Chaste & Demure


It’s not entirely clear what such a chaste and demure, young businesswoman is doing in such an insalubrious part of town, but I’m just grateful that she found the time to stop for a quick lick and a shine as I don’t often get to tongue-attend to such a stylish pair of beautiful-businesswoman, high-heeled shoes, or to observe close up and personal such a mesmerising pair of thinly-meshed, dark nylon tights covering such shapely ankles.

More importantly, the elderly voyeur master-sir, who likes to hang around my street corner observing my humiliation at the feet of women, is clearly excited to see me lickshine such a sexy pair of feminine shoes – so much so that, as soon as she walks away from me, he pokes me in the head with his walking cane and asks me how I had liked it, having to lick the dirt from a wealthy young businesswoman’s smart shoes? And didn’t I feel shame at the indignity of it, having to taste where the superior young woman had been walking? 

I politely and respectfully confirm to the master-sir that, being a queer footslave, I hadactually quite liked lick-polishing the bright young woman’s shoes, if he would be so kind and understanding towards a filthy and insignificant wretch like me – but that I had not liked it that much, sir, since her shoes had tasted vile. The elderly master-sir laughs at me, and pokes me in the face many more times with his walking stick, saying that I am the one who is vile.

He’s right, of course!










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