Down With Her Boots & Socks






































This afternoon, I am having to kneel beneath my mistress Courtney’s chair in the university library whilst she studies for her end of year exams (though, actually, at this present moment in time I believe she may be preoccupied in a conversation with her boyfriend, master Darren sir, over the internet; never mind, she’s sure to get a good degree at the end of the day, since her father is the vice chancellor of the university!)

Lowly and humbling though my position is, there is nevertheless much for me to admire about my mistress’s boots and socks:

·     Firstly, her boots are quite dusty and dirty from her having been walking about in them all morning. They could do with a lick and a shine and, hopefully, that will be mytask later in the day. In the meantime I can only study that which I hope to eventually savour inside my mouth, and try to guess the provenance of each type of dirt on her outer boot surfaces.
·     Secondly she is wearing her bright red and yellow, heart-themed socks inside her boots. Needless to say, none of the heart-themed logos are directed at me. My mistress Courtney despises me. I’m just a slave. No, the love hearts on her socks, if they are for anyone, are for her boyfriend, my master Darren. Not that he, being a free male, pays much attention to his girlfriend’s socks. Certainly not as much attention as her slave does!
·     Whilst I am down here I might as well study her socks in great detail, including counting the lines of stitching and the overall numbers of stitches in her socks. I can then focus on how many individual stitches are in each of the yellow heart logos, not forgetting the fainter, smaller red love heart logos. I should also contemplate the warmth of her socks inside her heavy boots, and the likely aroma I shall have to endure when she kicks off her boots later this evening – probably in master Darren’s bedsit as she climbs into bed with him, leaving me kneeling on the floor with her sweaty, discarded boots and socks (where I belong)
·     All the while I am studying her boots and socks here in the library, I am thinking about how much better than me my mistress is – better looking; more intelligent; wittier. Even the sweat molecules forming right now on the insides of her socks are better than me, since they contain my mistress’s female foot DNA. I feel truly humbled, and privileged, to be in the presence of such greatness – by which I mean the boots and socks of a Gynarchy goddess; a goddess who is going places and no doubt on her way to a blisteringly successful academic career – but who first of all will be going out clubbing tonight with her boyfriend, afterthey have made love, and after she has ordered me to lickshine her boots and sniff-vacuum her socks (for she will doubtless be wearing her heels in the nightclub tonight) whilst she and he are out enjoying themselves on the town. Needless to say, I am never permitted to accompany my mistress and master to the nightclub of an evening – I have too much work to do, cleaning her daytime boots and socks!
·     Yes, I know my place – and it is down in the dirt looking up to my mistress Courtney’s boots and socks. I wonder which style of socks she will choose to wear tomorrow inside her boots? 

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