People have no compunctions whatsoever about imposing their
filthy footwear on my menial, municipal mouth and in generally treating me like
dirt since they see me, quite rightly, as just another, anonymous, dirty,
public humble head who must worship their superior feet and footwear.
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| A bright and intelligent-looking young woman of the Gynarchy approaches my dirty, public, humble head |
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| Her grubby boots and socks stop directly in front of my feckless, confined face |
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| My humbling view of her boot and sock top |
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| 'Kiss my boot, slave!' The right boot is duly placed onto the concrete footblock beneath my face for me to respectfully kiss. I promptly and unquestioningly do so. |
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| 'Now praise my sock!' |
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| 'Oh pray, mistress's sock, glory be unto you, oh sock - my master. You are my god, sock!' |
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The object which I must pathetically worship - a girl's everyday-ordinary, plain grey sock top!
|
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| The wearer of the sock listens intently to my sycophantic words of praise for her inner foot garment |
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| 'Oh sock, praise be unto you, oh woman's sock! Oh praise! Oh bless!' |
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| 'Sock have mercy on me, I prithee. Thou art truly magnificent, sock!' |
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| The customer-mistress switches booted feet in front of my face: 'Now kiss my other boot, slave!' |
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| I duly lower my already lowly lips to her left, equally dirty, sheepskin-boot toe |
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| 'Now look up at my sock again, slave, and tell me what you see!' |
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| 'Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you pretty mistress madam, I can see the fine lines of stitching in the upper cuff of your sock, miss.' |
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| 'Such pretty stitches, if it so pleases you, madam?' |
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| 'And the way they contrast with the much thicker stitching of the main body of your sock, miss!' |
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| 'Truly your sock is magnificent, madam, like you are, miss!' |
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| 'How I envy your sock, miss!' |
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| 'I yearn to be your sock, miss - so close to your foot inside your warm boot, madam, absorbing your foot and ankle DNA into the very fibre of my sock-being, miss, if you would be so kind and understanding miss?' |
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| 'Oh mistress, my customers' socks are my life, miss, if you will forgive my patheticalness, pretty mistress madam?' |
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| 'I'm garbage, miss! I'm dirt! Unfit to be a personal sockservant to a superior being such as yourself, mistress madam!' |
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| Satisfied with my humility vis-a-vis her socks, the pretty girl turns and walks off... |
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| ...her head held high and her beautiful face a beacon of female triumphalism... |
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| ...whereas my humble head remains appropriately humble... |
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| ...and looking admiringly only at her departing socks... |
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| ...my gods! |
