Souvenir

The mocker-mistress crouches down to ask me whether I don’t feel shame, alone and vulnerable having to kiss the dirty shoes and boots of passers-by all day long? I reply, politely, that I do indeed feel all three of those things, thanking the mistress kindly for her kind question. She then makes me kiss her dirty, black leather biker boots, before kneeling down again in order to nonchalantly pick her pretty nose in front of me and then rub the fresh, feminine nose pick onto my eyebrow as a demonstration of her contempt for me.

Having surveyed her handiwork, she then leaves me ‘to rot in the dirt’, as she puts it. For my humble part, I just feel privileged to have a small piece of her intimate, feminine DNA stuck to my face as a souvenir of this beautiful customer-mistress's visit. I hope and pray it doesn’t fall off any time soon!























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