Cowardly, Late-Night Bootlicker

I have been a loyal public footservant to regular customer-mistress Ms Aneka madam for over 15 years now – since she was in her early twenties. You would think therefore, wouldn’t you, that I would know her well enough by now to be able to compliment her on her white socks? She has a fantastic array of socks, but of all her socks her white socks are my favourites – especially when worn in conjunction with her heavy, black leather work boots, as her white socks remind me of her beautiful and pure femininity whilst I am lickshining the outsides of her dirty, masculine boots.

But, the truth of the matter is that I feel I hardly know Ms Aneka madam – and certainly don’t know her well enough to dare to comment out loud to her on her lovely socks. I just don’t know how she would react, as she never deigns to speak to me (other than to give me my bootlicking orders), holding me in utter contempt, as she does.

She is right to be contemptuous of me, of course. I’m just a slave, and a mere public one at that – and thus considered the lowest of the low on the Gynarchy’s social scale. Whereas she is a beautiful, thirty-something goddess! A master; a ruler; an off-duty security guard queen and princess! 

And so, yet again, after yet another late-night visit to my cold and lonely, backstreet bootlick stand, she turns her back on me and leaves me in contemptuous silence. And, yet again, I have failed to give trembling voice to my admiration of my esteemed regular customer’s plain white bootsocks, now disappearing into the darkness. Shame on me! I’m such a cowardly, late-night bootlicker!











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