Boot Worshipper
Night has drawn in and the moon casts a silvery glow on the garden. As I sithere naked at the table, I am trying to come to terms with what has happenedtoday. I concentrate on my task. My left arm is firmly emplaced within the boot; I splay my hand inside thefoot to press against the leather, as my right pushes down with the soft cloth;describing firm circles across the smooth skin. The tang of polish mingleswith the aroma of my mistress; I stop for a millisecond and breathe in deeplythrough...