Nearly all of this is fantasy, but I look forward to one day to meeting a Master who Will keep me nourished with his piss, ash, and boot leather.
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Standing next to Master was the driver. He reached in and lifted me out of the back of the people carrier. He ten unceremoniously dropped me to the floor.
"Thank him then " said Master
I gave each of the drivers shoes a kiss, each one accompanied with a Merci.
Thank him properly, worship those shoes..
I gave each of his shoes a long lingering once over with my tongue.
That's' better. Now get the luggage out.
As I did Master began talking to him again in French. The conversation was ended with a handshake and a continental kiss. It was clear that the driver was no slave or submissive.
As the people carrier drove off the Hotel door man came up to take the bags.
Again Master spoke French "Non. C'est un esclave" My french was poor but I guessed my status was being made clear. I was the one who was going to do the carrying.
Master however opened his wallet and nonetheless gave the doorman a 20 euro note, and one of his business cards.
As we were checking in, a handsome man who looked vaguely familiar , in a well fitted suit and with a salt and pepper beard came and greeted Master, I had no idea what was being said but I guessed it was about me as they kept looking at me. After he left Master told me that he was the Manager of the Hotel, and one of the most respected Leather Masters in Paris.
Finally we were in the Hotel suite. I carefully laid down the cases, and knelt.
This is going to be a good break, my favourite suite in my favourite hotel. They are very accommodating for the demanding Master, and his piss hungry slave.He walked round the suite. I remained where I was, waiting to be allowed to move. He walked towards a set of doors that went on to a balcony.
Here now, I shuffled over on my knees. Take that waistcoat off. I complied and handed it to him. I watched as he neatly placed it on a table.
What does that say?. I looked quizzically On the T shirt ? Piss slave Sir
Thought so, I watched as he undid his zip, pulled out his dick and aimed it at me. I without even thinking opened my mouth,
Nah, none of that today. He aimed his dick at my chest and I watched as a stream hit. The dark material getting darker. The flow continued, I hoped he would relent and allow me to taste some, but he was determined that this was a shower, not a drink. He briefly stopped as he walked around me, the flow resumed I felt it hit the back of my neck, the cotton of the T shirt sticking to my back
A puddle formed beneath me, I could feel some of it seep through my leather trousers.
Finally it stopped.
He walked round again to my front, his crotch was now almost in my face. He flicked the last remaining drops on to it. He then slapped me.
Call yourself a boot slave, Look at the state of your Master's boots. Get them clean now. I looked down and he was standing in a pool of piss. Some of which had splashed on to the tow of his boot.
I bent down and began to lick, as I did he moved further away from me towards the edge of the balcony, in doing so I was forced further down, I was now lying in the piss. I could feel the cotton soak it up
It wasn't long before Master had moved again. I had to wriggle on the floor to catch up with him and get into a new position.
I wonder what Worm slave is in French Master said. Look at you from slave , to piss slave, to worm . We've only been here an hour.
Finally Master sat down. He lifted my head up with his right foot, indicating I was to return to a kneeling position.
Now clean those pissy soles. Show how much of a devoted Piss slave you are.
As I lifted his foot, a drop of miss fell to the floor. The treads were glistening as a result of the moisture.
Oi. He leant forward and slapped my head. Stop gawping and get to work.
Finally I was getting an opportunity to have a decent taste of Master's piss.
When Master decided that he had enough. He moved his leg away from me. He left me there on my knees as he went back inside.
He quickly returned, and threw a pillow at me.
I'm going to get some sleep. I suggest you do too. If you are wondering what that smell is. Whenever to come here the Hotel makes sure I get a couple of piss infused pillows for the slave.
Wake me up in two hours.
I woke with a start, as a stream of piss was hitting my face, correction two streams of piss.
The Hotel doorman, and the Hotel Manager. I tried to lift myself up when I felt a boot on my chest limiting my movement.
I bring you to Paris, to serve and demonstrate how good a slave you are , and you fail to even obey the first instruction.
I was going to let you get changed before we headed out , but now you can just stay in that and stink of piss all night. With that he gave me a hard lick to my side.
Ok, I'm going for a drink with Jean, when I'm back I want you to have selected my outfit for tonight.
Master, and my tormentors left me alone. I had no idea how long it would be before Master returned so I immediately got to work selecting his outfit,
Blue shirt, yellow tie, gauntlet gloves , and after much deliberation a pair of double fly leather jeans.
After being the recipient of three full bladders I my shirt was clinging to my body. I was tempted to pull it off to dry it slightly, but feared that that would make it impossible to put back on. The balcony was thankfully a sun trap, and went outside in the hope that the Paris sun would dry me off somewhat even if I was unlikely to get rid of the smell.
Master had been gone 45 minutes, he could be back anytime. Rather than be caught unawares, I knelt down, and waited. Hopefully this would help make up for my unintentional disobedience.
Another hour must have passed, when I saw the door to the suite open. He put something down on a side table and looked at the clothes I had set out for him. He came out to the balcony. He was wearing leather gloves. He began to rub my face, this led to me sucking his thumb.
He levered my face so I was looking directly into his eyes. He was smiling, not one of his cruel smiles, but one of tenderness.
Good slave. Come inside. He walked over to an armchair and sat down.
Tell me, why haven't you selected a pair of boots.
Master. Purely selfish reasons sir. The ones you are wearing now are my favourite Sir, plus they already taste and smell of piss. If you wear them tonight, other boot worshipping slaves will get to experience the joy of tasting your golden nectar Sir.
Good answer. Now are you hungry? Yes Sir, I've not eaten since London. I'd better get your energy up.
He reached for the table, he placed a plastic container on the floor. It was a slice of pate.
I looked at it , but waited for the instruction to eat.
Looks a bit under seasoned. He put his hand into his leather jacket and pulled out a small clear plastic bag. He emptied it on to the pate.
It was ash. Cigar and Pipe ash, said Master, Cigars thanks to Jean and I, the Pipe to Jean's German Leather Master friend. Paris is the international centre of Leather Masters this week, you are a very lucky slave.
Eat
I bent down and began to eat , grateful for the pate, but even more grateful for the ash. I knew that Master really cared for me. As I went for the third mouthful I felt Master's feet rest on my back. I was going to be in this position for a while/