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 Naver's Evening Out By Reay Williams

   Chapter 1 - Naver Prepares Herself

   Naver stepped from the shower and towelled herself off.  She checked the
clock briefly - it was about 3 o'clock - and saw that she had plenty of
time to prepare herself correctly.  She had already shaved herself,
ensuring that all her body hair from her neck down had been removed and
that her nail polish that she spent hours on this afternoon was good. 
Naver began her preparation, as always, by standing in front of her
full-length mirror, pushing herself up on to her tiptoes and examining
herself as critically as He will when they meet.  She was pleased with what
she saw - the workouts and solarium sessions have paid off.

   She moved to her dressing table and began work on her makeup.  But not
her face just yet - that was to come later.  She carefully applied shimmery
foundation to her shoulders, taking care to ensure that her back was
covered in a smooth and even layer, a strip from her shoulders right down
her spine to the cleft of her arse was made up too.  At the front, she
extended the foundation to the top of her swelling tits, stopping below her
areoles, and well into her cleavage.  She applied rouge to her nipples,
feeling them respond to her touch.  She looked carefully at the effect in
her dressing table mirror and smiled to herself, pleased with the effect so
far.  But there is more makeup to come.  She slid back on the stool and
opened her legs, then applied more rouge to the lips of her cunt, using a
lip pencil to outline her labia and her clit.  The latter she payed
particular attention to - not least because it was stimulating to do so. 
When she was finished, she admired herself in the mirror and noted the way
that her clitoris was made to stand out by the deep red of her makeup.

   She had already laid out her clothes - she had been planning this for a
long time and was sure that she had it right.  She snapped a black
suspender belt around the swell of her hips and then picked up a fresh
packet of sheer black stockings.  She has spent a long time researching
stockings, and she knows that this brand, in this size, are just right.  As
she pulled them carefully up her smooth legs, she felt the tightness of the
nylon squeezing her.  They were, strictly speaking, too short, but this was
carefully planned and she pulled the fully extended tabs of the suspender
belt down and attached them to the lacy tops of the stockings.

   Her skirt was, again, carefully chosen so that the care in the choice of
stockings was not wasted.  The skirt waistband had been carefully fashioned
so that there was no unsightly fastening or zip to spoil the lines.  It sat
on her hips, exactly over her suspender belt.  The skirt was made of a
single layer of black chiffon and while she stood upright and still, the
hem fell to exactly the bottom of the lacy stocking tops.  One layer is
almost - but not quite - opaque.  While the suspender belt and stocking
tops were evident, the skirt gave only a hint of the other secrets that it
tried to conceal.  Chiffon, however, has a life of its own and has a habit
of finding gentle breezes and turning them into hurricane force winds under
it.

   Next came her top - a black corset that she adjusted around her upper
body.  She clipped the front together, being careful not to catch any flesh
in the metal fastenings.  The corset plunged deeply between her tits and
stopped just above her belly button with its impressive jewellery.  Naver's
belly button piercing was not unusual, but the adornment was.  It was a bar
at the lower end of which was a diamond ball, but instead of a similar ball
at the upper end, there was a swivel mounting on which was fixed a large
silver ring which bounced and swung around as she moved but which, when
still, became a frame round her navel.  Naver adjusted her tits in the top
of the corset.  It is built to push her tits upwards and inwards, to
enhance her cleavage.  She pulled each tit up as far as she dared, each
nipple coming just below the stiffening at the very top of the corset. 
This left the whole of the upper swell of her tits - and the top half of
each of her areoles - on show.  Then she began to heave on the laces at the
back of the corset.  Naver knew from years of corset wear that this would
take some time as her body adjusted and relaxed into its tightening
constraint.  Even undone the corset is quite tight and the gap at the back
is about 6".  She pulled the laces as tightly as she could, as always from
the middle - it is only amateurs who do up corsets from the top or bottom!
Then, gasping a little from the exertion and the restriction on her chest,
she tied them in a single thumb-knot and relaxed.  With her fingers, she
checked the gap and noted that it was about 4" now.  It was time for her
hair.  It was still wet from her shower, so she dried it and piled it up on
top of her head, fixing it there with pins and spray.

   Satisfied with her hair, she untied her corset laces and pulled on them
again, tightening still further and noticing with some satisfaction that
her tits were being pushed higher and higher.  Again, she began to feel the
slight discomfort caused by the constriction of the corset and tied the
laces off with the gap at about 2".  Time for the rest of her makeup, she
thought.  Then she began work on her face, applying the colours ready for
an evening out.  She used blacks and dark blues on her eyes, and deep reds
on her cheekbones and cheeks, ending with bright red lipstick to match the
polish on her toe and fingernails.  Under her harsh lights it looked well
over the top, but she knew that when she was out in the dimness of an
evening it would be perfect.

   Having put it off for long enough, Naver got on with the final
tightening of her corset.  She should be able to pull the sides together
another half an inch she thought, and unfastened the thumb-knot in the
laces.  Letting all the air out of her lungs, she heaved with all her
strength on the laces and felt the gap down her back closing.  With
enormous satisfaction, she felt the gap close to less than an inch from
touching.  Corsets should never be completely closed, she knew, since there
must always be the opportunity for a little more discomfort but she also
knew that any tighter this evening and the corset might cause her to pass
out.  She tied the laces off tightly this time with a double square-knot
and tucked the ends of the laces away.  She sat back, feeling the bones of
her corset squeezing her body tightly - it was like being held firmly in
someone's arms.  She relaxed as much as possible and feels the garment
support her in its grasp.  She took shallow breaths - all she could until
her body adjusted itself.

