I considered her my property. Not in the slavery kind of way – I couldn’t buy her or sell her. But mentally, she belonged to me. She was a prized ...ossession. Not like a trophy, but the kind of thing that you covet and hide from everybody else, like a stolen piece of art. What a fool I was. She was scared. I thought then that she sensed the change between us. That she understood how it would be. I began to warm to her. I wanted to protect her, even from myself. I reached out to her and enfolded. The slave had deliberately agreed to this condition just to make sure he went through absolute hell and had placed it cash on the counter top. From now on it was all down hill - he began the work of licking her boots knowing that this time disobedience would at least allow him to mercy out without a huge financial penalty. He began on the stiletto heel, pushing it deep into his mouth. Then, slowly working his way along the heel, he neared the closed end of the zipped up boot. Inch by inch he. More

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