Her Good/Evil Deed For The Day
I spy, with my public footslave eye, mistress ‘white socks’ walking towards me across the town square. I call her that because I don’t know her real name, but she always seems to wear white socks with her white sneakers – and proudly so.
Today she begins by crouching down to my face and faux-asking after my wellbeing. She doesn’t really care how I’m feeling, of course; I’m just an anonymous, public footslave to her. But I nevertheless thank her kindly for her kind enquiry, and reply that I am doing well and am eager to serve her sneakers by lickshining them, if it would be to her pleasure? I then politely enquire as to her own wellbeing.
She laughs and tells me to mind my own business and not to be so impudent. But she then goes on to inform me that she is wearing a brand new pair of white, cotton socks with a trellised pattern in the stitching which I won’t have seen before, and would I like her to hitch up her jean hems so that I can see them whilst I am lickshining her dirty sneakers today? I, of course, blubber forth my strong desire to observe the customer-mistress’s new socks, since a new pair of socks on a customer is always a delight for the likes of me to behold, and it would make my day to study the mistress’s new white socks, if she would indeed be so kind to an humble and undeserving, public footservant such as myself!
She laughs at me again and pretends to think about it for a moment, but she then declares, to my face, that because she is in a good mood she will indulge me with her new socks, and will not only show them to me – she might even permit me to kiss her on the side of her sock if I do a good enough job of licking all the ‘gunk’ off the soles of her dirty sneakers!
I humbly gush forth my praise and gratitude to mistress white socks, for kissing a bright and intelligent young woman on the sock, whilst she is still wearing it, is indeedan honour for a lowly public footservant such as myself – albeit a humiliating one. Such intimacy is normally reserved for privatefootslaves in private households!
Needless to say, as soon as I observe the sock, I am determined to earn the right to kiss it, for it is indeed a pure, white sock with a fancy, trellised pattern in the stitching, thereby revealing little specks of the mistress’s bare ankleskin underneath. I might even be able to feel the mistress’s precious skin beneath the material of the soft, cotton sock if I kiss hard enough!
But first, there is some serious sneakersole-licking to do, and so I put my tongue into overdrive, seeking out the dirt from every nook and cranny so that I can taste everywhere mistress white socks has been walking in them whilst simultaneously doing my best to please her by cleansing her soles and thus earning the right to kiss sock!
As I work my way along the length of the sole towards the sock, I become increasingly excited. It really would be such a prize to feel that soft, cotton sock on my lips! Eventually, mistress white socks indulges me, and laughingly orders me to kiss her on the sock, just below the anklebone. Tremblingly, I press my lips to the white sock feeling the pattern of the trellised stitching on my uber-sensitive lips (though, sadly and frustratingly, I have no sensation of the mistress’s soft, bare ankleskin underneath). It just so happens that I am ordered to kiss the customer-mistress on the sock at the very moment when a real man is passing by, and I hear him shout over at her in a manly way:
‘Ha! Ha! Way to go, babe! Ha! Ha! That’s right - make the dork kiss you on the sock! Humble him!’
I also overhear mistress white socks giggling back at him, clearly loving the attention of a real man as she humiliates the slave man in public. And make no mistake about it – it truly is an extra humiliation, having to kiss a young woman on the sock in broad daylight, whilst she is still wearing it on her shapely foot and inside her sneaker. How the real man must despise me – a girl’s public sock-kisser. What a pathetic wimp I am. What a ‘dork’, as he himself so eloquently put it. A man like him would never be seen dead kissing a pretty girl’s sock – but then, a man like him isn’t a slave like me. I don’t have any choice in the matter!
Having kissed her, ever so briefly, on the side of her sock, mistress white socks decides she has indulged me enough, and proceeds to order me to kiss her on her sneaker laces, and to praise and bless her for letting me touch her new, white sock with my lips. I, of course, oblige her, since she has so kindly obliged me, and thank her kindly for her kindness towards me in the most profusely obsequious of humble slave-speak that I can muster. For I must always remember this young woman is my master and better, not my friend, and she must be respected as such.
She then crouches down again and mocks me to my face, before affording me one last view of her white trellised sock – this time the back of her sock – and then heading off into the square whilst turning to give me the female victory sign. She is quite right to be so pleased with herself, for she has done her good/evil deed for the day, and utterly humiliated a sock-kissing slave in public. Truly I am at the mercy and the whims of all who pass by me. I am nothing but a public humble head!