   She took two pieces of jewellery from her dressing table.  She fastened
a fine silver lasso chain round her neck which tightened itself leaving its
end to drop past her deep cleavage, through the silver ring that passed
through her belly button piercing and then into the waistband of her skirt
where it hung to her stocking tops.  She fastened it off.  She then
fastened a silver belly chain round her tummy, resting it above her hips
and again passed it through the belly ring.  The effect was dramatic - her
body was bound with silver chains, each drew the observer's eye to her bare
midriff - the golden centrepoint of her stunning body.

   Finally, she stood and walked slowly across to where she had left her
shoes strategically position so that she could step straight in to them. 
She had once made the mistake of wearing strappy shoes that had buckles to
do up while wearing her corset, and had found it a hell of a job getting
them done up.  This time she stepped in to her black court shoes - the ones
with the 51/2" heels.  She owned higher ones but these were as high as she
could walk in.

   Once again, she examined herself critically in the mirror, looking at
herself from her toes to the top of her high hair.  She looked at the tilt
of her feet, the stretch in her calves and the slight bend in her knees
(caused by the loftiness of her heels), the length of her legs up to her
hemline (extended by the brevity of her skirt and the height of her heels),
the amount that could be seen through her skirt (more than she expected),
the narrowness of her waist and the swell of her tits (each enhanced by the
corset), and the tartiness of the makeup.  She was satisfied and was ready
for her evening's activities.





   Chapter 2 - Naver Goes Forth

   Naver was finished with her preparations and looked out of the window.
The street outside her flat was bustling as would be expected at this time
of day - early evening.  However, the weather was cold but fine so she
wouldn't have to wear anything over her carefully selected clothes.  She
was quite happy to get cold, but getting wet just made her hair and clothes
a mess.

   Naver collected a small clutch bag, just large enough to carry her
mobile phone, her flat key and some folding money, and she was ready.  She
had one final good look in the full length mirror by her front door and
with a fleeting thought of "More than mortal man deserves" slipped down the
stairs to the street.  As she walked along the few yards to the corner of
the main road, her heels made a very satisfying clicking sound, attracting
attention - and getting it.  She was used to this - as she walked, she knew
that her lacy stocking tops would be sliding in and out of view.  She also
knew very well that her back view, with the strip of bare back
criss-crossed with the laces of her corset, would cause long, lingering
looks by all who noticed.

   She reached the pavement of the main street, and watched the traffic
passing.  Before very long, a cab came by with its light on and she raised
her arm and called to it.  She was met with a series of horns and calls and
realised that the chiffon of her skirt had found a gentle breeze that she
herself hadn't felt, and it had blown her skirt right up.  She slowly and
without hurry smoothed her skirt back down and smiled broadly.  That was
not the first time that the whole of her nakedness from her waist to her
thighs had been revealed to the city, and it certainly wouldn't be the
last. It was one of the reasons that she rarely had to wait long for a cab.
However, this time, the cab didn't stop, and Naver gave a good impression
of an irritated girl as she watched it pass.  But then another car stopped
at the kerb.  It was an old friend of hers driving rather nice low, open,
two seater sports car.  "Not your usual wheels," said Naver. "No," he
replied.  "Borrowed it for the evening.  Need a lift?" "Sure, thanks," she
said, "just the quayside." Naver had long since mastered the technique a
girl needs to get in to a low sports car in a short skirt with no knickers.
She opened the door, turned with her back to the seat and sat down with a
straight back (easy in a tightly-laced corset).  Then with her knees
together, she swung her legs neatly into the car and closed the door.
"Nicely done," he said. Naver smiled, but wondered what the effect of the
wind in an open topped sports car would be.  She wouldn't have long to find
out as with a roar of the engine and a slight chirruping from the tyres, he
accelerated away.

   The little car was a masterpiece of its art.  The seats were of fine
leather, the rolls of padding beside her legs and under her knees held her
against the side forces as the car swept round corners as if on rails.  In
front, the padded leather dashboard was clustered with dials and switches,
ranged in front of the driver.  The seat was well forward, and her legs
were unable to straighten.  This was, of course, partly due to the towering
heels that made her legs 51/2" longer than they would otherwise be.  The
position meant that her knees were prominent, and her legs very evident. 
She could see that the sweep of her upper legs, encased in the taught black
15 denier nylon of her shiny stockings, was smooth from her knees to her
thighs, and she was pleased with the look.  The polished steel gear lever
knob and matching handbrake lever were unobtrusive and handy between the
front seats, but the seats were only inches apart, and she could see the
effect of her appearance on the driver beside her.  He wasn't exactly
sweating - that's difficult in an open sports car at speed - but he was
certainly very aware of her.  Naver looked down and saw what the low
seating position was doing to the short skirt.  While no bare thigh was
visible, the entire 3 inch depth of the black lace stocking tops was there
for him to see.  She popped her clutch bag on her lap and folder her hands
over it, holding her skirt from blowing up.  However, the effect was not
wasted on the driver who was looking down at her legs.  Naver coughed
nervously and he glanced up at her. "Nice frock," he said. "Thanks," Naver
chuckled, "but I'd rather you studied the road than my legs." He smiled and
turned his attention back to the job in hand.

