“I like her. Can we take her home?”
Even though I was tired, having only gotten about three hours of sleep, there was no way I was going to miss the first class session Sunday morning.
I got up, quickly showered, put on my gray cotton stretch dress with mesh cut outs, laced up my boots, and almost skipped to the upper fire pit class tent. I was the first to arrive for WhipMasterBob and Bootpig’s Puttin The Boot To Them.
I greatly enjoyed the lessons they taught in nonverbal communication using just your boots, but my favorite part of the presentation was the last thirty minutes.
The duo always left this time for student requests. Coming into the lesson, what did we expect to learn? From those answers, they would provide us with the final bits of information.
The consensus in the class was a desire to learn about rough body play with the boot.
Bootpig laid on a soft mat in the middle of the class benches. WhipMasterBob stood above her and spoke about different areas of the body to target. He stood on different parts of her body, suggesting that tops have something to hold onto to keep their balance.
But then he stopped. Bootpig was having back issues and could not demo the rest of the information. Could he have a volunteer from the class?
My hand shot up.
He waved me onto the mat. I got on all fours in front of Bootpig, who then didn’t move off the mat.
“Oh, am I in your way,” I asked.
“No honey. I’m just enjoying the view.” Yeah, I wasn’t wearing any underwear…
Bootpig complimented my ass before sitting on another mat to watch the rest of the demo.
Lying down on the center mat, WhipMasterBob now loomed over me. He spoke about how I’d positioned my body on the mat. I was flat on my stomach, my arms above my head, exposing my ribs. He then gave some swift kicks with the side of his boot to my torso.
Stepping towards my rear, he stood on my back, pushing my body into the mat.
Using the toe of his boot, he struck the lower portion of my ass with an upward angle. I started to softly moan as my hips ground into the mat with each of his strikes.
“Your welcome,” he said.
With that as a warm up, WhipMasterBob had one more lesson to teach.
Slipping the toe of his boot under my clit, he inched farther and farther under me until my entire crotch was on his boot, my pussy right against laces. Using his other boot, he gyrated my ass, having me hump his leather. My moans grew loud as I rode his boot.
And then he stopped.
“What? I’m a Sadist.”
The other students in the class groaned for me. Someone saw my pout and advocated to our instructor. WhipMasterBob looked down at my face and ah-ed.
“Can you beg with your eyes?” I did. “That’s pretty good. Okay.”
His boot was again on my ass, rocking my body against his leather, fervently humping his boot. As I moaned, I still felt the need to ask permission, but couldn’t quite get out the words. WhipMasterBob, ever the experienced Dom, understood my garbled request.
“Yes, you may.”
“Thank you,” I panted.
And right there, in the middle of class, I humped his boot and came.
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