Like every morning i wake up with a dirty boot-sock stuffed inside my worthless slave-opening, held in place with one of my Master’s old, worn-out sneakers. They mostly serve as my night-mask now, but my Master still wears them once in a while to freshen up the gagging odors inside, and to have me service them right there on his feet. That is always a ‘special occasion’, they are still one of his favorite pairs and he usually makes sure they get as dirty as possible, riding his bike in them when it rains or walking about the stables, covering them with a mixture of horse-shit and mud.
I usually sleep in my corner, on a single-layer mat, chained to the floor. When the time-lock on my chain is released, i remove the sneaker mask and the boot-sock, returning the sneaker to its place on the sneaker shelf and dropping the sock into the bowl with my water, for later service ( the only water i am allowed to drink is the water used to soak and rinse out dirty socks, sweat-soaked insoles or for washing my Master’s sweaty feet ).
My Master is still asleep so i crawl into the kitchen and quietly start preparing his breakfast. When it is time to wake him up, i crawl into the bedroom to the foot end of his bed and start licking his feet. Once i am kicked away, i move forward to the side of the bed to be available in case my Master feels like rinsing out my mouth with his morning piss ( he usually does ). Then, while my Master is in the shower, i lay out his uniform and the boots i have prepared the night before.
When he is done in the bathroom, he puts on his uniform, except for the boot-socks and boots, that will be my job under the table while he is having his breakfast.
When he sits at the table I serve his food and coffee and then present the boots for a final inspection. That is always a crucial moment, especially if my Master had been out partying the night before and doesn’t feel so good - the boots better be spotless and shiny, or else i will remain without food for the rest of the day ( not counting the mud and dirt i will inevitably have to eat from under his boots later ) .... or worse.
Once approval is given, i crawl under the table to lick his feet one more time and then put his socks and boots on his feet and remain there polishing them over and over until my Master is ready to leave for duty. If he is in a good mood, he sometimes lets bits and pieces of food drop to the floor to watch me lap them up, once permission is given to do so. He even does that when he is in a bad mood, only then i am not allowed to go for them but have to wipe them up later on and throw them away. He finds that very entertaining.
Then, when he is done eating and there are leftovers, he picks out whatever he thinks i am worthy of, and drops them into my dog-dish next to the garbage can. Otherwise it’s dog-food or whatever is left from last nights dinner.
He looks down at me disdainfully and kicks me in the side ...
”Enjoy your breakfast, shit-head, looks almost as disgusting as you do down there .... but don’t you worry, we’ll be out in the field today, so there will be plenty of yum yum mud for you under my boots for you later, haha !”
My Master is an NCO, an Army Drill Sergeant, and he never worries about getting his boots dirty - after all, what does he own a bootslave for !
On all fours i follow him to the door and kiss his boots once again, shiny and clean after hours of servicing and polishing them. It will probably take him less than 10 minutes out there in the field to provide me with several more hours of work.
”Better get your ass in gear, worthless fuck, my buddies from the soccer team expect their socks and cleats nice and clean by noon tomorrow, and i don’t want to hear any complaints ! Got that, pea-brain ?!? ”
During the morning while my Master is out, i do my household chores, cleaning the house, doing the dishes, taking care of his uniform and so on; as well as my slave duties, the soccer thing being the latest addition to that duty.
My Master decided i could very well use the extra practice and that i wasn’t fully utilized anyway, so he offered my slave-mouth as a sock-laundry to his soccer-team buddies. They all obviously enjoy the idea of having a slave launder their grimy, sweat-soaked and dirty socks in its mouth, so now, after each practice session and especially the weekend games, i receive a full load of dirty, stinking, crusty socks to service.
And those socks really are dirty ! The guys must get a kick out of raunching them up especially for me, some apparently wear them for days ( or sessions ) in a row and run around in their socked feet in the locker-rooms or even outside. It gets harder every time to chew and suck out all the matted crud and grime out of the fabric. Especially after a game in bad weather it is hard to tell the original color of the socks at times. But of course i have no choice ... so i start on the pile of stinking socks as soon as my Master has departed.
First each sock is ‘prewashed’ individually and the mud and dirt loosened up - by stuffing it into my slave-opening. With a little help of sock-water ( i have plenty of that these days ), i soften the dirt-stiff socks and suck out as much of the died-in foot-sweat and dirt as i can. Then, after about half an hour each, the sock is dropped in a pan of warm water to let it soak some more. After an hour in there, the sock is returned to my mouth for another ‘chew-and-suck’.
This process is repeated for as long as it takes to get all the sweat, dirt, foot-powder and grimy toe-jam into my drinking water or right down my drain where it belongs. The water in the pan is usually dark brown with dirt by the time a few pair are done, and i have to drink the stale fluid before i am allowed to replace it with fresh water.
Only the final rinse is done in the washer, mainly to get my slave spit out, but without the use of any scented detergent - it’s pure foot-stink they want for me. Normally i am just about done with one load by the time i receive the next delivery .....
Once in a while, a player would drop by to observe the cleaning of his socks personally, always a very humiliating experience for me. And of course i always end up servicing his footgear and feet as well.
Especially Master Mike does that frequently, he has a terrible foot-odor problem and uses a lot of ( unscented, naturally ) foot-powder. He gets a real kick out of watching me chewing and sucking that slimy mixture out of his size 13 socks. I regularly service his huge cleats as well, and the encrusted powder and sweat/dirt i scratch out of the insides and from the bottoms is my ‘meal of the week’ as he calls it.
My Master is running special ‘soccer-cleat-service’ sessions with me now, he plans on taking me to the locker-room once i am fast enough to provide my services right there for anyone interested - and i am sure the w hole team will have fun stepping into my face to watch me eat the dirt from under their cleats. So i have to be fast and thorough at the same time ....
