Ashamed

Regular customer-mistress, miss Arabella madam, is proudly introducing me to her new boyfriend, master George sir, by having me kiss his feet in front of her.

As I humbly do so, she crouches down and verbally mocks me to my face. She is so close to me I can smell the aroma of her smoker’s breath mixed in with the aroma of master George sir’s expensive, purple leather shoe (a shoe which is undoubtedly worth more than I am).

Miss Arabella madam sneeringly asks me if I don’t feel ashamed at having to kiss the feet of another man in front of a beautiful, young woman like her – and she points out that master George sir is a much older man than me, and yet she finds him infinitely more attractive, since he is a free man who not only has lots of money, but is also capable of having sexual intercourse with a young woman, and thus satisfying her carnal needs; unlike me.

For my humble part, I acknowledge that it is indeed a shaming thing to have to do – kissing the feet of another, much older man – but I am also duty bound to point out to mistress Arabella madam that her new boyfriend is a much better man than me, being a free man and sexually potent, and he is therefore worthy of my footslavish respect, if she would be so kind and understanding to a weak and impotent, head-in-the-wall footkisser such as myself?

For his part, master George sir says he has half a mind to unhook the wall-whip and give me a good thrashing across the face with it, for my impudence in answering back to my customer-mistress – his beloved girlfriend! He then politely asks mistress Arabella madam if she would like him to whip me?

Fortunately for me, customer-mistress Arabella madam is in a female-merciful mood (perhaps because she was the one who had asked me a question in the first place – albeit a rhetorical one) and laughingly informs her new boyfriend that he may spare me on this occasion, but she would very much look forward to witnessing him discipline me with the whip on many future occasions.

Master George sir’s only reply was ‘you bet, honey!’

I kiss the master-sir’s feet with renewed vigour, and internally praise and bless mistress Arabella madam, and her white socks, for sparing me my whip-blushes, at least on this happy occasion!