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Boot Worshipper

Part 1

Night has drawn in and the moon casts a silvery glow on the garden. As I sit here naked at the table, I am trying to come to terms with what has happened today. I concentrate on my task.

My left arm is firmly emplaced within the boot; I splay my hand inside the foot to press against the leather, as my right pushes down with the soft cloth; describing firm circles across the smooth skin. The tang of polish mingles with the aroma of my mistress; I stop for a millisecond and breathe in deeply through my nose, drawing my head up as I do so, feeling enveloped with the heady blend of supple leather and her delicate perfume. I smile to myself as I continue with my work. No, not work, more an act of worship, of devotion; my love for her is expressed in the orbits my fingers continually make through the cloth, working the polish in and over. I feel a physical sensation in my stomach and my cheeks tingle, I almost chuckle as I realize the reaction coming over me is pride, stopping again, I admire the shine developing through the toe of the boot.

A bead of sweat drops from my forehead onto the shiny leather, the moisture balls up, wax repelling it into a semi-sphere. Satisfaction and excitement flow though me, I feel sure she will be pleased with what I have done. I close my eyes again and recall hearing the steady click clack of her heels tapping across the wooden floor to where I had lain. The recollection swells me, and I feel the warmth engorging my manhood as I cherish the recent memory of her striding in her boots across the room to my splayed form. I reach down and begin stroking myself as I recall that by the time she had returned, my arms had long since stopped burning. She had deftly and expertly tied my left wrist to her dining table and the right to the radiator. My legs had been fixed by the ankles to the bottom of the table and the leg of her settee. I was completely naked and had felt scared; scared and vulnerable. I continued to massage myself with long deliberate strokes as I remembered how I got to be here.

It had all began simply enough, a dropped fork in Pizza Hut, (Pizza Hut!, no-one had told me that was where you were selected by Goddesses for their amusement, I had always imagined it would be a bar or a nightclub or somewhere like that). I picked up her fork and she took it and looked discerningly.

‘Glad to see you know your place'.

A tingle like electricity had gone through my body, and I'm sure I had glowed crimson. Come to think of it, it wasn't what she said, it was the way that she had said it, and how she held my gaze, I had felt myself being devoured. However, that was; how long was it? 13 days, 13 long days ago, 13 days. Since then I had seen her twice, this was the third time and I was on a steep learning curve. The previous encounter had been a flurry of words and exchange of positions, 3 hours in a coffee shop had disappeared in an instant. She had been warm and languid in her responses, amused at my naiveté but absolute in her authority. I had never been able to say how I felt about being dominated before. She had been at pains to ensure I was clear about safe words and immersement in scenes. I listened and was absorbed. I felt like a fish being reeled in, and I liked it. I liked it a lot.

I had arrived at her house half an hour before we were due to meet. The sky was a dazzling blue, and the sun was bright and high, I'm sure if I had tried hard, I would have been able to hear larks or some such summer bird. I hadn't wanted to be late, so had waited in my car just a few houses down. At 3 O'clock sharp, I knocked on the door, I could feel my palms sweating, my heart was hammering inside my chest, and I swear I could hear it beating. I just felt so overwhelmed that she had allowed me to enter her world. I was intoxicated just by the thought of being near her.

She opened the door and graced me with a smile; I'm not an effeminate man, but I honestly felt like I was going to faint, all lightheaded and buzzing.

‘Come in, come in'.

She motioned me in with her hand; she was wearing cream jodhpurs with a pair of dusty riding boots and an old rugby top. She closed the door behind me and led me into the large room on the right. It was lit by bright sunshine and had two settees with a large dining table and chairs at one end. A magnificent full length mirror stood to oneside of the largest settee. Almost immediately, my attention was drawn to a beautiful collection of boots reflected in the mirror. They were lined up two deep alongside the far wall. Black, red, cream and even green; she had ankle and knee high boots, chunky heels and stilettos. I let out a low moan crossed with a sigh. She looked at me with a puzzled expression and then smiled.

