I am a door-to-door feetwasher. My job is to knock on people's doors and offer to wash their feet. A large number of potential customers make good use of my services!
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| 'Excuse me madam. Pray pardon the intrusion, madam. But might this slave have the honour of washing your feet, madam?... |
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| ...I'm just a queer feetwasher, miss... |
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| ...begging your female forgiveness and pardon, madam?' |
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| Her feet are pedicured but nonetheless look like they could do with a was, middle aged |
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| This potential, middle-aged customer mistress glowers down at me |
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| I can tell she doesn't suffer fools, or slaves, gladly! |
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| 'Suppose you'd better come in, slave. My feet are mingin'!' |
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| Rehoicefully, I follow the mistress madam to heel through her front door |
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| Just think - soon my bony old fingers shall have the honour of touching those feet... |
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| ...and washing the sweat off them! |
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| The mistress madam slips off her sandals and I gently and respectfully place her 'minging' feet into the bowl of soothingly warm water |
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| I then proceed to humbly wash her feet... |
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| ...taking great care not to splash her leggings! |
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| Meanwhile mistress ignores me and focuses on the contents of her phone |
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| I dare not look her in the eye - only in the foot |
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| Suddenly a young woman in her early twenties enters the house - her daughter, presumably? I immediately crawl over to her to kiss her sneakered feet - as a slave MUST do by Law whenever a superior female enters his lowly presence |
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| 'Who's this, mom?' |
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| 'Oh he's just some dirty feetwashing-slave off of the streets... |
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| ...You can have him wash your feet too, honey, if you like? Once I've finished with him, an' that? |
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| 'Haha, that would be cool!... |
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| ...My feet must be sweatin' like pigs inside them sneakers!... |
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| ...I ain't taken off my shoes, like, all day or something?' |
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| 'Haha, you hear that boy? You're gonna take off my sneaks and socks and wash my feet next!' 'Yes, mistress.' |