   Naver looked down again.  Her little clutch bag and hands were doing
nothing to hide the lace, and the effect made her look fussy.  Naver prided
herself on not having adopted the silly practices of a lot of girls,
especially the younger ones.  She did not, for example, adopt that habit of
constantly pulling at and adjusting her skirt - a movement that she knew
all men hated and which itself separated self-confident girls from their
less assured colleagues.  So she simply moved her hands, dropped the bag
into the glove box in front of her, and rested her left arm on the door
edge and her right arm on the armrest between the seats.  While she was a
graduate biologist, she didn't need this qualification to know the effect
that this position would have on her upper body, neither did she need
qualifications in fluid mechanics to know the effect that the airflow would
be likely to have on the chiffon of her skirt.  By resting her arms with
her elbows pulled well to the rear of her body, her shoulders were pulled
back and this thrust her tits forward.  Without moving, she glanced down to
her cleavage and was gratified to see that the only thing holding her tits
in was the prominence of her nipples against the tough binding at the upper
edge of her corset.  The swell of her tits was interesting, but being a
rather self-effacing girl (yeah, right) she chose not to stare at herself.
Besides, the other issue was the airflow inside the car.  They had moved
out of the city centre by now and had joined a faster road.  The fine
design of the car showed through once more, in that her hair was untouched
by wind.  However, chiffon being chiffon, the effect on her skirt was
fascinating.  It was as though the skirt was alive, had eaten a big meal a
few minutes previously, and was now struggling to find a comfortable
position.  As she watched, a ripple would begin at the hem and work its way
up the gap between her thighs, and then back again.  Then, with no warning,
the skirt would lift fully and flip itself inside out, exhibiting her bare
cunt and upper thighs, coloured evenly apart from the rouge of the made-up
lips and clitoris, framed in the black stockings and suspender tabs.  Then
just as quickly the skirt would flip down again resting as though nothing
had happened.  Then, as the speed of the car rose again, a new series of
airflows began just teasing her hem, working it in little waves parallel
with her waistline.  The waves resonated together, forming rolls and
apparently working in concert formed her skirt into a gentle roll around
her waist.  The evening sun illuminated and warmed her naked thighs and
cunt and Naver sat back closing her eyes and smiling to herself in the
pleasure of the feelings.  The sensations as the breeze caressed her cunt
and upper thighs relaxed her and she felt waves of relaxation sweep over
her, and she was easily able to imagine gentle hands stroking the soft
folds of her exposed intimate flesh.  She was not surprised, and not at all
dismayed to become aware of an additional succulence within her cunt that
was swiftly dried by the sun and the breeze, but it was there long enough
to remind her where she was going and what would be happening when she got
there - she hoped.

   A series of car horns brought Naver back to reality, and she glanced
across to her driver.  They had stopped at some traffic lights, in the
outside lane and, as she swung her head lazily to the left, realised that a
lorry driver in the inside lane was smiling broadly as he looked down at
her charms.  He wasn't letching or being immature about his looking - he
was just enjoying and appreciating the view.  However, the cars behind, who
didn't have the same entertainment to distract them, were indicating that
they would prefer to move on now that the lights had changed to green. 
Naver smiled up at the lorry driver, leaving her skirt exactly where the
breeze had arranged it, believing that nature probably had a better idea of
fashion than many of the big couture houses anyway.

   They drove away, Naver receiving a cheery wave from the lorry driver
who, she guessed, would be reliving his image of her sensual body later
with his wife or girlfriend of the evening - or maybe on his own.

   The little car drew up at the Quayside area of the city.  This was the
main 'going out' district, filled with bars, restaurants of all classes and
nationalities and night clubs, and was where everyone went to meet and be
met; see and be seen; to eat, drink and generally be merry.  Naver gave
appropriate thanks for the ride, and demurely left the very low car by
reversing her leg swinging and straight-back movement that had allowed her
to enter the car without compromising her grace.  She stood and began
walking slowly.  She looked round at the busy pavement and judged her
outfit against those that the other girls were wearing.  This was the
North-East of England, where all girls wore little to go out in, but as
usual Naver's experience of attention to detail and appreciation of the
effect of clothes on a girl's body made her stand out from the crowd.  It
wasn't that she was showing more flesh than the girls around her - she was
actually more covered up than most, nor that she was dressed more tartily
than the others - many were much more brazen than she.  It was that Naver
had long since understood the real meaning of 'slut'.  She knew that a girl
could be born a tramp, and could become a whore but that she had to work
hard to earn the honour of the descriptor 'slut'.  The word carried with it
a recognition of the self confidence and self awareness of a girl who knew
and understood her sexuality, and could use it for pleasure.  Mostly her
own, but others' too.  The knowledge gave her a glow of sexiness which was
enhanced by her attire, not the other way around - her legs in the heels
and short skirt appeared much longer than they should for her height, and
her tits enlarged and heaving from the top of the corset were more evident
than they should for their size.  Her walk could not be described as
anything other than blatantly sexy - her huge heels kept her knees just
slightly bent, and her straight back kept her hips swinging.  She walked in
a way that oozed sex, and it wasn't just her outward appearance either. 
The walk she adopted gently massaged the lips of her cunt between her
thighs.  Each time her hips swung and her thighs crossed, they tenderly
kneaded her sex, plucking at the small steel rings through each labial lip
and tugging repeatedly on her cunt.  She knew that this would, eventually,
be too much for her and that she would, in due course, beg for release. 
But for the moment, she was content to tease herself like this.