‘Ahh, you're a retifillic; why am I not surprised'.

I honestly didn't know what she was talking about. My expression must have told her as much.

‘The boots' she gestured curtly.

‘Oh' I lamely replied as it dawned on me that retifism must be boot worship.

‘Yes that's me', I grinned nervously.

I stood there half in the doorway, the silence settling around me like a shroud.

I desperately wanted to, I don't know, impress her perhaps, and make her see that I was a genuine devotee, that I had discernment. Whatever it was, I made a mistake and started an avalanche that ended with me on the floor. This was the beginning of my first lesson.

I commented how I much preferred the shiny black stilettoed knee high boots she had on display to the dirty old things she was wearing. Her expression changed, I wasn't quite sure to what, and it was like the clouds had suddenly covered up the sun in this corner of the room. I stumbled on desperately trying to fill the silence she had left.

‘I love boots'.

‘Especially shiny ones, black best of all' my voice trailed off.

Her face had definitely changed, that cloud had just become a hammerhead anvil divining a storm. She looked through me. I tried to continue. Stammering;

‘I just, d-d-don't f-f-find'.

‘Don't find what', her crisp voice cut right across me.

‘I- I- I' stammered.

‘Finish what you were going to say'. Her words were deliberate and icy, her impatience was obvious.

‘I just don't like dirty boots, and certainly not flat boots'

The words all arrived at once, tumbling over each other in my haste to get them out, I finished with a lame;

‘Sorry'.

‘Sorry', she spat.

She paused and hurled the word out again as her hand went up, back, and down, hurtling across the void between us and connected with my cheek. It was like a matrix slomo moment; I saw the slap. I felt the slap, and then I saw my head twist and my body pivot round and down to the floor. I could hear myself thinking she slapped me so hard I'm hitting the floor, she hit me, she is wonderful, I love her; the sharp pain is fantastic, I was savoring it as my shoulder and then my head hit the floor. I tried to rise up on to my elbows, but somehow she had got down to my level and quickly slapped me on the other cheek knocking me back down. I opened my mouth to speak, I didn't even know what I was going to say, (I now know that nothing was what I should have done). Even as I had begun to open my mouth, she had clenched her fist, drawn it back and brought it around to punch me just behind my left ear. The sting of it coursed through my body and I collapsed. As I did so, she placed one knee on my chest and bent down so her face was less than a hand span away from mine. Her voice was cold, hard, and completely full of control. The time between me uttering my naive opinion and feeling the weight of her body on mine must have been less than a minute. I had never ever felt so alive.

‘You are a worthless, piece, of, shit'.

Her scorn was absolute. She looked straight at me as she said;

‘You have no right to utter anything about anything. You have a choice. Right now, you can get up and walk out, or you can stay and take what you deserve. There is no other option.'

With that, she got up and looked down at me. I returned her look, but averted my gaze from her eyes, starting from the tops of her dirty riding boots through her cream jodhpurs to her soiled sweatshirt. I stopped at her neck line and I tried to say sorry, but all that came out was a sibilant mumble. She gazed down with utter contempt and waved behind her.

‘The door is that way'.

A horrified ‘no, no' was all I could manage. I swear I saw a smile flit across her face as she turned, but just as quick, it was gone, and her face became a mask of severity.

‘You will learn your place'.

Then she turned and walked back out into the hall.

I really didn't know what to do. I had felt lost, rejected, but excited at the same time; I went up on my elbows and wondered if I should have followed her when I heard the sound of her returning footsteps. She entered carrying a large bucket with what looked like a riding crop poking out of the top. Sitting down on the settee, she placed the bucket beside her.

‘Come here' she commanded.

I went to raise myself up, she sighed.

‘Unless I say otherwise you will crawl on all fours in my presence'.

I swallowed and nodded, she sighed again.

‘You will acknowledge all commands from me with a ‘yes mistress''.

‘Yes mistress', I quietly replied and crawled over to her.

She gazed down.

