this instance', Greg responded evenly.  'But what I am
getting at is that this would have been a simple beginner's mistake that we
would have fallen into because we didn't have the experience of someone that had
been through this before.'

'OK, I understand your point, but how do we overcome it?'  I asked.

'We have to find someone that will tell us about there experiences in the
contest', Greg said calmly.

'I take it that you know someone that's participated in the contest before', I
said as I put two and two together.

'Yes.  I looked through all of the names of the contestants from last years
contest and saw three that I knew from my film days.  Two of them wouldn't give
me the time of day because they don't want to give any information away, but the
third was willing to... talk.'  Greg told me, with just a hint of caution in his
voice.

'And just why would this third woman want to talk to us?'  I wondered aloud.

'Probably because she was a former lover of mine and she still has some
unresolved issues', he told me softly.  He saw my face flush and knew that I was
about to say something, but forestalled me with a look.  'It gets worse.  When I
broke it off with her she stalked me until I had to get a police order to
restrain her.'

'Don't tell me this is the woman that Lucinda and your Dad tried to set you up
with before me?' I said in total disbelief.

'The one and only.  Crazy Chris, I used to call her, short for Christobel.'  He
informed me with a smile.  'You can't blame Lucy and Dad really when I first
went out with her I thought that she was perfectly normal.  With, of course, the
notable exception of the one abnormality that I wanted her to possess. 
Unfortunately, as time went on she wouldn't let me out of her sight.  She
started to wear leathers like some biker chick and more than once roughed up a
few of the women that came up to me to chat.  Heck, I would have told the ladies
I was taken myself, but she always had a good excuse why she just had to handle
it.  After awhile it just became ridiculous.'  Greg looked at me.  'You know
that I don't expect our relationship to be a true 24/7 and it was the same with
her.  But now I was starting to feel like I was owned, so I said enough is
enough and called it quits.'

'And you want us to meet with this insane person to get information about the
contest?'  I asked slowly.

'Despite the unpleasantness of the idea, if we want a shot at winning I think
that we have to do this', he replied in a disgusted voice.

'So when do we meet with her?'  I asked in resignation.

'Tonight at 6pm in at a little bar and grill in Greenwich', he said softly.

Looking over at the clock on his computer screen, I winced.  It was nearly 5pm
now and Greenwich was a fifteen minute drive.  'Right then, I suppose that I
better get dressed.'  Being as I was wearing a baby doll and slippers, which was
my unofficial uniform about our home, this seemed like a safe bet.

Thirty minutes later I was looking at myself critically in my full length
mirror.  I wore my black knee high leather boots with the three inch block
heels, wide woven fishnet stockings whose lace tops were just covered by my
black leather mini-skirt.  The short slit on the side however, would leave no
one in doubt that I wore stockings and garters and not panty hose.  I left my
belly bare to show off the newly tightened muscles of my stomach.  No, there was
no six-pack as I would never want to be that muscular, but the definition about
my waist could not be denied.  I wore a leather halter top, which looked like a
large inverted V emerging below my neck from the pseudo collar that snapped
together at the rear.  It showed none of my breasts, yet the way they were
cupped in the material made them a predominant part of my anatomy.  I had
braided much of my long hair into three separate pieces, one on each side and on
at the back.  Then I looped the two sides to the back, around my head and mated
them to their cousin in the rear.  It gave me a sort of Valkyrie type look that
was just what I wanted.  To top my outfit off I slid into a hip length leather
jacket that just bristled with buckles and zippers.

I smiled at myself in the mirror and thanked the Gods that be that I was such a
pack rat!  I hadn't worn most of this stuff since I was in my rebellious teen
years, but now I was very glad that I still had it.

I walked back into Greg's home office at twenty to six.  Greg looked up from his
computer and his jaw dropped open.  Then one those classic roguish grins spread
across his face.  'My, my, my, don't you look just good enough to arrest!  And
just whom are you supposed to be?'

Slowly I removed my wrap around sunglasses which had been hanging by one arm
from the top pocket of my jacket.  Flicking them open I slid them on all the
while keeping my face stone still.  In my own mind the opening chords of Bad to
the Bone played in my head.

Greg chuckled good naturedly, 'Arnie Schwarzenager best look out. It looks like
there is a new marshal in town!'  He shook his head and continued to smile.  'I
suppose that that outfit is intended to send my ex-stalker a message?'

