A bright and intelligent young woman of the Gynarchy orders me to show proper footslavish respect to her beloved boyfriend when he emerges from the public lavatory:
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‘When my boyfriend comes out of the toilet, make sure you kiss his feet and show him proper respect, slavey!’ |
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‘Yes, mistress madam. I will obey you, mistress madam. I’m just a slavey, miss!’ |
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The mighty man eventually emerges from the public restroom |
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'You're gonna kiss my feet, slavey boy!' |
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'Yes, master sir. At once, master sir.' |
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I kiss the man's foot... |
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...whilst admiring the creases in his manly sock! |
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My customers' socks are, pathetically, my life! |
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though, right now, I would much rather be kissing his onlooking girlfriend's feet... |
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...and studying her socks! |
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That's because she is much more attractive than her boyfriend... |
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...mighty and superior man (to me) that he is! |
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As I continue to kiss the man's feet and admire his socks, I over hear his pretty girlfriend praising him |
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The happy couple then resume their observation of my public degradation at the man's feet |
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Oh what it is to be surrounded by shoes and socks - the shoes and socks of one's betters! |
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To be obsessed by the creases in their socks! |
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To be humbled by their socks! |
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To be the slavey of their socks! |
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That's it - I'm nothing more than a sock slave... |
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...the slave of my betters' SOCKS! |
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No wonder this superior, happy couple look down on me - the inferior to their SOCKS! |