Crystal Clear


























‘Lick every last morsel of dirt off this beautiful young woman’s boots, slave! Lick them all the way up to the tops, but make sure your forehead doesn’t brush against her socks, or you’ll have my whip to answer to!’

‘Yes, master sir. At once, master sir. Please don’t beat me, master!’

My master sir’s instructions are crystal clear and delivered directly into my right earhole as he crouches down condescendingly beside me. Meanwhile the beautiful, tattooed customer-mistress who is seated on high above me is picking wax out of her own earhole whilst smoking a cigarette. It’s crystal clear that she is my infinite better, which is why I am not worthy to touch her socks.

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