"Get my shoe," I said coldly. Apprehensively, he looked around the carpet for my discarded red high heels. They were both underneath my desk and he turned round to gather them, his half exposed arse presenting itself in front of me. I gripped the waistband with my toes and tugged it down, revealing his backside completely. He froze, knowing not to interrupt me. I slipped my foot into the crevice between his cheeks and pressed, pushing my big toe hard against him, probing at his anus. He remained rigid, not pulling away but allowing me to press for entrance and I pushed and pushed as hard as I could. I couldn't do it, however, and in my frustration I kicked him and ordered him to turn round. Sheepishly he did so.

"Lick it clean," I said, thrusting my foot in his face. "You know where it's been." Mr Loverman fed my big toe into his mouth and sucked hard, sliding it in and out, wrapping his lips around it and licking energetically with his tongue. One by one he slid the rest of my toes between his lips and assiduously cleaned them too, then gently traced his tongue across my sole, down to my heel. Good boy.

"Well done, Mr Loverman," I told him. "Now, put my shoe on." He gripped my heel and gathered my shoe from the carpet. Sliding it over my toes, he eased it onto my foot and slid it up my heel into place. They were my favourite red high heels, about two inches high and totally impractical, but I loved them for the degree of control they exerted over Mr Loverman: he was almost hypnotised by them, in awe of them, recognising them, I think, as a totem of my control over him. I didn't care that I couldn't walk in them: who needed to walk anyway, with a slave to lick your feet?

"Do you like my shoe, Mr Loverman?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Well, don't you think you should be holding your little dick, to show your appreciation?"

"Yes, Miss." Immediately, he gripped his right hand once more around the shaft of his still erect cock. He looked at me expectantly, anticipating my next instruction. I nodded, and my little Pavlovian puppy knew what to do, beginning to stroke his hand up and down his length. He was very hard, and I could tell that, despite his trepidation over denying me, he was seriously turned on. His helmet was purple and glistening, and a drop of pre-cum was already slithering around his pee-hole.

"You know I'm not pleased with you?" He nodded morosely. "I'm very angry, in fact. Little boys don't say no to their mistresses, do they Mr Loverman."

"No, Miss," he replied.

"Was that another no?"

"No, Miss, I mean 3;"

"And another. So many nos." Mr Loverman wanted to explain himself, but knew it was fruitless and I laughed at his discomfiture. "Let's see, what should I do about this? We can't have all this disobedience, can we. What would you suggest?"

"Miss?"

"Punishment, little man. How should I punish you?" Studiedly, I let my look slide down towards my shoe. Mr Loverman's followed, and I saw a light of understanding switch on in his eyes. He looked back up at me and swallowed, dry-mouthed.

"Keep playing, Mr Loverman," I cautioned as his hand motions showed signs of tailing off. He struck up a regular rhythm once more, his startled eyes still caught in my Medusan stare. "So?"

"Shoe, Miss," he croaked, nerves drying up his vocal chords.

"Shoe? What about it?"

"Press it into me, Miss."

"You mean you want me to crush your little balls and cock with my shoe?"

"Yes, Miss."

"You want me to do that? Crush your balls? Like this?"

Fixing his gaze, I pressed my foot to his crotch and pushed hard, digging the heel into his balls, feeling them squish and separate under the force. A look of shocked pain immediately crossed his face. As though I were pressing the accelerator of my car I pushed my foot down against him, trapping his fingers, which were wrapped around his dick, against my sole. I pushed harder. He squealed. Wincing, he looked up at me piteously.

"Is this what you wanted?" He nodded. "You think this is a suitable punishment?" A further nod.

I pulled my chair closer to him, allowing me to crush his cock and balls more effectively, and slid my foot up and down, grazing painfully against his knuckles. He got the message and began to move his fist in time with my foot, saving his skin from being shredded but in the process forcefully wanking himself once more. I pushed harder and harder, and although he tried not to resist me he ended up leaning almost straight back, his cock horizontal against his stomach. I pushed my foot harder and faster, harder and faster, until Mr Loverman was pumping himself furiously.

Finally, I could tell from his eyes that he was about to come. I slid my foot away from his shaft and positioned it above his balls, then, just as he was about to shoot his load, I ground it into them, squashing and flattening them, twisting and turning. Mr Loverman yelled as the pain shot through his body and the come flew from his tortured prick, landing, once more, on his shirt. Another one ruined, I reflected with amusement. He grunted and groaned as his climax proceeded, spurt after spurt, before subsiding and coming to a halt. Red-faced, he looked up at me.

"Now, let's try again," I smiled. "You are going to become Pamela's boyfriend. You are going to fuck her brains out."

"Yes, Miss," he replied meekly.

"Splendid, clever boy. I knew you'd get the right answer eventually. And I hope you enjoyed that little come, Mr Loverman, because it's the last one you're going to have until you get Pamela into bed."