My Master normally picks up some food at the canteen or a fast-food place and returns home during his lunch-break, as the base is right around the corner. For his lunch - and a little bootservice, of course. Normally his boots are already dirty and sometimes covered with mud by then, so i either replace them with a fresh pair or service them right there and then.
He frequently invites one or two other soldiers over to have company and demonstrate my usefulness as well. Even though that means extra work and always a lot of humiliation for me, i am sort of glad when he does ..... when the Masters are satisfied with my services, that also is a chance for some extra food in my bowl. I am usually fed the leftovers afterwards.
So when i hear more than my Master’s heavy boots on the walkway outside, i know what to expect while i prepare myself to greet my Master and his guest.
I kneel at the door, assuming the ‘attention position’, my hands flat on the floor, fingers together, arms straight down from my shoulders, knees together, my head subserviently lowered, facing down and forward. After all, my Master is a Drill Sergeant and very creative when it comes to imagining slave-positions for my various functions. And i better do it exactly right, as he is just as creative when it comes to finding ways to punish a careless slave-ass !
I am wearing my dog-collar, a wide steel-band he constructed with a variety of multi-function hooks and loops attached to it, as well as a pair of cut-offs full of holes. Those used to be jeans and blue, but they are black from boot-grease and polish now. That and an old T-shirt is all i ever get to wear, but the T is mainly used to polish his boots with and has not been washed in a year. I only have permission to wear it when he takes me out for a service session on base, his club or a biker meeting and such.
The door swings open and i am facing my Master’s boots, as well as another pair i don’t recognize. They must belong to one of the new arrivals on base i heard my Master talk about on the phone. I don’t recall having service that pair before, and even though i have serviced plenty, i usually remember them very well, having been so very ‘close’ to them ( well, ‘under’ them, mostly ).
Both my Master’s and his guest’s boots are covered with mud and dirt, it had been raining the night before and must still be very slushy out there in the field. The mud is still moist and big chunks are sticking to the stitching along the sides, just above the soles, as well as in-between the lugs under the serrated soles - my ‘lunch’ for the day !
I move forward to greet my Master by kissing the toes of his dirty boots, first his right, then the left, changing into the ‘greeting-position’, dropping to my elbows, my slave-ass in the air for easy whip access. Then i immediately proceed to greet my Master’s guest in the same manner. His boots are big, a size 12 at least, and well worn.
”So this is that groveling slave-piece you told me about ..... no wonder you always have the shiniest boots on base .... even though there isn’t much left of it right now .... haha !”
”Don’t you worry, buddy, by the time we return to work, these boots will shine like a mirror again, and so will yours ! They better be, or else this here piece of shit is in deep trouble ..... hear me, peabrain !!??”
Saying that, my Master places his right boot on my neck and pushes me down on the other soldier’s left boot.
”Take a good look at that mud and grime we got for you, shithead .... we want ALL that down your sewer drain where it belongs ! So move it, bootlick, out of the way and under the table, we ain’t got all day !”
I turn and crawl towards the dining room when my Master kicks me in the side and i loose my balance, tumbling over.
”You clumsy shit ! Move it, I said ..... !!” he laughs and they walk on.
While they move over to the dining table, i get a chance to see of the new Master than just his booted feet, it is normally hard to see much else from my all-fours position and i am never allowed to look a Master in the face. The Master is a young, huge, almost chubby guy, about twenty years of age, the kind of guy you’d think would be the friendly, easy-going type. But the sardonic grin on his face tells me otherwise. He is ‘just’ a PFC, but of course that is without significance to me, i am trained to service anyone in uniform and follow their orders as if coming from my Master himself.
The Masters sit down at the table and after i have serviced their beverages, i crawl under the table to start servicing their dirty boots.
”Does it really eat all that dirt ‘n shit, or were you just putting me on ??” The Master looks down at his mud-covered boots .....
”Just watch, it will eat anything you give it - why else do you think I asked you to step into the pile of stale dog-shit on the way over ? That will be the icing on its cake today, so to speak .... haha .... you’ll see !!”
”Wow, this is going to be fun !”
” You bet !” My Master kicks me again. ” Get started, you worthless fuck, and show our guest some hospitality ! After all, we even have a special ‘treat’ for your slobbering mud-mouth under there .... ! Go for it ... !”
I move over towards the guest’s boots and start licking the dust, dirt and splashes of mud from the tops of his boots. He positions himself sideways to be able to watch and even though i can’t see it, i can sense the expression of contempt on his face while he looks down on me eating the dirt from his boots. He twists and turns his booted foot to make sure i don’t miss a single spot, while i try to pay special attention to the mud crumbs that are sticking to the laces and eyelets.
”Where was i ... oh yes, the dog-shit .... too bad it wasn’t fresh ! It is much more fun to use it’s sock-sniffin’ nose to scratch the slimy shit out from in-between the lugs, smear it all over its dog-face and then watch it eat the stuff ! Well, maybe next time ... haha !”
”Yeah ... I’d really dig that !!”
” .... you know, as for the entertainment it provides, nothing really beats fresh, moist dog-shit .... not sure about the taste part though, haha ! Some fresh cow-pat maybe, but you don’t find that much here in town. It does get it’s share of that when I go out to the Rodeo or visit friends on their ranch, though. Lots of fun to watch the cowboys step into that shit and then force the poor thing to consume it all !”
”Let me know next time you go, and I’ll give it a taste of my spurs, too ... haha !”
”It took a lot of whipping at first, but it gets better at it every time .... it still gets the horse-whip, but that is mainly for our entertainment, and to speed it up a little. By now it is used to that shit being part of his diet, haha ! And if its good, we wash down the manure with our recycled beer, if it screws up, a load of horse’s piss does the job just the same .... haha !”
I am about finished licking the tops of the Master’s boots and he pulls them from my face to inspect them.
