To taste and touch and lick. It is my mission in life. The sensation of my tongue as the creases of your skin rub up against me in the most violent way. I am beholden to its power. You are the goddess, and I am your lowly subject unable to protest. I only want to serve at your demands. I hope at some point you will gaze upon me without disdain, but I know that is a futile thought. The idea you might appreciate my fascination with you is lost forever.
Shoes. When you are out and leave me to my own devices, I rip open your walk in closet and kneel before your collection of shoes. The Valentino Garavani patent leather platform pumps have a particular fascination with me. I know they are your favorite and so they are mine. I began to quiver as my unworthy hands reached for them. Mouth to heel, and all that is between, offers me satisfaction. My desires are vast and desperation unrequited.
I begin with my nose diving into the place where your dainty feet fill them. A take in the sweet stench. It is an exhilarating overture of sweat and worn leather. I wish to bottle it and consume it later. Possibly bath in it if you would allow me. All the senses are lit up on the impulses of my savage brain. The circuits should be fried by now, but they aren’t.
I work my way to the latches and save the best for last. The final and most sensual part of the shoe is the heel. I feel so alive as I hear the front door slam. I am dressed…or maybe not dressed…in a pair of your panties and nothing else. I am sitting on the floor surrounded by a shrine of your shoes. There was no way for me to escape from this. You were going to catch me doing something.
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