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From: "Nikki@P.U." <indexhtml@charter.net>
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Subject: THE TAMING OF JANE (bdsm, young, abuse)
Date: Sun, 05 Sep 2004 16:47:29 -0700
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THE TAMING OF JANE (bdsm, young, abuse)
BY DREAMCHASER
This is an absolutely fictitious story about a troublesome 13 year old
and her fathers efforts to discipline her that I wrote some years ago,
but never posted because I never could find the appropriate forum for
it. It only came to mind again after the requests for high heel training
stories, and I've decided to post the first part to see what sort of
reaction it gets. The rest of the story maps out how the main character,
Jane, becomes interested in fetish design and starts exploring her own
feelings. There is no sexual content in this story at all.
I was worried. I knew that my daughter Jane had been getting out of hand
for some time. She had been living with me since for the last three
years, after her Mother past away. Those had been difficult times. At
first, I put it down to the shock of losing her mother, but as time went
on, it became more obvious that Jane was deliberately looking for
trouble. She had been brought home by the police more times that I can
remember, mostly for causing disturbances in the neighbourhood, or in
the shopping precinct nearby. Try and tell her to be in at a certain
time, and she would just storm out of the house, wandering in at any
time of the day of night.
The problem was how do you control an out of control 13 year old who
knows that you can' t smack a child and has more idea about her rights
than a crown court barrister? The slightest hint of any discipline and
she would normally lock herself in her room and not come out, or walk
out of the house vowing never to come back. Of course she did, whenever
she got hungry, which was often. She was eating so much junk food that
she was putting on weight, although it was difficult to spot under the
baggy tee shirts, which went with her ever present trainers and track
suit bottoms. At a time when most girls are becoming more and more
conscious of their appearance, she was becoming more and more slovenly.
I had to do something for her sake.
The initial idea for re-educating Jane came on one of those rare
occasions when we were out together. We were walking down Oxford Street
on a shopping trip (the only time she let me accompany her was when she
needed my money) In front of us was a young woman of about twenty who
was having trouble with her shoes. It was the height of the heel which
was about four inches which was troubling her: and it was clear from the
way that she was tripping up and stumbling that she was very uncertain
on them. Jane saw me staring at then, and happened to pass comment that
she could never been seen dead in shoes like that. They must hurt and
she would hardly be able to stand in them, let alone walk. 'Bingo!' I
had the answer to this precocious child. I think I must have just
mumbled something in reply as we past her by, but can t remember because
my mind was already working overtime on an idea to curb her ways.
I went shopping the day after by myself. I started on Oxford Street,
dodging in and out of the various shoe shops. I knew exactly what I was
looking for, a high heeled shoe that, when put on, would stay on. Sadly,
all that I found were the normal high street lines, all of which had a
maximum four-inch block heel. Very few were fitted with ankle straps and
even they could be undone easily. I realised that this was not going to
be as easy as I though. After four hours of fruitless searching I
decided to head home, turning off Oxford Street towards Piccadilly
Circus and the tube station. This took me through the streets of Soho, a
location that I normally tried to stay out of.
The area was just as I remembered it, seedy and uninviting but I noticed
that it did have, interspersed with the book shops and bars, a few
clothes shops selling more fetishist based items. Among these was a shop
that had in the window, all sorts of weird and wonderful fashions,
including some of the highest heeled shoes that I had ever seen. Black
patent court shoes six inches high adorned the window display. This was
not quite what I was looking for, as they could still be kicked off, but
it was worth a further look and I stepped inside. The shop was dark and
empty, save for the disinterested shop assistant at the far end. The
middle of the floor was taken up with all sorts of rubber and leather
items. The walls were adorned with all types of shoes from platforms to
boots and stiletto spikes.
Hidden amongst the various court shoes was precisely what I was looking
for. It was a pair of five-inch heels of soft black leather, with a
thick leather strap, which wrapped around the ankle. What made these
entirely suitable was the securing method, which comprised of two
padlocks on each ankle. The price was slightly above what I would
normally want to pay but in the circumstances it was worth every penny.
Jane wore a size three shoe so I decided to ask for a size higher so
that I would have less difficulty in forcing them on her bare feet in
the event of a fight.
