What He Really Hungers For

Some people like to stuff their fat faces in front of the hungry prisoner-slave in the pillory, even belching directly into his confined face so that he can ignominiously smell their recently digested food. What he really hungers for, however, is the freedom to kneel down and kiss their feet, as he recognises that these fine people are his infinite betters!

Let's eavesdrop on the pathetic, pilloried slave's inner thoughts:

The magnificent couple, complete strangers to me, voraciously consume their food directly in front of my hungry face

I can smell not just their food, but their breath, as they deliberately belch up their digested food

The master-sir is eating a burger

Whilst his good lady companion is consuming a cake

What I really hunger for, however, is a taste of their footwear - the BOOTS and SOCKS of the mistress...

...and the SANDALS and BARE TOES of the sir

I'll wager those brown leathery sandals are seeped in the man's footsweat?

Oh how frustrating it is for a footslave like me to be so near, and yet so far, from the master-sir's sandalled feet!

My humbling view of sir's FOOT and SANDAL

My equally humbling view of madam's BOOTS and SOCKS!

I am especially enamoured by her SOCKS. I'll wager those SOCKS must taste vinegary and tart deep inside those BOOTS?

Oh to even be able to respectfully nuzzle them - along the stripes at the tops!

SOCK is what I truly hunger for...

...the SOCKS of my fat-faced better!

Her SOCKS! The mistress's SOCKS!


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