Click Clack
It's late at night and I'm trying to get some shut eye. However, a public footslave is never off duty, and my humble head - ultra-sensitive as it is to the sound of approaching footwear due to years of public foot servitude - is awakened from its slumbers by the sound of click clacking across the town square which is hurriedly heading towards me: the unmistakeable sound of approaching high heels!
I open my eyes and humbly await my fate. The click clacks come ever nearer, echoing through the deserted square. Soon they are replaced by the sound of an outstretched, stiletto-heeled foot being plonked down onto the dirty and well-used, wooden footblock beneath my face:
'Shine them, slave!', she snaps down at me.
Her voice, feminine and authoritative, echoes through the empty square.
'Yes madam', I hastily respond.
That's one of the few phrases I am allowed to utter as a public humble head:
'Yes mistress', or 'Yes madam', or 'Yes miss'.
I immediately set about obeying the female voice and lickshining the proffered stiletto shoe. The irony is, it is already quite shiny and clean! Clearly this is purely an exercise in female power and maleslave humiliation. Whatever, this bright young woman has every right to disturb me at 3 o'clock in the morning, in order to have her shiny, black leather stilettos shined further. It's the Law.
I speculate (internally) as to why she might be up and about at such an ungodly hour - and why she appears to be in something of a foul mood. A break up with her boyfriend or husband, perhaps? Not that I could ever replace him - a real man - of course. I could never satisfy a beautiful young woman like this sexually, being a mere impotent humble head! And besides, I am hardly likely to be attractive to her; she is well and truly out of my league (as all women are!). But I can lick shoes. I've had years of training in that!
As I taste where she has been walking, I am gratified to note that she is wearing nylons on her lovely legs. It's quite chilly, and I wouldn't want her getting cold. I am further gratified to observe the tiny creases in her nylon stocking, around the ankle - caused by the outstretched positioning of her foot. The same thing happens with her left nylon when she arrogantly (and silently) switches feet beneath my face.
Soon, all too soon, the click clacks resume as she turns to walk away from me, without so much as a 'by your leave'. I hang my humble head in shame as the click clacks become fainter and fainter. She seems in a hurry, going back to wherever, and whoever, she came from. She is certainly walking out of my life - more's the pity!
Eventually I manage to fall asleep again, though my subconscious remains alert for the sound of any further approaching footwear. Fortunately I have no more customers until the morning.
When I do eventually awake, my menial mouth is still filled with the taste of black leather stilettos.