”Not bad, not bad at all .... especially considering that I haven’t cleaned those stompers in weeks ! Did a good job on the welts and stitches, too ! It must really like those mud-blobs !” He pokes at my face with his right boot ... ”But before we let you have your reward and you get a go at the goodies under those boots, I think you’ve forgot something ..... ”
”Sir, at your service, Sir!” I believe i know what the Master is referring to, but this is all i am allowed to say without permission to answer.
”Well, are you blind or what, you stupid idiot .... look in front of you ! See what I see ... ?”
”Sir, yes, Sir ! Sir, thank you Sir !” He is talking about the chunks of mud that fell from his boots while he was twisting and turning them earlier.
”So ... what are you waiting for ? Get to it and lap up that mess .... and then I want that hole in your pig-face wide open for the main course .... haha !”
I do as i am ordered, and lap up the dirt from the floor. I am lucky the mud is still moist, it makes it much easier to swallow. Once the floor is clean again, i immediately roll over and open my slave-mouth as wide as i can. The Master lifts his right boot and drops the heel right into my mouth, forcing my jaws apart even further. It hurts like hell, but i have no choice and immediately stick out my tongue to start sucking on the moist, soft crud that is embedded in-between the lugs of his heavy boot-soles. The crevices in the profile are filled to the rim with dirt, so there practically is no profile left. The Master is right, this sure is a ‘main course’. I suck, swallow, suck and swallow, and haven’t even reached the part with the special dog-shit ‘treat’ yet ....
”I see you know to handle a slave .... good ! I need someone to keep it busy when i am out of town sometimes ... interested ?”
”Cool ! Sure ! My pleasure ! With the mud accumulation under my boots and sneakers, and now that I know what it really likes, I’ll make it a feast for it that it will never forget ! Ever tried horse-shit on it, too ? I bet you have !” He chuckles.
”Sure, plenty of times ! Wouldn’t want to let it live without the variety, haha ! Even a sub-human slave needs a balanced diet, right ... ?!”
I get kicked under the table again, while munching on the first pieces of dog-shit caked-in in the area in front of the Master’s boot heel.
”I am sure you know Sgt. Gabriel from the Marine Detachment on base ?! Anyway, he is really into horse-riding and shit, and one evening his platoon was having this party on base. I was invited and I always bring along the slave for boot-service and a little entertainment. That evening Gabriel bet me 5:1 that he could eat five hamburgers faster than my slave could devour it’s bowl filled with horse shit ! Well, I played along .... there were some cops from the downtown station attending the party as well, and since they do mounted patrol, they grabbed the slave, threw it into the trunk of their car and drove it down to the stables to pick up a bucket full of horse shit there ...”
”Wow, sounds like a really wild party ... ”
”Yeah, man, you missed some wild fun there ! We made the slave fill up its bowl with that horse dung and got the hamburgers for Sgt. Gabriel. No need to press our little shithead into giving its best, the bucket from the stables was still almost full. We had a ball ! You should’ve seen the guys once the ‘contest’ started .... the Marines supporting Gabriel, the cops and most of the army guys rooting for the slave. Well .... not that I want to brag about it, but our little mud-face here won !! The boys had so much fun watching it gobble down that horse shit, the next bet was two pitchers against a bowl full. Sgt. Dormann gave his best ... I bet u know him, the tall, big guy from Transportation. Always a beer in his shovel hands. I think he’s got the largest feet on base as well, a size 15 or 16 ... huge! ... but ask our little boot-rag down there, it knows ! Anyway, the little sucker won again .... and as a well deserved ‘reward’, the guys voted to let it have the whole bucket full of shit after all, haha ! I am sure that amounted to another six bowls full of manure, but that was hard to tell .... the men started feeding it with their boots. I’ve never seen so many men eager to step into horse shit before ! But a reward is a reward ... and if bootlick had lost, we would’ve just called it its punishment, ha ! Don’t you love it .... you can never loose and you have all the fun, no matter what .... haha ! ”
”So that was that notorious ‘manure-party’ I heard so much about .... too bad I wasn’t stationed here then !!”
”Don’t you worry, there will be other parties with ‘live-entertainment’ ! Use your imagination, maybe you can come up with a fun idea for our next beer-bust ! Like Private Harris ... that guy is a trip, for sure ! One evening he came over with a doggie-bag in hand to get his boots cleaned. The slave was happy to see that, of course, I sometimes bring home leftovers for it like that and it thought it meant chow for it ..... it did a super good job on the Private’s boots, socks and sweaty feet, all the while groveling and whimpering submissively..... ”
”..... Well, it was ‘chow’ alright, but not the kind it expected ... haha ... Harris made it sit up and beg, bark like a dog and all kinds of things, it really was fun to watch. And THEN .... he drops a whole pile of fresh dog-shit into that idiot’s bowl ! forcing it to eat the whole disgusting load right there in front of him, crawling about at his booted feet. He even made it bark after each bite to make sure it swallowed it all ... down to the last stinking crumb ! What a sight !”
”And it does like that stuff !! It’s almost finished with my right boot-sole, and even though most of the dog-shit is under the left, I don’t see it slow down at all .... what a greedy little bootlick, hehe .... !”
The Master laughs as I finish cleaning his right boot-sole by sucking the last bits of slimy muck off from under the toe of the boot. The sole, still wet from my slave spit, is inspected by the Master. He places his right boot on my chest and bends his foot at the ankle, the rim of the heavy size 13 boot-sole painfully cutting into my skin. He seems to be satisfied, and without another word of comment, i am presented the left sole to clean, his right boot resting on my sore chest.
Just like the other one, the left boot-sole is covered with grimy muck and caked in front of and under the heel i discover most of that ‘special treat’ the Master has picked up on the sidewalk on his way over. He must have virtually grinded his boot-heel into the pile of stale dog-shit .... and now it is being dropped into my subjugated slave-face. Of course i have no option and subserviently start consuming the revolting mixture of mud, dirt and dog-shit, much to the amusement of the Masters.
