Winners vs Loser
On a bitterly cold winter’s evening, regular customer-mistress Ms Mukta Madam, and her manly husband Master Simon Sir (both winners), are making their way home after a night out on the town. They kindly stop by me (a loser) in order to have their feet kissed.
Ms Mukta Madam goes first, and whilst I am kiss-respecting her cheap leathery, outstretched boot-toe she explains that they have just been to see the latest blockbuster release in their local cinema, followed by a slap-up meal in a nearby restaurant. She mockingly asks me if I have seen the film, which, of course, I haven’t. I apologise to the mistress for not having seen the movie, and she laughs at me.
She then asks me if I like the white trim at the top of her black sock? I reply that I do indeed admire the white trim of her sock, and thank her kindly for asking. Master Simon Sir interjects at this point, and orders me to praise and bless his wife’s sock, and thank her for showing it to me. I humbly obey, and eulogise both Ms Mukta and her sock in the most sycophantic of slavespeak terms, in fulsome compliance with the mighty master-sir’s wishes.
After I have finished eulogising her sock, Ms Mukta orders me to pay my respects to her husband’s feet, and the happy couple swap places. I must then kiss the feet of a much better man than me in front of his wife, and praise and bless him for the privilege.
The happy couple then walk off, with food in their bellies and lust in their loins, heading arm in arm towards their warm and cosy apartment where they will, no doubt, be making love to one another, safe in the knowledge that they are both winners in life who deserve to be respected by a lowlife, down-in-the-dirt loser like me, and that they have both been kind towards me by allowing me to taste their footwear and where they have been walking tonight.
I am truly humbled by their generosity towards me – their local, public humble head.
