Hypocrite
I observe what appears to be an office worker approaching towards me from across the square. She looks angry with me, for some reason, though I am sure I have never served her before (I never forget a pair of pretty boots!)
On arrival at my shoelick stand she crouches down in order to sneeringly tell me to my face that she has been watching me from her office across the road as I lickshined a succession of young women’s dirty boots and shoes for a living, and that I disgust her! However, she then says, somewhat hypocritically I feel, that it is now herturn to have her boots licked, and thus she duly presents me with one of her booted feet to lick.
As she does so, the cuff of her black, office trouser-leg raises up slightly to reveal a hint of creased and twisted, grey, office-girl bootsock. I can’t fail but to be impressed by the sock! She even twists her high-heeled ankleboot up and down, and from side to side, in front of my confined face in order to help me get my tongue onto the black rubbery soles of her otherwise brown leather boots, as well as the sides. But sadly she does not facilitate me in reaching the upper parts of her ankleboots meaning that, frustratingly, I cannot get an even closer view of her socks.
Afterwards, she stoops down to my level again in order to mockingly ask me how I liked having the taste of her dirty bootsoles in my mouth? Did the taste make me want to gag? Or was I, pathetic footslave that I am, actually savouring the flavour of her dirty boot-rubber mixed in with street-mud?
Because the blonde customer-mistress had asked me a question about her footwear I am obliged to answer it. And so I politely, and humbly, inform her, in the language of humble slavespeak, that I had indeed savoured the taste of her dirty bootmud very much, if she would be so kind and understanding to a dirty, bootlicking slave such as myself, but that it was an acquired taste, if the beautiful blonde mistress would be so kind and forgiving to a humble slave at her mercy?
She laughs out loud at me and leaves my public footlick stand by showing me a clean pair of heels, and seemingly much happier than when she had first approached me. I can but hope and pray that, being a local office worker, she will visit me time and time again from now on, as it would be an honour for me not just to taste even more of her beautiful bootdirt, but also to get to know her collection of socks.
