The pretty customer-mistress has little sympathy for me on a
rainy night as she stops to have me kiss-respect her sheepskin boots. Indeed,
she makes sure her umbrella is not protecting me from the elements. And rightly
so, for, as she points out to me, I’m just a slave.
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| The pretty customer-mistress might look sympathetic to my plight - an elderly humble-head in the rain... |
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| ...but she starts mocking me as soon as she stops in front of me, opining that the rain is getting even heavier! |
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| She then looks down at me from beneath the protection of her umbrella... |
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| ...before imposing one of her rain-sodden, musty-smelling and tasting, sheepskin boots on my menial, municipal mouth |
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| I kiss the dirty boot with respect and admiration... |
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| ...humbly keeping my lowly, footslave gaze beneath her grey socktops |
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| This is, after all, the boot and sock of my better... |
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| ...of a female citizen of the Gynarchy |
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| Boots, socks, rain |
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| Socks! |
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| Boots and socks!... Must respect my customer's boots and socks! |
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| She mocks me whilst I kiss-respect her rain-dampened boots... |
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| ...casually asking me if I wouldn't like to be her personal footslave... |
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| ...so that I could really get to know all her boots and socks? |
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| I humbly reply, in between my boot-kisses, that I can think of no greater honour! |
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| At which point she self-satisfiedly turns her pretty back on me and triumphantly walks off... |
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| ...leaving me to fester in the rain behind her, unprotected from the rain... |
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| ...as befits a lowly, public footslave! |
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| I contemplate my lowliness and loneliness... |
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| ...as her boots splash through the puddles |
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| I take one last longing look at her socktops... |
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| ...the socktops of greatness! |