The look on the shop assistant?s face when I said that they were for a
thirteen-year old was a sight to behold. The shoes stayed in my wardrobe
for the next few days, but it wasn't too long before I had the need to
use them. She had been out late again, only to be brought home by the
local constabulary after having painted the town red, literally. The
graffiti, I was told, would take an age to clear up but no charges were
being made on this occasion. I decided to wait until morning before
taking action, as she went to her room to sulk anyway. I was waiting for
the sound of her getting up the next morning. I heard Jane making her
way to the bathroom about ten o'clock, her normal time of rising during
school holidays. Her usual "modus operandi" was to throw on a tee shirt
(normally the one she had worn the previous night) and jeans before
going to the bathroom for a quick dab around with the flannel. While she
was in there, I made my move, hiding the shoes under her bed and then
sitting myself down to await her return.
"What are you doing in my room?" she snarled as she set foot through the
door. You could see the anger in her eyes that I had invaded her space.
"I want to talk to you about your behaviour of late," I replied, trying
not to show any weakness. "Sit down, now!" With a huff, she threw
herself onto the bed lengthways, nearly kicking me in the process. Her
feet were in a convenient grabbing position anyway, I thought to myself.
"I just think that it was about time that your attitude was changed, so
as of now we're in a whole new ball game. You misbehave, and you will be
punished.
"How do you intend to do that then?" You could see the disobedience in
her eyes. With that I wrapped an arm around both of her ankles, using
the other hand to grab the belt which I had with me to loop around her
legs to avoid her kicking me, which she tried very hard to do. With her
legs immobilised to some degree I reached under the bed and groped for
one of the shoes. "What the hell do you think you're doing," she
screamed at me, as I lifted her legs in the air, making sure that her
upper body stayed on the bed. I knew that she could pack an almighty
punch and wished to avoid it. The first shoe slid on fairly easily,
since she wasn't expecting it. She couldn't see what I was up to, and I
was shielding the view of her feet from her. All she knew was what she
could feel as her feet were imparted into an unnatural arc. Fumbling for
one of the padlocks, I quickly wrapped the strap around her slim ankle,
listening to it click into place.
By this time, she had stopped screaming blue murder and was desperately
trying to wriggle free from my grasp, and that of the belt, which held
her ankles secure. Then I started on the other foot. It was a struggle,
mainly because she got wise to the fact that curling her toes up made
life more difficult. It seemed an eternity before the faint 'click' of
the padlock signalled my victory. The second locks on each ankle were
merely added security. Finally, I undid the belt which secured her
ankles and threw her legs away from me while getting up quickly and
making a move for the door. Instantly, she sprung from the bed, only to
fall on her knees as the unfamiliar arch of her feet took effect. Taking
stock of her senses, she swung her legs from under her to examine her feet.
"Get these things off me now," She demanded; tugging desperately at the
padlocks which held her ankles in an indefatigable vice-like grip. I
suggested that the first thing she needed to do was to calm down and get
off the floor, which she reluctantly did, hauling herself off her knees
onto the bed without putting any pressure on her feet. I then started to
explain the rules.
"This", I started, ?is how you will be kept out of trouble in future.
From now on, if I have any trouble, you will be put into these shoes
for a period that I will decide. Dependent on the severity of the
misbehaviour you will spend anything up to a day wearing them. For now,
since you caused a considerable amount of damage last night, you can
spend the next 14 hours locked in them or until you go to bed."
"But what do you expect to achieve by this?" she questioned. "I mean I
can hardly stand in these things let alone walk. And what are my friends
going to think of me if I start showing up in these?"
"Precisely my point, Jane. If you can't walk, then you can't be chasing
around the estate until God knows what hour causing trouble. I would
suggest that you have some serious thinking to do from now on. You have
to make a choice between your freedom and some responsibility. One goes
hand in hand with the other. If you don't start acting responsibly, then
I shall continue to lock those shoes on your feet so that your
activities are curtailed. I'm sorry, but you've left me no other option."
With that I left her to her contemplation, which lasted all of 30
seconds before she started stamping on the floor, each stamp normally
followed by an "ouch" as the heels pushed up into her feet. That phase
lasted for about 15 minutes and then there was silence. Hunger took over
about midday, and she finally decided to leave the sanctuary of her room
for something to eat. Watching her was a comical sight. She made it to
the door without falling only by grasping both sides of the door. From
there, she edged her way along the wall, trying desperately to keep her
weight off her feet. The stairs became too much for her though, and she
slid down them on her backside. She glared at me as I laughed at her
efforts but said nothing. Lunch, for that was what it turned out to be,
was eaten in silence. It was plain to see, however, that she was having
difficulty balancing a tray on her lap with her knees held up so high.
