Groveling Boot Worship
Mistress Gale watched her male lovingly lick her boots. It was worshiping its Mistress Owner. Sincere adoration that left her dissatisfied. It was enjoying itself.
Startling the male, she strode away. The slave stared at the floor. To look at Mistress Owner without her permission was a sin.
Mistress Gale returned. Bending, she handed the slave a flat tin can. Boot polish.
“Lick it, polish my boots with your tongue.”
The male shuddered, obeyed. The nasty black matter made him grimace.
Laughing, Mistress Gale asked:
“Do you not appreciate performing this service?”
Humbly it replied:
“Property thanks its Mistress Owner for the honor of polishing Her boots.”
“Be quick and perfect. Each blemish will be ten extra strokes of the cane.”
Alternating between cane and boot, the slave’s black tongue worked smoothly. Twice she hit is with the handle of her cane.
Bootblack service was one of the slave’s greatest pleasures. His Mistress Owner had turned enjoyment to torment.
His stomach fought, trying to reject the polish that went down his throat. If vomited, Mistress Owner might beat him to death.
When his tongue circumscribed the top of the second boot, Mistress Gale shoved him away.
“Enough time. Now I will judge your work.”
Scrutinizing her boots, she frowned, cursed, the laughed.
“Slave I did not know you wanted so much pain.”
The male shuddered. Mistress Owner’s pretense of anger did not hide her sadistic delight. She had made him miserable, fully intending to hurt him for failing to perform impossible service. This was Mistress Gale’s favorite game.
She shackled its arms to the top of the punishment rack. Chained ankles at the bottom. Every square inch of its body’s surface was exposed. Her lash would work long tonight. It would leave many fresh welts.
The male fainted three times that night. Each time Mistress Glad emptied her bladder into a bucket. She dashed the contents on its face to revive it.