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Thursday morning. In the past four weeks my life had become one where Boss had made sure that one of my purposes was to earn him money. After all he had paid a lot for me in Paris, and I was expected to recoup that money at some stage.
mMonday's I was a corporate slave. Dressed in my formal business wear I had accompanied Boss each Monday morning where he deposited me in the care of one of his clients. Banks, Lawyers, Insurance companies. The commute made me wistful for my commuting days in London, where in my old life I'd cruise fellow passengers. Boss of course made sure I was still aware of my slave status. I was to stand next to him silently in the train carriage, looking down at the floor at all times. Only looking up when Boss stood, and indicating that we had reached our destination. Four weeks ago I had been presented with box fresh shirt, tie and trousers. Now the shirt was stained yellow from being used to soak up the final dribbles of piss, fighting for attention with dried cum patches.
Boss took great delight in letting me know that after my service with Luis, that he was able to triple the rates for my use. Next week I would be hired out for 5000 Euro. He taunted me with the thought that if he was considering hiring me out for full toilet service, as that would he calculated bring in 10 grand.
If Monday was corporate Tuesday and Wednesday I was transformed into a workie slave. I'd be picked up in the yellow van every Tuesday morning, and not return until Wednesday. Two wordless days. From the moment I entered the van and started to clean the twenty something's boot with my tongue, until I was returned outside the apartment on the following evening I would be all but mute. The four workmen I discovered were Latvian. Their English was sparse, so tier communication with me was via hand signals, and beatings.
Each week a different house, but the regime was the same, forced labour, urinal service and cum eater. From the second week they had taken to reading their girlie mags, and wanking, I was instructed to clean their dicks as well eat up any cum that had fallen on the floor. They had developed a game where I had to kneel on the floor between them and scrabble to where I thought the first drop of cum would hit. Failure led to a sustained spanking session.
Boss told me that he had decided that Tuesday was going to be a regular date night for him and Gunter, so I was an unnecessary distraction. Each Tuesday evening before heading home I would be secured to the saw horse, blindfolded and left at some stage someone would come in , either as a single or a couple and would make use of my mouth and arse. Again word had got round. Two nights ago, I guessed I was fucked at least seven times, and sucked off ten dicks. Correction I say suck , my head was secure, My mouth was fucked by ten dicks.
The final fuck of the night always came from the same man, with the unmistakable scent of cheap, the brief feeling of protection when nesting in his chest , a paint brush in my arse, and being laid on the floor to rest and sleep, a gentle but authoritative Gute Nacht before the house went silent, and the cycle began again by being kicked awake by the twentysometing.
This I was informed had brought in 3000 euros over the month, for Boss, the workmen sharing the same amount between them
I had spent the last three Thursday's recovering. I was hungry after 36 hours of only eating the half digested lunch of the workmen, and Boss's punishment on Wednesday evenings were particularly brutal.
I had been awake for an hour, the semi cold shower that Boss allowed me to have meant I felt clean after three days of use. I had eagerly devoured the bowl of porridge that had been left on the floor for me, and Boss teased me my dropping pieces of meet and cheese in to my mouth as if I was a dog being rewarded with treats.
Ok you lazy fuck, you ned to make your self useful round here. Boss said his heavy boot pushed into my chest so I fell back on the floor.
He stood up and towering over me place this right foot directly onto my face. Get licking. The underside of Boss's boots were filthy the crevices caked in grime and mud. I eagerly got to work trying to loosen it,
I can't just stand here all fucking day. He snarled, he pressed his boot further into my face my nose felt as if it was going to dislocate. He quickly removed it, grabbed my collar and lifted me up.
Stand
His hand was still on the collar as I struggled to stand.
When I finally succeeded he dragged me into his living area. Sitting down he placed his feet on a coffee table.
Now get going. I was face to face both both boots heavy, and larger than my head. From this angle I could see how much muck there was to clean.
Don't just look, clean, it could be the only food you get today. Start with the heel. Remember to show the hole boot the attention it deserves for the next hour they control you, they own you ,
I moved forward my chin at the base of the table, my tongue at the very edge of the boot's heel. I began to lick, within seconds a lump of mud fell into my mouth, swallowing I continued in my role as boot cleaner, and supplicant. The boot was my Master, a source of comfort, belonging, food.
I felt the tip of a crop against my face, from the side of my eye I could see Boss move it along the outline of his boot, then another tap on the other side of my face . He tapped further up the sole.
Lick. Spit on it Lick.
Boss lifted his boot slightly, withdrawing it, and then pushed forward pushing my head back. He lifted his left leg and rested the boot on his right knee. Clicking his fingers, I was ordered to a new position.Boss could now guide my adoration of the boot's sole. Grabbing the back of my head of moved it around the surface, He made sure that not a millimetre was left unlicked. He moved my head back, I looked closely I could see where my saliva had made the dirt and ingrained much wet and glossy. Using the tip f the crop Boss removed some of the muck, bits fell to the floor , nut he managed to scoop some up on the crop. He moved it towards my mouth. I didn't even have to be ordered, I opened it and moved forward taking it inside, I swallowed. The taste was disgusting.
Boss laughed. Stop making that face. Be grateful I'm feeding you.
Yes Boss.
This continued for some ten minutes until the boot was almost clear of debris. Boss placed his foot back down on the floor, and clicked his fingers on the opposite side. I crawled round as He lifted his other boot, and I repeated the process. It began to be a struggle to build up enough saliva, so Boss provided assistance, giving me a look of disgust as he did so. When Boss was sufficiently satisfied that I had worshipped the sole enough, he began the process if cleaning it and feeding me. He taunted me at time by proffering a large lump of mud watching me grimace and tipping it on the floor.
Finally he tired. Placing both feet on the ground he stood in front of me, my natural response was to fall down and thank him. The crop barred my way. He pushed me back into an upright position.
I'm unsure if you deserve the right taste that leather today. He grabbed my jaw, prised it open , and spat into it.
Look at that mess, I go to the effort of feeding you and half of it's on the floor.
Eat it up now.
He pushed me down, and stepped over me as I ate the remains of my meal off the floor.
As I swallowed the final morsel, Boss returned. His heavy foot steps accompanied by the beating of a leather crop against his boots. He placed one foot at the back of me head, forcing it into the ground. The hard floor below me was an insufficient muffler of the screams as he administered seven beatings across my butt.
He released the pressure on my head, and stepped over me. He sat down. Clicking his fingers, I got up. I was faced with a second pair of boots, filthier than the last.
See don't tell me I don't look after my property. There more food for you here.
He grabbed my collar and pulled me forward he rested my head against his leather trousers.
I breathed in his scent as I got ready for another hour of devotion to the soles of my owner's boots.