Kinktober Day Twenty Five: Boot Worship

Gabriel - Amelie (Overwatch)
Boot worship / femDom / humiliation / implied CBT
1k

 
“I'm not sure I understand.”

“It is not necessary that you understand. It is necessary that you display obedience.” Amelie traced his spinal enhancers down from his neck, her fingers splaying out across the gray skin. She admired it's supple, storm like quality, tracing through the knotted scar tissue and over the burns that opened and closed as they willed. “You remember what that feels like, don't you? Obeying orders.”

Gabriel's narrow slits glared at her with red mirth. “You're not doing much to make this sound appealing.”

“Then you may go.” She pointed to the door, waiting patiently for him to choose for himself. She didn't make him come here. He came for the sake of sharing for a night. They were not friends. They did not like one another. But this was an understanding. Amelie commanded, and was rewarded with his obedience. Gabriel obeyed, and was rewarded with relief. This was the way of it.   
 
The man said nothing  He took hold of the boot and knelt down, placing it between his thighs. “Do you have a shoe shine stand?” Her smile was paper thin as she caught the stand with her toe and kicked it over for him. Gabriel set it down and opened the top, grumbling something to himself.
 
“You're not planning to get oil all over my nice floors, are you?”
 
He let his head down and stood up, walking over to where the paper from the morning lay and picked it up, putting down a layer under the stand. In the top of the stand was a tin can of mink oil, a brush, a small brush, a cup for water, and a soft cloth. He lay them out neatly, remembering this from his old days as a cadet. The movements were familiar enough that he could do them without thinking, but that wasn't what she would want.
 
Amelie smiled and picked up her foot with perfect balance, letting him hold the mouth of it open to slide into. Of course that would make things five times harder. Trying to do this without getting any of the polish on her at the same time. Still, the view wasn't half bad. Say what you want about her personality, but Amelie had a perfectly turned leg.   

“Am I ready to get started?”

“Obviously not.”   
 
He closed his eyes, quelling his temper and tried again. “Am I ready to get started, Miss?”

“I suppose so.”   
 
He took the soft cloth and slid it tightly around one finger, pushing it into the hard polish and rubbing it in small circles to get a little build up going. One his finger was soot black, he began to apply it to the toe of the boot in wider concentric movements, working the polish in for a base coat. As he saw it coming in, he leaned in close and began to breath hot air onto it to help it adhere. 

Above him, Amelie chuckled with wry derision. “It comes naturally to you, doesn't it, army boy?” He reached for him, nails scratching down the shorn head. “Compliance with orders.”

“I wouldn't say that. Miss.” He added. Part of doing a proper boot blacking was working in small areas to ensure a proper coverage. He found a kind of zen in doing this, a meditative state. Gabriel dipped the cloth in a little water and added more polish. He worked in small circles again. Now the shine was beginning to build up, he could see the glistening of the lights on it.
 
“I would say so. You do look so lovely at my heel.” She tapped his shoulder and he gazed up at her. “Think about it. You come to me. I do not ask. And yet here you are, enjoying yourself by playing humble. I wonder if you have considered the implications of such behavior?”

He often found that Amelie delighted in egging him on, trying her best to get a rise out of him so she had an excuse to offer punishment. Sometimes that was exactly what he craved. The feeling of her crop on his back and shoulders, the burn of her cigarette. Nothing she hurt him with could last. Occasionally the punishments were exquisitely brutal. But then he would loose the anticipation of it. Obey and draw things out, make her wait for the chance to hurt him. Disobey and be punished, because he wanted it.
 
This brought a whole new meaning to the term petulance.   
 
“I wonder, did you do such things with Morrison?”

His polishing stopped, he took a deep breath, and continued. ~Wait. Wait for it. Don't let the game end too soon.~ He knew the eagerness was moving quickly south, threatening to expose him. Once she saw that hard on she's go for it like a hawk after a field mouse.   
Or perhaps it was with that bully creature, McCree. I know you, Reyes. You are not a celibate man. Come now. Who played your games? I confess I find myself curious. Did you kneel between the great commander of Overwatch? Did you preform fellatio after you made his black boots shine?”

Gabriel could feel anger boiling over. This was a part of the game, part of what made him feel that queer warmth bubbling through his stomach and down to his gonads. He could always count on her to provide a thoroughly humiliating experience. 

“I often wonder if this is why you were not selected to have command of Overwatch. Perhaps you higher ups knew of your secret shameful submission and picked the clear superior man.” Her laughter was high and mocking as he worked his way up over her ankle, hands shaking. “I know. I know it must bruise your ego terribly. But never fear. What is that phrase? “Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven?” Amelie jerked him up by the chin, her keen teeth eager to put a personal mark on him. “Tell me, how does it feel to serve in Hell?”