Ever so often she would stare at them, and then at me, then return to
her food.
The afternoon must have passed very slowly for her. She crawled back to
her room after lunch (literally), slamming the doors behind her as she
went. Although she stayed in there, I could hear from time to time feint
and very erratic footsteps from upstairs as she tried to come to terms
with her changed circumstances. One thing I had learnt about Jane was
that she was defiant enough not to allow things to heat her. It was
still a surprise to me, though, when she reappeared about six managing
to walk, albeit very gingerly down to the stairs. She had clearly been
practising. The look on her face this time was more one of pain and
apprehension, fearful of falling on the stairs. Because of the small
size of her feet, they were held almost upright by the arch of the shoe.
Her toes were bent severely where the sole flattened out. She made it as
far as the settee and flopped down, breathing a sigh of relief and spent
the next five minutes massaging her calves and ankles to try and
alleviate some of the muscle tension.
Finally she broke her silence. "Dad, when are you going to take these
off me?"
"As I told you, I will take them off when it's time for bed. I'm sorry,
but you've pushed me to the limit once too often. I was at my wit's end
as to what to do with you. Nothing I ever said and did made any
difference to your attitude and that has got to change before you get
much older. Otherwise, before long you will find yourself not looking at
a caution but detention for some of the things that you get up to. I'm
just worried for you."
"But these things hurt dreadfully. I've got pins and needles in my feet
and I can hardly walk. This is no way to treat me."
"Well I suggest that you remember how you feel now, the next time you
think about causing trouble. I guessed when I bought them they would
hurt, and I knew that you would have difficulty walking because you've
told me before that you don't like heels. That's why I bought such a
high heel, to stop you from roaming. I would suggest that you stay off
your feet for the rest of the evening and watch some television. I'll
make you some tea." We sat there for the rest of the evening,
occasionally talking but most of the time just watching television. She
did get up once to go to the toilet, and I was impressed with her being
able to handle the sky-high heels after such a short time. It was very
ginger movements; almost a teeter, but she did manage to stay upright
and looked terrific in them. They were much better than her normal
training shoes One incident that did happen that night I think
reinforced the fact that she was being punished. I had forgotten that
Mike next door had asked to borrow a few tools to do some repairs and I
had arranged for him to call round about eight to pick them up. I was
only a few foot from the door when the bell rang, and Jane had no chance
to hide or make a run for it (not that she could have). She had to just
sit there, desperately trying to hide her feet but with no way to do it.
Even curling her legs up meant that the bottoms of her jeans rode up her
legs to reveal the length of the heels and the two shiny padlocks that
secured them to her ankles. Mike didn't say a word about them, but you
couldn't help but notice his glances over to where she sat every now and
again, focusing in on her feet.
Jane meanwhile was going redder and redder but dared not get up for fear
of falling over and really embarrassing herself. You could see that she
couldn't wait for him to go. What Mike told his wife that night I would
love to know, but I did notice a couple of weeks later that his wife was
wearing stilettos for the first time since I had known them. I kept my
word and got the keys to the padlocks at ten o'clock precisely, handing
them to Jane so that she could unlock the straps, making her hand the
padlocks and keys to me. She literally tore the shoes of her feet and
immediately started to massage and rub her toes where they had been
crushed for so long: Her ankles had a broad red mark where the strap had
been rubbing against them. As she made her way upstairs, I noticed that
she was walking still on her toes, not able to put her heels down
because of the way her calf muscles had been stretched during the
fourteen hours that they had been one position'.
I must have made an impression this time though, because for the first
time in a long time, she actually wished me "goodnight" as she climbed
the stairs. Those shoes saw use a few times in the next months, mainly
for small misdemeanours on her part. I got the impression though, from
the way she handled getting about in her heels when in punishment that
she had been practising secretly. I normally kept the shoes in my
bedroom wardrobe when they weren't being used and she knew where they
were, although she wouldn't dare try and get rid of them.
