'Shine my shoes, slave boy!'
'Yes, pretty mistress. At once, pretty mistress-madam. Please don't beat me with the WHIP, madam!'
The pretty customer-mistress's brusque command eloquently demonstrates the contempt in which she holds me. To her, I'm nothing but a lowly, public shoeshine slave-boy!
Which indeed I am!
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| 'Shine my shoes, slave boy!' |
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| 'Yes, pretty mistress. At once, pretty mistress-madam. Please don't beat me with the WHIP, madam!' |
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| Her attention, thankfully for me, turns to the contents of her phone as I begin my degrading shoe-lickshining duties |
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| I am just grateful to have such a splendid view of her socks! |
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| As I taste where she has been, I study the sock in front of me... |
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| ...in particular, the trellised pattern in the stitching of the sock |
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| Such a feminine, black sock! |
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| Meanwhile, like most of my superiors, the pretty wearer of the sock remains preoccupied with her phone |
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| Just like the passing master-sir |
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| All my betters are perennially preoccupied with their phones nowadays... |
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| ...just as I am perenially preoccupied with their socks! |
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| I don't have a phone. I'm just a slave. |
