Cressada Laverge lowered her lids and gloated over the ease with which she was subjugating Malcolm to her complete domination and imposing her firm will upon his rambling family estate, and the two teenaged nephews he supported. She had long yearned to punish them all, and her friend, Mrs Truella Murdstone would be a wonderful ally in her plans. Cressada’s fully rounded hips and magnificent bosom writhed in anticipation, surging from within at the thought of Malcolm’s place in her schemes. Little did that love-dazed man realise what was to come
[Little indeed, one might say! The new bridegroom finds he has to wear a dog collar and is then set to work scouring the hotel bathroom while his wife and Mistress goes out on a shopping trip. He then discovers a whip is his bride's suitcase, and this is soon put to work when she returns. Malcolm is ordered to clean her shoes]
Emotion squirmed within Malcolm’s loins, half love and half grinding fear, as he saw Sada’s strong, tapering gem-laden fingers grasping the handle of the whip. She fondled the lash, dangling the flexible tip before his panic-widened eyes, and pulling the whole supple length of it through caressing, dagger-nailed fingers, while Malcolm, breathing hard from he feared to know what feelings inside himself, at her feet, his spotless handkerchief ready in his hands.
“Put that damned rag away.” Cressada struck the arm of the chair with the doubled whip. “When you wipe your Mistress’s shoes you will do it reverently, with your tongue!” Malcolm looked up, gulping with awe at the derisive smile and her threatening flourish of the whip as he hesitated. Sada’s eyes narrowed. “So…my pet is not full of the proper respect and reverence – yet!”
“Yes, Sada,” he stammered, throwing himself belly-prone before the glittering black-shod feet. Street dirt clouded the brilliance of the patent leather at the heel tips and just above the soles. He began removing the dirt, his tongue polishing the leather and gathering the debris which he swallowed. In his haze of adoration and awe he knew that this was the only true way to keep his wonderful Mistress’s shoes clean. With whimsical amusement in her eyes, Cressada toyed with the whip, watching his willing debasement. The pungent taste of patent leather filled Malcolm’s mouth, flavoured by the admixture of dust and offal from the street. His lips laved the pointed contours of the gleaming shoes and felt the dainty garlands of pearls at the slipper throats and sucked the terrible thin spikes of the nearing six inch heels.
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