"I know where you are, little worm. It must be heaven for you. Let's see what you're made of..." and with that she pressed her sleeve down all the way, trapping you between the two surfaces of supple leather. You are so trapped you can barely wriggle.
"I can feel you squirming under my sleeve. I bet you're made of icky guts..." Goddess Barbara made a small wiping motion, rubbing her sleeve into her boot-shaft, smearing your trapped body instantly into soft jelly. It was a quiet, gentile sound of leather rubbing against leather with a little juice squirting in between. She lifted her sleeve up and looked at the faint traces of wetness on both her sleeve and her boot.