”Look at that greedy little shit-eater !You sure did a good job on this piece, it is gulping down that disgusting shit as if it was a gourmet dinner ! This definitely is the most compliant and subjugated piece of slave-meat I ever stepped on ... congratulations !!”
”Thanks ! I am glad you’re enjoying it, after all this is what it is here for ! You know ... once you have it reduced to its sub-human boot-rag status, it’s easy .... all it needs is a thorough programming and a strict regiment and it will run smoothly. To service and please us is its only purpose and the only reason its allowed to exist ... and being down there at our mercy and whim is the only desire it has left .... it’s like a piece of the furniture and I own it like the boots I am wearing ..... and it knows it is less than the dirt it is munching from under your boots right now .....”
”Keep suckin’ it down, boy ! I wanna see all that shit down your drain where it belongs !! And your Master has another full load of that good stuff waiting under his boots .... guess it’s your lucky day today ... hahaha !!
The Master looks down on me under his boots, laughing sadistically. He moves his right boot up, resting it on my throat and starts ‘teasing’ my nose with the toe of his left boot, then steps on it so that my nose is caught right in front of the heel and begins to sway my slave-head back and forth like a ball. With much effort and with the one boot resting heavily on my throat, i manage to gulp down the last mouthful of slimy dirt from under his boots ...
”Looks like your slave just finished its first course down here ! Do you ever allow it to wash out its pig-snout at all ? The sand and dirt in there might scratch your bootleather otherwise ...”
My Master kicks me under the table and i am released from under the guest’s boots.
”Go wash out that useless opening of yours and fetch your T-shirt rag ! I wanna see some shine on Master Steven’s boots before we allow you to suck the shit out from under mine ! Move it, pea-brain, we ain’t got all day !!”
With both Master’s boots driving me on, i crawl out from under the table and over to my dog-bowl in the kitchen, right next to the garbage can. It still has a pair of dirty soccer socks floating in it, but i leave those for later and just lap up some of the dingy fluid to wash down the rest of the muck i just ate from under Master Steven’s boots. I crawl on to get my boot-rag T out of the boot-shine box in the hallway, carrying it submissively in my slave-mouth, and return under the Table to shine Master Steven’s boots.
I kneel in front of him, bending down until my head is about boot-level and start to polish his right boot. Master Steven lifts his left boot and steps on my right shoulder, pushing me down even further. I drop the boot-rag from my mouth, pick it up and proceed to rub the thick bootleather. The boots obviously haven’t been worked on in some time and will require a much more extensive session to give them the shine a Master’s boots deserve .... a job that will most likely be mine, once i have the boots thrown into my corner to be serviced inside and out.
Once Master Steven’s boots are shined to the best of my ability ( under the circumstances and without the benefit of boot polish ), he kicks me away and i crawl over to my Master’s boots to start on them first licking off the dust and mud-splashes from the tops, then proceeding to the mud-encrusted soles. The job on the boot-tops is a little easier here, as the slimy muck doesn’t stick to the highly polished surface underneath, like it did on Master Steven’s roughened up bootleather. I am almost glad my Master makes me shine and polish his boots over and over every night, sometimes until my arms are aching so much that i can hardly lift them up for his inspection afterwards.
”You know, those boots could really use an expert cleaning detail, inside and out ! And you’re more than welcome to use my little bootlick for it, if you like ! Just give it a night and they will look as new again ! Got any plans for this evening so far ?”
”Not really .... and thanks for your offer ! Actually, I’ve got three more pair like these in my locker, all still covered with the muck from our last exercise. My unit took up position near a farm and you know what kind of shit you step into around there ! I hate cleaning boots to start with .... ”
”Well ... no sweat .. give it two nights and they’ll all be in perfect shape again. It is used to that, half my unit and most of my friends utilize the mud-face like that. Just drop off anything you want serviced and tell it when you need it done ! In the afternoon, at night and whenever I don’t use it in here, it is kept in its kennel in the garage doing just that. It does a great job on sneakers and sinking socks, too ... and I’ve seen your Nikes ... ”
” Yeah, those could use some attention, too ... riding my bike in them really messes them up fast !”
”Well, like I said .... you’re welcome to use the slave as you wish ! Why don’t you come on over tonite and drop off those boots ... we can get its fuck-face started on them and then hit the bars for a couple of drinks ! Bring your dirty socks, too, if you fancy the idea of having them mouth-washed !! Haha !”
”Cool ... sounds good to me ! And as for the socks, I have a full load in my locker, stiff as boards. My roommates are already complaining about the stink, haha ... it’s just that I hate doing laundry ... ”
”Don’t worry, my little sock-sniffin’ bootlick will take care of that from now on !! Time to get back to base ... lets see if our boots can pick up a hearty dinner for that groveling piece of shit somewhere ... !!”
My Master kicks me away and i resume position of attention again, awaiting further orders. The Masters get up and i grovel at their booted feet, hoping for a few leftovers from their lunch, especially after all that dog-shit i had to swallow.
”Well, dickhead, I am afraid the dog-shit was all the ‘treat’ you’re having today, haha ... or do you have anything left, Steven ?”
”Some mustard is all there is ... almost as spicy as dog-shit, I bet .... here is comes, sucker ...”
Master Steven spills some mustard on the floor right in front of his boots. My Master places his right boot on my back ....
”Go for it ... and then be a good dog and thank the Master ... !”
I do as i am ordered and lap up the mustard from the floor, while my Master is shoving me down with his boot on my back. Then i drop to my elbows and subserviently kiss Master Steven’s boot-toes .
”Sir, thank you, Sir”
I crawl after them as the proceed to the front door and the boot-kissing ritual is repeated again.
”Now, get back to work, shithead ! Better hurry up with those soccer socks, I want them ready tonite ! And prepare my AirMax HiTops for tonight as well ... ”
Master Steven pokes at my head with his booted foot ....