'Exactly', I said, 'go ahead and make my day!'

Greg began to laugh so hard that he had to wrap his arms around his sides.  He
saw my anger rising and forestalled, 'I'm not laughing at your outfit only your
mixing of movie metaphors.  Dirty Harry is the one who says 'Go ahead, make my
day' not the terminator.  Heck, you don't even like those movies and I don't
think you had seen them either until I met you!'

'And what choice did I have', I shot back, 'when you had me tied to the bed!'  I
folded my arms over my chest, 'besides those movies fit my mood at the moment.'

Greg stood up and put his arm around my shoulders as he led me towards the front
door.  He stopped at the hall closet and retrieved his own leather jacket.  From
the pockets he removed and then donned a pair of fingerless black leather
driving gloves and slid on a pair of Ray Bans.  'Never let it be said that this
master can't be managed from the bottom... when she's right!  Alright biker
Barbie lets go get 'em!'

Stepping into his T-roofed Firebird with the throaty roar of its oversized
engine seemed perfectly fitting.  Greg had been complaining about the car since
he had returned home and I could understand his point that it didn't fit the
person he had become.  However we had been too busy to go car shopping, so it
only made sense that he use the car that his father had lovingly cared for all
of the years that he was in California.  Today though, Greg looked right at home
behind the wheel of the car that he had loved so much in high school.

The bar was a little hole-in the wall place.  When I was in college we used to
call them "townie" bars as it was basically populated by the people that lived
in the area and not college kids.  The decor was rustic with heavy dark wood
hand hewn beams and mahogany booths.  The bar top was a shining sheet of copper
that looked as if it had been polished recently.  The place fit its name of the
Lock, Stock and Barrel.

Greg whispered to me, 'there she is' and turned towards the window booth in
which she was sitting.  No, sitting isn't the right word to describe her
posture; she was lounging in the booth as if she owned the place.  One booted
foot was up on the bench seat showing off her shapely leg and even, I noticed
hotly, a bit of her panties beneath her micro mini.  

Her outfit was as garish as mine was dark.  Red patent leather boots, white
thigh length stockings, her red skirt that couldn't be more then twelve inches
long, a white patent leather bikini style top, lightly covered by her open
leather jacket that matched her boots and skirt.  Her flaming red mane flowed
down about her shoulder in a host of spiraling curls that seemed out of place
with her outfit.  The one thing that I couldn't fault was her body.  Good Lord,
even seated I could tell that she was inches taller than me and all of her
curves appeared to have been carved from a sandy colored Italian marble in
exactingly perfect proportions.

'Hello Chris, long time', said Greg evenly as he slid into the booths bench
opposite her.  I followed his led and sat down besides him.

'Aren't you forcing me to break the law by being within one hundred feet of me?' 
She asked with a wicked smile.

'Let's put old issues behind us', Greg responded, 'besides that injunction ran
out nearly two years back.'

'Of course, now that you need something from me I'm sure that you would like
just that', she hissed like a snake.  'You want to know all about the events in
the bondage contest and little 'ol Christobel is the only person that will give
you any information'.  She said in a mock child like voice then she switched
into a sexy throaty tone as she leaned over the table and put her face only
inches from Greg's.  'Like in the first event, the beauty pageant, when your
wrists are bound to your collar and you are totally helpless in your too high
heels. Do you know what the proctor loves to do to the new meat, lover?'

I bristled but said nothing as I could see that she was getting no reaction at
all from my man.  Greg shook his head slowly no.

'Why he takes a paddle to your bottom is what he does', she said in an oily
voice that would have made Lucinda cringe.  'Yes, I can see by your eyes that
you think you already knew that, but did you know that he swings upward from
near the floor like a baseball player trying for a home run?  No, I didn't think
so.  And if you aren't ready for it, it will knock you entirely out of your
heels and off of your feet.  Which just happens to be cause for an automatic
elimination' she said in her soft viper-like voice.

'Hmmm, good information', Greg said as she oozed back down into her seat.

'Not so fast lover', she said with a slimy smile.  'I'm perfectly willing to
tell you everything that I know, but I want something in return.'

I went to jump up and tell her where to get off as I was sure that I knew what
she wanted, but Greg's strong hand clamped down on my shoulder and held me in
place.  Her fevered eyes never left his as if I didn't exist at all.