‘Let me make this absolutely clear to you, if you stay you will be mine; I will treat you as I see fit, and we will begin with your admonishment.'

‘Yes mistress' I said again, eagerly this time.

‘Good' she replied briskly.

‘Take you clothes off and lie down over there', she motioned behind me to the dining table.

I quickly disrobed and heard her softly sniggered as I almost fell over getting my last sock off. She carried the bucket over and kicked my legs and arms into the position she wanted. Saying nothing, she had draped soft cotton ropes on my limbs. Kneeling down once more she silently and almost reverently tied the ropes around my arms and ankles, quietly asking me if I was comfortable and able to move at all (I was and I couldn't). I felt perplexed, didn't know what to say, she was almost caressing my arm as she had spoken to me. I thought maybe the severe disciplinarian who had chastised me so vigorously was just a feint, that she was actually just another woman who wanted to be soft and gentle. That I had made a mistake. But she was tying me up, she was in control, she was dictating everything that happened. I felt confused; I wondered if I was forgiven, and the punishment would just be to be left tied here. Then I realized it was not me that pleased her, but the act of tying. There was a distinct ritualistic slant to her devotions. I was part of, but completely separate to her consideration. I could just feel the edges of the sublime purity in the perfect moment she appeared to be having. She completed the last knot and stood up surveying her work, a gentle smile played on her face.

‘Now we can begin' she murmured softly and moved up to my head. I smiled and felt good in the warmth in her voice. This abruptly changed when she looked down at me.

‘Turn your face to look at my boots' she commanded.

I twisted over to look at the flat riding boots. The black leather dull with a coating of dust towered upwards. A thin strip of leather ran vertically the length of the boot; it was tightened by a buckle at the top and a retaining D-ring at the heel.

She took a step or two backwards, swiveled a chair round and sat on it the wrong way. Leaning over the back of the chair, she cradled her long leg around so the travel stained boot lay on my chest.

‘You may now demonstrate what little worth you have' she instructed.

‘Yes mistress' I replied.

‘What are these boots to you worm'.

‘They are the centre of my existence mistress'.

She curtly nodded, almost displeased that I had said something right.

‘Clean them', she pushed the boot into my face.

I moved my head over and reached out with my tongue, I felt the stiffness of the leather around the toe and was surprised at its smoothness. The dust was actually gritty in my mouth and left a sour acrid aftertaste. I could feel my saliva drying up but I continued moving my tongue and lips as much as I could. As I did so, she slowly rotated her boot allowing access; shuffling the seat closer meant I could continue up the side of her boot. She abruptly grabbed hold of my hair and I winced as she yanked it back and forth wiping the boot dry. She let go, dropping my head back to the floor and nodded at me to continue. I ran my tongue over the D-ring and sensed its coldness against the warmth of the leather; a metallic tang accompanied its chill feel. I tasted the soapiness of the polish as I worked my way up the side. She moved her boot round again and the inside calf was exposed to my licking; I could barely manage to accommodate any moisture at all, and tried dragging my tongue across my teeth to induce some. I then realized there was a zip and ran my tongue up it, the rough texture rasped alongside my lips as I worked my dry mouth on to the top of her boot, I tried to suck the leather to induce some saliva in my mouth to complete my task. However, it was no good.

‘Mistress I'm dry' I pleaded.

She sighed, removed her leg, and stood up swinging the chair behind her as she did so. She went to the bucket, picked up the crop then strode over to my prostrate body and knelt down on my chest. Slowly increasing her weight until the pressure pushed all the air out of my lungs, I gasped and she had beatifically smiled again. She took her knee off my chest and knelt down below my left arm.

‘You have so much to learn my darling'.

Her hand reached out and I winced in anticipation, but it was a soft caress that met my face.

‘When you are good, you are rewarded and when you are bad…' she left it unsaid and just scanned my body up and down as she straightened up.

I pleaded with her.

‘Please, I'll try harder, please.'

Bending down she had sniffed hard and spat on my face, reflexively I shut my eyes, her spit splattered across my forehead and my eyelids, the phlegm began running down my cheek.

