Alone in this room, your desire for the supple touch of leather is palpable, and your eyes can't help but fixate on my thigh high leather boots. You were born to serve, to press your lips against the cool, firm, buttery surface of my footwear. With each command, your focus sharpens, your tongue darts out in reverence, and your devotion is clear. Take my heel into your mouth, feel the power it holds as you submit to your purpose. Your role is to be my perfect boot cleaner, using your tongue to polish every inch of the soles to a shine that reflects your adoration. I will use you, reuse you, and shape you into the ultimate leather worshiper. Your existence is defined by your ability to pleasure and serve my every need.