Blessed
Regular customer-mistress Ms Mukta Madam clearly has the blessing of the Gynarchy church as she requires me to kiss-clean her dirty sneakers in public. But that’s not the only blessing in this happy scene:
· She is wearing her familiar pink and white spotty socks inside her sneakers. Actually, the ‘spots’ are little pink love hearts, and they are a blessing as they remind me that these are the socks of a beautiful young woman who is in a position of absolute power and authority over me.
· Thanks to the haughty, outstretched positioning of her foot, her blue denim jean hem has ridden up somewhat to reveal the all-pink, elasticated top of her sock. It is alwaysa blessing for a footslave to be able to observe the top of his customer’s sock, as it reminds him, as he gazes upwards at it, that the sock is higher than him.
· Ms Mukta’s pink and white socks are close enough to my footkissing face for me to be able to make out the individual lines of stitching in them. I can even count the total number of stitches in just one of the little pink hearts (23). How humiliating for me – but still a blessing, as I have learnt something new about her sock!
· I am aware, of course, that those little pink love hearts on her socks are not directed at me! I happen to know that customer-mistress Ms Mukta Madam is happily married to a truly magnificent man – master Simon Sir – a man whose feet I have previously had to kiss in front of her, as a demonstration of my maleslave inferiority vis-à-vis a free man; a real man; a man who has the love and respect of a beautiful young woman. Nevertheless, I am blessed that she has chosen to wear such a loving pair of socks, as they remind me that she does have a heart – albeit directed at someone else!
· It is now early evening, and so I am humbly aware that her socks will most likely have been on her feet all day inside those same sneakers, and that they must therefore, inevitably, be quite moist and sweaty in their pink-toed fundament. It is a blessing that I don’t have to inhale their vinegary aroma, as the sweaty stink is trapped well inside her shoes (at least, I think that’s a blessing?). All I can smell is the aroma of her dirty, outer sneaker leather.
· Note how Ms Mukta Madam, sweet and loving girl though she is, is not disposed to look down on me in a friendly or loving manner. Rather there is a look of supercilious contempt writ large on her pretty face. That’s because she despises me and finds me sexually repulsive, which is actually a blessing in disguise since I would be in position to please her sexually if she did take a fancy to me. Not only am I completely immobilised and immured, I am also sexually impotent and would be physically incapable of lovemaking with such a beautiful young woman even if I were not thusly confined. It is only right and proper, therefore, that I should concentrate instead on mentally worshipping her socks, since I am unfit to even think of a young woman above the level of her socks.
Yes, compared to other public footslaves, truly I am blessed. I have a nice pair of socks to admire, on a nice young woman, inside a nice pair of dirty sneakers as I kiss them clean. What more could a public slave like me wish for?
Other, of course, than to be ignominiously whipped at her socked feet?