Demanding Footwear

I'm scurrying around frantically, getting ready to leave for Kinkfest in a matter of moments. Last night found me throwing lingerie all over the room, and shimmying in and out of a number of skimpy outfits, trying to decide what to pack. One ensemble, in which I'll be topping on Friday night, makes me look like the Mistress of Black Shiny. I have never felt so much like a stereotypical fem-domme, all tall patent boots and painted-on PVC dress. Normally I tend more toward the softer side of sadism - lingerie sets, flowing feminine frocks, matte heels, or as often as not, bare feet. But Armani was kind enough to present me with the oh-so-fabulous boots I was lusting after, and these boots are demanding. They demand submission, they demand attention - and they demand a dress with the same attitude.

So, off I go to be demanding - at least, for one night. The rest of the time I expect to be submitting to the demands of my darling top. I wouldn't put it past Max to require service from me while I'm wearing the boots, for that matter, so the boots will just have to follow my lead and learn to switch gracefully.