Lumbered With Loafers

On a late-night visit to my face, Ms Mukta mocks me by asking me if I am keeping busy, knowing full well that a municipal footslave such as myself is never off duty. Nonetheless, I must respectfully and politely thank her for her female interest in my male slave work and reassure her that the superior public are indeed keeping my menial mouth busy with their dirty footwear.

She laughs at me and says that’s good, before lumbering me with her beloved husband’s loafers for lickshining. She explains that her ‘hubby’ is too busy himself to visit me for a lick and a shine of his hardworking loafers, and that she will thus leave them with me overnight for tongue-cleaning. She faux apologises for interrupting my ‘beauty sleep’, but reminds me that it is my duty to spruce up my betters’ footwear whatever the time of day or night – and she stresses that her husband Simon (master Simon sir to me) is indeed my infinite better.

Once again I politely, if reluctantly, have to agree with Ms Mukta madam and I humbly inform her that it will be an honour for me to taste her husband’s loafers, and where he has been walking in them, throughout the night. Ms Mukta warns me to ensure that I clean her husband’s shoes thoroughly both inside and out. Every morsel of dirt he has walked in, every scintilla of sweat on the inner linings, every tiny trace of black sock lint must be removed from her husband’s shoes and deposited inside my mouth and stomach. She will come back to collect the shoes first thing in the morning and will inspect them before she leaves. Woe betide me if they are not lickshined to perfection!

Without further ado, I begin my humble night-time task as Ms Mukta gigglingly turns her back on me and walks away, revealing flashes of her bright red socks beneath her blue denim jean hems. 

Ms Mukta kindly presenting me with her husband's used loafers

She demands that I clean them overnight with my tongue - inside and out!

She then gigglingly turns her back on me, warning that she'll be back in the morning to collect the shoes

I admire her flashes of feminine-red sock as she walks away from me...

...socks that own me and can dictate how I shall spend the night - lickshining their husband's shoes!

Oh to be able to lick and suck clean those bright red socks instead!

But I am lumbered with loafers - male loafers!

My nugatory nose has now effectively tied the knot with my master's shoelaces!

I can smell the musty leather of the brown laces as I begin my menial task of tasting blue loafer leather