Master had an extravagant, wonderful shoe. For him, it was just the one shoe — really a boot — which he knelt in front of right now. It was black leather, and had been a bit dusty — Master hadn’t worn it in a while, but now it shone with the wetness from his own saliva.
He had licked it all, the arch on the right, where his shoe curved inward, the long areas, rising up to Master’s knees — but not closer, no matter how much he wanted to nuzzle in His crotch. He spent extra time on the metal toe of the boot, licking and buffing it with his face until he saw his own wretched image in it.
He saw a spot that still seemed dusty, and licked it. His balls grew hard against the ropes that wrapped them, and wrapped his body binding his hands behind him. His body rocked and shifted, pulling on his balls as he moved from section to section of Master’s shoe.
Master reached down and stroked his hair, murmuring noises of approval, pointing out parts that he had missed, making him a better slave to Master. Sweat trickled down his head, his back, he shifted his arms, and felt the pain jolt in his balls. He licked Master’s shoe.
Master grabbed him cruelly by the hair. “Stop,” he said, “Let me look at your work.” He bent his leg, examining the boot he wore. “Good, good, good,” he said. “I think you are learning.”
Master pulled the rope between his arms and balls, tightening it around his balls, making his cock flex in anticipation. “Now you only have to do the other one, slave, and I may let you come.”
He shivered then, in anticipation, and his Master thrust his head at the other shoe.