This regular customer-mistress, whose name I don’t know,
likes to humiliate me on an almost daily basis, all year round – as is her
perfect right, since it gives her pleasure to do so, and her pleasure is more important than my dignity. I'm just a toepath slave!
This morning, she has me
kiss-respect her winter boots.
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She approaches me through the undergrowth of the semi-deserted towpath |
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Her brown, winter boots and green leggings are concealing whatever socks she may be wearing on her feet |
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I brace myself for my daily dose of humiliation at this regular customer-mistress's feet and footwear |
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Sure enough, the musty-0smelling sheepskin boots stop directly, and arrogantly, in front of my confined face |
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She looks down on me - both literally and figuratively |
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Then, without saying a word, she unceremoniously shoves her right booted foot onto my menial mouth |
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I pucker up and kiss the outstretched boot toe |
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I can smell the boot as I simultaneously taste it |
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She then, as is her wont, switches her feet in front of my face |
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She continues to say nothing. Why would she speak to a mere toepath slave? |
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However, she inspects my humble lipwork on her sheepskin boots... |
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...repeatedly switching her feet beneath my bootkissing face |
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How she despises me - and despising me gives her great pleasure! |
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All I can do is respectfully kiss boot |
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Who knows what manner of SOCKS may be inside those boots? |
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Plain grey, I'm guessing? |