Jun 2, 2003
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This story is dedicated to Celeste. I read the story "Fire" and was so in awe, I thought I would try and write something that she might enjoy.

Part one.

It had all started normally enough. I had met Celeste at a party, I forget which one, but I could never forget that moment when I saw her strut across the dance floor. She was perfect, more than perfect. Stunningly beautiful, but so much more than that. There was something about the way she seemed not to care about anything else around her, the way she was just tuned into the music. I was mesmerised, utterly in awe, shock almost. I way shy, timid even. It didn’t even occur to me that she might talk to me, let alone be interested in me. She was on another level. In fact, I remember thinking that at the time, that she was just on a completely different level to me.

Yet somehow we got talking. We swapped numbers, said we’d meet up. I didn’t believe it, of course, but it happened. In fact, she’d phoned me. I suppose that was a theme in those early days, she would be the one who took the lead, the one who was in control. I suppose I just got used to it, I felt I was so unbelievably lucky just to be anywhere near her, so of course I’d do whatever she asked. We dated, but always on her terms. I’d pay for everything, do all the running around. She’d always decide what we should do, where we should go. I’d get a message to go and pick up her dry cleaning and bring it to her, to pick up some groceries for her. Why wouldn’t I if it meant I got to see her? I’d turn up at her flat with her dry cleaning, fix us a little dinner while she sat back and relaxed. It felt like I was being chivalrous, a gentleman. What can I say? I worshipped her. I’d have done anything to make her happy.

I knew that she loved clothes, so I’d happily take her shopping, spend all I earned on her. More than anything else though, her passion was shoes. Not just any shoes, she loved, absolutely adored, patent black classic stilettos, the higher, and the more expensive, the better. I maxed out my credit cards. I had to take a second job, move into a smaller apartment, but it was worth it to see her happy. It was more than that though. I’d always had a bit of a foot fetish, every moment I spent with her in a shoe shop, every time I saw her wearing such beautiful shoes put me in a state of delirium. I hadn’t told her about it, of course, but to have found someone so perfect who had such a shoe fetish of her own was simply unbelievable, my wildest dreams had come true and I’d have done anything to keep it that way.

After a while, she gave me a key to her apartment. It was a big step in our relationship, I can’t describe how happy it made me feel. It made things easier for her too. I’d pop around a while before she was due home from work. I’d run her a bath, make some dinner, do any cleaning that needed doing. After a week or so of this I couldn’t resist the temptation and went up to her walk in shoe closet. I just stood there, surrounded by all her shoes. There must have been hundreds, and so many of them were the most beautiful shiny black stilettos. On that occasion I just took it all in, felt guilty and left it at that. The next day, I found myself standing there again, but this time I plucked up the courage to pick up a pair of Christian Louboutins. I remembered buying them for her, I remembered too that I’d had to sell my prized record collection to afford it.

I couldn’t help myself. I found my tongue licking its way across the shiny point of the toe of one of the shoes. I felt ever tiny divot as I licked the dirt from the sole, and tasted salt as I licked clean the insides. I placed them reverently back on the shelf and headed back downstairs to prepare Celeste’s dinner. That had just been the start though; from then on every time I was there on my own I would spend time working my way through her shoe collection. I got a particular thrill from cleaning those that I know she had worn the day before or that she might wear the next day. The idea of her walking around in a pair of heels that I had licked clean for her was an unbelievable turn on.

To be honest, I was surprised that she hadn’t become suspicious, hadn’t wondered why all her shoes were always so clean. Maybe she had, or maybe I just got careless, but I will never forget how I felt that evening when, sat on the floor in her shoe closet with my tongue working its way along the sole of one of her shoes, I heard her clear her throat. My eyes shot up to see Celeste standing in the doorway, hands on hip, a slight sneer across her beautiful lips. I froze, the shoe still held to my mouth, my tongue still pressed up against its sole. A wave of panic, of humiliation, rippled up my body. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. What could I have possibly said?

Celeste smirked, took a step forward and raised her foot off the ground. Her black patent heel hovered in front of my face, the tall slender heel thrust so close to my eye that I could feel it against my eyelashes.

“Lick the sole clean.”

She said it slowly, not an order but an instruction, calm and measured, as if she was telling a shopkeeper what she wanted from behind the counter. I did what I was told, first one shoe, then the other.

