Sally's servant - part four

It really was quite something the feeling I would get every day when I heard her car door shut. As I laid in silence I would feel overjoyed to be in this envious position. How many men are lucky enough to be considered worth being kept as the property off a powerful businesswoman?

With each tap of her black leather high heels across the gravel of her drive I would feel a lump in my throat. On this occasion the tapping of her heels stopped prematurely. I knew exactly what this meant. It had been raining and Mistress Sally would be getting her shoes a little dirty to make sure I earned my keep. After a minute or so, I heard her shoes again and the key turning in the lock.

The next thing I felt was two heels digging into my chest. I was naked apart from the white T shirt with 'Property of Sally' emblazoned across it. Immediately, mud started to fall off onto my T shirt. My shirt got dirty rates a lot and although I had a clean one every morning, I slept every night in the one she had dirtied that day. She felt it only correct that I should sleep with her shoe dirt still covering me . 'It helps remind you of your place', she had said. She would never greet me, and barely ever looked at me. She was holding a copy of the evening paper, scanning the front page. She then simply held out her left shoe over my face so I could lick them clean. They really were dirty - she has clearly walked across to the flower beds and trampled in enough mud to make my job just disgusting enough. Not of course that nit felot disgusting to me, but I must admit I never really warmed to the atste of the mud. I licked the sole as quickly as I could , lifting the mud into my mouth and swallowing. I heard her giggle as I sucked the heel. I thought it must be due to the large clump of dirt I was having to swallow but it was actually dud to something that had tickled her in the paper. That's how little I meant to her - it didnt even amuse her anymore to make me swallow the filth from her shoe soles. She held the wall with one hand and flicked through the paper with the other.

I licked and licked, making sure the side of the shoe was also cleaned to perfection. Once she was happy all the mud was safely off her shoe and wgere it belonged, inside me, she changed feet and let me lick the other shoe clean. There was a asmall leaf stuck to the sole of that she whcih I duly gulped down. She had joked to me in the past "There's one portion of your five fruit and veg a day", and in fairness it did make a nice change form all the mud.

Once I'd licked the second shoe to perfection she got off me, snapped her fingers and said "tops." I turned over and on my hands and knees, licked the tops of her shoes. This was always much nicer than licking the soles - I got to see her legs resplendent in her dark stockings, and could smell the aroma of her feet through the edges of the shoes. It was the greatest smell on earth!

I made the shoes gleam with my saliva. I was a true shoelicking professional and felt so proud to have this honour. Throughout, Sally continued reading the paper, far more engrossed in that that thinking how it must feel to lick mud from another human's shoes day in day out. That was just the order of things and as it should be. We were both in agreement on that. Once she was satisfied the shoes were cleaned thoroughly, she licked me lightly in the face and walked off to sit down. The next part in the routine saw me licking the floor clean of any mud that had fallen from my shirt. I then followed Sally into the living room, where I would kneel before her feet and give her a well-earned foot massage. Life didnt get much better.