‘You really are pathetic, I should just cut you loose and not bother with you', the sneer in her voice was far far worse than the words.

‘No mistress' I whined softy and then;

‘Please mistress' again.

‘Clean them' she said and lifted the toe of her boot to my mouth.

I tried to lift my head and reach my tongue out to lick the sole of her boot. My lips were cracked and my tongue was dry, I attempted to work some saliva up to wet the toe, but it was all gone, I knew I didn't dare risk saying anything, I whined softly. She pulled her boot back slightly, I moved my head up again, it was excruciating, I barely met the tip of her boot, my tongue just caressed the leather when she pulled it away again. For a moment, I thought she was going to kick me in the face, a cold shiver ran over me and my nipples became hard as Goosebumps contracted across my body.

‘Are you too dry my pet?' there was a smile to her voice.

I nodded vigorously, she leant down again and spat into my mouth, for some reason this surprised me and I nearly choked and then enjoyed savoring the sensation that she had spat into my mouth, I was still hers. I existed because she willed it. She repeated the maneuver and I felt myself swell and groaned slightly. She looked back at my stiffening cock.

‘Pay attention worm', flicking the crop at my member as she did so.

It caught the tip and I winced in reply.

‘You will learn' she clearly enunciated.

‘These boots will be the entire focus of your being'.

I nodded. She stepped over my arm and stood directly over me placing a booted foot on my neck and chin.

‘Understand that every stroke of my crop and sting of its kiss is directly related to the lack of reverence you have shown'.

‘Yes mistress' I replied.

‘Good' she said and moved to a kneeling position on my chest.

‘All that happens now is deserved' and she brought the crop down hard on my left arm, just inside the elbow.

I screamed and tried to rise up, she simultaneously slapped me around my face twice, fore and back hand, then pressed down harder continuing with her administering with her crop; doing the same to the right and the again to left, and back again each time leaving a red mark in a different place. Each and every stroke of her hand brought an intense flash of pain followed by a brief spell of warm buzzing sting mixed with real sexual heat. She was deliberately hesitating a second between each caress of the crop, accentuating the sensations building up on my arms. She was an artist creating an image with the canvas of my body. As she brought the crop down, she said :

‘You, are, nothing,'

‘You, have, no, opinions,'

‘My, word, is, all'.

‘My, word, is, all', she had then stood up, smiling as she did so.

15 welts were raised on my arms, I stifled a sob, the pain had gone through so many different changes, it was like my life had been monochrome and suddenly I had Technicolor. A sharp sting, a dull ache and a tingling (please don't go holding onto kind of) throb, all rolled into one, and washed over and around me. I could feel the emotion roll over and around me; the muffled sobs were not because of the pain, but the joy I felt. I was incredibly hard, I was carrying her marks, she had taken me completely, at least so I thought, later I was to realise that this episode was just her breaking me in before I was really, truly taken by her.

Each stinging contact had been underlined with a word, stringing together her wonderful pronouncement on my being, I was being reborn, and she had engulfed me. She pulled herself back off of my body and lowered her head, her hair gently stroking my face and neck as she moved down; the gentleness of her caresses accentuated the previous moments of pain. Then an excruciating spasm shot through me as she clamped her teeth on my right nipple and bit down hard, I cried out in agony; her mouth opened and reclosed around my entire areola drawing the flesh up into her mouth, she sucked more in and drew down harshly sinking her sharp incisors deep into my breast. She released it and returned to the nipple, again causing me to scream, this time she bit even harder. I could actually see sparkling lights; flashes of green obscured my vision as she brought herself up and once again spat into my face. The spit was tinged with red, and I suddenly realized it was my blood; she turned to the left nipple and enclosed that with her teeth as well. I waited for the same excruciating pain, but it never came. She teased it with her teeth, I visibly relaxed, she obviously felt the relaxation of my body because she quickly responded with another clenching. Biting hard and drawing more blood, which once more she spat into my face. The second gobbet of phlegm joined the first on the bridge of my nose and together they slid down my face into my mouth, the coppery taste of blood filled my senses as she continued to suck hard on my left breast, biting and worrying it with her entire mouth. She pulled herself upwards and looked straight into my face, the spasms of pain in my pecs was overwhelming the dull burning on my arms. Slowly even that began to fade to a monotonous throb in time with my heart beat; I knew then that she was truly an artiste of sadism as she continued to gaze into my eyes whilst simultaneously taking hold of my ball sack in her left hand and squeezing with the points of her nails. It was quick, hard and viscous. I screamed out loud

