Insecure

Regular visitor to my face, customer-mistress Ms Chelsea madam, is a somewhat insecure young woman on whom sycophantic flattery works wonders!

Here is a typical conversation of unequals between us whilst I am routinely lickshining her permanently filthy sneakers:

‘Do you like me, slave?

‘Oh pray Ms Chelsea madam, if it pleases you Ms Chelsea madam, truly this slave is most admiring of you, esteemed and beautiful Ms Chelsea madam, and would willingly wear the mark of your brand on his back as a symbol of his personal enslavement to you and of your ownership of him, if you would be so kind and understanding to a worthless public footservant at your feet, wonderful Ms Chelsea madam?’

‘Haha, if you were my personal slave, I’d WHIP you hard every day! What do you think of that, slave?’

‘Oh pray mistress, oh bless, truly it would be an honour for me to wear the bright red STING of your WHIP on my back for all to see, even though it pains me to say it, madam, as I very much fear the WHIP’s mighty STING, madam, begging your female pardon and forgiveness, madam?’

‘Yeah, it’s funny how all slaves are so frightened of the WHIP! Tell me slave, does it really hurt, and that?’

‘Oh yes, pretty mistress, indubitably so, pretty mistress madam. There is no greater pain known to man than that of a well laid-on WHIP, mistress, begging your female pardon mistress Chelsea magnificent madam-miss?’

‘And what about my socks and shoes, slave? How would you like having to serve them all day and all night, and exclusively my socks and shoes? Wouldn’t you miss all your other customers’ socks and shoes?’

‘Oh pray, pretty mistress miss Chelsea madam, if it pleases you pretty mistress miss Chelsea madam, truly this slave would indeed miss the shoes and socks of his other fabulous patrons, mistress, begging your pardon Ms Chelsea madam. But the sheer brilliance of your shoes and socks would overpower any slavish regrets this slave might have at not being able to serve his other customers any more, having become the branded and WHIPPED slave of your good self, pretty Ms Chelsea madam-goddess miss. To be in perpetual bondage to your personal shoes and socks would be the greatest honour a slave could ever have, miss, on account of you being such a brilliant person, miss, and so lovely and kind, miss, if you will forgive my slavish impudence and impertinence miss please don’t have me WHIPPED madam?’

She snorts derisively down at me:

‘You talk too much slave! Shut the f**k up and use your tongue to clean off all the filth and that from my sneakers. And DON’T look at me above my socks, slave!’

‘Yes, miss. I mean no, miss. I will shut up and lickshine your sneakers, miss. God bless you, pretty mistress madam.’

Regular customer Ms Chelsea madam - a young woman who needs constant reassurance as to her fabulousness!

I therefore verbally flatter her as my tongue simultaneously tastes where she has been walking in her filthy, rubbery and canvas sneakers

The dirt in her sneakers is well and truly ingrained, so it is a nugatory task

I admire her short white sock as I lick her sneaker

It is the sock of an insecure, but charismatic, goddess

Her pretty ankle tattoo only adds to her brilliance as a smart young woman!

What a privilege, what an honour for the likes of me to be beneath her knees!

She looks down on me, both literally and figuratively

She asks me a series of mocking questions designed to humiliate and humble me

Ms Chelsea madam likes her tattoos, though she would have my own skin marked with a hot branding iron if I were her personal slave!

I fear her...

...as well as admire her

I must not look at her above the sock!


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