Politeness

Politeness - part of 'Ms Mukta' week

‘Will you kindly be lickshining my booties, slave? They are being most foul and dirty!’

‘Yes, mistress Mukta madam. At once, mistress Mukta madam!’

Don’t be fooled by my regular, Indian customer-mistress’s cheery smile and polite banter as she approaches me for a shoeshine. I know from bitter experience she can just as swiftly apply the public-use whip to my face, and that she demands high standards from her local, public footservant, as confirmed by her subsequent words to me as my menial mouth begins its humble work on her short ankleboots:

‘And be making damn well sure you are doing a good job on them, isn’t it slave? Otherwise I shall be slashing open your stupid face with the whip!’

‘Yes, mistress Mukta madam. Please don’t beat me, mistress Mukta madam. This slave hears and obeys you, madam!’

I’m gratified to say that she subsequently appears satisfied with my tongue work on her boots – even waving goodbye to me as she departs. And well she might be so satisfied, for her boots are now pristine clean, their street-mud having been transferred down my footslave gullet.

She will be back, and I shall continue to fear her – and her disarmingly cheery demeanour. For, at the end of the day, a customer-mistress is a customer-mistress, and a public footservant is a public footservant. Goddess mistress Mukta is NOT my friend, and nor is the public-use whip. They are both my betters, and I shall do well to never lose sight of their joint power and authority over me.

Politeness never hurt anyone – but the whip, in the sweet feminine hands of Indian goddess-mistress Mukta, sure enough did!





















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