Subdued & Contrite

The whip's mighty sting lingers long into night,

As I lay in the stocks, subdued and contrite.

A lady appears, not to pity, but mock.

I kiss her grey sneaker and admire her black sock.


The stranger asks me how I am liking it? Is the sting to my liking? And have I learnt a valuable lesson?

I kiss her feet, by way of demonstrating my humility and contrition, caused by the mighty WHIP!

As I kiss-respect the lady's sneaker, I admire her sock

For it is a sock of greatness, being the sock of a superior female - my infinite better!

I am privileged even to breathe in the same night air as the female sock!

I, literally, look up to the sock

Meanwhile, the female wearer of the sock looks down on me with derision and contempt

She likes nothing more than having her feet kissed by a whipped and contrite slave

Truly, there is much humility and contrition at the end of a WHIP!

She casually and uncaringly turns to walk away from me...

...content in her humiliation of me

And rightly so! After all, she's not the one suffering the lingering, biting sting of the WHIP!

I bow my head in contrition and shame behind the mocking lady's superior, departing feet

Even her sock is higher than me - and in a lot less pain!

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