Footwear Imposition
On a cold and frosty night, a bright young woman of the Gynarchy
imposes her dirty, musty-smelling footwear on my menial mouth. I am also
obliged to look at her plain, grey socks.
I feel honoured!
A superb young woman of the Gynarchy walks confidently towards me |
Her shoes click across the frosty courtyard... |
...before stopping directly in front of my confined face so that I can get a good look at them! |
'Kiss my foot, slave!' |
My humbling view of the foot I must kiss |
And the other one! |
Kissing feet is virtually all I do - day in and day out; the feet of my betters! |
The young woman inspects my work... |
...whilst switching her loafered feet several times in front of my menial, municipal mouth |
'Look at my sock, slave!... |
...But DON'T touch it!' |
My betters must be obeyed to the letter. I look humbly up at her superior sock! |