My suspicions were confirmed after I secretly marked the position of
them before going to work one morning. Checking later on, they had been
moved and returned to not quite the same position. What she had been
doing was waiting for me to leave, and then wearing them about the
house, I suspect without the straps secured so that they could be
slipped of if anyone called or she wanted to go out. That was typical of
Jane's attitude. Nothing would ever beat her for too long. The one thing
that she would not do was to allow her friends to see her when she was
in them. The only person besides myself who had ever seen her in her
heels was Mike from next door and that was only the once, although I
suspect from the number of times that he called round now that was not
for the want of trying.
It was about three months later, in July that an interesting twist in
the story came about. Jane had calmed down considerably since I had
started her new punishment regime, but every once in a while she went
off the rails. Unfortunately for her, she chose to do it on the
afternoon of tile end of term dance at the school. I knew that she had a
date for that night with one of the school heartthrobs, and I also knew
it was only a small amount of damage to some lockers in school, but it
was significant enough that she still needed to be taught the lesson. I
returned home after a phone-call from the school, getting in about ten
minutes before Jane.
She knew what was coming before I opened my mouth, because the shoes
were on the arm of the chair next to me. She pleaded with me for half an
hour not to put them on her, because she desperately needed to go to the
party that night but to no avail. They went on her all the same. The
click of the padlocks took on far more significance to her on this
occasion as it left her in a dilemma. If she didn't go she would be
standing up the best date she had ever had. But if she did go, she may
have to admit to her friends about the unusual punishment that was being
inflicted on her. Instead of screaming and shouting as she normally did,
she confided her feelings to me, mainly as a final plea for clemency. I
knew that she desperately wanted to go, but there was no way that I was
letting up now, just when I has started to make an impression on her, so
I decided to try to guide her instead.
"Look," I started, "You know as well as I do that you can handle those
shoes as well as any grown up. There is nothing stopping you from going
to the dance tonight wearing them?.
"But everyone will see the padlocks and start making fun of me," She
pleaded. She did have a point on that score I accepted.
"All you have to do is wear something long enough that the straps don't
show. They are high enough up your ankles. How about wearing that black
jump suit that I bought for you last winter. That would look nice and
would certainly be long enough. Go and try it on, and than have a think
about it. If you want to go to this dance that is the only way that you
are going to manage it".
She slowly withdrew to her bedroom, emerging an hour later wearing the
jump suit I had suggested. For the first time ever, she had taken time
to put on some make-up as well, although where she got it from I don't
know. I had to admit that she looked absolutely stunning for a
thirteen-year old. Apart from the fact that she was slightly plump,
mainly because of all the junk food that she ate, she could almost have
passed for a model. Her brunette hair shone, she definitely looked a
picture.
?I?ve thought it over, and I wanted to go. You were right. I wish I
didn't have to wear these heels, but I suppose that I did do wrong today
and I know that you've got to punish me. I guess that a lot of girls
will be wearing high heels tonight, but I've taken precautions to make
sure that those padlocks don't show:? She knelt down and lifted up the
hem of the trouser leg to show me what she had done. I had never thought
of Jane as dim, but this was a stroke of genius. She had sewn the
trouser leg to the ankle straps, leaving enough slack in her trousers
for when she sat down so that she didn't stretch the knees. When she
stood, the legs retained a slightly baggy look, which was very popular.
All you could see of her shoes were the toes, and about four inches of
the spiked heel, peeking seductively from beneath the material hem of
her trousers. I dropped her off at the school gates, with a promise to
pick her up at ten o'clock when the party finished.
I had expected her to be in a foul mood by the time I returned, but was
astonished to find her almost surrounded by boys, not only a few from
her own year who I recognised, but others from the couple of years above
her. She was chatting and sharing jokes with them as I pulled up,
letting her get in to the car in her own time after a particularly long
embrace with one of them, who I knew to be the boy that she had arranged
to go out with that night. As she got into the car, she even leant over
a kissed me on the cheek, something that she had not done since she was
about five. She was absolutely bubbling.
"I take it that you've had a good time then?" fishing to find out what
had happened.