”Step on you later, sock-face .... and just wait until you get to taste my socks ... not to mention the
stinking sneakers, haha ! My foot-stink is notorious in this Army and trust me, not without reason !!!”
They slam the door in my face and i return to my kennel to start working on the 17 pairs of dirty, sweaty, stinking soccer socks that were dropped off the day before .....
I usually sleep in my corner, on a single-layer mat, chained to the floor. When the time-lock on my chain is released, i remove the sneaker mask and the boot-sock, returning the sneaker to its place on the sneaker shelf and dropping the sock into the bowl with my water, for later service ( the only water i am allowed to drink is the water used to soak and rinse out dirty socks, sweat-soaked insoles or for washing my Master’s sweaty feet ).
My Master is still asleep so i crawl into the kitchen and quietly start preparing his breakfast. When it is time to wake him up, i crawl into the bedroom to the foot end of his bed and start licking his feet. Once i am kicked away, i move forward to the side of the bed to be available in case my Master feels like rinsing out my mouth with his morning piss ( he usually does ). Then, while my Master is in the shower, i lay out his uniform and the boots i have prepared the night before.
When he is done in the bathroom, he puts on his uniform, except for the boot-socks and boots, that will be my job under the table while he is having his breakfast.
When he sits at the table I serve his food and coffee and then present the boots for a final inspection. That is always a crucial moment, especially if my Master had been out partying the night before and doesn’t feel so good - the boots better be spotless and shiny, or else i will remain without food for the rest of the day ( not counting the mud and dirt i will inevitably have to eat from under his boots later ) .... or worse.
Once approval is given, i crawl under the table to lick his feet one more time and then put his socks and boots on his feet and remain there polishing them over and over until my Master is ready to leave for duty. If he is in a good mood, he sometimes lets bits and pieces of food drop to the floor to watch me lap them up, once permission is given to do so. He even does that when he is in a bad mood, only then i am not allowed to go for them but have to wipe them up later on and throw them away. He finds that very entertaining.
Then, when he is done eating and there are leftovers, he picks out whatever he thinks i am worthy of, and drops them into my dog-dish next to the garbage can. Otherwise it’s dog-food or whatever is left from last nights dinner.
He looks down at me disdainfully and kicks me in the side ...
”Enjoy your breakfast, shit-head, looks almost as disgusting as you do down there .... but don’t you worry, we’ll be out in the field today, so there will be plenty of yum yum mud for you under my boots for you later, haha !”
My Master is an NCO, an Army Drill Sergeant, and he never worries about getting his boots dirty - after all, what does he own a bootslave for !
On all fours i follow him to the door and kiss his boots once again, shiny and clean after hours of servicing and polishing them. It will probably take him less than 10 minutes out there in the field to provide me with several more hours of work.
”Better get your ass in gear, worthless fuck, my buddies from the soccer team expect their socks and cleats nice and clean by noon tomorrow, and i don’t want to hear any complaints ! Got that, pea-brain ?!? ”
During the morning while my Master is out, i do my household chores, cleaning the house, doing the dishes, taking care of his uniform and so on; as well as my slave duties, the soccer thing being the latest addition to that duty.
My Master decided i could very well use the extra practice and that i wasn’t fully utilized anyway, so he offered my slave-mouth as a sock-laundry to his soccer-team buddies. They all obviously enjoy the idea of having a slave launder their grimy, sweat-soaked and dirty socks in its mouth, so now, after each practice session and especially the weekend games, i receive a full load of dirty, stinking, crusty socks to service.
And those socks really are dirty ! The guys must get a kick out of raunching them up especially for me, some apparently wear them for days ( or sessions ) in a row and run around in their socked feet in the locker-rooms or even outside. It gets harder every time to chew and suck out all the matted crud and grime out of the fabric. Especially after a game in bad weather it is hard to tell the original color of the socks at times. But of course i have no choice ... so i start on the pile of stinking socks as soon as my Master has departed.
First each sock is ‘prewashed’ individually and the mud and dirt loosened up - by stuffing it into my slave-opening. With a little help of sock-water ( i have plenty of that these days ), i soften the dirt-stiff socks and suck out as much of the died-in foot-sweat and dirt as i can. Then, after about half an hour each, the sock is dropped in a pan of warm water to let it soak some more. After an hour in there, the sock is returned to my mouth for another ‘chew-and-suck’.
This process is repeated for as long as it takes to get all the sweat, dirt, foot-powder and grimy toe-jam into my drinking water or right down my drain where it belongs. The water in the pan is usually dark brown with dirt by the time a few pair are done, and i have to drink the stale fluid before i am allowed to replace it with fresh water.
Only the final rinse is done in the washer, mainly to get my slave spit out, but without the use of any scented detergent - it’s pure foot-stink they want for me. Normally i am just about done with one load by the time i receive the next delivery .....
Once in a while, a player would drop by to observe the cleaning of his socks personally, always a very humiliating experience for me. And of course i always end up servicing his footgear and feet as well.
Especially Master Mike does that frequently, he has a terrible foot-odor problem and uses a lot of ( unscented, naturally ) foot-powder. He gets a real kick out of watching me chewing and sucking that slimy mixture out of his size 13 socks. I regularly service his huge cleats as well, and the encrusted powder and sweat/dirt i scratch out of the insides and from the bottoms is my ‘meal of the week’ as he calls it.
My Master is running special ‘soccer-cleat-service’ sessions with me now, he plans on taking me to the locker-room once i am fast enough to provide my services right there for anyone interested - and i am sure the w hole team will have fun stepping into my face to watch me eat the dirt from under their cleats. So i have to be fast and thorough at the same time ....
My Master normally picks up some food at the canteen or a fast-food place and returns home during his lunch-break, as the base is right around the corner. For his lunch - and a little bootservice, of course. Normally his boots are already dirty and sometimes covered with mud by then, so i either replace them with a fresh pair or service them right there and then.
