No Time For A Chat

I haven’t been visited by stunningly beautiful and haughty customer-mistress Ms Radha in a long time. It’s great to see her, but she clearly doesn’t have time to stop and chat:

‘Lickshine my boots from top to bottom, toilet head!’, she snaps down at me, before concentrating on her mobile phone high above me. I will really have to painfully strain my neck to reach the uppers of her fantastically muddy kneeboots; I hope she will see fit to facilitate me in my humbling and degrading task by repositioning her boots in front of my face. But she seems preoccupied with whatever she is doing on her phone high above me.

And, when all is said and done, why would she facilitate me? She is my infinite better and has given me crystal clear orders. My job is to obey, and it is most certainly nother job to help me! The best I can hope for, therefore, is that she will be satisfied with my meagre efforts to shine her boots. Otherwise the nearby whip will no doubt write her displeasure on my feckless face! And rightly so.