‘Fuck'

A tear welled up in my eye and rolled down my cheek as she constricted even harder and yanked down on the whole scrotum at the same time pulling out several clumps of pubic hair as she did so. A strangled gasp issued from my clenched teeth. She smiled broadly. Let go, then immediately slapped my testicles as hard as she could.

Abruptly she got up and once more left the room. I had no idea how long it had been since I had knocked on her door, I knew only that it had been someone else's life when I had entered her realm. I as a person no longer existed. I could feel the warmth of my own blood trickling from each nipple entwined with the cold sensation of her saliva cooling on my chest and the dull aching sting from the welts on my arm. The sun was still streaming in the room and it warmed my legs, my cock had gone from being completely rock hard to soft again, I could feel it retracting and shrinking as I lay there. Time passed, how long I couldn't say, the sun had moved up my body to just below my nipples, I couldn't feel any blood flowing from them and my arms had become a mass of dull aching. Then I heard the staccato sound of stilettos, I was confused, surely she was wearing riding boots; riding boots that I now knew I had to show respect to, to worship as I worshipped her. I lifted my head as the click clack of heels drummed their way into the room. I could feel my jaw drop open; her jodhpurs were gone she was now wearing a pair of black patent leather boots that came up to her knees. The sweatshirt had been replaced with a cream open neck silk blouse that reached down to below her waist. I vaguely remembering taking in the fact that there appeared to be nothing below the blouse. The boots had my total and undivided attention. She was wearing boots that were the foundation of most of my fantasies. It seemed karmic, that finally I should meet a woman, no, a mistress who not only knew how to command but was wearing the very sort of boot that I had only ever dreamt about.

The sun caught her as she strode into the room, its light caught the leading edge of the leather, dazzling and glinting as she moved. She drew closer and I had been able to take in more detail; the toes were acutely pointed and the four inch stiletto heel was narrow and stainless steel. It stretched down from a bulge at the base of the boot to a sharp tapering point. It appeared keen enough to cut the air it moved through, the arrow true straightness contrasted with the round form of her calf through the leather. The subtle smoothness of its form drew my eye round and down it; I could see the seam cutting down from the top, criss crossed by the stitching that looped around the ankle. As I drank in the appearance of those beautiful boots, I realized I had been mistaken about the patent leather. The texture of the shininess betrayed the fact that they had been meticulously spit shined by someone. A tremor of jealously had gone through me. I put it to the back of my mind as I focused again on the vision of her boot clad legs. The light played around the soft shape the boot had just under the knee; how I had longed to caress and kiss them. I was hard, and could feel myself trembling as I took in the loveliness of those boots, the smooth shining leather just begged to be stroked, I imagined rubbing my face and cheek against them like a cat. I actually wanted to purr, what a wonderful mistress, how could I please her? I desperately wanted to show her that I would do anything she wanted. The glossy silkiness of the boots completely entranced me. They were an object of worship; I believed they could only bring pleasure into my life. I really had absolutely no idea that boots such as those could actually be used to inflict massive amounts of pain. That had been my second lesson. What brought pleasure and what gave pain was arbitrary, my mistress decided how things around me rewarded and punished me. I no longer had any part in those decisions, I was only to receive and give as she so deigned.

