Frozen In Time

The familiar winter boots of regular customer Ms Mukta madam step up onto the podium of power in front of me. As soon as she has settled down into the shoelick seat above me, and placed her booted feet on the concrete footrests directly in front of my permanently kneeling face, she begins to mock me on account of the inclement weather:

'Haha, aren't you freezing down there, slave? Don't you feel the cold? Where is your woolly hat and warm winter coat?'

Ms Mukta is being sarcastic, of course. She knows full well that, being a mere slave, my back must be kept bared in all weathers, in case a dissatisfied customer master or mistress should wish to beat me with the nearby wall-whip! But I must nevertheless dignify her deliberately sarcastic question with a suitably humble and respectful response, since a mere slave like me must always express gratitude when a superior customer takes an interest in his lowly, unworthy wellbeing:

'Oh pray, Ms Mukta madam, thanking you kindly for your kind question, Ms Mukta goddess-madam, this slave is indeed feeling the cold, madam, but regrets that he is unable to wear warm clothing, miss, lest his betters should desire to punish him, miss, if you would be so kind and understanding to an humble and shivering slave at your feet, madam?'

She laughs out loud at me, and continues in sarcastic mode:

'Haha, silly me! Of course - I keep forgetting that you're just a slave, and that! Well, I'm not a slave, so as you can see I'm well wrapped-up against the cold! Do you like my warm winter boots and thick, woolly socks, slave?'

It's an even sillier question than her opening gambit. Of course I like Ms Mukta's fabulous boots and socks!

'Oh pray Ms Mukta madam, begging your pardon Ms Mukta madam, this slave is indeed most enamoured by your superb boots and thick brown socks, madam, for they are your boots and socks, on your feet, madam, and you are a goddess, miss, begging your female pardon for my slavish forwardness miss?'

It's okay, in law, for a public footslave to compliment a mistress, but he must always do so apologetically and with humility, lest the recipient of his flattery take offence at his slavish lust and admiration for both her and her footwear! Fortunately for me, however, Ms Mukta loves my slavish and impotent flattery at her feet and, filled with a renewed sense of her female power and authority over me, proceeds to bark down her female orders at me:

'Lickshine my boots, slave. Make sure you remove all the dirt and stains. And you may look at my socks while you're licking.'

'Oh pray, mistress. Oh bliss! Thanking you kindly, Ms Mukta madam. This slave will obey the pretty mistress and endeavour to be pleasing to her and her boots and socks, most magnificent madam!'

I then get down to the demeaning task in mouth, and begin lickshining her left boot. As I do so, I diligently study the thick weave of her brown, winter-woolly sock and wish that I could be her sock, all warm and snug inside her brown leather boot, absorbing her precious natural foot juices (though her feet are surely not all that sweaty on such a cold and frosty evening as this?)

A passing master-sir sneers at me as he espies me lickshining my female customer-master's boots. Not something he will ever have to do, of course, since he is a proper man, beloved and respected by women! He is also, you will note, fully clothed!

The familiar boots of Ms Mukta madam stepping up onto the podium of power in front of me (I recognise all my regular customers from their boots and shoes!)

Once settled in the raised shoelick chair, Ms Mukta looks down on me and mercilessly mocks my semi-nakedness in the bitterly cold weather

I humbly and respectfully praise and bless her for her feigned interest in my wellbeing and, on command, express my undying admiration for her thick, woolly socks

I do very much admire the thick weave of Ms Mukta's warm, woolly socks on her ankles!

Her tone changes from one of sarcastic mockery to dominant female as she brusquely orders me to lickshine her dirty boots

I sense her watching me as I begin to taste where she has been from the cold, outer surfaces of her boots

Thankfully, I also have her explicit female permission to visually admire and worship her thick brown sock whilst I lick

From certain lowly angles, I can even see Ms Mukta's soft, bare leg above the sock and beneath her jean-hem, but I focus my eyes exclusively on the sock - since I have no business looking at pretty Ms Mukta's bare legskin!

Besides, she is watching me to make sure I humbly comply with her sock-staring wishes!

I fully intend to obey Ms Mukta's orders to the letter, as I have no wish to feel the stinging warmth of the nearby wall-whip on my naked back!

Meanwhile, a passing master-sir audibly sneers at me as, frozen in time, I dutifully lickshine my pretty customer-mistress's filthy, street-soiled, winter boots, down between her socks!