Every Evening

Every evening she stops by me on her way home from work in order to have her pretty shoes kissed. She never speaks to me, though – since I’m just a ‘thing’ beneath her; a thing that kisses feet.

As I kiss her outstretched shoe I must think about how this young woman is better than me, being free and female; and intelligent and good looking; and strong and powerful. Whereas I am just a weak, down-in-the-dirt footslave; a dumb humble-head; a nothing. It is an honour for me to even breathe the same air as her shoes, let alone touch them with my footlackey lips!

No wonder the wearer of the shoes turns to walk away from me with a haughty, self-satisfied smirk of superiority writ large on her pretty face! She’s superb – and she knows it!













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