A Sense Of Slavish Pride

It’s late at night, and the mere fact that this hardworking businesswoman's SHOES and SOCKS will have been on her feet all day fills me with a sense of slavish pride – pride my feckless, feetslave face is so close to them!

It’s the closest I ever get to the opposite sex.

Foolishly proud to be kissing the SHOES and admiring the SOCKS of a late-night customer mistress

All I am doing is kissing her feet...

...and yet this humble, demeaning act fills me with a sense of slavish pride!

Justy being so close to her hardworking SOCK is an honour!

A SOCK that will have been on her FOOT, inside her SHOE, all day!

I get a good view of the pattern in the STITCHING of the SOCK

BOTH SOCKS, indeed, as the wearer gaciously switches FEET several times in front of my feckless face!

I stare at the SOCK...

...admiringly!

And my ugky, feetslave face still betrays a slavish pride as the customer turns to walk away

She has not spoken to me, but this is the closest I ever get to intimacy with the opposite sex!

SHE, of course, is the one entitled to feel PROUD about herself!

Her NATURAL PRIDE is not related to her proximity to someone else's SOCK...

...unlike my FEETSLAVISH PRIDE!
 

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