'Sorry, Chris-to-bell', Greg said drawing out her full name, 'you can't have
me.'

'Oh, it's not you I want lover', she said with a wicked grin.  'It's her!' She
nearly yelled as she pointed her finger at my face.  'Her and me, outside in the
back.  If she wins I tell you what I want to know, if I win I tell you
nothing... and I had the pleasure of beating up your new little play thing!'

'This conversation is over', Greg said nearly spitting as his anger began to
pass it limits.  'Baby move'.

I got out of the booth and stood there uncertainly as he slid out and stood next
to me.  Christobel stood up in front of me, showing off her height, and ran a
finger down one of my cheeks and up the other.  'You call her baby, how very
appropriate.' 

I batted her hand away and my resolution formed within my core as that
terminator theme burned in my ears.  'Yes, I am his baby, but I'm your doom!' 
Even in my own ears it sounded weak, but this... this vixen, wasn't going to get
the better of me.  Besides what she knew could give us the edge that we needed
to win. 

Greg made to move in between the two of us, but was stopped as two huge bouncers
grabbed his arms.  'The lady said it's her fight let's just leave it between
them.'  I realized now that his ex-lover must have orchestrated this whole thing
but that didn't help as I watched Greg struggle futilely in the grip of those
two brutes.  Then speaking in a calm voice that I didn't really feel I smiled at
him and said, 'Greg relax', then turning to her, 'she's mine.'

She went to dive at me but was held back by another bouncer who said, 'Well take
this outside ladies.  I don't want all of my furniture busted up.'

Greg and Christobel were escorted by the bars bouncers out the back door, while
I walked along calmly.  I can't say why I felt as confident as I did because I
had never been in a real fight in my life and the one semester self-defense
course that I had taken in college wasn't geared to prepare me for this brawl. 
Yet, my mind seemed to be working in overdrive and everything seemed perfectly
clear. 

It was if I had more time to think everything through, as if time had somehow
slowed for me.  I was glad to see that Greg was no longer struggling between the
two bouncers.  His face was worried and his fists were clenched in rage, but at
least he believed in me enough to stop wasting his time trying to fight off
those two guys which were each half again his weight.

The head bouncer, who I heard someone of the maybe fifteen or so people who had
followed us to the back lot say, was named Arty.  Arty let go of my opponent and
pushed her behind him so that he stood between the two of us. 

He looked at me and said, 'Chris here', he jerked his thumb pointing over his
shoulder at her 'obviously wanted this fight and she's a real tom cat that knows
how to handle her self.  You, on the other hand, don't look like you could fight
your way out of a paper bag, so if you don't what to fight her you and your
boyfriend should just walk away now.'

The easy out was on the table.  How could I not take it?  I thought about Greg,
the last few months at L&L and the contest and this brought a smile to my face. 
Heck, when did I ever take the easy route?

'Thank you for the offer, but I'll fight her', I said confidently as the crowd
formed into a circle around us 'because she has something that I need.  Besides,
perhaps I'll surprise you.'

Arty nodded his head, 'It's your funeral sweetheart.'  He turned sideways so he
could now see both of us, 'When one of you is down and can't get up under your
own power the fight is over.'  Stepping back he smiled lazily, 'Have fun
ladies.'

We started to circle each other about the ring of on lookers.  Some of them were
calling out to Chris, their local favorite, to take me out, but others were
cheering me on.  The smile was still on my face as with my mind in overdrive I
couldn't help but think how much this resembled any number of bad movies.  The
pretty heroine locked in a fight that she can't win with the sultry nut case,
who's only intention is to hurt her old boyfriend.  Heck, I had even dressed for
the part!

As I continued to keep my distance I slipped out of my leather jacket and tossed
it to Arty.  He caught it deftly.  'Thanks, I didn't want to mess up my coat.'

'It isn't you coat that I was aiming to mess up missy', Chris nearly spit at me. 
She took off her own coat and threw it to Arty in a theatrical move that was
undoubtedly supposed to have gotten my attention, because just at that moment
she charged.

