"I'm supposed to be in a meeting with John from Finance," he said.

"Very good," I said patronisingly, ignoring what he said. "I've got a problem, Mr Loverman. Maybe you can help me."

"Yes?" he enquired, a cautious note entering his voice.

"Yes. I've got an important meeting with a potential client this afternoon. And my shoes are dirty. I haven't got anything to polish them with. Can you clean them for me?"

He looked somewhat perplexed, not really understanding what I had asked him. He looked at my shoes, bright red with a one and a half inch heel, tapered to a dagger-sharp point.

"Okay," he said, at length, "if you pass them over to me I'll 3;"

"No, Mr Loverman. I don't think you understand. The shoes stay on."

Again, he looked confused. Was the man congenitally stupid?

"Right," he continued. "What shall I use?"

"Your tongue, Mr Loverman, your tongue. Now get over here."

He went rigid, and I realised he genuinely hadn't understood what I had in mind for him. I was right, congenitally stupid. His lips formed a ridiculous o-shape, like a goldfish nursing a mouth ulcer, and his eyes glazed over as the demeaning enormity of the challenge sunk in. He shook his head.

"Now, Mr Loverman," I crooned, using my special, husky voice, which I knew he couldn't resist. I sat back in my chair and hooked my right leg over my left, dangling my foot about a yard above floor level. "Now, Mr Loverman."

He looked anxiously behind him at the door, which was swinging ajar, the torment of his indecision writ large on his face.

"Worried about someone coming in?" I asked. He nodded. "Well, that's not a problem. Here, get under my desk; no-one will see you there. That's a good place for you anyway, that can be your home from now on. Think of it like your kennel. Okay?" I slid my chair back from the desk and ushered him past, into his new place. Morosely, he followed my command and, getting on to his hands and knees, backed himself into the leg space under my desk. With a full-length vanity panel on the front, nobody could see he was there unless they were on my side of the desk. A perfect little hiding place for my little man.

"Now then, let's get on, shall we?" I said, drawing my chair closer again, and crossing my legs once more. My foot swung just before his face. "Clean it, Mr Loverman."

Hesitantly, he slipped his tongue out of his mouth and darted it briefly against the red leather upper of my shoe. Gradually becoming more expansive, his tongue flicked against it, licking longer and harder with each movement. He worked his way up the outside edge, from the toe to the ankle, and then across the ankle and down the centre of the shoe towards the toe again. Shifting his position slightly, he turned his attention to the inside edge and lapped his way up again, his tongue strokes becoming firmer and more confident and, once more, he worked his way down the front of my shoe to the toe. This was exquisite. The feeling of power which surged through me as I sat above Graham and watched him lick my shoe was incredibly exciting. As his tongue reached the tip of my shoe, I pushed my foot forward quickly. Graham was taken by surprise and he looked up at me, alarm registering on his face. Now that I had his attention, I pressed my foot forward again, until the tip of my shoe slipped between his lips and into his mouth; continuing to push, I slid a good couple of inches of the shoe into him, until his mouth was filled with it. The sole of my shoe would now be resting on his tongue. I pulled my leg back and then forward again, rocking it gently, building up a slow, steady rhythm; my shoe slid in and out of his mouth, in and out, in and out. I was fucking his mouth with my red shoe.

"Is that good, Mr Loverman?"

His mouth filled with my foot, he nodded slightly and continued to suck, his lips pressed against the leather of the shoe, as though giving it a proper blowjob. I could tell that he was getting turned on.

I pulled my foot back sharply and freed it from his mouth. Raising my leg, I presented him with the sole and heel.

"The heel, now, Mr Loverman. Clean the heel."

The sole of my shoe was directly against him, and he pressed forward, taking the heel into his mouth and sliding it in to its full extent. As he did that, the movement forced the sole against his face, flattening his nose. I pushed forward and back again, indicating to him what I expected, and he began to slide it in and out of his mouth of his own accord, the sole stamping his nose each time.

"That's very good, Mr Loverman. Very good. I think that shoe is clean now, don't you?" He nodded again. "Time for the other one, now." I uncrossed my legs and folded my left leg over my right so that it was now presented for my shoe-clean boy. "Same again."

At that moment there was a knock at my door, and John from Finance walked through.

"You haven't seen Graham, have you? He was supposed to be in a meeting with me. Someone said you asked to see him a few minutes ago."

Under the desk, Graham tensed with alarm. I pushed my foot forward hard, pressing it deep into his mouth, and began rocking my leg again, fucking him hard with my shoe.

"Yeah, he was here a few minutes ago. You know what Graham's like. He gets under my feet sometimes. I expect he'll turn up in a while."