“Lie down”

I did. Without hesitating for a moment she stepped up on to my chest, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She fiddled with some shoe boxes on the top shelf of the closet, those spike heels sinking deep into my flesh, I wanted to scream, to make it stop. But I didn’t. She stepped off and walked away, leaving me there, confused, humiliated, unbelievably aroused, in shock. I brushed myself off, headed downstairs and made her dinner as usual. We didn’t speak about it, but I knew that something had changed forever.

The next morning, before leaving the flat, she stared into my eyes and spoke very calmly and deliberately.

“You stay here all day and you clean every pair of my shoes. They will all be absolutely spotless by the time I get home.”

And that’s what I did, it took the whole day, eight hours. My tongue was red raw but I just kept going. When she arrived home she went straight to her shoe closet to inspect them.

“Not a bad job, but there’s one pair that you missed.”

I was confused for a second, I was sure I’d not missed a single pair. She looked at me dismissively, rocked back on one of her tall spiky heels and pointed down. That’s where It really started I suppose, that moment where I found myself on my hands and knees licking the sole of her shoe as she stood above me with a look of impatience and contempt. From that day on I would find myself in that position so often that it simply became part of my life, became as natural as waking up in the morning.

Our life together changed. I would lie under the sofa with only my head sticking out whilst she rested her feet on my face for hours at a time, those killer heels resting on my eyelids. One slip and who knows what kind of damage. Celeste would watch television, chat on the phone, ignore me completely. She’d have me lie naked in front of the sofa and absentmindedly toy with my cock with her shoes as she sat and read. I’d try and hold back, but at times I really just couldn’t contain myself and would cum all over her shoes, squirting up against her shoe soles, sometimes spraying the top of her bare feet. Sometimes she’d notice, sometimes she wouldn’t. Most days, she’d have me lick her soles clean as she sat and ate dinner, or whenever she came home from work. It sounds ridiculous, but it really did become completely normal. I would lie there, naked, by the door, and she would simply wipe her shoes on my outstretched tongue or, if she felt like it, step up on to my body and sink those heels in wherever she wanted. It was that that gave her the idea.

“I want to walk over you properly, I don’t want to have to step up on to you. You should be part of the floor.”
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Jun 2, 2003
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Part 2.

So that’s what I became. I cut holes in the floor, in front of the door, in front of the table, under the dining table, here and there throughout the flat. Some big enough for my face to fit through, other smaller holes for my cock. I got hold of an old mechanic’s trolley, the sort they use for sliding under cars, and built a trap door so I could get under the floorboards and slide around on the trolley.

I could be there by the front door, my face poking through the hole in the floor ready for when she came home, then slide across to be in front of the sofa ready to receive her feet on my face. I spent hours under the floorboards, cold, naked, waiting patiently for her to come home and wipe her soles on my tongue, looking up to see her total indifference as she chatted away on her phone to a friend while scraping her hard dirty shoe soles all over my face.

She loved the fact that my cock would stick up through a hole on its own and took immense delight in just walking back and forth over it as she went about her business. She still loved to dance too. She’d put the stereo on loud and dance around in her heels, not caring where they landed, my face became a pincushion, my cock seemed to get flatter each day, pounded into the floor by those twisting soles for hours at a time. I wondered how she could do it, how she could inflict so much pain and not care in the slightest, how she could walk all over me, rip me up with her stilettos, with such utter indifference. It was very clear that she really didn’t care, that I was nothing to her but an object, to be used, ignored. The cleanliness of her shoes now mattered more than my life, the amusement she found stomping all over my cock mattered far more than the pain I would feel for days afterwards. I was the floor, and nothing more.

Yet, despite my new role, our relationship blossomed. When I wasn’t under the floorboards we would still do the same things other couples do, live a seemingly normal and blissful relationship. Slowly though, that began to change a little too.

One evening, she was sat on the sofa, both her feet planted firmly on my face, my tongue licking away at her shoe soles as she chatted on the phone. I heard her tell her friend Jane to pop over. I shivered, how would we explain all the holes in the floor? I got ready to get back above floor level only to hear Celeste say “No, you stay down there.” I was shocked, was she about to reveal our secret to Jane? Would Jane walk on me? Would I have to lick Jane’s shoes clean? The idea of Jane stepping on me was a huge turn on, but what would Celeste think? What would she think about her friend stepping all over her boyfriend, wiping her shoes on his face, his cock even? Did I really mean that little to her that it didn’t matter to her? I lay there confused, but massively turned on both by Celeste’s seeming indifference and the prospect of being stepped on by another woman.

