The Leather Shop

“Try these on,” she laughed, holding up a pair of shoes.

I gaped for a moment, then laughed too.

“How am I supposed to walk in those?”

“I think the idea is that you don’t.”

The heels were so high that the foot was forced into a point, like ballet shoes but without the flexibility. The black leather shoes were held on by thick straps around the ankles. My experiments with ballet had ended at the age of seven when I’d decided pink tutus were definitely not my style. Aside from the pointed toes, these slick, black leather shoes had little in common with those pink and frilly days.

I tried the shoes on, sat on a little stool in the leather shop. We’d come in here because Karen had wanted a new leather jacket but the coats had barely got a second glance once we found the third room of the shop, tucked discretely from view. The first room of the shop had been what we’d expected with coats and handbags, shoes and biker gear. The second room had been full of equestrian supplies, with saddles and harnesses of smooth leather. At first glance, we’d assumed that the third room was a continuation of this. It quickly became apparent though that the harnesses and crops weren’t intended for horses.

It had been Karen who’d suggested they try a few things out. She stood there now in tight leather trousers and a halter top that made her look incredibly sexy and just a little scary. I’d been a little hesitant about trying things on and now Karen was making good on her threat of choosing for me.

I finished fastening the shoes and stood, teetering on my toes. I needed to grab hold of a shelf for support. I tried a few cautious steps and managed to stay upright.

“Well, you always are complaining about being short,” Karen said, chuckling at my predicament.

“You try wearing them and see how you manage,” I muttered, but I was still amused enough not to mind. I knew I must look ridiculous trying to walk in these heels.

“Ah! I’ve spotted the perfect thing for you to try next.”

“What?”

“Shut your eyes,” Karen said. She was grinning again.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” But I shut my eyes anyway, curious to see what she had planned. In the end, it seemed I wouldn’t get to see. Something pressed over the front of my face. Karen opened my mouth and eased something into it. I was hesitant about the taste of the rubber that was now fitting behind my teeth and filling my mouth. I tried to say something, to warn Karen that I wasn’t keen on this, but she tightened the leather around my head, fixing it in place. Something wide and solid wrapped around my neck, pressing up on my jaw so that I was forced to bite down on the gag.

My attempted protest came out muffled and incoherent even to my own ears. I tried opening my eyes by the hood included a blindfold. I grasped at Karen, wanting her understand that I wasn’t happy and I nearly toppled from my ridiculous shoes.

“It’s OK,” she said, her voice faint through the thick leather. She held onto me, keeping my upright. Her hand lay comfortingly on my arm. “I’m still here.”

I tried to be comforted by the fact that my friend was right beside me. I took a few calming breaths that came mingled with the intoxicating scent of leather. Now that my panic had passed, I felt excited. I was gagged and blindfolded in the back room of a shop filled with all kinds of mysterious implements, completely at Karen’s mercy.

“Do you want to continue?” she asked. “One grunt for yes, two for no.”

I tried to say yes, the incoherent grunt reaching Karen’s ears.

“Alright then. You trust me?”

I grunted again.

I felt something at my hands. Karen pulled my hands behind my back and began slipping them into gloves. I wondered briefly why behind me and why she was doing both at once. As leather wrapped around my arms like sleeves, I knew why. My entire arms were being encased in leather, pulling them back behind me and rendering the limbs useless. She finished off by fastening straps around my shoulders. I could barely move my hands an inch, the thick gloves holding my fingers trapped.

Heat was building between my legs. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t speak. I could barely walk. I couldn’t use my hands. I was utterly trapped.

“Excuse me,” a male voice said. I jumped in surprise, the panic rising once again. “For hygiene reasons, we don’t allow customers to try gags and then put them back. You’ll have to buy the mask.”

I was worried and a little embarrassed that our play had gone against the rules of the shop, but Karen didn’t care.

“No problem,” she said. “I’ll take the lot. And could I look at your leashes? I don’t want her to get lost on the way back to the car.”