Lickshine My Boots, Sockieboy Slave!

'Lickshine my boots, Sockieboy slave! And DON'T touch my socks!'

The clever customer-mistress realises, thanks to the wooden warning post dug deep into the nape of my neck by the Female Authorities, that I will be enamoured by her brightly-coloured socks and she therefore warns me not to inadvertently brush my feckless forehead against the soft, cotton material of her sock whilst I am lickshining her boots.

Her socks! Oh, her socks!









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