The customer-mistress with the long, black, dishevelled hair almost appears ghostly in her long,
white dress as she approaches me in the dead of night. But her feet and toes
are real enough!
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| Is she a ghost? A figment of my feverish, footslavish imagination? |
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| A stiff breeze whistles through the night-time air as she stops before me! |
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| Then, her foot is equally coldly shoved towards my menial mouth. The toes, at least, taste warm! |
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| They are swiftly followed by the toes on her other foot |
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| 'Kiss the big toe, slave!' |
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| She speaks! Therefore, she must be obeyed! |
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| I humbly and respectfully kiss her painted big toenail |
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| This young woman is no ghost! She's for real! |
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| I can smell her human foot odour! |
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| Such shapely, feminine ankles! |
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| She looks down on me - as a lady should look down on a male slave! |
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| She knows I am fit only to kiss her ghostly-pale feet! |
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| She leaves me to rot in the dirt behind her |
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| She does not care for me |
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| I humbly watch her departing feet... |
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| ...feet I have just kissed! |
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| Sadly, I know I haven't a ghost of a chance of ever becoming her personal footslave! |
