Soliciting A Bruise

I’m feeling very submissive tonight, as I lickshine regular customer-mistress Ms Mukta’s permanently dirty sneakers in the gloom of the inner-city, pedestrian underpass:

‘Oh pray, mistress Mukta madam… begging your pardon, mistress Mukta madam… your dark grey socks are so magnificent, madam, would you kindly do this wretched slave the honour of kicking him in the face with your sneaker after I have finished lickshining your shoes to your satisfaction, madam? Truly, the knowledge that your dark grey sock had a hand in hurting my ugly face would be a huge privilege for the likes of me, kind mistress Mukta madam. I’m queer like that, miss. Oh your sock, mistress! Your sock!’

Ms Mukta needs little encouragement to kick a public humble head in the face. What girl would?

‘Haha! Very well, sock queer! If you insist!’

She certainly doesn’t hold back. She lets rip with her sneakered and socked foot into my gormless and helpless face. I can feel her scrunched up, socked toes through the protective, rough sneaker leather. Temporarily, I see stars.

Having regained my senses, I humbly thank her for indulging me:

‘Oh pray, mistress! Oh bliss! Thanking you kindly, mistress!’

Her female laughter echoes throughout the pedestrian underpass as she leaves me to rot in pain with a bright purple bruise quickly emerging over my ugly left eye. A female-caused bruise. A solicited bruise.

I can even smellthe residual leather imprint of her sneaker-toe on my face, as I forlornly watch her sneakers and socks walk away from me – female sneakers and socks of power!











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