Just Her Boot Slave

Images like this have been haunting my mind at night. I need to externalize them. Really, I need her. But I’ll have to settle for playing with words for now.

Chained in the Garage

We’d talked about buying or building a cage for her to keep me in. Being dilatory or too much of a perfectionist I’d never done either. One afternoon she decided to show me that iron bars weren’t necessary.

That was how I found myself sitting in the corner of the garage. And naked and chained. Bright steel chain was bolted near the top of the wall and led to a steel collar around my neck. Even as I shivered at the sight of that unbreakable collar I wondered how she’d bought it without me knowing.

Much smaller bands of steel hung slackly around my penis. She said it was to keep me from entertaining myself while I sat and waited for her. Her word alone would’ve been enough but not as humbling as making sure that masturbation was impossible and allowing myself to be aroused painful.

Hearing the lock turn in the door I quickly dropped to my knees and bowed my head. She’d made it clear that for me reality was to end at her knees when she entered.

As I listened to the click of her footsteps on the concrete floor I waited for her boots to come into my field of vision. Once she was standing still I bent and licked them. She stepped back and I followed to continue ministering to her boots. Having only a few inches slack in the chain it took care to not choke myself.

Tending to her boots caused my penis to swell but the rings along the shaft forestalled a full erection. The Gates of Hell were well named.

I was allowed maybe two minutes worship before they withdrew. I knew not to speak. Her last words had been the order to follow her to the garage.

When I heard the key locking the door I settled back against the wall.

That had been her third visit. Already I couldn’t tell how long it had been since she’d put me in the garage. Or the intervals between her visits.

Given that she’d left me a bowl of water it might be that she felt I needed to spend a very long time by myself. To make me appreciate her more? To give herself something laugh about as she relaxed in the house.

As I sat there it was impossible to know which I looked forward to more: the next time she’d present her boots or when she’d finally free me.