Footoire Cleaner-Mistress

Footoire cleaner-mistress, Ms Hara madam, oftentimes will use me to kiss her feet when she comes to mop the footoire floor.

Whilst I, of course, very much respect and admire the feet and footwear of all the customer-mistresses who use me throughout the day, I must say I am particularly humbled and enamoured by Ms Hara’s brightly-coloured sneakers and plain, black socks when she positions her feet in front of my face. I especially admire the stitching in her socks, and wish I could be one of her socks – absorbing her precious, hardworking cleaning-girl footsweat throughout the day.

Not that Ms Hara madam is all that hardworking, it must be said, and I always feel hugely honoured when she continues to have her feet kissed by me whilst she is skiving and conversing on the phone with her boyfriend in Hindi high above me, for I think that just goes to show the utter contempt and disregard in which she, quite rightly, holds me. At such times I am nothing more than a feetkissing automaton to her; a subliminal thing in her subconsciousness whilst she focuses on that which truly matters to her – her relationship with her beloved boyfriend, a man who has clearly won her affections in ways that I never can, since I am nothing but an impotent and dumb, public footkissing slave.

No wonder she never speaks to me. She has no need to. The arrogant positioning of her cleaner’s sneakered feet in front of my lowly face tells me all I need to know about what she thinks of me.




























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