   Until, of course, she reached her destination and Him.





   Chapter 3 - Naver Begins her Ascent

   Naver walked slowly along the pavement, looking carefully around her. 
This was the stretch of road where they'd agreed to meet, but because of
the lift in the fast sports car, it was only 7:45 - she was 15 minutes
early.  Rather that than late, of course, but she still reckoned on a while
in the cold evening air.  She could already feel her bare tummy twitching
in the coolness of the air.  Then, behind her and to her right (the road
side, she noticed, and also to leave His right arm free to defend her, he
had said when they first went out together), she heard a voice she
recognised, "More than mortal man deserves." Naver smiled at the familiar
words.  She felt an arm snake round her tummy and he pulled her close
beside him as he came alongside her.  With a single, deft and well
practiced movement, he slipped his second finger through the ring hanging
from its swivel from her belly bar.  She felt the silver chains round her
waist and hanging from her neck tighten as the ring swivelled round to
accommodate the direction of his finger.  She also felt the familiar
tightening of her tummy muscles, her nipples and her cunt as her body
responded to the control her now exercised over her.  Any ill advised move
from her would cause the ring to tug on her belly bar.  She remembered that
once while walking with him in this way - only once - she had been
distracted by a rather nice pair of shoes in a shop window and had turned
to look.  Her navel had hurt for a week after that!  But she had long since
stopped being distracted when she was with him.  Their bodies fitted
together at the hips, and their strides adjusted to be in synchronicity
with each other.  Although he was much taller than she, her shoes corrected
for that and in fact their legs - including heels - were about the same
length allowing their strides to cover roughly the same ground.  They
walked smoothly together, not as two people but as one combined organism.
Naver's right hand mirrored his, resting gently round his waist, and her
left held the little clutch bag at her side.

   They made small talk together as they moved along the pavement, drawing
each others' attention to the fashion statements and ideas around them
(each understanding that to look at other women and other men was not a
threat to the other, but simply data collection), the behaviour of those
near them (they were both accomplished people watchers) and the interesting
sights and sounds of a city beginning its more exciting period of the day.
They both knew that in turn she, herself would be attracting comments from
those around them.  As they moved, she saw peoples' heads turn towards her,
nudges to partners whose eyes would swing to focus on her too.  She was
never sure what it was about her that caused this, although she did allow
herself the occasion luxury of pondering on it from time to time.  She
recalled waiting for him once for about 30 minutes (she had mistimed
traffic badly) and had watched the North Eastern girls perambulating. 
Girls in the briefest of skirts and minimal tops caused swift, appraising
looks from the boys, but they rarely lingered.  Naver attracted long,
lingering looks from boys and girls alike.  Full, detailed appraisals of
her clothes, her makeup, her curves.  It was almost as if she were a life
model - there to be admired and enjoyed.  Well, it suited her to be looked
at, and she wasn't about to object.

   Naver felt a pressure on her belly bar, and she realised that she was
being steered across the pavement and towards one of the nicer bars in the
city.  They entered, he guiding her ahead of him through the doorway he
opened for her with his right hand.  As she passed across his body, his
finger slipped easily from the ring and repositioned itself on her bare
left shoulder.  It did not just rest there - it held her shoulder firmly,
and he guided her to an empty booth.

   They sat opposite each other, and a waitress took their order and
brought their drinks.  Naver stayed off alcohol, knowing that she would
enjoy her evening more if she remained fully alert.  In any case, she was
already intoxicated by the feelings that were flooding through her, and had
been since she began her preparations some hours previously.  Her eyes were
large as she looked at him.

   "Are you wet, my woman?" he asked, as always getting straight to the
point. She nodded, "Yes, I expect so." "You'd better check," he smiled.

   Naver dropped her hand to her leg and slowly moved her fingers to her
cunt.  As she did so, she carefully opened her knees so that by the time
her reaching fingers found the top of her thighs they had free passage to
her cunt.  Her fingers found the chain that hung from her neck, and moved
the end of it carefully to one side, then gently stroked her fingers along
her labia.  She pulled her hand from beneath the table and lifted it for
his and her own examination.  Sure enough, even in this dim light her
fingers glistened with the moistness.

   She smiled at him, "As I said." He nodded.

   She did not like to tell him that her cunt had been trickling since she
stepped from the shower at 3:00 this afternoon to begin the preparations
for this evening.  It was not that he would be annoyed by such an
admission, but rather that if she admitted to being in an elevated stated
of arousal for the last five hours or so, he would tease her for five hours
more.  He would explain to her, as he always did, that he would be matching
her time for his time.  Being kept on the edge for a full ten hours was
more than she could bear - she knew that - and the very thought of it made
her go a little dizzy.  If he asked, she would not lie, but all that she
could hope for would be that he would make his own assessment, and err on
the low rather that the high side.

