Mud Glorious Mud

Freaks and their fetishes: you name it and there will be some pathetic worm somewhere jerking himself off crazily over the head of it.  But what amuses me sometimes is when I awaken a fetish in a freak that he didn’t even know he had.  Take loser richard (or poor-ard as he quickly became after contacting me): he didn’t have a fetish for mud back then but he does now!

It started when I tweeted a picture of myself with muddy riding boots with the caption: Who would like to lick these clean?  Of course, all the usual suspects tweeted replies declaring various levels of desperate desire to be the one who would have the privilege.  Mildly amusing but so predictable.

But loser poorard was different.  He kept sending tribute after tribute with each one begging to be allowed to come visit and lick my boots clean in person.  His persistence was a pain but the cash was rather nice, so eventually I relented and asked him: “Supposing I did allow You to visit to lick my boots, what would you pay for the privilege.  Mind you, I mean all you would do is visit, lick the boots clean, then fuck off – nothing else.”

Almost instantly he responded saying he would pay a thousand pounds.  That made me laugh out loud.

“Where would you get a thousand pounds worm? You told me you had given me nearly all you have!”

“I would sell my car Goddess to get the funds”

“Hmm, make it £2000 and I shall consider it.  Plus I shall film you to post on line to encourage other worms to come forward.”

I swear I could hear him explode in his pants at that reply – spontaneous ejaculation I think they call it: a very rare thing apparently but I seem to have that effect on lots of men.

Anyway, he quickly sold his car to one of those rip-off agencies, such a loser, and on the appointed day he made his way by train from his home in the Scottish Highlands all the way to the stables where I go horse-riding in the South East of England.  It was clear that this was going to be the greatest day in his sad little life – to be allowed to see me in the flesh, to be allowed to give me money face to face, and to be allowed to lick my dirty riding boots clean – nothing in in his life before or since could ever remotely meet that pinnacle.

However, unbeknown to him, I had no intention of letting him see me in the flesh.  There are some piggies to whom I have indeed granted that honour: piggies who have genuinely amused me, served me loyally, and who I assess as being potentially bearable to spend some time with.  Loser poorard was definitely not one of those with his thick scotch accent, his pathetic whining emails and well, his basic slimy-ness frankly.

The stable-owner, Anne, knows all about my Goddess persona so on the appointed day I briefed her on what was to happen and she was more than happy to go along with my plans.  She finds it hilarious that I can drain so much from so many pathetic piggies for so little and was delighted to be a part of one of those rinsings.

When poortard arrived at the stable courtyard gates I was in the office overlooking the courtyard and Anne went out to greet the visitor and asked him: “Can I help you?”

Anne told me afterwards she enjoyed seeing his obvious embarrassment and discomfort.  He had not expected to be greeted by someone else and did not know what to say.  He couldn’t even just ask innocently to see me by name as he only knew me as Goddess Greed.  So, he mumbled about having an appointment to see someone here at 2pm.  Anne is very straightforward and even a little brusque and she asked him:

“An appointment with whom and for what?”

“A friend.” He replied. “Em about horse-riding lessons.”

“Really?  What’s his name?”

“It’s a woman actually.”

“A woman actually?” she retorted. “And does this woman actually have a name?”

Being so determined that this was going to be the greatest day of his life he somehow found the courage to overcome his fear of humiliation in front of a stranger and said: “Goddess Greed.”

He turned bright red and began to sweat profusely as Anne burst out with heavy guffaws of laughter.  He was relieved when she eventually stopped and said sharply: “You’re late.  Goddess does not tolerate lateness and she has gone.”

He wasn’t late, but I knew he was not the type to argue with any woman.  I watched from the office window and chuckled as I could see his physical demeanour change – he was truly crest-fallen and suddenly pale – I thought he might faint or be sick.  He stood incredulous for a moment or two, unable to say anything, tears beginning to well up in his eyes as the enormity of his disappointment set in.

Eventually, Anne took pity and said to him: “Don’t worry dear.  She gave me instructions: you are to give me the £2000 and I shall see Goddess gets it.  In the mean time she has left you something round the back of the paddock if you’ll follow me.”

His spirits seemed to lift as he nervously gave her the money (not the erotically charged exchange he had hoped for) and followed her to a patch of mud at the back of the paddock.  Anne pointed to the mud and said: “Goddess has left you these boot prints in the mud and has given you permission to kiss and lick them or whatever it is you do.  You have half an hour to pay your respects then my sons will escort you off the premises.”

She turned and left and he stood bewildered for a moment, unaware that he was indeed being filmed and I was watching every move on the lap top in the office.  He dropped to his knees and bowed his head – at first I thought he was going to burst into tears but instead he reverently bent his head to the ground and kissed one of the footprints.  I just had to laugh out loud – how ridiculous is he!?  I then watched with amazement as his kisses began to get more passionate and I could see his tongue licking the footprint.  In time he actually lay down flat in the mud on his front kissing and licking the remains of the boot print.  Then I watched with almost horrific fascination as he began to writhe in the mud and I realized he was actually humping the ground.  I turned up the microphone on the camera to see if I could hear what he was saying.  By now, Anne was back in the office and we both almost fell to the floor with laughter as we could make out his love talk:

“Oh Goddess Greed I am so sorry I was late and I know I don’t deserve this gift You have left me.  I love You so much Goddess and I worship the very ground You have stepped on.  Oh I love You Goddess, I worship You Goddess.  Thank You so much for allowing me to worship the mud You have stepped in.”

It was clear the little freak was getting so worked up he was going to cum.  Well, that was never part of the deal, so although the half hour was nowhere near up we sent Anne’s sons around.  “I’m not having that fucking pervert cumming on my ground” Anne snapped.

The poor pervert didn’t even notice the two men arrive so they hoisted him up as if he was a bag of nothing and walked the mud-covered freak to the gate. “Now fuck off and don’t ever let us see you around here again you sick little fuck!”  they shouted.

As for me, when I had recovered from my laughter, I sent an email that would be waiting for him when he got home telling me he owed me money for missing our appointment.  And, surprise surprise, when he got home he promptly paid.

Ever since, he now regularly pays for a little package of mud from me.  I have forbidden him from masturbating to anything except those little mud packages which he must then swallow.  It’s not even always mud I have trod on – he knows that but he doesn’t care – all that matters is that it has come from me.  He has become a real mud fetishist – a truly perverted human pig.

As for the film?  Well, I never did post it on line as I figure no one else on this planet could be that gross and pathetic – unless you know different!!!  Hmmm?

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