An earnest submissive longs to please his mistress — and ends up pleasuring another, to boot!

Don’t look now — here comes trouble,” Mistress Diane cooed to me. Her large, dark eyes burned as if lit with a deep fire from within. I gazed up at her from my special spot at her side. I take great satisfaction in my mistress’s appearance. She is haughty and regal on an average day, but for a night out clubbing, she goes the distance.

That evening, her chestnut tresses were pulled into a tight ponytail, accentuating her dramatic cheekbones and plump, pink lips. She was wearing a formfitting bodysuit made of bright red vinyl that featured a zipper running from her tits to her clit and beyond. The suit showcased her hourglass figure to perfection.

To complete her ensemble, she had on thigh-high fishnet stockings that magically stayed in place without garters and boots that reached just past her knees. The entire outfit twanged my desires, but the boots are what made my cock hard.

I had been preparing to worship her patent leather footwear, but her words piqued my interest.

Of course, her statement made me want to look. But I know my place, and my place is in the shadow of Mistress Diane. From nine to five, I am a high-powered business executive. But every evening as soon as I walk through her door, I become her sub, her pet, her plaything. On weekends, when I’m exceptionally lucky, she takes me out. That night we were at one of her favorite clubs. Around us were scattered other submissives and dominants, assorted males and females who lived to serve and be served. Nearby, a brunette woman was on her hands and knees, wearing a white lace teddy and a collar that glinted with the sparkle of tiny rhinestones. A metal leash attached her to an authoritative blonde wearing a white suit and a black satin tie. They cut an attractive picture, this duo, but I didn’t think they were the object of Mistress Diane’s comment.

Then from the corner of my eye I spied one of Mistress Diane’s friendly rivals, a dominatrix named Michelle who was towing her latest boy toy behind her on a black leather leash. He was wearing a matching collar, a pair of black silk boxers and nothing else. I was similarly attired, although my shorts were the blue of the sky at dusk.

“May I lick your boots?” I asked subserviently. Did she want to show Michelle her power over me? Or did she want me to simply remain at her side, like an adoring pet? I would do whatever she desired. During our four years together, she’s trained me well. When I behave as she desires, she rewards me. When I fail her, she punishes me. Sometimes my rewards would seem to be of the punishing variety to the casual observer, but my desires are different from most.

Michelle parked herself at Diane’s side on the leather banquette and said, “What a handsome little boot-polisher you have there. Would he be interested in worshiping mine?”

Oh, the torture. Yes, I would definitely be interested, but the question was directed toward my mistress. I had no right to announce my fervent desire.

Michelle was wearing wine-red boots that reached her thighs. They were made from some soft kind of shiny material. Bendy and flexy. I wanted to taste them. I wanted to lick all the way up the left one, flutter my tongue against her pussy — which was covered by tiny panties — and then travel down her other gorgeous gam. I wanted…

“He’s very good,” Mistress Diane said magnanimously. Her praise made my chest swell.

“Definitely a charmer,” Michelle cooed, leaning forward to pet my head.

“As is yours,” Diane responded, indicating Donny.

For a moment, there was silence, as the two women observed each other’s submissive. I had an idea of what might happen, but I didn’t want to get my hopes — or my cock — up.

The ladies began discussing us, as if we weren’t even there — like we were their possessions, which we were.

As I eavesdropped, I stared at Donny. He was a little newer to the scene, more of a pup than me. He appeared to be holding himself in check — chest forward, head up. A statue. A beautiful specimen of male servitude.

I could see his appeal, but I knew that Mistress Diane appreciated what I had to offer. I wasn’t jealous or even competitive. I simply waited to see what would happen next. And what happened was…

“A race.”

“Really?” queried my lady.

“Yes, but we’ll swap.”

“To make things even more complicated.”

“I love a complicated climax.”

Oh, my heart started to pound quickly. Mistress Michelle explained the rules. I would lick her boots — and beyond — while at the same time Donny would take care of my lady. Whoever made his dominatrix of the moment come first was the winner. There would be, I supposed, a reward for the winner and quite possibly a punishment for the loser, but our queens did not bother to announce those details. Still, my dick throbbed with excitement. I felt the beast in my shorts twitch powerfully with desire. I didn’t care how I got off in the end, only that I would. Mistress Diane always takes me where I need to go — when she decides I’m ready. I trusted her to take care of me. I always do.