I had been dancing about on the balls of my feet, just as I had been for the
last two weeks during my ballet practice.  Four quick mincing steps to the right
and I was out of her path.  As her grasping arms reached for me I simply slid my
arm up inside of her and then as a swan opening its wings brushed her nearest
arm away. He head long charge was only stopped by the crowd that rebounded and
pushed her back into the circle.  I danced over to where she had started and
slid effortlessly into a resting position.  It was one that Lucinda had forced
me into repeatedly so that I would always be ready for her next command, no
matter which way that she wanted me to jump.  My left foot was forward pointed
slightly to the left of Christobel and my right was a half step behind at right
angle to my body.  With my knees slightly bent I was perfectly centered, however
to anyone not trained in dance it might seem other wise.

'My name is baby not missy', I said easily as my smile never faltered.  'And you
can call me that when you tell me everything that I want to know... Chrissy.' 

That little barb at the end of my sentence had the desired effect and made her
crazy.  Where a few seconds before she had been dangerously advancing on me like
a knife fighter, now for the second time she barreled at me.  Her teeth were
barred like an angry dog as she charged, but her foot work was sloppy as she had
to compensate for the instability of her thin heels.  Even as I danced beyond
her grasp I noticed those narrow heels and recognized them as a chink in her
armor.

Planting my right foot, my arms rose above my head like a flower and I bent my
body nearly horizontal totally evading her rushing grab.  As she fought to stop
her forward momentum and turn towards me, my left leg slid between her legs and
unwound in a graceful circle.  The effect was everything I could have hoped for
as my heavy heel came in contact with both of her ankles, causing her to wobble
in those ungainly heels. In long drawn out seconds, I watched as she lost her
balance fall sprawling onto the hard macadam. 

The crowd gasped as she rolled to a stop, probably unsure of what to make out of
their favorite bruiser getting picked apart by... what had Greg called me...
that's right biker Barbie.  My smile hardened at that last thought as I watched
her slowly get to her feet.  The rough tar had done a job on her and her white
stocking were torn at the knees, both of which were bleeding from cuts and
scrapes.  Her hands also showed signs of abuse as she shook herself and brushed
herself off.

'You're going to pay for that girlie', she sneered as she began to move at me
much more cautiously. 

I began lightly sliding from side to side, but her footwork this time was much
steadier and I found myself running out of maneuvering room.  'Oh no, did the
big huge Chrissy get all bloodied up by the little iddy biddy baby.'  I goaded
her, but this time she didn't buy it.  Slowly like a force of nature that muscle
bound freak advanced upon me.  For the first time my smile cracked. 

She was fast very fast, she faked with her left which I batted aside but her
true goal was to put her right fist in my nose.  Arching my body backwards and
to the side I caused her to miss her objective, but I didn't get away entirely
unscathed.  Her knuckles missed, but her clenched fist caught me in the corner
of my mouth snapping back my head and causing me to lose my center.  Chris' left
knee followed up on the opening slamming into my thigh.  I staggered for a
second, but regained my balance quickly as she swept past me in a blaze of red
and white. 

The crowd exploded in noise as cheers and cat calls rained down upon the two of
us.  They pushed closer wanting to see one of us finished off and in the process
made it easier for her as they made the circle smaller.  I had speed on my side
but without the room to use it I was definitely in trouble.

There was only one thing left to do and the idea came to me from another of
those silly movies that Greg would force me to watch while I was helplessly
bound and gagged.  I acted like the hit to my right leg had done much more
damage than it had, panting and favoring it as I held the left side of my body
to my attacker.   Christobel smiled as I dabbed at the blood on my lip.  'Three
years of bar fighting' she said with a sneer and moved in for the kill.

Again she moved in cautiously, but the feral grin on her face told the tale that
she was sure that this fight was nearly finished and that her earlier troubles
were all in the past.  Flexing my knees in what looked like pain I actually
braced myself and watched her like a hawk.  As her right boot lifted from the
floor I sprang forward to the attack.  It was the first time that I had even
hinted that I might do so and the shock showed in her face.  A quick leap and a
graceful twist of the hip brought my seemingly damaged right leg up in a blazing
arch that ended with the top of my foot slamming into her crotch.  The kick had
all of my aerobically trained muscles strength in it and it literally lifted her
off her feet as her eyes bugged out and she flew backwards.

'Aaaaoooooooowwwwww', she cried in a high pitched voice as she hit the ground. 
She immediately went into a fetal position as her hands went to her crotch and
she panted in an effort to retrieve the air that had been blown from her lungs. 
The one thing that self defense course had taught me was that kicking a woman in
the groin is nearly as incapacitating as kicking a man there and now I could see
that it was true. 