As I thought back to those beautiful boots encasing her shapely legs I found myself becoming even more aroused. The pale moonlight shone on the riding boots I was now polishing. I brought my boot encased arm up to my face and inhaled deeply as I pulled harder on myself. The scent of leather spilled into my mouth and nostrils. I increased the frequency of the strokes as I remembered what she had done only an hour ago. Entering the room like a 1000 fantasies distilled into one distinct vision, her sharp heels had played a tattoo as she crossed the room to where I had lain. She had straddled me sitting on my chest and caressed my face as she said;

‘I'm going to untie you, and you will then finish cleaning my boots'.

In my fetishtic induced semi-trance, I hadn't even noticed that she had been carrying her riding boots by their tops.

‘When I return they will be spotless and as pleasant to look at as these are. Do you understand?'

I nodded as she placed them on the floor.

‘Good. It is so tiresome when I have to underline my requests with sanctions'.

Her fingers traced the raised welts on my arms and her nail gently caressed the outline her riding crop had made earlier. She slid down my chest slightly and squeezed my left nipple between her nails,

‘Let's not have a repeat of earlier'.

A shower of pain sensations went through my nipple as she squeezed even harder, my bottom lipped buzzed and I could taste a metallic sensation in my mouth as the hurt from previously was reignited. She lightly traced her fingertips over my bruised scrotum, I whimpered, and this brought a light smile to her lips. She smiled again as I let out another small snivel, gave my nipple another hard twist and stood up. I felt the pain catch fire across my chest. She lent down and caressed the ropes around my wrists, stroking them gently as she undid them. Using quick movements, she released the slipknots and the pressure on my arms eased. Swiveling about herself, she did the same for my ankles. She picked up all four pieces of soft cotton rope and kissed each as she put them into her hand. Turning she went and sat down on the sofa gently depositing the ropes in the bucket as she did so.

I sat up, she looked at me but said nothing, her expression gave little away; although I sensed that I should not have moved without permission, but for some reason she was letting it go, almost as though something else was on her mind. I went onto all fours. She smoothly and deliberately said

‘So you love, black, shiny, high heeled, boots?'

There was an underlying smile in her voice as she slowly uttered each word. I convinced myself it was because she was rewarding me. Her purposeful enunciation of each syllable thrilled me. How little I knew her or understood what my true position was. I was such a fool, the fact she was smiling was a warning, the not punishing me for a minor transgression was a warning with klaxons. She had something bigger in mind, something infinitely more humiliating and degrading than a slap or welt mark on my arm. Oh how I would learn my third lesson about understanding my mistress. I was to judge nothing, no assumptions, and no values. I was here only to please her, what I wanted, needed, desired, was completely irrelevant to what was happening and what was going to happen.

She languidly beckoned me over, saying;

Let's see how much you really love, black, shiny, high heeled, boots, shall we?'

I nodded eagerly, feeling fantastic, like a fat boy who has been locked in a cake shop. I wanted to masturbate right there and then. However, some small spark of sanity prevented me, some survival instinct kept me low down with my hands well away from my cock. I crawled over to her. I had an idiotic smile on my face as I gazed at her and her beautiful, shiny encased legs.

‘Glad you're pleased' she murmured.

The subtly of her sarcasm completely washed over me in my heightened state of desire. Reaching back down into the bucket, she pulled out what looked like a thin black belt. She held it up and I realized it was a dog leash. In my naivety, I wondered what it was for; I had never entertained any fantasies of being lead round by a leash. However, as I have already said, what I fantasized about and wanted was completely irrelevant. She motioned me forward and placed the loop of the choker around my neck. She shifted her position as I came to rest at her feet. Her blouse rose up slightly revealing a short black linen skirt underneath, she placed one leg over the other, and I felt myself glow crimson as I was rewarded with a small flash of white panties glistening under the skirt, the smoothness of them suggested silk or satin. I suspect that I may have even let out a small moan, but I can't be sure. Such is the intensity of the emotion and physical feelings the memories stir up I can only recollect the beginning of it in thin wisps. The full on power of the following 20 minutes engulfed me.


Review This Story || Author: AFBV
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