   "So," he said, "matching your time with my time, I think you own me a
further three hours.  Do you concur?" "I think that's fine," she said - not
actually lying, but feeling relieved!

   So, the evening began.  As they talked and enjoyed each other's company,
her hands worked on herself, directed by his eyes.  Sometimes she would
stroke her thighs, other times she caressed the swell of her tits as they
spilled from above her corset.  Sometimes she smoothed her midriff, other
time - the hardest, she would be directed to her cunt and be made to caress
herself there.  Always, he watched her eyes and directed her according to
her mood and her state of arousal.  As she climbed up that stairway of the
gods, he adjusted the speed of her ascent - sometimes allowing her to climb
purposefully.  However, at other times he would cause her to slow and tease
herself agonisingly.  Her eyes would plead to be allowed to climb more, but
he would smile and keep her within sight of - but not yet within reach of -
her goal.

   Naver used the last vestiges of rational thought to pull her little
skirt from under her, sitting directly on to the seat and feeling the harsh
material chafe and rub on the backs of her thighs and on her now bare arse.
But it was better to suffer the harshness of rough material on her smooth
flesh than the humiliation of a wet skirt!

   She felt herself coming back to reality.  He was bringing her back to
earth gently.  Although she had not reached heaven (while it had been
agonisingly close) she had reached what she sometimes called her 'latching
point'.  The state where her arousal was such that only an orgasm would let
her down.  The state where her senses were heightened incredibly.  The
sounds were richer and more subtle.  The words from the songs of the
background music were clear and intelligible.  The colours were vibrant. 
Her skin felt every sensation of touch and temperature.  She could feel his
breath gently playing across her tits, and she could fee the pressure of
the seams of her corset on her flanks.  Above all, she could feel her cunt
warm and swollen, pressing against her thighs and she was sure that she
could feel the gossamer material of her chiffon skirt brushing oh-so-gently
against the tip of her engorged clitoris.  Taking a deep breath, she
detected the scent of musk - her own musk - rising from her loins.  Naver
never wore perfume on nights like this, leaving it to nature to provide its
own substance.

   He smiled, knowing from long experience the state she was in.  "Are you
able to walk?" She returned his smile, "With help, I'm sure."





   Chapter 4 - Naver's River Crossing

   They left the bar, his arm in its customary position round her waist -
although not this time with his finger through her ring - there was too
much risk of her stumbling in her current state.  But Naver walked with
poise and confidence; more to do with the constant practice that had
brought about a consistency of her posture, and the support of the tightly
laced corset than her state of mind which was, frankly, close to mush. 
Naver was floating in a semi conscious state, her mind running partly on
automatic, and partly on a much enhanced sense of awareness.  This was an
ethereal and very pleasurable sensation for her.  She was being controlled
by the state of sexual arousal that he has made her attain, where her cunt
throbbed incessantly and her clitoris sent her brain a constant message of
"Please touch me".  Her nipples were forcing themselves so hard against her
corset that if she had been in any other state they would have hurt
terribly.  As it was their stimulation added to her wonderful torture.  The
expression on her face was not one of stupefaction, but one of absolute
contentment with her lot.  This was, however, not a true reflection of her
feelings, which were sharply divided into two.  One set of feelings
implored her to reach orgasm.  The other set - equally strong - demanded
that she stayed in this superbly aroused state for ever.  It was, of
course, not her choice.

   They reached the 'Blinking Eye' bridge - a curved footbridge that opened
in a particular and unique way - and he steered her across it.  As they
mounted the bridge, Naver realised that the effect of the breeze on an open
footbridge across a wide river on her chiffon skirt could be interesting to
say the least.  Regardless, but nonetheless excited, she continued to walk,
her hands nowhere near her little skirt.  As they walked further out
towards the centre of the bridge, Naver could feel the breeze gently
playing around her almost bare legs.  She also felt and interesting airflow
further up, as the cold winter air amused itself trying to dry out her
sopping cunt.  It had little chance - she was some aroused girl having been
close to orgasm for well over six hours now and her cunt was flowing like
an artesian well.  They reached the midpoint, and he took her to lean on
the parapet.  She rested her elbows on the rail and gazed towards the sea.
She knew, and was pleased to think about, the view she was presenting to
the others on the bridge.  Leaning forward, of course, caused her to bend
at the waist, and the hem of her chiffon skirt was now tickling the back of
her bare thighs above her lacy stocking tops.  Periodically, the breeze
caught her skirt and flipped it to her waist, and she then felt the
delicious sensation of it sliding back over her arse and down to its
resting place on her thighs.  The front of her skirt was hanging straight
down, so that it hung away from the front of her legs.  Since she could
feel no cloth resting on her bare thighs, it was easy to imagine that she
was naked from the waist down at the front.  By now the breeze had flipped
her skirt so that it fell across her back.  She closed her eyes and
pictured her image from her rear - straight and very long legs, partially
encased in black nylon leading to a pale expanse of flesh, glowing white in
the moonlight.  As the other evening revellers passed them, she could hear
their comments.  Some admired her curves and the way that she had chosen to
display them.  Others expressed surprise or concern that her clothing was
too thin for an evening like this.  One or two noticed her corset, but most
concentrated on her legs and arse.  Good, she thought - they recognise my
best feature.  It was quiet, and she could just hear the sound of the water
far below as she felt a big rough hand tenderly smoothing her skirt back
down over her bare arse.

