Dominatrix Danaxmuscles orders them to cum in her boots

The Mistress’s Bootlicker

Sweat trickled down Mistress Danax’s toned back as she leaned against the obsidian wall, her midnight-colored eyes piercing through the dimly lit room. The air was thick with anticipation and arousal, a constant found in her dungeon.

Her attention was focused on the trembling figure kneeling before her – a submissive she had named her Bootlicker. He was naked, save for a leather collar around his neck bearing her name. His shaft was engorged and pulsing, glistening with pre-cum.

“Open wide,” Mistress Danax commanded, holding out one of her black combat boots. The Bootlicker obediently parted his lips, letting her slide her foot into his mouth. His tongue lapped eagerly at the rough leather, cleaning away the sweat and lick marks from her previous subs. The salty taste mingled with his own saliva as he worked his way up to her toes.

Danax savored the wet heat of his mouth on her foot, watching him with a smirk. “You’re such a good little bootlicker,” she praised, running her fingers through his hair. “I bet you’d do anything to please me.”

The Bootlicker looked up at her with pleading eyes, silently begging for more. She could see his cock twitch as she shifted, the tip hardened and almost purple in his forced arousal.

Chuckling low in her throat, Mistress Danax pulled her foot free and ordered him to worship her other boot. The Bootlicker eagerly complied, licking and sucking every inch of the black leather, his needy shaft bobbing between his legs. When he reached the toes, she pushed down firmly against his tongue, grinding his face harder into her foot.

After thoroughly soaking her boots with his hungry mouth, Mistress Danax pulled away and slipped back into them. Her shameless Bootlicker was doubled over now, eyes glassy with desperation, his shaft leaking constantly. He was utterly under her control.

“Now, stand up,” she told him calmly. The Bootlicker moved to his feet on shaky legs, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily when she placed her hands on him. Danax ran her hands over his chest and abs admiringly, pinching his nipples and tracing the V leading down to his pulsing cock. He was a work of art.

Reaching his erection, she wrapped her fingers around it and stroked languidly. The Bootlicker gasped and bucked into her touch, smearing more pre-cum over her palm. “Such a needy toy,” she taunted. “You want to cum?”

“Y-yes Mistress,” he panted out. “Please Mistress!”

Mistress Danax smirked wickedly and squeezed his shaft harder, thrusting her hand over his length. The friction and her controlling gaze had the Bootlicker moaning louder, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. His balls drew up tight against him, thighs tensing as she increased her speed.

“I want you to cum in my boots,” she demanded. “Paint them with your seed. CUM.”

Her command shattered any remnants of his control. The Bootlicker threw his head back as his cock pulsed, thick ropes of cum spilling out over her moving hand and splashing onto her shining boots. She pumped him through it, milking out every drop of his release.

When the Bootlicker finished spurting, Mistress Danax withdrew her hand. It was coated in his essence, sticky and slick. She made a show of licking it clean, her eyes never leaving his. “I think these boots need a bit more,” she said evilly as the Bootlicker panted in post-orgasmic bliss. “Get on your knees and clean them off with your tongue. Worship your cum like the good little slut you are.”

The Bootlicker gulped and hurried to comply, taking her foot and pressing his mouth to the tip. He lapped up his own release, moaning at the musky flavor of his cum and her leather boots. Each lick made him shiver with embarrassed arousal.

While he obediently cleaned her boots, Mistress Danax used her clean hand to flip up her skirt, revealing the skimpiest black thong. The Bootlicker’s eyes followed her every move with rapt attention. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she added casually. “You are not allowed to touch yourself or cum again without my permission. Is that clear?”

“Yes Mistress,” the Bootlicker breathed out, glancing down at his half-hard cock with a moan. He was still uncaringly aroused, panting for more touch. But he knew better than to defy her orders, even when his body screamed for release.

“You may put away my toys,” Mistress Danax said finally, stepping away. “Then you wait downstairs until I call for you. We will continue your training later.”

The Bootlicker bowed his head obediently, kisses permanently there on her feet and boots. “Yes Mistress,” he repeated, knowing he was hers completely, toy and seed alike. She had already become his every desire and need.

As Mistress Danax clicked away in her boots, the Bootlicker remained kneeling on the floor. His entire being was focused her, craving her touch and approval. He had been beaten down to submissive perfection, a plaything wholly devoted to his wicked dominatrix and the sadistic delights she would inflict.