Chris rolled around on the ground moaning and I walked over to her.  Arty, moved
to stop me, but I guess that the other two bouncers had let Greg go, because all
of a sudden he was right there in his face and looking really pissed.  'This is
between the ladies, remember', he said in a dangerous voice.

The crowd was completely quiet as I continued over to her.  Using my boot I
forced her over onto her back and than planted it on her chest. 

'How?' she asked in a rasping voice.

'Twelve years of ballet will beat your three years of bar brawls every time', I
replied with a smile.  She squirmed like a bug pinned to a board for study as I
asked her, 'Are you ready to tell me what I want to know now?'

'Yeeeesss, Yes, I'll tell you', Christobel hissed through her pain.

'Yes, I'll tell you who?' I said nastily as I dug my heel into her large breast.

'Yes, I'll tell you... baby', she responded in resignation.

'Very good', I said as I took my foot off of her chest and walked over to Arty. 
I took my jacket from his lifeless hands as he stared at me in confusion. 
'Thanks Arty, you can go, we won't be needing you any more.'

Arty just shook his head and dropped Christobel's jacket on the ground next to
her and began to walk away.  The crowd muttered as they followed him inside and
I watched a lot of cash changing hands.

Greg watched them all go in and then pulled up a couple of milk crates for each
of us to sit on.  Over the course of the next hour Christobel told us everything
that she knew about the contest as she nursed her abused pussy back to health. 
Greg was right, there were a number of things that we needed to know that we
hadn't before and now I felt confident that we were truly on the path to
winning.


We blew off Lucinda that evening, who wasn't very happy with us at all, but Greg
was adamant.  He kept looking at me with a funny curious kind of gaze yet said
nothing. 

At home he treated my cut and helped me out of my clothes.  He led me, hand and
hand, to the shower.  The water was warm and inviting as it cascaded over my
aching body.  Lather soon wrapped between my legs and up over my breasts as his
questing hands ran two ultra soft natural sponges softly across my tender skin. 
He paid particular attention to my right thigh which already showed the
beginnings of a nasty black and blue mark. 

Bending his lips met mine and it was as if he kissed me for the first time.  A
long deep loving kiss that made my toes curl and reminded me how lucky I was to
have found this man.  'You were wonderful tonight', he whispered in my ear as he
held me tightly.

'Thank you', I said simply, yet I knew the pride in my voice could not be
hidden.  'And thank you for trusting me.'

He gave a short laugh and responded, 'After tonight, I think that I'm going to
have to trust you instincts about a lot of things.' 

Sliding out of the shower he handed me a towel which I promptly wrapped about my
hair.  I waited for the second towel that he was always ready to hand me and all
I found were his outstretched arms.  Smiling, I went to him and he picked me up
easily and took me back to our bed.  There were no orders to get dressed or put
on slippers, which I would have been more than happy to do, but as his lips
explored my body I knew that tonight was different.  It was a celebration of my
victory and our commitment to each other and the team that we had created.

The love making was slow and beautiful.  There were not the ravaging wild
orgasms that I had come to love, but they were incredible in there own right. 
Slowly they would come upon me as the warm glow filled my essence longer than
ever until the glorious explosions gently rocked my soul.  I felt like a
winter's eve fire crackling upon the hearth slowly being fed a small piece of
wood at a time that would sometimes pop loudly as air trapped within broke free. 
As the embers of our love cooled and sleep came upon us, Greg rolled over and
wrapped his body around me, spooning my form.  His arm lay comfortably over my
shoulder as his tired hand rested possessively upon my breast. 

When he had first moved in he had made it clear that he didn't like being
touched or touching someone while he slept.  He said that he had been this way
all his life not even letting his cats or dogs sleep on his bed.  I didn't fight
this, but I did make my disappointment clear in my looks and actions.  Slowly,
over the course of the last few weeks, things began to change.  His foot would
ride up under my satin slipper and stay there as we went to sleep.  His hand
would rest softly on my rear or his shoulder would push up against my back.  One
day, I even got as bold as to loop my arm over him as he fell asleep.  Tonight
it all came together as I learned that a loving dominant could definitely be
swayed by his bottom.  I smiled like the proverbial Cheshire cat as my dreams of
happiness became real. 


