Her boots (and socks) are powerful, and so is she. I fear her, just as I fear all young women - my masters!
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A powerful young woman, in powerful boots, walks confidently down the street towards me |
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She stops to survey me in my weakness and helplessness |
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She then has me kiss her powerful boots |
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I do so in slavish fear and respect |
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These are, after all, the boots of my master... |
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... or, at least, she is my master right now! |
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A female master! |
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My relaxed and powerful, female master casually takes a drag on her cigarette high above me...
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...and then looks down on me with contempt
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I am nought but a grovelling, frightened wretch at her powerfully-booted feet!
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Satisfied with her female triumph over me, she continues on her way... |
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...leaving me bowing my humble head in continued, abject fear behind her powerful boots and socks! |