She approaches me with the confidence and freedom that only
a superb young woman of the Gynarchy can muster – a young woman who knows she
is a superior being, worthy of the public humble-head’s slavish fear and respect.
I am not her boyfriend; I am just a thing, down in the
dirt, that kisses feet.
|  | 
| Approaching me with confidence and female freedom | 
|  | 
| The closer she gets to my confined face, the more confident she becomes | 
|  | 
| Her sneakers and socks ooze confidence | 
|  | 
| The right, sneakered foot is arrogantly shoved towards my awaiting, lowly lips... | 
|  | 
| ...swiftly followed by the equally arrogant left foot | 
|  | 
| Her white sneakers are commendably clean, down amongst the dirt | 
|  | 
| 'Kiss harder, slave! I wanna feel your lips through my shoe and sock!' | 
|  | 
| I obey the pretty mistress, as she starts to lose interest in me, focussing instead on her text messages high above my humble head | 
|  | 
| She subliminally continues to switch her confident feet in front of my menial mouth... | 
|  | 
| ...before silently turning her back on me to confidently walk away... | 
|  | 
| ...as she has the freedom to do so | 
|  | 
| She doesn't give me a second thought... | 
|  | 
| ...as she walks proudly away | 
|  | 
| I bow my head behind her female greatness... | 
|  | 
| ...and humbly admire the back of her black sock |