   They moved on, Naver adjusting her skirt for the first time since they
have left the bar.  Walking slowly on, arms around each others' waists,
Naver smiled at the intimacy of the evening, and the surprise that would
surely come soon.

   One of the bridge's features was that it was lit by uplighters sunk into
the walkway.  As they walked, the lights shone upwards flooding them in
green, red, blue and yellow light.  Naver's filmy skirt was periodically
lit from beneath, and acted as a screen for an attention-grabbing magic
lantern show as she walked across the beams.  He glanced across to her,
revelling in the pictures that greeted him.  He watched, fascinated, at the
shadows flirted and shimmied across the front of her chiffon skirt.  Then
he stopped and Naver looked at him concerned.  He turned to face her, and
manoeuvred her to stand directly above one of the white uplighters, facing
him as he stood with his back resting on the parapet.  Holding her at arms'
length, he adjusted her position until he was satisfied, and then took a
step to one side to improve his perspective.  The smile on his face widened
until it became a grin that a particularly cheerful Cheshire-cat would be
proud of.  Naver's concern evaporated as she realised what he had spotted.
She had expected his discovery to be made later by touch rather than now by
sight.  Silhouetted on the thin black fabric was a clear picture of a
padlock and a key hanging between her thighs.  He moved her again, twisting
her slightly to the left, unsure whether this was reality or a mirage - he
could not really believe the picture he was seeing.  But her movement made
the padlock swing into a clearer angle and there was no doubt.  The
movement also caused a small gasp to come from her slightly open mouth.

   "You like my new design?" she mewed.  "Let me see."

   She carefully lifted the front of her skirt, knowing that those passing
behind her would see the secret meant only for him, and she placed her legs
a little more than shoulder width apart to reveal the end of the silver
chain that started at her neck.  His eyes slowly took in the length of the
chain, starting at her neck and the silver loop soldered to the end of the
chain through which the chain itself passed to make a noose, it then
nestled between her swollen tits, nestling in the valley of her prominent
cleavage.  It passed down the front of her corset, contrasting intensely
against the black material until it came to her tanned tummy.  It then
threaded through the ring attached to her belly bar, crossing the chain
around her middle, and continued between her tummy and her suspender belt
at her skirt waistband.  From there, the chain continued downwards, across
her swollen and reddened clitoris just below which another silver ring had
been soldered to the chain.  The chain ended just level with the boundary
between her tanned thighs and the black lace of her stocking tops, where a
small silver key was attached dangling between her thighs.  The key matched
a small silver padlock which was closed around the silver ring soldered to
her chain and the two more personal rings, each of which pierced her labia.
Not only was her cunt locked shut, it was also bound to her tummy through
the body piercing there, and to her neck.  She was bound as securely as it
was possible to be - every movement of her body would have tickled her
navel or stimulated her cunt by pulling on her cunt lips and by chafing her
clitoris against which it lightly rubbed.  He was not surprised to note,
therefore, that the padlock was glistening with wetness and dribbles of her
juices were trickling down the last part of the chain and were periodically
dripping from the little key to the floor.  The chain was as kinky as he
had ever seen, and he could not help admiring the sexy, raunchy mind that
had designed it.

   "I am so proud to have you as my sweet little slut," he whispered
lightly. She simply smiled in response, and smoothed her skirt down to
cover its intimate secret.

   They continued to walk across the bridge and he now understood the
little pants and trembles that had been emanating from her all the time
they had been walking.  The girl was being teased and tormented with each
step - and he realised that she was enjoying every moment.  Her state of
arousal had already been raised almost intolerably in the bar, and while
she would not achieve her goal through the gentle stimulation of her chain,
it was quite clear that she was climbing a slow, protracted rung at a time,
her own personal Stairway of the Gods to her orgasm.

   They reached the destination - a restaurant just on the other side of
the river.  It was on the upper floor of a tall building, converted from
its original industrial design.  Just inside the entrance was a lift, and
they went in to the cabin, pressing the button.  As the door closed, he
took her in a deep embrace, kissing her hard on her lips and pressing his
tongue deep into her mouth.  His arms encircled her, but not round her
upper body.  He knew that he could not squeeze her more firmly that her
tightly laced corset was already doing, but round her skirt, lifting her
off the ground.  The embrace lasted only a few seconds - the time it took
for the lift to reach the top floor - but when it finished she was left
panting and glowing.

   She swiftly adjusted her clothes as the lift door opened.



   Chapter 5 - Naver's Stairway of the Gods



   They both knew this restaurant well, enjoying the close intimacy of the
ambiance and the sensitivity of the staff.  The atmosphere was relaxed and
comfortable as they arrived and they immediately felt secure with the
feelings of familiarity there.  The house manager welcomed them by name,
fussing over Naver as he always did.  He made no comment on her clothes -
to do so would have been an invasion which he would never countenance, but
they both knew that he would have observed every stitch and would shortly
be relaying a complete description to the rest of the restaurant staff. 
Naver knew that it would be a measure of how effective her selection of
wardrobe was by how many staff found an excuse to come to their table to
see for themselves.

