On all fours, Vivian knelt on the cold hardwood floor, head down and naked, breathing returning to normal, she felt a mixture of shame and resentment at her situation. She needed to find some way out of this, she hated this sadistic slobbering man who seemed to have no moral compass despite his position of authority as a sheriff.
Looking up with a hint of fear in her tone, she said "I can't keep doing this, I made a mistake but I don't deserve this. I am not this kind of person."
George put the collar and leash aside onto a table and looked down at her with contempt. He immediately stepped on the splayed fingers of her left hand with his polished shoe. The pain was instant, Vivian yelped "owwww" but couldn't pull her hand free and the pain increased as he leaned more weight onto that foot. Tears sprung from her eyes as she twisted her neck to look up at him.
"Bitch, don't tell me what you are. I decide what you are. You could be a prison inmate in very short order if you keep talking without permission you stupid slut."
He lifted his foot off her hand and simultaneously delivered a stunning backhanded blow to the side of her head just above her ear. Vivian toppled to the floor, rolling onto her side and tenderly gripped her aching hand, the silent tears were now audible sobs. With a sneer he drew his foot back and swung the shoe in a short quick arc to her stomach just above her navel. The steel tipped shoe knocked the wind out of the now terrified woman who curled into a fetal position.
The sharp pain in her gut was intense, Vivian choked trying to draw a deep breath. Fear of this brute was now ingrained, she knew it was a bad mistake to tell him she wanted to back out of the deal.
He stepped close to her, reached down grabbed a fistful of long brown hair. Pulling her head slightly off the floor he slipped his shoe beneath her face. "You dumb cunt. I own your ass for a month. Now stop that crying or I'll give you a harder kick. Lick your owner's shoe clean, show me you can at least use that mouth for something useful, and no more talking without permission."
He then drew his foot back threateningly and a beaten Vivian complied. Her stomach still wrenched in pain, but she turned her face and put her soft tongue across the top of his shoe. The acrid taste of black polish brought a small gagging sound from her throat. George drew his cell phone from his pocket and leaned low to snap a picture of her beaten submission. What a sight she was to him, her curvaceous body curled with arms across her belly, knees drawn up and her beautiful tear-stained face turned sideways, framed in strands of her cum-streaked hair, as her tongue slowly licked his shoetop.
The gorgeous, proud bank manager was a person of the past. Although still blessed with a classic, beautiful face and a luscious figure, she was an image of abject sorrow, pain and most definitely fear.