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