Foot Posturing
An experienced Gynarchy girl knows how to thoroughly humiliate a public footoire-slave just by means of her arrogant foot-posturing.
Take the bright and intelligent, young woman who is entering my footoire-cubicle right now. Not only does she not close the cubicle door behind her – indicating that she is completely unabashed about having her feet kissed in public; she also foot poses in front of me for a few moments – showing me the sides of her sneakers and socks. It's almost as if she's saying to me:
'How do you like my sneakers and socks, slave? Are you looking forward to having to kiss them?'
If I were permitted to speak my reply would, by law, have to be something along the lines of:
'Yes thank you, miss, thanking you kindly, mistress madam'.
though, needless to say, no actual words are exchanged between us. A girl like this would never deign to actually converse with a lowlife public footservant like me!
After switching the sides of her feet several times in front of my forlorn face, she finally moves forwards and presents her sneakered feet for my maleslave mouth to respectfully kiss, one after the other. The outstretched positioning of her feet causes her socks to crease before my very eyes, thereby adding to my sense of humiliation. Indeed, her sneakers and socks completely dominate my field of vision, and my sense of rubbery shoe-smell, thereby making me feel ultra-small – like a lowly worm that is underfoot.
'How do you like my sneakers and socks, slave? Are you looking forward to having to kiss them?'
If I were permitted to speak my reply would, by law, have to be something along the lines of:
'Yes thank you, miss, thanking you kindly, mistress madam'.
though, needless to say, no actual words are exchanged between us. A girl like this would never deign to actually converse with a lowlife public footservant like me!
After switching the sides of her feet several times in front of my forlorn face, she finally moves forwards and presents her sneakered feet for my maleslave mouth to respectfully kiss, one after the other. The outstretched positioning of her feet causes her socks to crease before my very eyes, thereby adding to my sense of humiliation. Indeed, her sneakers and socks completely dominate my field of vision, and my sense of rubbery shoe-smell, thereby making me feel ultra-small – like a lowly worm that is underfoot.
Throughout the whole degrading (for me) process she looks down on me with young-womanly contempt, mixed in with sadistic arousal, and when she eventually turns to leave the cubicle she does so with her head held high and with a justifiably smug smile of sweet feminine superiority writ large on her pretty face. For she has stylishly imposed her female sneakers upon my menial, male mouth, and that makes her feel awesome.