The door bell rang, and, to my horror, Jane wasn’t alone but had turned up with her husband, Mark. This was a nightmare. I didn’t know what to do.

“You know the score, the trapdoor’s over there.”

Without a word he followed Celeste's command, crossed the room, went through the trap door and pushed his face through one of the holes in the floor and his cock through another. What the hell was going on.

Celeste and Jane chatted for a while, enjoying some wine, completely ignoring the both of us. They walked across to look at some photos on the sideboard, right next to Jane’s husband. Without looking down, without even noticing, Jane stepped firmly on to her husband’s face. Her dark blue patent heels drilled into his cheeks as she stood and casually chatted to Celeste. I couldn’t stop staring at the damage they seemed to be doing, but eventually I managed to fix my eyes on Celeste.

Celeste's black stilettos were planted no more than an inch from Mark's cock. What was she thinking? This isn’t what I had imagined. She was my girlfriend, the love of my life, she loved me, there’s no way she would actually do anything to another man. Maybe she was teasing me a little, maybe she really hadn’t noticed his cock down there, but I was sure that she wouldn’t, couldn’t, do anything.

From my position buried in the floor I had a perfect view as Celeste casually stepped down with the sole of her shoe onto Mark’s cock, pinning it flat against the floor with her full weight. She seemed not to notice, but how couldn’t she? She had told me many times how she could feel my tongue moving through those thin soles. She began casually rocking her foot from side to side as she chatted to Jane. I could see the effect it was having on Mark, if she hadn’t been able to feel his cock before she sure as hell could now. She glanced over in my direction, staring into my eyes as her foot continued to rock back and forth on Mark’s cock, all the time still chatting to Jane. Her eyes seemed to say “what’s the problem, what’s it got to do with you?” I tried to find my voice, to shout out, but nothing happened. She smirked at me as Mark blew his load beneath her patent black stiletto, continuing her conversation with Jane and ignoring me completely.

I was in shock, tears filled my eyes. How could she have done that, how could she have enjoyed doing that and have enjoyed the fact that I was watching? My world seemed to be shattered around me, yet she just stood there still chatting to Jane as if nothing had happened. Jane seemed either not to notice or not to care in the slightest.

“Let’s go to that new club. I feel like dancing.”

“Sounds fun” Celeste answered, her foot still resting, full weight, on Marks cock.

“Great. Mark will drive us. You know, I think Steve might be there too tonight. I know you’ve got a bit of a thing for him, Celeste”

Celeste, love of my life, let out a little embarrassed giggle.

“You know me so well, I just thing he’s so gorgeous.”

“Well, you never know, tonight could be your lucky night.”

With that, Jane clicked her fingers and Mark scrambled out through the trap door and off to start the car. Celeste locked the trapdoor behind him, trapping me beneath the floorboards.

“Right, let’s go.”

They finished their wine, and headed toward the door. Jane’s foot landed heavily on my cock, but she didn’t even look down, walking on without breaking her stride. I almost screamed in pain, only for Celeste’s sole to come crashing down onto my face.

I stared at Celeste's heels as she walked over me and toward the door. Mark’s cum was clearly visible on the sole and along the side of her shoe. She seemed totally indifferent to the fact another man's cum would be ground into the dance floor beneath her shoe as she swayed to the music.

Celeste turned just before walking out of the door. She mouthed “don’t wait up,” and with that she was gone, leaving me stuck under the floorboards until whenever she chose to return and let me out, leaving me humiliated, shocked, destroyed, and more in love with her than I had ever felt before.
Jan 25, 2003
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OH MY GOD! That is so hot! The second time I read it I was wearing a white silk blouse, black leather knee length skirt, black thigh stockings and my new leather heels from www.sixinchheelsforever.com. I had music on and as I read was walking around thinking about you being my floor. I love it that it was you there and Mark and Jane too! I can't wait for the next part!
Jun 2, 2003
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Celeste, thank you for your wonderful comment, you have no idea how much I wish it could be true... I can only imagine what you could do to me with those six inch heels...

Chaps - thanks for your comments too, glad you're enjoying this one.

Anyway, where was I, oh yes... part 3...

