Morning After Pill
It’s the morning after the gale and you are confronted by the (relatively) friendly and familiar sneakers and socks of regular customer-mistress, Ms Mukta Madam.
She asks you if you had heard the storm last night (knowing full well that your humble head was fully exposed to it) and asks if you had managed to sleep through it? You politely and respectfully explain that you had been woken at about 4.00 AM by a customer-mistress who required her boots to be kiss-respected, so you haven’t had much sleep, if customer-mistress Ms Mukta Madam would be so kind and understanding to an humble slave such as yourself? She laughs at you and says that she and her husband had been sleeping soundly in their bed at that time of the morning, but she nevertheless fakes sympathy for your predicament (again knowing full well that the fact she was tucked up in her warm bed with her manly husband, master Simon Sir, at the very time you were having to lickshine a stranger’s dirty boots in the middle of a blizzard will only add salt into your wounds, as she knows you fancy her but can do nothing about it, being a mere slave!). Still, at least, as she points out, the snow is starting to melt and it feels a lot milder this morning. That’s typical of Ms Mukta Madam – always looking on the bright side of things!
Note how she doesn’t ask you about how you come to have a shiner over your right eye. That’s because she doesn’t really care as to your wellbeing. She’s just pretending.
She then requires you to lickshine her dirty sneakers down amongst the slush, and even manoeuvres her foot around for you, in order to afford your tongue easier access to her foul-tasting sneaker dirt. Such a kind and thoughtful customer-mistress! She then leaves you with a smug, self-satisfied smile on her pretty face having humiliated and degraded you with her dirty sneakers yet again. Yes, not even one of those hundreds of little pink lovehearts on her blue socks is for you. For all Ms Mukta’s faux-friendliness she utterly despises you! Well might you hang your head in shame, weather-beaten slave. For you mean nothing to her. You’re a nonentity and a nobody – a mere thing that lickshines people’s dirty shoes and boots.
Just be grateful that customer-mistress Ms Mukta permits you to taste where she has been walking from the surfaces of her dirty sneakers and recognise that her husband, a real man, is a much better man than you – capable of satisfying her sexually! He is a potent lover of women; you are just an impotent footslave. And a not very good one at that, judging by the remaining filth on your customer’s sneakers as she leaves you behind!
Ha! Ha! Her foul-tasting sneaker dirt must surely be a bitter morning-after pill for you to have to swallow, dirty footslave?!
