A bright and self-assured young woman of the Gynarchy, with
bright red socks just peeking out the tops of her blocky, black leather
ankleboots, spots me in my sockieboy humbleness, and kindly uses me whilst
checking the contents of her phone high above me
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| Her mocking female laughter echoes around the yard as she spots me in my helpless humbleness |
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| She stops to lord it over me, as the vast majority of my customers do... |
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| ...before casually, but confidently, imposing her outstretched boot-toe on my menial, municipal mouth |
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| She watches as my lowly lips make respectful contact with her black bootleather well below her bright red socktop |
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| The carefree customer then turns her undivided female attention to her phone whilst I humbly focus on her boots and socks |
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| This is such an honour - though an intensely humbling one... |
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| ...given that I am only able to see the very top of her red bootsock! |
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| Still, I can see enough of the mighty sock to be able to make out the individual stitches in the sock |
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| Oh how humbling! Oh how humiliating! |
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| Not to be able, or even permitted, to look at this superb young woman above her sock! |
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| I really am a nothing and a nobody - a mere, anonymous, public sockieboy slave who must kiss his betters' boots! |
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| The customer glances down at me occasionally to ensure my continued humbleness at her feet |
