Brendon's vast closet doors have been folded back like accordians, and the dark, open closet occupies nearly an entire wall. The man's huge collection of stylish, tailor-made shoes are laid out along the closet's floor and scurrying groups of tiny slaves moves along the stretching row, scrubbing their strict master's giant footwear as quickly and efficiently as their tired arms can. By the folded right-hand door, Brendon sits back on a high stool he's fetched from his desk, smiling approvingly as he watches two lucky slaves work vigorously at a stain on the squared toe of his white leather, italian designer shoe. Under the other shoe, Brendon feels the body of the slow slave who has been pinned under his foot until he recieves further punishment.. Your arms ache as you push your chunk of wet sponge all over the shiny white leather of your master's shoe. You lean across the raised square toe, which looks something like a duck's beak, and feel your exposed waistline touch the warm leather, heated by Brendon's sweaty foot. You and the other, dark-haired slave work on silently. You can feel Brendon's eyes on your back as you squat, washing the shoe's thick black heel. Your eyes wander over to the other shoe, where you see the unfortunate, feminine young man lying flat on his belly, struggling to breathe under the weight of Brendon's heavy foot. Cleaning the shoe that the punished boy lay under was difficult- You had no choice but to ignore his whimpered pleas for help and go on scrubbing, hoping you weren't next to get on the master's nerves. Now, with both shoes squeaky clean, you stop and look to your partner, who kneels and softly kisses the shoe's toe. "We're done, your Majesty." he says humbley. Brendon glances at you, and you quickly bow to kiss the shoe's ankle, then join the dark-haired slave. "Nice job, everyone." Brendon says, cracking his knuckles "Except for one little slave who doesn't seem to love me as much as you all do.." the boy starts to sob "..And this lack of enthusiasm can't go unpunished..''
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