The next morning at work, Lucinda, Greg and I sat with Leather and Lace's head
seamstress to discuss the two special outfits that we needed to be made.  Andrea
was her name and she was happy to see me and very interested in finding out how
I liked the corset that she had made for me.  I told her that I loved it and
that someone, I put my hand on Greg, was seeing that it received plenty of use! 
'And that is just the way it ought to be', she said smiling broadly.

Our discussion started with the femme fatale leather corset.  This was to be a
pointed Victorian under the bust design.  I showed her my drawing where my
breasts were bound to bursting like balloons above the short front bust of the
leather garment.  An arched point rested between my bursting breasts, below
which I had drawn a row of chrome buckles and straps ending in a rounded tabard
over my pubis.  The thighs were cut high and the eight garters stretched tightly
down my legs till they snagged the fishnet stockings. 

This was pretty straight forward as far as Andrea was concerned.  The Alice
dress on the other hand became a topic for hot discussion.  My drawing had
presented a bodice with a corset similar to the femme fatale and Lucinda and
even Andrea were against this.  Greg listened thoughtfully as the two swapped
ideas and I retreated from the conversation half-listening as I idly sketched
the costume.

The next thing I knew Lucinda's ever present rod slammed down on the picture
before me.  'That's it', she cried. 'That is exactly what I had in mind!'

I looked down at my own drawing and saw that I had changed the front apron to
only cover the front of my puffy blue satin skirt, while the bodice had been
turned into a sexy serving wench's outfit complete with criss-crossing blue
laces that ended in bow directly below the cleavage of my breasts.  The straps
still surrounded and pushed at my breasts, but there new coverings were of white
ruffled lace, matching my petticoat and panties.  Greg started to protest that
the outfit was much too sexy and didn't project the helpless innocent that was
his intent.  Lucinda countered that no one would believe that anyone entering
this contest was innocent and that it was best to make the outfit sexier.

'How about this', I asked pointing to my latest additions to the picture.  In my
golden locks I had placed a delicate blue bow and on the front tops of both of
the white stockings I also placed blue bows.  'The sexy innocent!' I proclaimed
excitedly.

'Add your legs and the baby blue ballet toe shoes', Greg told me as he looked
over thoughtfully.  Everyone waited while I added my legs and slippers arched
gracefully into an en pointe position.  He shook his head in affirmation,
'Ladies I think that is it.  Any objections?'  There were none and Andrea took
me aside to have one of her ladies take my measurements.


That evening at Lucinda's studio she started to have me work with my nine inch
ballet heels.  I had still not mastered the six inch heels entirely, but had
cleared the 'beginner level' as she put it and was firmly working in on
intermediate tasks. 

The advent of the ballet heels brought me right back to the beginner setup.  I
was buckling myself into my heels in a chair that was placed directly between
two sets of bar rails set just above waist height and about two feet apart. 
Finishing, I grasped the bar and prepared to lift myself onto my heels.

'You've been standing on pointe now for sometime and you might think that the
two are similar, and while that is true in a small way, if you try and treat
those heels like pointe shoes you will never succeed.  They have heels and no
matter how spindly they are you can not discount them.  Now slide your feet
together and a bit forward so that they will be centered directly below where
you expect to stand.  Good', she said as I complied, 'use your legs as well as
your arms to lift yourself off of the chair and carefully balance your weight as
you stand.'  The pressure on my toes increased as my weight shifted and slowly I
rose making constant corrections until I was standing.

'Not bad', Lucinda grunted, 'not bad at all.'  She said this grudgingly yet I
could hear a tinge of pride in her voice that thrilled me to no end.  'Notice
how you knees still have a slight bend to them.  When you try to walk in ballet
heels you have to keep that slight bend, because the heels are just too high to
allow for a perfectly straight posture.  When you are standing still however,
you must find you center and lock your legs, with your knees straight. 
Regardless we will work on that later.'  For the next fifteen minutes I slowly
worked my way up the rails and down them.  Four long circuits that seemed to
take forever, capped by the difficulty of turning at the end of each.  I slid
into my head and let time sift around me as I concentrated entirely upon just
walking.  Only twice did I feel the wrath of Lucinda's rod crack upon my
overworked thigh muscles.  This made me drop out of my near trance for a few
seconds at a time, but I had learned to slide back in quickly.  At the very end,
with my legs shaking in exhaustion, she ordered me to let go of the bars.  Ever
so gently I put more and more weight on my heels and toes as I raised my hands
up off the rails.  I turned to her and smiled as I stood there with both hands
balanced an inch above their respective bars.

