Making Another New Acquaintance
As the Gynarchy saying goes – ‘Be careful what you wish for, slave!’
Later that same evening the second security-guard officer mistress does indeed return with her boyfriend – a slovenly, unshaven brute of a young man who arrogantly insists that I kiss his boots, rather than lick them, in front of his girlfriend, knowing full well, no doubt, that it is somehow even more humiliating for a man to have to kiss another man’s boots in the presence of a female, than it is to lickthem. That’s because licking a person’s boots conveys not just respect and humiliation on the part of the slave – it is also performing a, nominally, useful function of cleaning the superior’s boots. Whereas, kissing them is solely about the humiliation and degradation of the slave!
Whatever, I have no choice but to obey him, for, as I said before, he is the chosen sexual partner of a beautiful, young woman, and therefore a much better man than me – however distasteful I may find him as a human being. And besides, to be fair, I ama footkisser by profession, and he is a smoker. All this boot and shoe licking of late has been giving me ideas above my station!
Like the master-sir before him, the sexual partner of this security-guard mistress verbally mocks and berates me whilst I kiss-worship the toe of his imperiously outstretched boot. He tells me he understands that their friends, Ms Aneka and her husband Ravi (so at least now I know the names of the other security guard mistress and her husband) have already ‘promised’ to bring me their dirty socks to mouthwash? He thinks that is a good idea as he and his girlfriend (so he’s evidently not married to the young woman in front of me) also have a pile of dirty socks filling up their laundry basket at home, which they can’t be ‘assed’ to take to the local launderette. How would I like to suck-wash theirdirty socks as well? Could my mouth withstand the taste of all that salty and vinegary footsweat?
I humbly seek to reassure the master-sir that over the years my menial mouth has acquired a taste for human sock sweat, but he just despises me all the more, telling me I’m a disgusting, pathetic sock-fancying lowlife who should be publicly whipped!
I wholeheartedly agree with the master sir.
As he then walks arrogantly off, his beautiful girlfriend – whom I note is still in uniform – takes the opportunity to emulate her boyfriend and have her feet quickly kissed by the low-life footslave. She has a wholly justifiable smirk on her face as she does so – knowing that before long her, and her boyfriend’s, dirty socks, including the white ones she has on now and has been wearing all day inside her hot and sticky uniform shoes, will be festering inside my mouth, the stale footsweat oozing out of them and slipping down my salty throat into my socksweat-receptacle stomach, along with all the other little bits and pieces of daily sock-detritus, such as household dust; human hairs; sock lint; broken toenail fragments; toejam; and dead footskin.
That is, if there’s room for them, and if her friends Ms Aneka madam and master Ravi sir don’t get their dirty socks inside my menial mouth first!
