Black rubber gleams in the cold light. I am dressed in it from head to toe — immaculate, strict, and captivating. My slave stands under the shower. Water runs over him while I remain dry outside the open shower door, calmly watching him.
“The worst thing that can happen is a dirty slave.”
My voice is calm and firm.
“Head down. Stay still.”
He obeys and cleans himself thoroughly under my watchful gaze.
“I don’t want to see any dirt left.”
Then I make my rule clear:
“You do not touch my feet until I give you permission.”
He waits. Only when I am satisfied do I step closer. My glossy rubber boots stand before him.
“Now.” He is allowed to carefully wash my feet — slowly, attentively, and obediently. After a moment, I say: “Enough.”
A brief silence. Then I allow him one single, very brief kiss on the glossy rubber.
“Only once.” I pull my foot back and look at him calmly.
“Would you also like to be in this position? Would you like to be my slave?”
I let the words linger. “Then get in touch with me.”
I remain standing before the shower — completely dressed in black rubber, glossy, confident, and untouchable. Every movement, every touch, and every moment of closeness remains under my control.
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