Purposefully Towards Me

February 23, 2024

It’s early evening, and a bright young woman is striding purposefully towards me. She stops in front of my face, looking down on me no doubt with female contempt written all over her pretty face. And rightly so, for I’m just the dirt at her feet.

I contemplate her boots and socks as she contemplates my lowliness – shiny, black leather, blocky-heeled, zip-up, platform ankleboots, worn with a fetching pair of scrunched down grey socks. She is evidently on her way to a party or some such, in her best party frock.

Then her right boot is unceremoniously shoved forwards on the dirty ground beneath my confined face:

‘Shine my boots, slave!’ barks a contemptuous female voice.

‘Yes, mistress madam. At once, mistress madam!’

My default position is always to simply kiss-respect the boots or shoes of a customer, unless they tell me otherwise. But a lick and a shine is the second most common requirement amongst my esteemed customers.

I humbly and respectfully project my tongue towards the young woman’s outstretched bootleather, whilst she focuses on the contents of her phone, high above me. It’s good that she’s alone, and not accompanied by a male partner. In my humble experience, lone females are normally gentler and kinder towards a public humble-head like me, whereas whenever a husband or boyfriend is present the latter inevitably, out of a display of machismo, like to exert their delegated male authority over me, by threatening me and criticising my performance on their beloved’s boots or shoes. Plus, a lone female is much more likely to be kind and forgiving should my face or nose inadvertently brush against forbidden socks (touching socks is expressly forbidden without the customer’s explicit permission!)

And so I taste where she has been whilst she catches up on her text messages. Deftly, and at a time of her subconscious choosing, she switches her booted feet in front of my face. No need for her to speak to me. It’s obvious what I must do – lickshine her other boot. Besides, a young woman like this is too high and mighty to ever converse with the likes of lowly me, a mere public footservant, other than to bark her initial orders down at me.

Likewise, when she suddenly turns her back on me and leaves me in the dirt behind her, she says nothing. No words of thanks or praise for my diligent bootshining efforts. And again, rightly so – for I am only doing my job, that of sprucing up her boots, no doubt for the benefit of her boyfriend whom she has just been texting to confirm she is on her merry way to their prearranged rendezvous.

I’m not going anywhere, of course. I must remain here and humbly await my next customer mistress or master. Oh how I envy the freedom her boots and socks have – freedom to accompany her precious feet and ankles wheresoever they go. Still, at least I have the lingering taste of her feminine bootdirt inside my unworthy, menial mouth!