"Absolutely, I've never been so popular with boys. It was the high
heel's that did it, I'm certain. When I walked into the room in these
stilettos ever boy?s head in the place turned. You should have seen the
faces on some of the girls to. It was all that most of them could talk
about for most of the night, even the ones who were wearing high
platforms. They all wanted to know how I could walk in them, and a few
asked to try them on, which of course I couldn't let them do. I must
have been asked to dance by most of the boys at the dance, and James
loved them. I think he secretly has a thing about high heels. He kept
dropping things and having to pick them up, just so that he could have a
closer look. The only thing is my feet ache like fury, with all the
dancing I've been doing. I'll be glad to take them off"
Clearly she had made a few new friends and that alone made me happy,
since it may mean that she could get away from the troublemakers that
always caused her problems. I was starting to be convinced that Jane was
not a bad child, but mislead by the company that she kept. I let her out
of her shoes as soon as we got home, having to first cut out the
stitching that held them to her trousers. She went through the normal
procedure of massaging her feet and toes, before picking up the shoes
again and looking thoughtfully at them.
"Dad, can you buy me a pair of shoes like this, but without the ankle
strap," she asked. "Now that you I know I can go out in them, and can
walk normally in them, they are not much of a punishment anyway. You're
going to have to think of something else from now on for me. But I would
love to have a pair that I can wear out without having to worry about
the padlocks showing. You'll admit that they do make them look a bit
over the top."
I said that I would think about it, which I did that night. She was
right; I would have to find a new way of punishing her. At the same
time, I did like to see her in high heels myself and tonight had done
wonders for her self-esteem. I wasn't prepared to blow that now, so I
decided to take her with me on Saturday and visit the shop where I had
first bought the shoes. The first problem of course was would they allow
a child into the store.
"No problem", I was reassured by the man who answered the phone when I
explained that my daughter wanted a pair of high heels. "We don't
encourage children since some of our clients are uncomfortable trying on
our more explicit garments with them around we are still primarily
classed as a clothes shop. We want to keep in that way so we keep away
from any links with the other Soho venues. What I suggest is that we
open at ten o'clock and you aim to get here about then. The rest of Soho
doesn't open until eleven so we get very few customers before mid-day.
That way you'll have plenty of time to browse as well."
And so we set off early on Saturday morning. Jane had even chosen to
wear a blouse and skirt, a combination that she only ever wore to
school. The shop was exactly as I remembered it, in a dingy corner of
Brewer Street. Only the Market traders and customers were about at this
time of day. The book-shops and bars were all closed and shuttered. It
was just after ten when we arrived and the lights were on so I pushed on
the door, noticing as I went in the 'Under New Management' sign on the
window next to it. Instead of the previous occupant a young lady of
about twenty-five rose from behind the counter.
"Good morning" she called down the shop. "You must the chap who called
about some shoes for his daughter. The Manager told me to expect you
yesterday so I got here on time for a change. I'm Michelle and I'll see
what I can do for you both. It's very unusual to have such a young girl
in here shopping for herself."
I was impressed by the warm welcome, but not half as impressed as with
the person it was coming from. Now she had moved away from the counter
into the light, I could only admire her figure and style. Michelle was
about five foot ten with her heels on, very slim built and wearing a
short sleeved patterned cotton dress which came down to her knees. Her
legs were shod in a pair of knee length cowboy boots, which had about a
four-inch stacked wooden heel and she wore a scarf around her neck.
Around her waist was a wide silvered steel belt, which served to
accentuate a waistline that could not have been more than eighteen
inches in diameter. It was held in place by a metal pin on a chain in
the front which passed through what would once have been a hinge, and I
assumed that it must have been hinged at the back to allow her to get
into it. I could only stand there and complement her on her outfit,
looking desperately for adjectives to describe it.
"Thank you" she smiled, "it's one of my favourite and more comfortable
outfits for work. The manager likes me to wear items that we stock
during the week, but he's not here today so I decided to improvise. Now,
why don't you let your daughter she fancies, I take it she won't want
anything too high??
"On the contrary," I had already taken a liking to this young girl, and
so left Jane to have a poke around while I gave Michelle a potted
history of how Jane had come to want to wear high heels at all. "So you
see," I concluded. "After the success at the dance last week, she wants
to wear them a bit more often, and you're the only place I know that
sells anything remotely like them.
"That's very interesting, I've never heard of a girl being punished like
that before. I know that in the old days young girls were forced to wear
corsets but never high heels as a punishment. It's obviously worked
though, judging from what I've seen she seems to be a very polite and
quiet girl. What size does she take by the way? We run a little short on
shoes below a size four, most of the fetish shoe manufacturers reckon
that the foot is to small to withstand the heel arch."