He frequently invites one or two other soldiers over to have company and demonstrate my usefulness as well. Even though that means extra work and always a lot of humiliation for me, i am sort of glad when he does ..... when the Masters are satisfied with my services, that also is a chance for some extra food in my bowl. I am usually fed the leftovers afterwards.
So when i hear more than my Master’s heavy boots on the walkway outside, i know what to expect while i prepare myself to greet my Master and his guest.
I kneel at the door, assuming the ‘attention position’, my hands flat on the floor, fingers together, arms straight down from my shoulders, knees together, my head subserviently lowered, facing down and forward. After all, my Master is a Drill Sergeant and very creative when it comes to imagining slave-positions for my various functions. And i better do it exactly right, as he is just as creative when it comes to finding ways to punish a careless slave-ass !
I am wearing my dog-collar, a wide steel-band he constructed with a variety of multi-function hooks and loops attached to it, as well as a pair of cut-offs full of holes. Those used to be jeans and blue, but they are black from boot-grease and polish now. That and an old T-shirt is all i ever get to wear, but the T is mainly used to polish his boots with and has not been washed in a year. I only have permission to wear it when he takes me out for a service session on base, his club or a biker meeting and such.
The door swings open and i am facing my Master’s boots, as well as another pair i don’t recognize. They must belong to one of the new arrivals on base i heard my Master talk about on the phone. I don’t recall having service that pair before, and even though i have serviced plenty, i usually remember them very well, having been so very ‘close’ to them ( well, ‘under’ them, mostly ).
Both my Master’s and his guest’s boots are covered with mud and dirt, it had been raining the night before and must still be very slushy out there in the field. The mud is still moist and big chunks are sticking to the stitching along the sides, just above the soles, as well as in-between the lugs under the serrated soles - my ‘lunch’ for the day !
I move forward to greet my Master by kissing the toes of his dirty boots, first his right, then the left, changing into the ‘greeting-position’, dropping to my elbows, my slave-ass in the air for easy whip access. Then i immediately proceed to greet my Master’s guest in the same manner. His boots are big, a size 12 at least, and well worn.
”So this is that groveling slave-piece you told me about ..... no wonder you always have the shiniest boots on base .... even though there isn’t much left of it right now .... haha !”
”Don’t you worry, buddy, by the time we return to work, these boots will shine like a mirror again, and so will yours ! They better be, or else this here piece of shit is in deep trouble ..... hear me, peabrain !!??”
Saying that, my Master places his right boot on my neck and pushes me down on the other soldier’s left boot.
”Take a good look at that mud and grime we got for you, shithead .... we want ALL that down your sewer drain where it belongs ! So move it, bootlick, out of the way and under the table, we ain’t got all day !”
I turn and crawl towards the dining room when my Master kicks me in the side and i loose my balance, tumbling over.
”You clumsy shit ! Move it, I said ..... !!” he laughs and they walk on.
While they move over to the dining table, i get a chance to see of the new Master than just his booted feet, it is normally hard to see much else from my all-fours position and i am never allowed to look a Master in the face. The Master is a young, huge, almost chubby guy, about twenty years of age, the kind of guy you’d think would be the friendly, easy-going type. But the sardonic grin on his face tells me otherwise. He is ‘just’ a PFC, but of course that is without significance to me, i am trained to service anyone in uniform and follow their orders as if coming from my Master himself.
The Masters sit down at the table and after i have serviced their beverages, i crawl under the table to start servicing their dirty boots.
”Does it really eat all that dirt ‘n shit, or were you just putting me on ??” The Master looks down at his mud-covered boots .....
”Just watch, it will eat anything you give it - why else do you think I asked you to step into the pile of stale dog-shit on the way over ? That will be the icing on its cake today, so to speak .... haha .... you’ll see !!”
”Wow, this is going to be fun !”
” You bet !” My Master kicks me again. ” Get started, you worthless fuck, and show our guest some hospitality ! After all, we even have a special ‘treat’ for your slobbering mud-mouth under there .... ! Go for it ... !”
I move over towards the guest’s boots and start licking the dust, dirt and splashes of mud from the tops of his boots. He positions himself sideways to be able to watch and even though i can’t see it, i can sense the expression of contempt on his face while he looks down on me eating the dirt from his boots. He twists and turns his booted foot to make sure i don’t miss a single spot, while i try to pay special attention to the mud crumbs that are sticking to the laces and eyelets.
”Where was i ... oh yes, the dog-shit .... too bad it wasn’t fresh ! It is much more fun to use it’s sock-sniffin’ nose to scratch the slimy shit out from in-between the lugs, smear it all over its dog-face and then watch it eat the stuff ! Well, maybe next time ... haha !”
”Yeah ... I’d really dig that !!”
” .... you know, as for the entertainment it provides, nothing really beats fresh, moist dog-shit .... not sure about the taste part though, haha ! Some fresh cow-pat maybe, but you don’t find that much here in town. It does get it’s share of that when I go out to the Rodeo or visit friends on their ranch, though. Lots of fun to watch the cowboys step into that shit and then force the poor thing to consume it all !”
”Let me know next time you go, and I’ll give it a taste of my spurs, too ... haha !”
”It took a lot of whipping at first, but it gets better at it every time .... it still gets the horse-whip, but that is mainly for our entertainment, and to speed it up a little. By now it is used to that shit being part of his diet, haha ! And if its good, we wash down the manure with our recycled beer, if it screws up, a load of horse’s piss does the job just the same .... haha !”
I am about finished licking the tops of the Master’s boots and he pulls them from my face to inspect them.
”Not bad, not bad at all .... especially considering that I haven’t cleaned those stompers in weeks ! Did a good job on the welts and stitches, too ! It must really like those mud-blobs !” He pokes at my face with his right boot ... ”But before we let you have your reward and you get a go at the goodies under those boots, I think you’ve forgot something ..... ”
”Sir, at your service, Sir!” I believe i know what the Master is referring to, but this is all i am allowed to say without permission to answer.
