A bright and beautiful young woman approaches me from across
the square, but she doesn’t immediately order me to kiss-respect her boots.
Instead she crouches down in order to mock me to my face. She asks me if I don’t
feel shame and powerlessness – having to kiss the boots and shoes of passers-by
like her, with my ugly old head stuck in between rusty railings?
I humbly and politely confirm to the pretty mistress-madam
that I do indeed feel shame, and I apologise to her profusely for my male powerlessness
and ugliness, begging her female pardon and forgiveness madam?
She sneeringly laughs at me, stands up, and duly presents
her booted foot to me for respect-kissing. I feel honoured to be used in such a way by
such a charming and erudite young woman. Just think – her superior, female boot
DNA is now on my lowly, unworthy lips! My only regret is that I couldn’t see
her socks.
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| The epitome of goddesshood walks confidently towards me |
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| My heart trembles as her boots get ever closer to my confined face |
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| The boots stop dominantly in front of me. I prepare to pucker up. |
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| But instead the young-woman wearer of the boots crouches down to mock me to my face |
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| I apologise to her, and her boots, for my ugliness and powerlessness |
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| Then, and only then, do her female boots condescend to be kissed! |
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| How she revels in her female power and authority over me! |
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| The pretty customer-mistress kindly ensures that my lowly lips taste the DNA on BOTH her boots |
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| Then she leaves me to rot in my rusty railings... |
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| ...confident in the knowledge that she has done right by me, being my infinite superior! |
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| I hang my humble head in shame... |
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| ...so as not to look at my better above her boots |
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| What a weak and feeble wretch I am... |
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| ...an imprisoned fool and kisser of boots! |