'Very good baby', she told me, 'but don't get too cocky we still have a long way
to go.'  I responded with a demur 'yes, mam' as Greg gave an uncharacteristic
applause for our efforts.  He thanked Lucinda repeatedly as we left that evening
and his good mood continued into the remainder of the night.


Over the next few weeks our bondage practice turned into a nearly choreographed
work of art.  I found myself rolling into his ropes and bending my body in just
the right ways to make his job seem effortless.  Even the change ups that he
would initiate as an ongoing part of my training began to flow as smooth as
silk.  He told me that no bondage was exactly the same twice despite all of his
best efforts to make it so and that we had to be ready to improvise.  For me, I
was just happy to be in his ropes and strove only to please my loving Master.

My daily ballet training firmed my leg muscles, as did the push ups and pull ups
that Greg forced upon me worked on my arms.  My stomach tightened and hardened
through my leg lift and pilate videos.  I watched as I became a lean mean
bondage machine, as Greg would joke, yet always stopped when my muscles became
too predominant.  The muscle builder look that Christobel had displayed was
exactly the opposite of the look we were trying to achieve and I was fortunate
that my aerobic training had put me well on the way to success.

During week four Lucinda taught me to run in my six inch heels.  Alright running
is an exaggeration, but walking very quickly didn't quite describe it either. 
One of the things that Christobel had told us about the contest was that it was
best to face the gauntlet in heels.  She speculated that very few contestants
were probably going to risk it this year as heel height had been raised to a
full six inches.  However, if you could manage the heels and move quickly in
them the contestants forming the gauntlet would be limited to canes and bladed
whips, which were unlikely to knock you down. On the other hand the circus
slippers, as she called them, meant that your legs were bound with only ten
inches of slack and the ladies could request paddles to smack your bottom and
thighs.  I had to agree with her that that would be much more painful and that
the paddles had more potential to truly hurt me and knock me off my feet.

As my heel training progressed the decision was made to go with them in the
gauntlet.  Lucinda was all too happy to chase me down an imaginary line whipping
at my legs and buttocks while I negotiated the tricky heels.  When she grew
tired Greg would take her place and the only one that didn't rest for the whole
twenty minute period was me!  On the other hand I had won a few small battles
getting them both to agree to let me wear my six inch red patent leather sandals
during this event.  The extra support from the ankle strap made them much easier
to control, which made it possible for me to avoid their lash strokes every once
and awhile.

As the days ground down until the bondage convention Greg and even Lucinda found
less and less mistakes to call me on.  I could now maintain a standing on pointe
position for three full minutes, walk albeit slowly in my ballet heels and slide
into nearly any bondage position in less than five minutes flat. 

The final fittings for my outfits were completed and the next day they were in
our hands.  They both looked absolutely perfect and the blue satin of the dress
had been dyed to a perfect match of my ballet slippers.  The only thing that we
hadn't anticipated was the impact that a crotch rope would have on the
petticoat.  Greg fumed at his stupidity for not anticipating the problem, but
Andrea came to the rescue and in mere hours had redesigned the garment to allow
for a rope to be threaded through it. 

During the final week we held two dress rehearsals in Lucinda's basement.  She
had cancelled all of her classes for the week leaving us virtually alone to
practice for the competition.  Even to the extent of having rocks littered over
part of the floor in an attempt to mock up the lava rock event.  Greg and I were
there more often then we were home, eating and often sleeping there as we
continued to improve our repertoire.  Kristen fluttered about us as if she was a
true maid, passing me towels to wipe off my sweat or bottles of water to refresh
slake my thirst.

After our last run through on Saturday morning as we were packing to leave
Lucinda walked up to Greg with a finely grained oak box wrapped with a blue
ribbon.  'This is for you' she told him without ceremony.  He removed the ribbon
and opened the box to find Lucinda's favorite crop like rod.  'I can't take
this...' Greg began, but she shushed him and told him that 'of course you can. 
Besides she responds to its call so well that I want you to have it.'  She
wrapped one arm around each of us and drew us close.  'You are both ready now. 
So go out there tomorrow and make me proud!'

Leather & Lace - 1