”Well, are you blind or what, you stupid idiot .... look in front of you ! See what I see ... ?”
”Sir, yes, Sir ! Sir, thank you Sir !” He is talking about the chunks of mud that fell from his boots while he was twisting and turning them earlier.
”So ... what are you waiting for ? Get to it and lap up that mess .... and then I want that hole in your pig-face wide open for the main course .... haha !”
I do as i am ordered, and lap up the dirt from the floor. I am lucky the mud is still moist, it makes it much easier to swallow. Once the floor is clean again, i immediately roll over and open my slave-mouth as wide as i can. The Master lifts his right boot and drops the heel right into my mouth, forcing my jaws apart even further. It hurts like hell, but i have no choice and immediately stick out my tongue to start sucking on the moist, soft crud that is embedded in-between the lugs of his heavy boot-soles. The crevices in the profile are filled to the rim with dirt, so there practically is no profile left. The Master is right, this sure is a ‘main course’. I suck, swallow, suck and swallow, and haven’t even reached the part with the special dog-shit ‘treat’ yet ....
”I see you know to handle a slave .... good ! I need someone to keep it busy when i am out of town sometimes ... interested ?”
”Cool ! Sure ! My pleasure ! With the mud accumulation under my boots and sneakers, and now that I know what it really likes, I’ll make it a feast for it that it will never forget ! Ever tried horse-shit on it, too ? I bet you have !” He chuckles.
”Sure, plenty of times ! Wouldn’t want to let it live without the variety, haha ! Even a sub-human slave needs a balanced diet, right ... ?!”
I get kicked under the table again, while munching on the first pieces of dog-shit caked-in in the area in front of the Master’s boot heel.
”I am sure you know Sgt. Gabriel from the Marine Detachment on base ?! Anyway, he is really into horse-riding and shit, and one evening his platoon was having this party on base. I was invited and I always bring along the slave for boot-service and a little entertainment. That evening Gabriel bet me 5:1 that he could eat five hamburgers faster than my slave could devour it’s bowl filled with horse shit ! Well, I played along .... there were some cops from the downtown station attending the party as well, and since they do mounted patrol, they grabbed the slave, threw it into the trunk of their car and drove it down to the stables to pick up a bucket full of horse shit there ...”
”Wow, sounds like a really wild party ... ”
”Yeah, man, you missed some wild fun there ! We made the slave fill up its bowl with that horse dung and got the hamburgers for Sgt. Gabriel. No need to press our little shithead into giving its best, the bucket from the stables was still almost full. We had a ball ! You should’ve seen the guys once the ‘contest’ started .... the Marines supporting Gabriel, the cops and most of the army guys rooting for the slave. Well .... not that I want to brag about it, but our little mud-face here won !! The boys had so much fun watching it gobble down that horse shit, the next bet was two pitchers against a bowl full. Sgt. Dormann gave his best ... I bet u know him, the tall, big guy from Transportation. Always a beer in his shovel hands. I think he’s got the largest feet on base as well, a size 15 or 16 ... huge! ... but ask our little boot-rag down there, it knows ! Anyway, the little sucker won again .... and as a well deserved ‘reward’, the guys voted to let it have the whole bucket full of shit after all, haha ! I am sure that amounted to another six bowls full of manure, but that was hard to tell .... the men started feeding it with their boots. I’ve never seen so many men eager to step into horse shit before ! But a reward is a reward ... and if bootlick had lost, we would’ve just called it its punishment, ha ! Don’t you love it .... you can never loose and you have all the fun, no matter what .... haha ! ”
”So that was that notorious ‘manure-party’ I heard so much about .... too bad I wasn’t stationed here then !!”
”Don’t you worry, there will be other parties with ‘live-entertainment’ ! Use your imagination, maybe you can come up with a fun idea for our next beer-bust ! Like Private Harris ... that guy is a trip, for sure ! One evening he came over with a doggie-bag in hand to get his boots cleaned. The slave was happy to see that, of course, I sometimes bring home leftovers for it like that and it thought it meant chow for it ..... it did a super good job on the Private’s boots, socks and sweaty feet, all the while groveling and whimpering submissively..... ”
”..... Well, it was ‘chow’ alright, but not the kind it expected ... haha ... Harris made it sit up and beg, bark like a dog and all kinds of things, it really was fun to watch. And THEN .... he drops a whole pile of fresh dog-shit into that idiot’s bowl ! forcing it to eat the whole disgusting load right there in front of him, crawling about at his booted feet. He even made it bark after each bite to make sure it swallowed it all ... down to the last stinking crumb ! What a sight !”
”And it does like that stuff !! It’s almost finished with my right boot-sole, and even though most of the dog-shit is under the left, I don’t see it slow down at all .... what a greedy little bootlick, hehe .... !”
The Master laughs as I finish cleaning his right boot-sole by sucking the last bits of slimy muck off from under the toe of the boot. The sole, still wet from my slave spit, is inspected by the Master. He places his right boot on my chest and bends his foot at the ankle, the rim of the heavy size 13 boot-sole painfully cutting into my skin. He seems to be satisfied, and without another word of comment, i am presented the left sole to clean, his right boot resting on my sore chest.
Just like the other one, the left boot-sole is covered with grimy muck and caked in front of and under the heel i discover most of that ‘special treat’ the Master has picked up on the sidewalk on his way over. He must have virtually grinded his boot-heel into the pile of stale dog-shit .... and now it is being dropped into my subjugated slave-face. Of course i have no option and subserviently start consuming the revolting mixture of mud, dirt and dog-shit, much to the amusement of the Masters.
”Look at that greedy little shit-eater !You sure did a good job on this piece, it is gulping down that disgusting shit as if it was a gourmet dinner ! This definitely is the most compliant and subjugated piece of slave-meat I ever stepped on ... congratulations !!”
