Rudeness





































It's a wet evening and I'm trying to get 40 winks when suddenly I am rudely awakened by a kick to the face! Through my bleary eyes I espy a pair of muddy green wellingtons. My footslave instincts kick in and I immediately kiss the left, green-rubbery boot toe which is unceremoniously shoved into my face.

'Tch! Didn't you hear what I said, stupid slave? I said I want my wellies lickshined! Cretin!'

To my astonishment it is the familiar voice of regular customer-mistress Ms Mukta madam! I've never seen her wellington boots before! What an honour! What a treat!

I apologise profusely to the madam for not listening to her instructions:

'Oh pray, Ms Mukta madam, pray forgive me madam! Please don't have me beaten, miss!'

I then start to vigorously lick at her boot-toe dirt. she just tuts again. Clearly Ms Mukta is not in a good mood! My naturally menial mind is nevertheless inevitably drawn to her black and white socks atop her boots. Or, are they indeed socks? Or legwarmers? That is the question! And, sadly for me, it's a question that must be asked - for I am aching to know whether that thick cotton material inside her boots reaches all the way down to her pretty toes; or does it stop at her ankles? I'm afraid my innate slavishness compels me to ask such a rude and impertinent question of my customer-mistress:

'Oh pray, Ms Mukta, if you will forgive me Ms Mukta madam, might this slave politely enquire as to the nature of the pretty mistress's leg coverings, madam? Would they be socks or legwarmers, mistress, if the mistress would be so kind, madam, please don't beat me miss?'

Again she clicks her teeth in annoyance. I have clearly chosen the wrong night to ask such a rude and intrusive question of the normally chatty and chirpy Ms Mukta!

'Shut the f*** up, slave, and get on with your licking! I want those boots pristine clean by the time you've finished!'

'Begging your pardon, madam!'

I duly shut the f*** up and do as I am told. I console myself with the thought that they are almost certainly socks inside her boots, since I know regular customer-mistress Ms Mukta madam to be very much a 'sock girl'. In fact, I can't recall an occasion when she wasn't wearing socks whilst I was serving her? Hence her usual nickname for me of 'sockieboy'! But tonight she clearly isn't in the mood for idle footwear chitchat.

By way of compensation for my being rebuffed, her green wellies taste nice and rubbery. Such a nice change for the public footslave palate from ubiquitous leather!

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