Just A Public Humble Head

I must never forget that I am just a slave – a public humble head. And so, if regular customer-mistress Ms Mukta Madam – whose socks I would willingly die for – is too busy talking on her phone to converse with me, I must simply get on with my lowly task of first kissing, and then lickshining, her dirty shoes, whilst admiring the various creases and folds in her socks as she subliminally manoeuvres her foot around my mouth in order to graciously grant my tongue access to the dirtiest parts of her sneakers.

When she has finished with me, she leaves without any acknowledgement towards me. But why should she speak to the likes of me? After all, she is my public master; not my friend. My better; not my equal. I mean nothing to her.

And rightly so.