Donny and I switched places. I started at the tip of Mistress Michelle’s toes and showcased all my talents. I licked and slicked my tongue against her right boot. I raised my haunches high in the air while bringing my face down low. While I was worshiping my temporary mistress’s wares, I was aware of Donny behaving similarly at my side. I could hear the sound of his tongue lapping busily. I listened for the noises I associate with my lady’s pleasure. I wondered if she’d sigh and moan for him the way she does for me, and if she’d praise him for his skills. My ears were perked at first. But slowly I grew more focused on my own task, becoming consumed by my desire to please the regal woman before me.

“I rubbed my chin against her concealed cunt and tongued her panties.”

Two boot worshippers turned out to be better than one, as anyone might have guessed. Donny laved Diane, while I manhandled Michelle. I used my hands to bring her boots up to my face, one at a time, and I made sure my tongue traced over every luscious inch of the shiny material. There would be no spot left unlicked if I did my job right. I began to fantasize about the way Michelle might taste when I finally reached her pussy. I wondered if she’d be slightly sweet like my mistress or have a sharper flavor — if she kept her pussy shaved bare or if she’d have a bush for me to get lost in. I didn’t have a preference. I was being fueled by anticipation and lust.

Every so often, I would raise my head to appraise Donny’s technique. He was doing a fine job, dutifully licking my mistress’s boots. But he seemed — at least to me — more methodical and measured in his motions. I was on fire, a seething ball of activity. I used the palms of my hands to cradle Mistress Michelle’s lean legs, and I even dared to suck on her spiked heels. She seemed to appreciate my earnest efforts.

The two ladies did their best to maintain a conversation while Donny and I worked below their waists. I heard snippets of their words, but mostly their conversation flowed over me, the cadence of their voices a soothing backbeat to my labor of lust.

“Don’t hold back,” Mistress Michelle teased as I tentatively broached her unclothed thigh above the band of her right boot. Because I had been given a green light, I licked her naked skin with the same gusto I’d bestowed upon her fancy footwear. I allowed myself to bask in the way my temporary mistress tasted. Her skin was pale and supple, and I even nipped the tops of her thighs. This brought a surprised squeal to her lips, which amped me up even further.

I wanted her to be out of her head with desire by the time she felt my tongue on her pussy. As just a tease, I licked the crotch of her panties — but made no attempt to delve beneath.

“Oh, yes, oh, dear,” she sighed. I took her exclamations as a positive sign. Some mistresses do not show any emotion, but I was obviously getting to Mistress Michelle. The notion filled me with pride and sent my arousal soaring higher.

I rubbed my chin against her concealed cunt and tongued her panties with a ferocious fervor. I even used my teeth ever so gently, to give her more forceful attention, employing all of the tricks I’d been taught by my loving owner.

Mistress Diane has schooled me well. From the very first time I served her, she has instructed me on how to please a woman. Of course, no two dommes are the same, but I was fairly certain what I was doing would also work wonders for Michelle. Our contest had begun on a playful note, but I wanted to win. I hoped I was pleasing my imperious beauty. Every part of me was filled with the urge to succeed — and the hope of an erotic reward.

I varied my technique to keep Mistress Michelle off guard. I made sure her panties were good and damp. I made darting circles over her clit and teased her silk-covered entrance. But then, even after I had pulled her panties to the side and let her feel the seductive wet kiss of my mouth on her mound, I abandoned her cunt and returned to licking her boots once more. She seemed totally demolished by the move, arching her body on the banquette. In response to her obvious hunger, I probed her pussy with my fingers while I continued to lick the tops of her boots.

“Oh, Jesus,” she sighed, squirming in her seat. I knew what she wanted. She wanted my mouth once more. Although I’m naturally submissive, I still understand the power of being in charge of someone else’s pleasure. Heat flared through me as Michelle’s fingertips stroked my head, communicating her unspoken need for me to travel up her beautiful body and dine on her delectable slit. For the moment, she stopped short of ordering me to eat her, as if she wanted to let the contest play out on its own and not give me a leg up on the competition. But I could sense her excitement; her body practically vibrated with it.

Michelle continued to sigh and writhe. Without warning I tugged her panties to the left once more and let my tongue connect with her slick, pink flesh. She barked out a cry of unadulterated excitement. The joyful noise sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my cock. She was deeply aroused, and honey pooled inside her pussy. I lapped up every drop I could before returning to her boots. I wanted her to crave my tongue. I wanted her to dream about what it would feel like as I traced figure eights and dramatic shapes up and over her pulsing clit.

To my delight, she seemed to have lost her senses. Mistress Diane continued to talk, but Michelle was wordless. I’d managed to rob a domme of her speech! The revelation indicated to me that I might be pulling ahead in the race. But a heartbeat later, Mistress Diane stopped talking, mid-sentence. I paused for a breath to look up at her, and I was shocked to see her head thrown back and her cheeks aglow. I knew that look. I’ve made her look like that many times. A feeling of desperation flooded through me.

