Frustration

Frustration - Part of Ms Mukta week

If there is one thing worsethan having to kiss and lick the dirty shoes and boots of two beautiful, young women, it must surely be NOT having to kiss and lick the dirty shoes and boots of two beautiful, young women!

Here we see two such beautiful, young women blatantly ignoring me. True, one of them is casually resting her dirty ugg-booted foot on the corner of my lowly footblock – but well out of reach of my lips. And as for the other girl – regular customer-mistress miss Mukta madam – I am especially frustrated that she too does not see fit to impose her dirty footwear on my mouth today, particularly as I can just make out that she is wearing a fetching pair of bright pink socks inside her street-soiled sneakers. Oh how I wish I could study the intricate weave of those pink, feminine socks in close-up – the socks of a Gynarchy goddess!

Of course, I can’t complain. Indeed, I am forbidden by Law to even speak to these two young women, unless I am first spoken to. That’s because they are better than me.

And so I must suffer my footslavish frustrations in silence, and then experience the added indignity of having to watch those dirty Ugg boots and sneakers walking nonchalantly away from me, untouched by subhuman mouth, like they haven’t a care in the world!

Needless to say, I yearn to follow after them – on my hands and knees. But again, I am forbidden by the Female Law from doing what I want. Unlike these two young women, I am not free to go wheresoever I please. I am confined in this alleyway wall for life, unable to move and thus at the mercy of all and sundry who must exercise kindness in coming to me to have their dirty boots and shoes licked.

Oh if only goddess Mukta madam would take me home as her personal sockslave! I would follow her to heel on my hands and knees every step of the way, studying the backs of her socks beneath her jean hems until such time as we reach her home, and she orders me to take off her sneakers and sniff those same dirty, pink socks whilst she is still wearing them on her sweaty feet. I would respectfully sniff her socked feet in front of her boyfriend – master Simon sir – a real man, who is interested in women’s bodies and minds, rather than their shoes and socks! Furthermore, I would fervently hope and pray that the happy couple decide not to whip me today, as I am being a good and diligent sockslave to my mistress Mukta, which pleases both her and her boyfriend…

But I’m daydreaming! None of this will ever come to pass. I am destined not even to taste miss Mukta’s public sneaker dirt on my lips today, as she couldn’t even be bothered to present me with her outstretched, sneakered foot! What chance have I got of becoming her personal, household sock servant? I’m just an anonymous, ignorable, forgettable, frustrated head-in-the-wall!















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