Glammed Up

Regular-customer mistress, miss Mukta madam, and her magnificent husband, master Simon sir, are both looking extremely glamorous in their smart suits, as miss Mukta madam steps up to my smokers’ footblock for a quick lick and a shine of her plain, black loafer shoes.

The mistress kindly explains that they are both off on a tour of the Female Parliament Building, and that she therefore requires me to ensure her shoes are looking pristine clean and smart. I humbly confirm that it will be my honour to lickshine her smart shoes on such an august occasion.

Miss Mukta madam points out to me that her socks shall also be visiting Parliament, and mockingly asks me if I would like her to return to my footblock after her visit to Parliament so that I can praise and admire the socks of a bright and intelligent, young woman who has been walking around the corridors of Female Power in the Parliament building? Needless to say, I am overwhelmed with the thoughtfulness and kindness of miss Mukta madam’s offer, and blubber my gratitude into her loafer shoes.

Miss Mukta madam and her husband, master Simon sir, laugh heartily at me and talk about me as they subsequently walk away from me on their way to their prestigious tour. I am extremely envious of master Simon sir as it is a real honour for a male – albeit a free male – to see around the seat of absolute Female Power in the Gynarchy (there are, needless to say, no male MPs!). A mere male slave like me would certainly never be allowed to darken the doors of the Female Parliament building!

I spend the rest of the day licking and kissing shoes, but all the while waiting expectantly for the return of customer-mistress Mukta and her socks, that I might praise and extol them.

But she didn’t bother returning that evening. Evidently she, and her socks, had much better things to do with their time. Indeed, the next time I saw her, and she was back to her usual scruffy self in her ubiquitous jeans and sneakers, she never even mentioned her failure to return to me in her parliamentary socks. Not that she owed me an apology, or anything – I’m just a slave!















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