Slavish Impertinence

A customer master-sir asks me a pertinent question as I kiss-respect his feet outside the Gents toilets:

‘Do you ever get to kiss women’s feet, slavey boy?’

‘Oh yes, master sir. Thank you for asking, master sir. Many women are kind enough to use me as they wait for their male partners outside the facility, sir, or even just stop as they are walking past me for a kiss-respecting of their feet and footwear, sir, begging your pardon sir?’

The man laughs at me:

‘Concentrate on kissing my feet, slavey, and study my socks while you’re doing so!’

‘Yes, master sir. I obey you, master sir. Sir, your socks are the socks of a real man sir, if you will forgive my slavish impertinence sir?’

The man says nothing and just chuckles so, presumably, I am forgiven?

‘Do you ever get to kiss women’s feet, slavey boy?’

It's a pertinent question from the customer master sir...

...and one I must answer truthfully and respectfully...

...in between kissing his shoe and admiring his sock...

...especially the crease in his sock!

I humbly explain to the master sir that some ladies do grace me with her foot presence...

...and not just the female partners of patrons of the Gents facility, but women who are just passing by too!

The man laughs at me, as well he might

For he is a much better man than me...

...entitled to have me humbly kiss his feet!

The man walks away from me, still audibly chuckling...

...and rightly gloating over my lowliness...

...as the subject of other people's feet and footwear...

...including their SOCKS!

Like his SOCKS!

The SOCKS of a magnificent master sir. I hope he didn't think my answers to his questions too impertinent?

Shortly after the master sir turns his back on me and walks away, as if to prove my point, a bright young woman approaches me in a smart business suit. She initially stops just to mock me – asking me how I am liking it, having to kiss men’s feet all day long outside the ‘smelly men’s toilets’ – but when I , somewhat impertinently, explain to the young woman that I have been a footslave all my life, and am therefore accustomed to my lowly life of humiliation and degradation at the feet of others, she imposes her own, black loafer shoes on my menial, municipal mouth!

Once again, I get a good view of SOCK – this time, white feminine SOCK!

A bright young businesswoman approaches me next

I sense she is intending to use me

As if to prove my point, her smart, businesswoman loafers and socks stop in front of me

'Haha, how are you liking it, slavey? Having to kiss lots of men's feet all day outside their smelly toilet?'

'Oh pray, mistress madam, thanking you kindly for your kind question, mistress madam...

...this pathetic slave is used to it, miss, having been a footslave all my life, mistress madam?'

Following my somewhat impertinent response to her perfectly legitimate question, the young woman orders me to kiss her feet!

Once again, I get a good close-up view of customer SOCK...

...this time white, feminine SOCK...

...with fancy, diamond-patterned stitching!

The bright young businesswoman tarries a while...

...ensuring that I kiss-respect BOTH her feet...

...before, like the male customer-master sir before her, turning her back on me...

...to walk away with a smug grin on her pretty, triumphalist face!

I, meanwhile, keep my head humbly bowed behind my female customer's departing feet...

...as befits a public foot slavey, who is fit only to study and admire the SOCKS of his betters!

People's SOCKS are my life...

...and not just MEN'S SOCKS - despite my ignominious location (if you'll forgive my slavish impertinence!)


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