Winner vs Loser

Regular customer-mistress mistress Sharon madam has come to gloat over me.

As she sits down in the high seat of female power, sets down her executive briefcase, and picks up the public-use whip, she informs me that it is now 7 years to the day since she first used me as a public shoelick! She asks me if I remember licking her shoes for the first time all those long years ago, and what was she wearing on her feet?

Fortunately for me, I doremember, for I recall how she was then a fresh-faced 18 year old college student, wearing a pair of dirty white, low top keds-style sneakers and matching white socks beneath her scruffy, blue denim jean hems. I tell her so (leaving out the epithets of ‘dirty’ and ‘scruffy’) and she laughs triumphantly at me.

How times have changed, I think to myself, as Ms Sharon madam is now a rich and successful, young businesswoman –running her own female company by all accounts  – and her feet are now clad in a pair of smart, businesslike, black leather, high-heeled pumps and finest denier, tan-nylon stockings, beneath her short, grey-pinstriped, businesswoman skirt.

She gleefully orders me to lickshine her shoes (even though they don’t really require a lickshining) and then proceeds to verbally berate and belittle me as I dutifully tongue-attend to her outer footwear:

·         She begins by asking me how I am liking it, having to lickshine the shoes of a successful, young blonde woman?

·         She points out that whilst, over the past 7 years, she has been bettering and improving herself to the point where she is now a happily married, rich and successful young businesswoman, I have gone nowhere in life, and am still the same old rusty-necked, shoelicking fool I always was – only older; and uglier!

·         She then emphasises that even the material in her flimsy, finest-denier nylons is worth more than me, and she expresses the hope that I shall rot here in this same, dark and dingy alleyway, licking shoes for the rest of my miserable life. She even says that she wishes me a long life – but only so that I can continue to be of service to my superiors and betters, like her, by lickshining their shoes.

·         She then refers to the multitudinous whip marks on my bent-over back, and suggests they indicate that I’m not even very good at what I do – else why would my customers feel the need to whip me?

·         She asks me if I don’t feel shame at having to be whipped so often, and don’t I wish that I was good enough at my job to please my betters without having to endure the constant, biting sting of the whip on my back?

·         Finally, she makes it clear to me, for the ‘avoidance of any doubt’, that she utterly despises me, and she informs me that she is minded to bring her husband to see me one day so that I might observe what a real man – a proper man – looks like, and pay my respects to his footwear also.

I thank customer-mistress Ms Sharon madam kindly for all her kind comments, and for her equally kind offer to have me lickshine her manly husband’s shoes. I also humbly agree with everything she has said. I then remain kneeling in the dirt – where I belong – as she puts down the whip (which, mercifully, for all her bluster, she has not actually used on me this time), picks up her briefcase, climbs down from the high chair and victoriously walks away from me.

Yes, goddess customer-mistress Ms Sharon madam is a winner in life; and I am just a rusty-necked loser, fit only to taste where she has been walking in her designer stiletto shoes. I wish her well, just as she has wished me a lifetime of hard labour licking shoes, and I contemplate both the lingering, bitter taste of her superior shoeleather in my menial mouth, and the veracity of her wise words in my menial mind, as she heads off to make herself even more money and become even more powerful in this fabulous, female-dominated society in which we both live. God bless goddess-mistress Ms Sharon madam – and her manly husband; my infinite betters!