Self-Obsessed Superior







































The self-obsessed customer mistress never even looks at me as I lickshine her dirty sneakers. She is much too engrossed in her personal telephone conversation than to even notice my tongue work on her sneakers. I am merely a ‘thing’ in her subconsciousness – a thing that licks dirty shoes. Even when she finishes her phone conversation and turns to leave me she does not acknowledge me; or my work (perhaps it’s just as well in the case of the latter, as I’m afraid my tongue has had little impact on the ingrained streetdirt on her sneakers!)

And it is right and proper that she should totally ignore me, for I am inferior to her. Indeed, everything about her is superior to me – from her female body and mind; to her purple hair; to her black and gold dress; to her thigh-high, black and white stripy socks which tower over me and intimidate me; and, of course, her street-soiled, grubby white sneakers. And to top it all she’s a smoker – yet another indication of her superiority over me, since slaves aren’t free to smoke!

Yes, she is a beautiful, self-obsessed superior. I am saddened to see her go, but honoured to have tasted where she has been walking.

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