   They were shown to their table straight away.  As they followed the
manager they walked side by side, she to his left, Naver felt his left hand
on her arse firmly cupping her bare left cheek in his big hand.  She smiled
- she loved this position and what it did for her rear view because for him
to hold her like this, her skirt would be resting across his forearm at
about the level of her hip, revealing her arse framed in the black of the
suspender belt and stocking tops to those behind.  She gave a little
shudder as the remembered that, on this occasion, they might also see the
little key swinging between her thighs.  They reached their table; as
always one of the better ones - it was secluded, circular and was close to
one of the windows that overlooked the river and the spectacular view of
the five bridges that crossed it.

   "Your table, Madam, Sir," said the Manager.  "I will leave you to be
seated and the wine waiter and you waitress, Mary, will be along shortly."

   They thanked him, and noted with satisfaction that he knew not to seat
them himself.  He was a good manager who learnt the whims and requirements
of his guests and satisfied them whenever he could.  As soon as he was
gone, Naver turned to look straight at her companion.  He sat down, making
himself comfortable and looking at her.  He made her wait for a few
moments, enjoying her body adorned in the way she had chosen for him,
taking pleasure in the fact that she had chosen with him in mind, not
herself.  When he was quite ready, he nodded.

   Naver dropped her eyes to the floor, slid her right foot back with her
instep pressing the ground, behind and slightly to the left of her left leg
and allowing the instep of the sliding foot to take her weight.  Then she
gradually sank down by bending her left leg until she was sitting on her
bent right leg, letting her arms fall to the side, and lowering her head.
He heard her sigh, and knew that they chains were doing their work on her -
the important point about a full curtsy that she was performing for him is
the crossing under of the sliding right leg, this movement being supported
by crossed thighs, and crossed thighs with a padlock and chain to contend
with would be causing Naver some very interesting sensations.  Her lowered
eyes rose just enough for her to look straight at him, but her back was
bent slightly downward (as far as her corset would allow) - and he saw a
pose that was very becoming for any woman that had taken the trouble to
learn to do it.  He smiled at her, and she smiled back, remaining in
position until he nodded to her.  She then rose with her weight on the left
foot and returned to her standing position.  It always amazed him to notice
that her left foot remained stationery during the entire sequence of the
curtsy.  This was a superbly graceful manoeuvre, calculated, he knew, to
reinforce the relationship between them.  She stood by the table, behind
her chair, waiting for him to indicate that he was ready for her to be
seated.  This part of the meal was always the most difficult for Naver. 
The anticipation would build and she would feel her body respond to his
control.  As it was now.  Her tormented cunt was already crying out for
attention, and the anticipation of what was to come made it swell and
writhe, taking on its own dance of expectation.  Sometimes he would leave
her like this for only a couple of minutes, other times it would be much
longer.  She recalled one occasion where she had remained standing for the
whole of the first two courses, since it pleased him for her to do so, and
never a second glance was given to her by the staff.  On that occasion, she
had left a very obvious wet patch on the rich red carpet between her feet,
and she knew that she would be repeating that if she remained here long. 
She felt a wave of emotion pass over her.  She wobbled slightly, resting
her hand on the chair back in front of her to steady her a little.  She was
sure that if she did not achieve release soon, that her body would very
likely explode with the pent up sexuality that was threatening to overwhelm
her.  It was almost as though he read her thoughts, and he whispered to
her, "Do you want to cum, my woman?" "Oh God, YES please," she said.  Her
eyes wide and fixed on his. He glanced at his watch and smiled at her,
"Only another couple of hours to wait, my darling."

   "Two hours of this sweet purgatory," she thought.  She smiled to herself
and thought, "Ah well - I could think of worse fates for a girl."

   He indicated for her to be seated and she did so, deftly flicking her
skirt up at the back so that she did not sit on it.  On cue, the wine
waiter and waitress arrived bringing the wine list and some menus.

   "Shall I order for us both?" She nodded, whispering, "Not too much, I
haven't got much room in here," indicating the tight corset.

   The waitress, Mary, was in her early twenties with a good figure but no
confidence.  She bent down and whispered in Naver's ear, "Miss, that's a
wonderful outfit you have on.  I wish I could wear that sort of thing. 
Would you show me how?"

   Naver whispered back, "You could, and I shall, Mary." A couple of time
before, Naver had taken Mary to one side and given her tips on fashion and
clothing to enhance her body.  Mary had reported that she had enjoyed
Naver's attention and Naver was sure that, with a bit of encouragement,
Mary could become a most satisfactory companion!  "But tonight, Mary, I'm a
bit busy so it'll have to be another time."

   "Of course, Miss," said Mary, and straightened ready to take the order.

   "No starters this evening, for either of us, I think.  We'll go straight
for the main courses.  I'll have a small tournedos, very rare, with fine
green beans and new potatoes; the lady will have a very small salmon steak
with some lemon dressing and a small side salad.  And Mary, that skirt is
much too long." And then, without the slightest pause, to the wine waiter,
"And we'll have a bottle of whatever red you think appropriate with that
choice."