Was she going to come first? Was Donny going to beat me? I couldn’t fathom that. I didn’t want to lose. I wanted to make my mistress proud of me. Donny shot me a cunning glance, but then Mistress Diane seemed to pull herself together. She straightened up and her breathing became more regular. Relief was sweet. Donny met my eyes, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to make my mistress respond like that.

Oh. He was actually humping her leg. He had one of her thighs between both of his, and he was letting her feel his cock against her. This let her know that he was as turned on by worshiping her boots as she was by letting him do so. Well, if we were going to take out the big guns, then I would let Mistress Michelle get a load of my… well, load.

Without asking for permission, without pausing to assess the situation, I shoved my shorts down and started to jack my rock-hard member. Both mistresses seemed surprised by my move. I could hear a murmur in the crowd around us. I’m hung and then some. I grazed my hand over the head, gathering up some of my free-flowing pre-come, and then yanked my shorts back up. I used my personal lubrication to add a special sheen to Mistress Michelle’s boots.

The boots gleamed as I resumed laving her glorious pussy. It was now a race to the finish, with our mistresses trying their best to outlast one another. I was determined to get Michelle off first. I licked her like nobody’s business, and when she ultimately ground her pussy into my face and creamed, I felt as if I had won the gold. In a way, I had.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Mistress Michelle cried.

Mistress Diane seemed to be incredibly pleased with my performance. But I realized that she had been left lacking. Donny hadn’t done her right. He’d gotten her excited without giving her what she truly craved. I let my eyes meet hers to see if I could read any silent desires. She didn’t make a move.

But Mistress Michelle said, “We have a winner. What would you like for your prize?” She practically sang with pleasure.

I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to come all over my true mistress’s boots. Diane’s boots. It would be a bold request.

On my knees, I moved closer to Mistress Diane. She stroked her elegant fingers through my hair. In my mind, I had a flash of what I’d looked like when I’d left for the office that morning: all buttoned up in a suit and tie, briefcase at my side. But right then, I was stripped save for my shorts, and I had an erection tenting the silky fabric into a structure large enough to host a circus.

“Would it please you if I came on your boots?” I asked, unable to hide the hopeful lilt in my voice.

My lady grinned at me and nodded. “As long as you get me off, too.”

Mistress Michelle tugged on Donny’s lead. “You watch,” she hissed at him. “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

“The scent of my mistress surrounded me and made me more excited.”

I appreciated their eyes on me. The fact that I was being observed made me even more desperate to win my mistress’s approval. I moved in front of her and lowered my shorts again. Her eyes took in my every move. I gripped my johnson and jerked it roughly. She smiled encouragingly. I moved in between her thighs and started to lick her pussy. She arched and groaned, lifting her hips up off the seat and assisting me with her motions. My hand was a blur on my dick, and my tongue was a veritable machine as it flicked against her snatch. Although I’d appreciated the refreshingly different taste of Mistress Michelle, the flavor of my lady was home for me. The scent of my mistress surrounded me and made me even more excited. The best days for me are those when I leave the house with her taste on my lips and return home for more of the same. I feel as if I could live on the liquid of her lust.

A tightness in my balls indicated I was on the brink. I continued to lap at my mistress’s sweet snatch, but when I could hold back no longer, I moved slightly away from her and sprayed my come all over her boots. This created the most entrancing graffiti effect, my semen adorning my lady’s footwear. For a few seconds, I think we all settled back to admire the art of my orgasm. Then I used both of my palms to really spread the jism into her boots. While I did this, I resumed mouthing her mound.

Mistress Diane was rapidly nearing her own climax.

What ultimately took her over the edge wasn’t what I did, but what Mistress Michelle said. I believe in giving credit where credit’s due.

Mistress Michelle, speaking to Donny, demanded, “After she comes, you’ll lick her boots clean.”

That comment sent my mistress over the edge, causing her to shudder with pleasure which, in turn, made my dick rise to full mast again. Donny didn’t look as if he minded in the least. In fact, if I were to bet, I’d have said he was turned on by the concept of what was basically my sloppy seconds.

Mistress Diane came louder than her companion had. She shouted her bliss so loudly everyone knew the extent of her orgasm. Warmth spread through me from my feet to my head. I was proud I’d helped bring her that delicious relief. She settled back down again and shot me a smile that melted me.

“We won,” she mouthed with a wicked smile — and I felt overwhelming joy swell deep within my soul.

Check out the Full Gallery