Holly knocked on
the door as she came into the office. The poor slave who had been working there
almost fell off his chair. The Goddess was wearing her burgundy leather Acme
boots, the same boots the slave had been writing about all day.
�How�s
my story coming, slave?�, she asked as she walked up behind the trembling worm.
The sound of her clunking boot-heels was heavy and sharp. The slave�s heart
pounded faster and helpless desire burned between his legs. �I wrote thirty
pages so far, Goddess...�, the slave stammered, trying not to look down at the
dark red cowboy boots right next to him.
�How many men did I step on
with my boots?� she asked as she rocked one boot on its heel. The slave stole a
glance downward and almost shot a load of cum. The rounded toe of the boot,
hovering inches from the floor. He knew there was a toe-plate under there...if
only he could see it!
�I asked you how many men?�, Holly pointed towards
the computer screen and the slave looked back at his work, sweat breaking across
his face. �I...I...lost count, Goddess, maybe a hundred....�
�Print it
out. I want to read it so far,� she commanded. The slave obeyed, turning on the
printer and desperately trying to avoid looking at the Goddess� heavy boots as
she walked then sat down in the armchair next to the computer desk. She had both
boots resting flatly on the floor. Holly smirked as she watched the slave�s
nervousness.
�You want to look at my boots? It�s okay�.
The
slave took a gulp then stared at the beautiful Acme boots. The shafts had
elegant western stitching and a distinctive white piping that ran up to the
pull-tabs. That same piping ran along the very top of the dip-tops. His eyes
popped wide open at the round toes and the thick, black heels and all he could
think of was what he had been told to write about that day.
�M...may...I
see the plates, G...Goddess?�, the slave mumbled.
Holly laughed. �You
memorized what�s under these boots? Tell me exactly.�
�Beautiful
toe-plates...three studs each, and heel-plates, six studs...they go all the way
around the heel...�, the slave started to lean forward, almost slobbering.
�My horsehoe plates? You like
them, don�t you?�, she teased. �Oh, Goddess! I worship them! I�ve been staring
at pictures of the bottoms of your boots all day and writing stories about them
and praying to them and...�, the slave wanted so badly to fall from his chair
and worship the boots with his tongue.
�You�re a little bug, do you know
that? I told you to worship the plates under my boots and now you�re completey
obssessed�. Holly laughed hysterically and ran one hand up and down the shaft of
her boot. �If I show you the bottom of this boot, you�ll die under it, you know
that, right?�
The slave couldn�t hold it in any longer. He fell onto the
floor with his tongue hanging out. The round toes of the red Acme boots were six
inches from his desperate face. He could almost see the thin layer of metal from
the toe-plates!
�Please, Goddess! I worship your toe-plates and your
heel-plates!,� pleaded the slave.
Holly slid the one boot a few inches
forward and very slowly raised the toe less than an inch off the floor. The
slave could see the round shape of the metal toe-plate better. He could begin to
see the three stud-holes. He crawled a little closer and stared intently.
�Look how clean and shiny that plate is, slave. Do you understand how
perfect the bottom of my boot is?�
The slave jerked off like crazy as
Holly lifted the toe another inch. Now he could see the entire toe-plate.
�Worship that metal plate, little man�, she commanded, �my brand new toe-plate�.
The slave eagerly licked the smooth metal, tasting the indentations of
the three studs. He was playing with himself and moaning with helpless desire.
He ran his tongue far enough over the plate to also taste the very smooth
leather of the boot-sole.
Holly smiled down at her toe-plate slave. She
firmly pressed the plate against the man�s lips. �Kiss it now�, she whispered.
�I like the loud, clicking noise these plates make when I walk, and I like to
see men kissing them�.
The slave anxiously kissed the curved metal
plate, then automatically started licking it again. The silver was so shiny and
new!
Holly lifted the boot up, away from the slave, and crossed it over
one knee. She ran her fingers over the sole of the boot as she talked. �Now you
can come up here and worship my heel-plate too�.
The slave scrambled to
his knees and looked closely at the bottom of the beautiful Acme boot. The sight
was too much to behold. The perfect toe-plate that he had been licking and
kissing...the smooth, tan leather of the sole, the black rubber heel with the
tread, and greatest of all....the horseshoe plate that covered more than half of
the heel bottom! Six studs, just as he had been taught, and all of that sharp
metal! He became light-headed and almost passed out.
Holly lightly
touched the large heel-plate with her finger. �This is where you belong, tiny
slave. Under my heel-plate�. The slave lunged forward with his tongue and washed
over the heavenly plate. He couldn�t believe that, after writing about it all
day, he was actually tasting one of the heel-plates under Goddess Holly�s Acme
boot!
She smiled at the worthless bug. �I�m going to shrink you and let
you explore the bottom of this heel. Would you like that? Maybe you could fit on
top of one of these...?�, she said as she pointed to one of the stud heads. The
slave begged to be shrunk, �Please, Goddess, your heel-plate is everything to
me! It�s all I ever want to be, just a bug stuck under your heel-plate!�
Goddess Holly shrunk the poor slave and watched him with amusement as he
squirmed on her denim-covered knee. The tiny thing was staring up at her now
gigantic boot-heel, and her impossibly shiny metal horseshoe plate.
�How
does it feel to look up and see the bottom of a woman�s boot? To see the tread
under her heel? To see the plate she just had put on at the shoe repairers�? The
little man squirmed helplessly, afraid to crawl closer to the giant boot-heel.
Holly ran her finger along the sharp back edge of the plate. �Do you know I file
these plates to make the edges sharp? And look how shiny they are? Crawl closer,
slave�.
The tiny man begged as it wriggled its way across the denim,
less than an inch from the monstrous silver plate. He was closing in on the head
of one of the nails, the second one in that was fairly deep set. He got right up
to the deep impression in the metal and squirmed his whole little body into it.
Holly laughed at the miniscule, insignificant slave, pressing itself
into the tiny indentation on her horseshoe plate. The man was smaller than the
head of one of those nails! She excitedly tapped the toe and heel of her other
boot on the floor, making loud clicking noises as she gently touched her
fingertip on top of the stuck little man.
�Hear me tap my other boot?
That�s why I like having plates. Isn�t that a beautiful noise? Aren�t you glad I
let you play on my heel-plate?� She pressed the tiny man a little firmer, making
him squirm under her fingertip into the head of the bashed in nail. �I watched
these plates get put on. I saw the nails get hammered in. The girl in the shoe
repairer�s told me she keeps a whole drawerful of tiny slaves in with the box of
new plates. She said they lick the holes of the plates. She even has a box with
old, rusted plates. I saw little men in there, too. They were crawling all over
the plates and jerking off. I like that...men that worship the rusted plates
from women�s cowboy boots�.
The tiny man twitched as it masterbated
under Holly�s finger. She finally lifted her finger away and laughed at the
slave cumming. �Now you can explore the rest of this plate. Start crawling
around. You�re going to pick which nail I squish you into�.
The man
obeyed, looking forward to the moment when he joined Goddess Holly�s heel-plate
forever!