I slept fitfully beneath the floorboards. It was comfortable enough. I felt oddly at home. I won’t try to describe how I felt. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. To see Celeste, the love of my life, do that, and do it so casually, and to hear her talking like that about another man... I just don’t have the words for that. Yet I felt strangely detached from it all. I’d said from the start that she was on another level from me and now it was true.

I had no idea what the time was, but I expected her to come home in the early hours of the morning. I felt sure that she would apologise, tell me that she knew she’d gone too far. Time passed. I remember waking up at one point and noticing that it was daylight and she still wasn’t home. Maybe she’d crashed on the sofa at Jane’s. I dozed off again.

I was woken by the sound of Celeste’s key in the lock, but too dazed to slide over to my position by the front door. So I stayed positioned in the middle of the apartment, face and cock protruding through the floorboards, and watched as Celeste pushed the door open. I expected her to look full of guilt and regret, to rush over and let me out through the trap door whilst apologising. I blinked a few times and waited for her to come in.

Celeste pushed the door open, still dressed in the little black dress and classic black patent spike heels that she had worn out the night before. She had earphones in and was moving her head to the music. I tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. She wouldn’t have been able to hear them in any case. Okay, so she didn’t exactly look full of regret and compassion, but I was sure she would let me out and talk through what had happened.

Celeste strode into the room without a care in the world and walked over to the table to put her handbag down. On her way she caught the tip of my cock under the sole of her shoe, crushing it painfully against the wooden floorboard. I don’t know if my scream made any noise or not, but she wouldn’t have heard it in any case. She just stood by the table, dancing to the music, her spike heels twisting into the floor a few inches from my face. She hadn’t even looked at me, not acknowledged my existence in any way. I held my breath as her left foot swung over my face. The ultra sharp spike heel landed on my eyebrow, missing my eye by millimetres and drilling into my skin until it felt like it had cut through to the bone. Celeste twisted around, bringing both feet together, one covering my eyes, the other my mouth. The pressure was intense, my head felt it would explode at any second, I could feel the bones in my skull creaking against the hard unyielding soles of her classic black patent leather stilettos.

For a moment Celeste just stood there. I could feel the warmth of her stockinged feet through the thin soles, could feel every tiny movement of her feet inside her shoes, ever minute shift in weight. I couldn’t see a thing, but remember thinking afterwards that she must have paused there to find the track she wanted on her mp3 player. She began to move her feet, not much at first, just a slow twisting action. I felt my features being twisted, my flesh pushed to extremes beneath her hard shoe soles. Then the beat must have kicked in. She started marching in place, her soles crashing down on to my mouth and eyes. I could taste blood on my lips, my vision started to get hazy, she was really stomping down on my face. Between stomps I caught glances of her, high above, eyes closed, lost in the music, not a care in the world. I was on the verge of passing out and there she was, happy as could be.

After a couple of minutes of stomping she started to twist both feet into my face again, she was literally doing the twist, bending at the knee, forcing all her weight on to the balls of her feet. My face felt like it was about to give way, to be ripped apart under those beautiful black high heels. It was almost a relief when she straightened up and started stomping down again. I remember seeing her toe cleavage as her left foot smashed down on to my mouth, thinking how soft and beautiful her feet were inside those shoes. Her right foot slammed down over my eyes again, catching the bridge of my nose this time. I stared up at the sole as she lifted her foot, it was well worn, dirty, and heading straight back down on to my face. This time it landed square on my nose, breaking it. I heard the crack, felt it collapse a little. She must have felt it too but, between stomps, I could see her face smiling, eyes closed, enjoying the music, dancing with complete abandon. I was sure she would have gone on dancing like this for hours if her phone hadn’t have rung.

“Hi Jane, yeah, it was great. What time did you leave?”

Okay, so she hadn’t stayed at Jane’s. Where had she been all night?

“Ah, I think I was on the dance floor with Steve then. We were there most of the night. It was unbelievable. At first we were just dancing with each other, but then they put on a few slower tracks and, well, we started properly dancing together. He just leant in for a kiss and... well... what can I say, its midday and I just got home.”

