Oh my lucky boots! I put them on when I go walking downtown, and all the city boys drool. They should be using their tongues to polish my leather.
Spit shine, boot blacking, trampling, sniffing, I love everything to do with boot, shoe, and foot worship.
One of the best scenes I had was a full afternoon dragging a poor soul around the dungeon. Close to the end we were both sweating and happily exhausted. I sat on a comfortable chair and he took out his boot blacking kit, and cleaned the grime off of every inch of my shoes. He massaged my legs through the leather, which felt amazing and luxurious. But he leaned down to kiss my toe without permission, which earned him a kick in the chest. When you have a job to do, you must stay focussed and not allow selfish desire to fog your purpose, which is to serve. To clean, to polish, and serve.
Sometimes I will walk through mud and city filth on purpose so that a witless slave has to scrape off the crud with his mouth. What disgusting things has he done in his life to know that he deserves to eat dirt? Or maybe he’s just a compulsive grit licker.
I love to drag the stiletto heel over my slave’s back and give him lovely marks and stomp marks. I love to kick him around, handle him like meat. I am happiest when I am standing on his chest, peering down at him all the way down there.
Why? I like it because I like the feeling of being touched through leather. I like the idea of remaining inaccessible and still able to receive pleasure. I enjoy being tall and strong, towering over a helpless slave. For the sub, I can imagine, and have been told, that it gives a feeling of smallness, being in the presence of power, and given permission to touch only the lowest part of Me, the part I don’t give any thought to but allow them to worship. So they want to do the best they can with what they have, make me proud of them. Being squished under a beautiful shoe can be a freeing experience, complete submission of the flesh.