When out dining in a restaurant or cafe, my mistress Mukta will often insist that I kiss the waitress's feet. And rightly so, for, even though the waitress is not serving me any food or drink, she is, like everyone else, my infinite superior - and must therefore be respected and worshipped by me.
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| 'Slave, kiss the waitress's feet!' |
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| The delighted waitress stretches forth her right, sneakered foot towards my menial mouth |
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| Much to my mistress's husband's amusement I humbly kiss the pretty waitress's outstretched feet, one after the other |
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| The pretty waitress gratefully thanks my mistress for the slavish courtesy being afforded to her |
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| I am acutely aware of how dominantly the waitress's socks tower over my humble head! |
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| These are the sneakers and socks of my better, and must be worshipped and admired! |
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| I particularly admire the little logos at the tops of the waitress-mistress's socks |
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| I am, of course, surrounded by the shoes and socks of my betters! |
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| How they all glory in my humiliation at their feet! |
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| And rightly so, for I am just a pathetic, whipped slave at their combined mercy! |
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| Kissing feet and admiring socks is all I am good for! |
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| I'm just a sneaker-kissing, sock-subservient slave! |