As she said this she lifted her right foot from my eyes to scratch an itch on the back of her calf. All her weight was now pressing down on my mouth. I could feel one of my front teeth start to give. As she chatted away, the tooth gave way with a sudden jolt of searing pain. Celeste wobbled a little as she felt something give way beneath her foot. She brought her other foot back down right on to what was left of my nose to steady herself. I could feel that starting to give too. Celeste twisted her foot from side to side a little, as if she were flattening a lump under the carpet, and, sure enough, the rest of my nose gave way beneath the sole of her shoe. I imagined what she must have felt, feeling my nose collapse through the thin sole of her patent leather high heels, but all I could hear was her giggling about something else as she spoke on the phone. She really couldn’t have cared less.

“You wouldn’t believe it Jane, it was the most amazing sex I have ever had by such a long way. I’ve never experienced anything that’s come close to it.”

The humiliation was complete. Finally, Celeste stepped off my face and started pacing around as she chatted. I winced as her heel landed millimetres from my cock, a direct hit with her full weight behind it didn’t bare thinking about. She passed by again, just grazing my cock with the side of her shoe. This was Russian roulette and the stakes couldn’t get much higher. A few near misses later, and Celeste’s sole landed full weight on the shaft of my cock, twisting slightly as she moved off again. The pain shot through my body, overpowering the agony I already felt across my face. I wasn’t sure I was going to survive this. What if one of those heels lands on my eye? It would go straight through. That would be the end. Celeste paused next to my cock and started absent mindedly prodding it with her toe as she chatted on the phone. She balanced it on the toe of one shoe and pressed down on it with the other, twisted it beneath her sole like a cigarette, kicked it repeatedly with her pointy toe. It meant nothing to her, my pain meant nothing to her, she was just playing about whilst talking on the phone about the new man in her life.

Eventually Celeste finished her conversation and, without a word, walked off upstairs to take a shower. I must have dozed off again, or more likely passed out with the pain, either way, I woke to see Celeste coming back down the stairs wearing a white silk blouse, black leather knee-length skirt, black thigh stockings and a pair of her favourite black patent leather six inch heels.

For the first time since she had returned home she looked at me. I must have been a complete mess. She filled a jug of water and poured it over my face.

“There, you look a lot better with the blood and the dirt from my shoes washed off your face.” She bit her bottom lip in mock concern. “I suppose you’re not very happy about what happened last night. I can understand that. I just saw Mark’s cock sticking out of the floor and wanted to see what it felt like under my shoe. I suppose I could have used yours instead, but his was just nearer. I could see you staring at me, pleading with me with your eyes not to do anything. That really turned me on. I was thinking about it on the way to the club, I imagined a row of ten men all under the floorboards, ten cocks sticking up in a row. Yours would be the one on the far end. I imagined lining up my ten favourite pairs of heels and working my way along the line. I thought about my feet slipping in and out of each pair and making each of those cocks explode one after the other under my shoes, all the way along the line until I got to you. Then I imagined slipping my stockinged feet into the pair of stilettos that I’d left next to your cock, twisting on my heel, grabbing my handbag and walking out of the door without having so much as touched you. I can’t believe how much that thought turned me on, the idea of you helplessly trapped there watching, no wonder I was so horny when I got to the club.”

Celeste took a few steps forward and stamped her feet down either side of my head, the noise was deafening. She laughed as I flinched and stood, hands on hips, staring down into my bloodied and battered face.

“I had another little daydream that you might enjoy. There was a long queue for the toilets at the club. I thought it would be amazing to have you there lying just near the door. Could you imagine? A constant stream of women walking all over you, standing on top of you, dancing together while they waited. Could you imagine it? Dozens and dozens of different pairs of high heels, all night long. A never ending line of shoe soles crashing down onto your face, one after the other after the other. The women queuing probably wouldn’t even notice you were there, or if they did, they really wouldn’t care. Imagine all the different shapes and different size heel marks that would cover every inch of your body. Imagine seeing me join the queue and slowly make my way along until I’m standing on your face without once looking at you or breaking my conversation with my girlfriends. Imagine licking the soles of my shoes clean with all the passion and love that you have for me whilst I ignored you completely. I wouldn’t care whether it was you or anyone else, if I even noticed. It’s just too much, I’m getting turned on again... anyway, move over to be beneath the dining table. I’ll be having lunch soon. You can clean my shoes while I eat.”

