With the help of a latex catsuit, dominant wife Emma has managed to enslave both her husband Dale and her friend Sandra. Their submission feeds her desire, just as her dominance feeds theirs. Filed with a sense of her own sexual power, Emma intends to be worshiped like the sex goddess she is.
'“How do I look?†she asked. “Fucking hot,†Dale admitted. Sandra’s breasts heaved as she giggled. “I haven’t worn this in ages,†she said. “I had a boyfriend who was really into this stuff, and I’d wear it for him sometimes. That was years ago now. I don’t think I’ve worn it since.†“You should,†Dale said, his eyes drinking in the sight before him as she stood, the curves of her lingerie-enhanced body driving him wild with desire as she posed and preened in front of the mirror. “You look amazing.†“Well, aren’t you sweet,†Sandra chuckled. “And with your little fella sticking out like that, I know you mean it,†she added, tapping her foot against his erection again. Dale suppressed a groan at the smooth sensation of the nylon against his shaft. It wouldn’t do to cum all over Sandra’s feet, kneeling before her in the bathroom. But she was turning him on so much, it felt like a distinct possibility. “Ok, I need shoes,†Sandra said briskly. “There’s a box on my bed. Go get the shoes out of it and bring them to me.†Dale’s cock bobbed as he rose to his feet. He’d never been in Sandra’s bedroom before. It was as he had expected, the cluttered sanctuary of a single girl. Piles of clothes erupted from the open closet. Shoes lay scattered like shell casings across the floor. A forest of cosmetics rose from the flat surface of the dresser, staring down their reflection in the bright mirror behind. Dale saw right away the box she meant. He picked up the shoes, shiny black pumps with a platform sole and a tall, slender heel. It had to be six inches, he guessed. The shoes just screamed sex, and his cock responded predictably. This was where he was, he reflected, turned on by shoes now. It didn’t matter. One pump in each hand, he returned to the bathroom. Sandra was still posing in front of the mirror. Dale couldn’t blame her. She looked amazing, almost unreal, like a woman in a magazine. An utter seductress, all soft curves, tiny waist, sparkling green eyes and long blonde hair. Looking at her like this, it was hard to believe that she was single, that she didn’t have men at her back and call. Well, apart from him. It was starting to seem normal, Dale reflected, his subordinate position to the beautiful women in his life. It was starting to seem right. Following orders, being teased, even the occasional beating was a small price to pay to gaze so regularly on such incredible beauty. Sandra turned as he entered. He could see the change in her, the confidence and power that emanated from her as she transformed into a sex goddess before his very eyes. It did interesting things to him, too. As though he sank into the earth while she rose high above him. She looked like a woman to be obeyed, and as her smiling eyes pierced him like two green daggers, he dropped to the floor, her shoes in his hands. Her hands on her hips accentuated her hyper-feminine form as she imperiously raised one foot. As though she were made of glass, Dale tentatively slipped a shoe onto her foot. Her heel clicked, loud in the small space, as she lowered her foot to the floor and adjusted herself. She stood tall on one heel, raising her other foot gracefully for Dale to put on her other shoe. Finally, she stood tall on the high heels, towering over Dale as he kneeled at her feet. “Do you like my shoes?†she asked quietly. “Yes, very much,†Dale eagerly replied. “Good. Because you’re going to be kissing them later.†“Is that right?†said Dale. “Yep. Kissing them, and begging for mercy. But now, we have to go.†Dale stood and pressed himself against the door frame as Sandra strode past.'