Thinking back to when I had first bought her shoes, those were a size
four, although I had bought a size large to accommodate her bare feet.
Now she was wearing tights, but her feet had probably grown as well. "I
think she probably will need a size four now."
"That's fine then," Michelle replied. "We have size four and five in
almost all our stock because it's such a popular size. That and size
nine for the men," she added mischievously. She got up and wandered over
to Jane, who was browsing though the various racks of shoes,
occasionally picking one up and checking the heels.
I decided to leave them to it and started to wander through the rest of
the store, just out of interest. I started flicking through the rows of
mysterious garments made out of materials such as rubber, leather and
PVC, some simple dresses, others more extreme and missing parts that
normal clothing would have covered. My quiet contemplation was broken by
a voice from across the shop.
"What do you think of these, dad? I turned round to see that Michelle
was bending down to fit a pair of shoes to Jane's feet. They were a pair
of black patent lace-up shoes with thin and astoundingly long heels.
They were probably a full inch higher than she the other shoes that she
was used to, "these one's I really like, although I don't' know what
they're like to walk in yet. I was thinking. Can I buy two pairs today
please, one for now and one to practice walking in." She passed me one
of those smiles, which will normally melt any father's heart and chequebook.
"Let's see if you can manage in them first," interrupted Michelle before
I could answer. "Come on, up you get and let's see if you can make it to
the mirror over there. Then you can see what they look like with you
standing in them."
She stood a bit unsteadily, but after a few seconds found her balance
and started to walk tentatively towards the mirror taking shuffling
steps of about six inches at a time. Every few feet, a heel would topple
over and she would have to stop and regain her balance, but she made it
to the mirror eventually. She stood in front of it, knees straight and
did a couple of slow turns, looking at the shoes from all angles. She
even managed to lift up a foot at a time, balancing on one slender heel
and the tips of her other foot, using her hand to steady herself on the
top of the mirror.
"These look absolutely brilliant" she beamed, ?and look, I can even
stand up straight in them!?
I had to admit that they did look good on her. Michelle was slightly
more expressive.
"You have a very unusual daughter there. Most women wouldn't have even
dared to try those on. They can't stand the thought of wearing high
heels. Your daughter can not only manage them, but seems unable to
resist them. She has a very rare ability there. Even I struggle in
those, and I only wear them about once a week."
I dragged myself away from the sight of my daughter in six-inch heels
and turned to Michelle.
"You wear them as well do you," I asked.
"Oh yes, mainly in work." As I explained, the manager likes me to wear
our stock when in work. He sets out what I am going to wear each day and
provided it's not too outrageous I've not got a problem. He knows that I
won't go topless for example. Every week or so he makes me wear six-inch
heels or a pair of platform shoes, normally with a hobble skirt. In some
of his outfits I can only just move. He also does a made to measure
service, which occasionally comes up with new designs so I'm very often
his guinea pig, finding any problems with a new idea before he has it
manufactured. I don't mind though, as he pays me a reasonable wage and
in addition, I can have up to three thousand pounds worth of stock each
year. I know that I would only buy the shop up anyway, and he knows that
he gets the free publicity when I wear his outfits to parties. That's
where a lot of his business comes from."
Jane had managed to get back from the mirror without further incident
and had started undoing the laces of the shoes. After what Michelle had
just said, I could hardly refuse, and so agreed that she could have a
second pair, provided that they were of a reasonable height that she
could walk in normally.
"I'm not having you teetering down the street like that just yet.
Remember you're still only just turned fourteen." Jane went back to her
search with Michelle assisting, while I went back to looking back
through the clothing. Something that Michelle had just said had sparked
an idea. I was aware of whispering behind me, but tried to ignore it,
leaving Jane alone to make her own decision. One thing I was very
conscious of was not to be accused of forcing Jane into anything she
didn't want to without good reason. Between the two of them, they
finally came to a decision on a pair of five-inch courts in soft black
suede leather. They looked like evening shoes, but I knew that they
could be used for any occasion. I also suspected that this wouldn't be
the last time I came in here either. You could see the bond that these
two were building up in the short time that they had known each other.
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