“Good,” she purred.  “Now lick my boots, you stroppy little shit.”
John looked nonplussed.  Never in his life had he received such a request from anyone, especially not a girl.  In his mind, men were somehow superior to women.  His hesitation earned him another slice of the cane. 

“Alright!  Alright!” he shouted, cowering away from her.

Caroline smiled sweetly and crossed her legs, poking her boot out towards his face. 

“Give it a good lick now,” she smiled.

John hesitantly put out his tongue and touched it on her toecap.  Her boots were fairly clean and he didn’t object too much to licking the tops. 

“And the bottom,” Caroline ordered.

John took one look the underside of her shoe and wasn’t too keen to follow her instruction.  The sole was badly worn and there were two, black, scuffed patches amongst the original red.  He lapped his tongue, pretending that he was licking them. 

“I said lick them!” she snapped.  “Now get on with it.”

Her words were punctuated with two sharp slaps of the cane.  By this time, John was getting extremely angry.  Firstly he didn’t like to be told what to do, especially by a woman; and secondly he strongly objected to being hit.  He opened his mouth to voice his dissent.  Her hand flicked as fast as a snake’s tongue and the cane cracked across his face.  He could hardly believe what was happening. 

He was about to swear at her, but when he looked up, she had a fierce and fearsome expression etched across her face.  Never in his life had he seen such a venomous glare, and he thought better of answering her back.

“Lick those damned heels!” she barked.

John put her heel up to his lips.  Before he knew it, she jabbed the entire length into his mouth, making him gag.  He vaguely pondered the idea of grabbing the stick and snapping it in half.  And then he would fuck her. 
But before he could make a move, she told him, “By the way, don’t even think about trying to get away.  I’ve hidden your clothes and I’ll be straight on the telephone screaming rape.  Now suck those heels, you worm!”

John decided that he had better comply with her wishes, until he could think up a plan of action to get him out of his embarrassing situation.  Her heel felt uncomfortable in his mouth.  She ordered him to pay attention to her sole again.

He gingerly licked at the grimy, worn leather.  Little bits of grit coated his tongue and he thought that he would vomit. 

Each time he slacked off, Caroline gave his face a tap with the cane and warned him to get on with his work.  John couldn’t equate what he was doing to work.  To him, working was using his brain to make money.  What he was doing now was pure and simple torture.  Never in his life had anyone treated him like this.

“Perhaps in future you won’t be so quick to try and be randy with your sister-in-law,” she said.  “I wonder what Jenny would say if she could see you now, you philandering little weed!  Maybe I should tell her.”