”Thanks ! I am glad you’re enjoying it, after all this is what it is here for ! You know ... once you have it reduced to its sub-human boot-rag status, it’s easy .... all it needs is a thorough programming and a strict regiment and it will run smoothly. To service and please us is its only purpose and the only reason its allowed to exist ... and being down there at our mercy and whim is the only desire it has left .... it’s like a piece of the furniture and I own it like the boots I am wearing ..... and it knows it is less than the dirt it is munching from under your boots right now .....”
”Keep suckin’ it down, boy ! I wanna see all that shit down your drain where it belongs !! And your Master has another full load of that good stuff waiting under his boots .... guess it’s your lucky day today ... hahaha !!
The Master looks down on me under his boots, laughing sadistically. He moves his right boot up, resting it on my throat and starts ‘teasing’ my nose with the toe of his left boot, then steps on it so that my nose is caught right in front of the heel and begins to sway my slave-head back and forth like a ball. With much effort and with the one boot resting heavily on my throat, i manage to gulp down the last mouthful of slimy dirt from under his boots ...
”Looks like your slave just finished its first course down here ! Do you ever allow it to wash out its pig-snout at all ? The sand and dirt in there might scratch your bootleather otherwise ...”
My Master kicks me under the table and i am released from under the guest’s boots.
”Go wash out that useless opening of yours and fetch your T-shirt rag ! I wanna see some shine on Master Steven’s boots before we allow you to suck the shit out from under mine ! Move it, pea-brain, we ain’t got all day !!”
With both Master’s boots driving me on, i crawl out from under the table and over to my dog-bowl in the kitchen, right next to the garbage can. It still has a pair of dirty soccer socks floating in it, but i leave those for later and just lap up some of the dingy fluid to wash down the rest of the muck i just ate from under Master Steven’s boots. I crawl on to get my boot-rag T out of the boot-shine box in the hallway, carrying it submissively in my slave-mouth, and return under the Table to shine Master Steven’s boots.
I kneel in front of him, bending down until my head is about boot-level and start to polish his right boot. Master Steven lifts his left boot and steps on my right shoulder, pushing me down even further. I drop the boot-rag from my mouth, pick it up and proceed to rub the thick bootleather. The boots obviously haven’t been worked on in some time and will require a much more extensive session to give them the shine a Master’s boots deserve .... a job that will most likely be mine, once i have the boots thrown into my corner to be serviced inside and out.
Once Master Steven’s boots are shined to the best of my ability ( under the circumstances and without the benefit of boot polish ), he kicks me away and i crawl over to my Master’s boots to start on them first licking off the dust and mud-splashes from the tops, then proceeding to the mud-encrusted soles. The job on the boot-tops is a little easier here, as the slimy muck doesn’t stick to the highly polished surface underneath, like it did on Master Steven’s roughened up bootleather. I am almost glad my Master makes me shine and polish his boots over and over every night, sometimes until my arms are aching so much that i can hardly lift them up for his inspection afterwards.
”You know, those boots could really use an expert cleaning detail, inside and out ! And you’re more than welcome to use my little bootlick for it, if you like ! Just give it a night and they will look as new again ! Got any plans for this evening so far ?”
”Not really .... and thanks for your offer ! Actually, I’ve got three more pair like these in my locker, all still covered with the muck from our last exercise. My unit took up position near a farm and you know what kind of shit you step into around there ! I hate cleaning boots to start with .... ”
”Well ... no sweat .. give it two nights and they’ll all be in perfect shape again. It is used to that, half my unit and most of my friends utilize the mud-face like that. Just drop off anything you want serviced and tell it when you need it done ! In the afternoon, at night and whenever I don’t use it in here, it is kept in its kennel in the garage doing just that. It does a great job on sneakers and sinking socks, too ... and I’ve seen your Nikes ... ”
” Yeah, those could use some attention, too ... riding my bike in them really messes them up fast !”
”Well, like I said .... you’re welcome to use the slave as you wish ! Why don’t you come on over tonite and drop off those boots ... we can get its fuck-face started on them and then hit the bars for a couple of drinks ! Bring your dirty socks, too, if you fancy the idea of having them mouth-washed !! Haha !”
”Cool ... sounds good to me ! And as for the socks, I have a full load in my locker, stiff as boards. My roommates are already complaining about the stink, haha ... it’s just that I hate doing laundry ... ”
”Don’t worry, my little sock-sniffin’ bootlick will take care of that from now on !! Time to get back to base ... lets see if our boots can pick up a hearty dinner for that groveling piece of shit somewhere ... !!”
My Master kicks me away and i resume position of attention again, awaiting further orders. The Masters get up and i grovel at their booted feet, hoping for a few leftovers from their lunch, especially after all that dog-shit i had to swallow.
”Well, dickhead, I am afraid the dog-shit was all the ‘treat’ you’re having today, haha ... or do you have anything left, Steven ?”
”Some mustard is all there is ... almost as spicy as dog-shit, I bet .... here is comes, sucker ...”
Master Steven spills some mustard on the floor right in front of his boots. My Master places his right boot on my back ....
”Go for it ... and then be a good dog and thank the Master ... !”
I do as i am ordered and lap up the mustard from the floor, while my Master is shoving me down with his boot on my back. Then i drop to my elbows and subserviently kiss Master Steven’s boot-toes .
”Sir, thank you, Sir”
I crawl after them as the proceed to the front door and the boot-kissing ritual is repeated again.
”Now, get back to work, shithead ! Better hurry up with those soccer socks, I want them ready tonite ! And prepare my AirMax HiTops for tonight as well ... ”
Master Steven pokes at my head with his booted foot ....
”Step on you later, sock-face .... and just wait until you get to taste my socks ... not to mention the
stinking sneakers, haha ! My foot-stink is notorious in this Army and trust me, not without reason !!!”
They slam the door in my face and i return to my kennel to start working on the 17 pairs of dirty, sweaty, stinking soccer socks that were dropped off the day before .....