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The Stories of Yvonne Sinclair

Alice And Anna
On The Beach
The Bisley Boy
Silk Stockings On A Ladder
A Merry Ferry Christmas
Stella and Fanny

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute

The Dominafuhrer

The New Recruit

The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine


An Introduction

VO Stories

Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict/My Prison Folder


A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1


The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood



The Shoeshine Boy

When I was in my early teens I had a part time job on the weekends working with the local milkman. The milk run was in an affluent middle class area. I enjoyed the work because it was physical and gave me a good work out (something I could do with now) but the hours were tough, especially for a young man with a social life. I would start work at around 4am and finish the last of the rounds by about 9am.

I guess I had been working this job for about eight months before the summer school holidays rolled around. The milkman asked if I would be interested in helping him out on a few days during the week, as the job paid well I naturally said yes.

It may be said that the simplest of situations lead to the most interesting of set of circumstances and my agreeing to work week days was just one of those cases.

I was 15 at this time and like most middle class white boys, bragged to my mates about my sexual conquests. In reality I was a virgin and I think if a woman actually said "boo" to me I would have probably run a mile.

The first thing I noticed about working week days was that from about 5.30am onwards there were many more people up and about. It was not unusual in the last couple of hours of the round to be greeted by the occupants looking for the morning milk delivery. The last street that we delivered milk to was made up of duplexes (building containing two apartments) and most of the apartments had milk serveries. These normally opened into the kitchen so you would often see mum dad and the kids sitting in the kitchen having breakfast.

There was however one apartment that got my attention - because for the first couple of weeks when I delivered the milk I would not see anyone in the kitchen , but the occupant, a woman would call out "Good morning Milky, how are you?" which I would reply to and move on. I can remember asking the boss about it and he told me that two women lived there. It was the first morning of the third week that I saw her. As I climbed the stairs to the "voice" as I called her the back door opened and out dashed the most beautiful woman I had ever seen (that is until the photo of You Miss). She was mid to late 20s and a Goddess. As she raced past me down the stairs she shot me a smile that would melt hearts. When I reached the top of the stairs another woman in her mid to late 30s greeted me. When she spoke I realised that she was the "voice." The first thing she said to me was "you're not the normal milkman" and before I had a chance to answer she continued, "Though you are cute and young. "I can remember feeling myself blush and just gave a silly giggle as I handed her the milk. As I walked down the stairs I thought of all the clever things I could have said to her - but it was the younger woman that had hijacked by heart. While I had only seen her for a few moments she was all I could think about for the next 24 hours.

As fate would have it I saw her the next day when I was delivering the milk and this time she stopped and said good morning to me. This acknowledgement gave me the power to float up the stairs where I was greeted by her flatmate the "voice" who also wished me good morning and who was also looking remarkable attractive. When I returned to the milk van I mentioned to the milkman what had happened and he told me, with a large smirk on his face "be careful they probably fancy you and may attack you". I know that he was only playing with me but the thought of being attacked by the most beautiful woman in the world and her attractive older friend really got me going. I played with myself that often that day it is a wonder that my little male friend did not fall off.

The next morning all I wanted was to see them again and I was in luck. Both of them greeted me at the door and introduced themselves to me Clare was the young stunner and Barbara was the "voice" I was nervous but was able in a fashion to introduced myself and told them a little about me. They said that I looked much older than 15 and I guess because of the nerves I said "I am sorry to disappoint you" and Barbara's reply was "you will know when you disappoint us" said with a smile that I will never forget. I left the milk and walked down the stairs with Clare. I noticed how well dressed she was, and I noticed her beautiful legs and feet and the very sexy high heel sandals she had on. I think that under normal circumstances I probably not have noticed what she or any other woman for that matter were wearing on their feet however Clare had on the most interesting sandals that had straps that wrapped around her legs, almost like slave girl sandals but with high heels. I bid her farewell at the bottom of the stairs and continued on with my milk deliveries.

The next few days I missed seeing Clare and Barbara because I did not work. I suggest to the boss that I work the extra days just for the exercise, which he agreed too.

The next time I worked was the Saturday and when I arrived with Clare and Barbara's milk all was dark and quite. As I reached over to pick up the bottles out of my milk basket I noticed a pair of shoes sitting on the back door step - a very sexy pair of high-heeled red leather mules. They looked fantastic. I picked up the right shoe and gazed at it - I do not know what went through my mind but I lifted it to my nose and inhaled. What a perfume. I could smell the essence of a beautiful woman - Clare - I was holding a pair of Clare's shoes I knew they had to be Clare's shoes because I could picture Clare's beautiful feet in them. I inhaled again the aroma was having an effect I dropped to my knees and inhaled again my head was filled of images of Clare, my cock was that hard I thought my shorts were going to explode - it was rigid and it became harder with every gulp of the divine fragrance. I started to kiss the insoles of the shoes and could taste the salt mixed the perfume of the foot the flavour heightening my erection. The kisses became more passionate and I started licking the insoles and then the lining and before long I had the heel of a shoe in my mouth making oral love to it - and never before had I felt so sexually stimulated.

10 maybe 15 minutes passed before I realised the time. I stopped and looked at the shoes, which I remember having dirt on them when I first picked them up were now clean. I had licked every inch of those shoes and they were clean - but damp from my saliva. I noticed a rag in the corner and used it to dry the shoes.

The very next morning I found another pair of shoes on the doorstep and equally as beautiful. These shoes too I worshiped with my tongue and my lips but this time I ensured that I did not make them as wet. I licked every speck of dirty of the magnificent shoes and inhale the cock hardening scent. I did not want to put these shoes down - I wanted to take them - I wanted to worship them - I want to make love to them all day long. I knew that to steel them was stupid but had developed a need - I knew that they were the connection between my humble self and the Goddess but it was a link that I did not want to let go off.

Monday morning rolled around and yet a different part of shoes on the doorstep but this time it was different - it wasn't the weekend and there were people up and about. Clare and Barbara were up I could not make love to the shoes as I feared the embarrassment of being caught. So my pleasure was denied.

The next morning on the doorstep were the pair from yesterday and a new pair again I was unable or unwilling to embarrass myself so for the second day I was deprived of my pleasure. I decided to come early and worship the shoes before I started work. So the next day I arrived on the doorstep at 2.00am and to my surprise I was meet by three pairs of dirty shoes - the two previous days and a new pair.

I went to work. I spent over hour and half worshipping these shoes. I licked and kissed and sucked heels, I made love to these shoes and I engulfed the perfume of the Goddess feet. When I was finished I place the three pairs of shoes on the doorstep and knelt before them - like a subject kneeling before his Queen and I knew that there was nothing that I would not do for the Goddess that owned and wore these shoes. As I knelt there I felt down into my short and relived myself and the organism I had was titanic - I shot what seemed to be a pint of cum into my hand and onto the ground - When I was finished there was a puddle of my love juices on the ground before me. I used the rag that I used a few days earlier to dry the shoes to clean up the mess I had made. As I walked down the stairs I felt exhilarated. I had decided that while the shoes were out I would continue to turn up and clean them.

As the weeks followed I would turn up earlier every morning and clean the shoes that were left out. A couple of weeks into the routine I found a note addressed to "My shoe cleaner" it asked if I could pay special attention to the sole as a piece of chewing gum was attached to the sole. This note rattled me a little but I was also relived that She knew that I was cleaning the shoes. After the first note I would get a note occasionally giving instructions.

As things finish so do the school holidays and I went back to school and my nightly cleaning mission came to an end.


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