How She Likes Her Boots Worshipped

His tongue snaked out and stole a taste of shining leather.

He heard the catch in her breath, but kept his eyes down, guilty, afraid of having been caught. She let him hang for a minute, daring him to do it again and confirm his rebellion.

“Did I tell you to do that?” The question was full of casual venom.

“Sorry.” He shrunk in on himself a little, pulling his arms tight against his body and trying to sink into the floor. “I mean, no, you didn’t. tell me to.” The silence stretched out.

“Do you want to lick my boots?”

“Yes…” His affirmation trailed off into a whimper of lust and dread.

“Wait here.” The thick rubber soles stomped off to his pants, still lying on the other side of the room. She jerked his belt through the loops, then passed the end through the buckle as she walked back to where he was still laying face down on the floor. Her knees thudded to the floor on either side of his back and she put the loop over his head, pulling it tight and standing up with the end still in her fist.

The belt came up, pulling him to his hands and knees. The leather around his throat was just tight enough to make breathing hard, her arm leaning down at a slight angle.

“Can you breathe?”


“Lick them.”

He started to lower himself eagerly, automatically, and the belt tightened around his throat. His arms instinctively extended and his elbows locked. He stopped and looked up at her with puppy dog eyes and whimpered, knowing what she expected.

“Come on, I want my boots licked. And if you don’t do it now, I might not be in the mood again for a very long time.” She let a little slack into the belt, then pulled it tight again, drove home what he had to do for her.

Deep breaths forced themselves into and out of his lungs, and his eyes clamped shut as he made his arms fold and brought his tongue to her boot. He could feel the air coming harder as she held up on the make shift noose, then stopping entirely as he ran his tongue frantically over the toe, the leather loop around his neck tightening just a little bit more. His tongue worked frantically back and forth then side to side, drool pooling in his mouth and running out, his lungs burning until spots started to cloud his vision and he shoved himself back up, his chest on fire, frantically breathing in cool air and feeling his arms tremble to hold him up.

She waited until he had taken several more deep, gasping breaths before tapping her toe impatiently. “There’s still a lot of boot there.”

He took one final deep breath before dropping down again, the pressure on his throat closing off his air, running his tongue up and down one insole then the other, wrapping his tongue into the hollow made by her heel before pushing himself back up with the last of his energy.

He was gasping, choking, and swallowing hard, spit still rolling down his chin when she tapped her other foot. “I think this one now, and do a better job. Worship it, don’t just lick it like some disgusting animal.”

More deep breaths and he forced himself down to her other boot. Soft kisses wrapped around the toe this time, moving up the tongue, teasing each eyelet with his lips, wrapping around them tenderly and pulling away with soft pops. By the time he got to the top his nose was running, his eyes watering, and he was gasping again for breath.

She knelt down then, and held his head up by his hair, watching his chest rise and fall beneath him, gently caressing his cheek. “Do you still want to worship my boots?”

He shook his head no, sweat pooling and falling off his face as his head moved from side to side. “No, please, I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“What if I took the belt away? Then would you want to?”

He nodded, hated himself a little for how weak he was before her. “Yes.”

“On your knees.” She shoved him back, helped him balance on his knees, dropped the belt and let it hang off his neck. She kicked his thighs apart and stood in the V made by his legs. “Jerk off on them.”

His hand started to stroke his cock and he closed his eyes, dreading and lusting for what he knew was going to happen next. It didn’t take long, his deep breaths turned to lust filled moans and his hips started to roll until he was coming hard, his body jerking and then settling back on his ass as his cum dripped out.

He looked up guiltily, waiting for her to pronounce sentence, and instead saw her standing back, looking down at the puddle of his cum on the floor.

She smirked at him, then deliberately stepped in his warm cum, moving her foot around, working it into the deep tread of her soles. “You didn’t get the soles earlier, so that’s where you’ll start. And be sure they’re clean, or we’ll keep doing this until they are.”

She switched feet, ground her other boot on the floor between his legs, right at the tip of his soft cock. Her boots swung back, pivoted, and walked to the recliner across the room, leaving sticky white footprints on the polished hardwood. “You can clean that up on your way.”

He shuddered and wiped the sweat out his eyes, the drool off his chin, and then threw the end of the belt over his shoulder and scooted back, lowering his face to the floor, only once looking up to count the footsteps that led to the white stained bottoms of her boots.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

5 thoughts on “How She Likes Her Boots Worshipped”

  1. Verity- You should see what’s for pudding. Sorry, Spaced fan, been waiting for awhile to use that line, etc.

    odysseusbound – I hear they can also be used to keep your pants up. Whodathunkit?

  2. Jerry does a very nice story. Slaves need to be whipped for their own sake, but Mistress should enjoy the process, and appreciate the rush of power when Her slave learns to abase itself at Her feet without being “forced” into it.
    The sign of REAL power is when Mistress never needs to raise Her voice to command a slave. When the slave knows without being told that its place is groveling at Her feet and begging for the privilege of licking Her precious boots, and understands that after She whips it, it must thank Her with a submissive kiss of Her feet — then Mistress has succeeded in properly dominating Her slave. And the slave knows, too, that it has found its place in Her universe. Both can now be happy: he with pain, She with pleasure.

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