I slid over to push my face up through the hole in the floor in front of her chair at the table. I lay there, looking up at her chair, my cock stuck out in the middle of the floor behind it, and tried to comprehend what I was doing. Was I in shock? Had my face been permanently disfigured? Would I ever find myself above the floor boards again? Yet, I was making Celeste happy. That was all I had ever wanted to do. If this was the price I had to pay to be around her, well, it was worth it.

The doorbell rang. I shivered. Jane again, I thought. Okay, well, so be it. What did it matter any more? I was resigned to my life as Celeste’s floor and all that went with it.

“How do I look?”

Celeste looked more beautiful than ever, stunning. I smiled weakly, it was all I could manage. She looked radiant, so full of life. Despite the pain, I remember thinking how lucky I was.

From under the table I watched Celeste’s slender six inch heels as she glided over to the door. I saw her going up on the balls of her feet as the door opened and shuddered as her spike heels came crashing down again on to the wooden floor. I heard her giggle. Then it hit me. She’d gone up on tip toes to greet who ever had entered with a kiss. It had to be Steve.

“Take a seat, we’ll have a quick lunch and then I need to run a few errands.”

Steve took a seat opposite Celeste’s. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine being somewhere else, anywhere else. It didn’t help. Celeste slid into her seat and placed her feet straight on to my face. I could hear them flirting above, holding hands across the table. Celeste began slowly wiping her shoe across my lips. Without even thinking, I stuck my tongue out and began to taste the grime on the sole of her six inch designer heels. I could hear them making plans. She was saying that she really liked him, that she hadn’t felt this way about anyone before. All the while my tongue moved up and down her shoe soles, cleaning off every speck of dust while they dined up above. I knew every contour of each sole like the back of my hand, every tiny divot, every crease in the leather along the sides, the pattern on the tip of her heels.

After ten minutes or so, Celeste stopped dragging her sole over my outstretched tongue and forced the pointy toe of her shoe into my mouth as forcefully as she could. My mouth felt like it was about to split open as she wriggled her toes about. It took me a moment to realise what was happening, she was leaning forward across the table so that she could kiss Steve. Waves of pain swept across my body as they exchanged sweet nothings high above. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Celeste sank back into her seat, jerking her foot out of my mouth, taking my remaining front tooth with it. She pushed her chair back and extended her legs, planting each of her needle thin heels above one of my eyes. For the next fifteen minutes that’s where they stayed as I stared with terror at those ridiculously sharp tips. Surely she wouldn’t deliberately blind me, or worse? No, perhaps not, but it was pretty clear she really didn’t care what was going on beneath the table and, well, accidents happen. It was with immense relief that Celeste finally slid both shoes painfully down my face and I returned to tongue cleaning her shoe soles for the rest of the meal.

“I need to get going, but I’ll see you tonight.”

With that, Celeste pushed her chair back and beckoned Steve to join her. He skirted around the table as she stepped forward on to my cock. For a moment she stood there, both feet planted firmly along the shaft of my cock. She gave a little giggle, she sounded like a teenager in love for the first time, and threw her arms around Steve’s neck. She reached up to kiss him, rising up on to the balls of her feet and twisting gently from side to side on my cock as she savoured his lips. She was flattening it into the wooden floor boards, slowly tearing the skin off.

“Hey! It’s our song”

Celeste began to dance with Steve, her heels hammering into my cock, her hard soles squashing it against the floor, twisting all over it. All the time, her arms around Steve’s neck, staring into his eyes. Her six inch heels drilled into my cock as she danced, tearing up the skin, branding it permanently with her heel marks. I think I must have passed out. The next thing I knew Steve had gone and Celeste was getting ready to head out too.

“Steve and I are going out tonight. I’m not sure what I’m going to wear yet, so while I am out you will go into my shoe closet and tongue clean every single pair of shoes in there. If I am not happy with the job you do, and that includes cleaning the soles and the insides, I will crush one of your testicles beneath the shoes that you didn’t clean properly. I mean really crush it flat until there is barely anything between my shoe sole and the floor. I’ve half a mind to do it anyway, to crush them both and have the skin removed to use as a pair of insoles. I’ll think about it tonight, but it does sound delicious. Anyway, I expect you to be back where you belong when I arrive home so that I can wipe my dirty shoes clean on what’s left of your face. If there’s any life left in it, I might use your cock as a shoe scraper. ”

With that she unlocked the trap door and walked to the front door, making sure she stepped heavily on my cock along the way. After she had gone, I limped up to her shoe closet and started to get to work.