He cleans his toys, wiping down my back, tucking his finger into my pucker one last time. Then he’s heading out.“Hey,” I call. “Didn’t you r...ad the sign?”He chuckles a soft low murmuring sound. He replaces the gag. 3.The next man gets my attention by slamming the door, jolting me awake. Christ, had I been napping? I straighten my legs and flex my toes and wait for him.No punishment for this slave being caught so lax. No slaps. No hits.Just the ragged rattle of his zipper. The rip of the condom. It was my high heels. My 5" stiletto, black patent leatherheels... the heels that I wear when she wasn't around. They had been hiddeep in the closet jumble."Those... those are mine".She didn't say another word and neither did I. We stared at each otherfor what felt like eternity then she smiled the tiniest of smiles andwalked away.Not knowing what to do, I did the only thing I could think of at thatmoment - I kept cleaning.---I've had a shoe fetish for as long as I can remember, with high. More

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