   Naver always enjoyed the way that he dealt with staff in places like
this, and tonight the effect on the two staff was fun to watch.  Mary
scribbled at her pad taking down the order and then blushed a deep red at
the last sentence spoken to her.  Naver saw Mary glance at her black skirt
and nod ruefully.  Naver mouthed to Mary, "I'll talk to you later." On the
other hand, the chest of the wine waiter swelled noticeably - they always
love to have their advice requested and their expertise trusted.  The two
nodded enthusiastically and scurried off, each very satisfied with their
guests.

   They continued their conversation, each looking in to the eyes of the
other.  As they did so, Naver felt a stirring between her legs as he moved
his hand under her skirt.  "Oh God, he's going to fondle me - I won't be
able to stand that for the next couple of hours." But he didn't.  Instead,
he was using his fingertips to develop a mental map of the layout of her
ornaments.  He explored the chain, the rings, the padlock and its key. 
Each move of his fingers caused a ripple of movement through her cunt - for
some reason each and every movement made the fine silver chain resting on
her clitoris to shift, stimulating her further and further up her Stairway
of the Gods to her orgasm.  His fingers moved a little more, holding the
key and finding the keyhole in which it fitted.  All the time, he
maintained conversation, never letting his eyes move from hers.  With a
click, the lock opened, and his hand reappeared holding a slick and damp
silver padlock.  He licked it clean and rested it on the table between
them. Naver's cunt, suddenly released from its constraint, opened like a
flower in the sunshine.  Her lips, swollen with all the attention, sprang
apart and she felt the air on the sopping inner lips that were suddenly
exposed.  His fingertip ran the full length of her wide open cunt, resting
briefly - oh so briefly - on her clitoris.  She closed her eyes and a loud
moan escaped her lips.

   "Not a sound, my darling," he warned. She nodded meekly.

   The main course arrived, brought by staff each keen to catch a glimpse
of the vision of loveliness that had entered their establishment and see
for themselves the outfit that had been described by their boss.  Normally,
each waitress will bring a number of dishes, but not here - each was
brought by its own waiter or waitress.  Naver took this to mean that her
outfit was deemed a success by the manager.

   They ate slowly, and as they finished the course, Naver felt the hand
return to rest on her thigh.  But what was this?  Something cold and hard
was pressing on her and with horror she realised that he had a small
vibrator in his hand.  It started running very slowly, teasing her already
screaming cunt even further.  He played with her, toyed with her sexuality,
running the slow running vibrator across and along her.  Naver's breathing
became shallow and fast.  She was panting with desire.

   "Please may I cum," she asked, her eyes looking at him expectantly. "No,
not yet," he said, and turned the vibrator up a little more.

   Again and again, the vibrator teased her.  Time and time again, she
would stop breathing and he would hold still for a moment, pulling her back
from the brink and lifting her state to another level far beyond that which
she though she could stand.  Seven hours ago, she had begun this climb, and
she seriously believed that it was impossible for her to take any more. 
But she was mistaken.

   As he rested the vibrator directly on her clitoris, she managed to
suppress a scream as a wave of pure sex swept over her.  She gripped the
edge of the table, trying to summon up every ounce of willpower she had.

   Then the manager returned, to ask whether all was satisfactory.  "All is
very well, thanks.  What about you, dear?" he said, looking at her. She
lifted her head and looked at the waiter with glazed eyes; a very quiet,
breathy "Gnargh" was all she could manage.  But this satisfied the manager,
and he departed.

   "Please, please let me cum," she pleaded. "Do you really want to?" he
asked with a smile. Her knuckled showed white as she gripped the table edge
seemingly hard enough to break it, "Yes, I really, really need to cum. 
Please let me cum." He raised his eyebrow questioningly. She changed tack,
and said, "Sir, this girl needs you to let her cum.  Please may this girl
cum now?" "Nearly there," he smiled, "one more try." "Oh my God," she
moaned, "your slut needs you to let her cum for you, Sir.  Please, please
may your lovely slut cum for you now, Sir.  Please.  Your slut is pleading
with you, begging you.  Please."

   He looked at her, knowing that she genuinely was close to the edge.  And
had been for some hours.  He contemplated making her wait for another hour
or so, but thought better of it.

   "Silently, then."

   The vibrator dropped against her swollen clit once more.  She went
rigid, her hands clamped round the table and the muscles on her bare arms
and shoulders standing out.  Her thighs were spread so wide that her legs
were almost in a straight line, her cunt thrust forward seeking the
vibrator and trying to exert more pressure on it.  Sweat dripped from her
brow.  Her lips were clamped shut in an effort to suppress the sounds
coming from her throat.  She was making short mewing noises, getting
slightly louder but more urgent as her long resisted orgasm built.  A high
pitched squeak forced itself from between her lips as the first orgasm hit
her.  Her eyes were tightly shut as wave after wave of pleasure hit her. 
Her head lolled from side to side - it was almost as though her face was
being slapped repeatedly left then right.  The little noises went of for
some seconds, leading to several minutes, getting more and more intense as
she reached another orgasm, and then another.  The intensity of her orgasms
built on themselves, lifting her higher and higher.  Her mouth opened, "Ng,
ng, ng" was all that came out - she had no energy left for sounds.  She had
reached the top of her Stairway of the Gods.

   Then, finally and with a gasp, she calmed.  Relaxing gently, sideways,
into his waiting arms, she came back to earth as he stroked the sweat from
her brow, face and shoulders, and gave her a sip of wine.

   She smiled at him, and whispered, "Thank you."