Even quiet and unassuming women, who wouldn’t normally say
boo to a goose, have no inhibitions whatsoever about using me to have their
boots or shoes kiss-respected. That’s because they know I am just a slave and
that they are better than me.
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| A casually-dressed young woman approaches me on her own at night |
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| She stops directly in front of me in order to look down upon me, both literally and figuratively |
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| 'Kiss my boot, slave!' |
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| 'And don't look up at my sock!' |
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| This is a somewhat unusual stipulation by a customer. Normally the instruction is not to look at them above the sock |
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| But this demure and modest young woman regards even her SOCKS as being too good for me! |
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| She's right, of course. I am not worthy to look her in the SOCK... |
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| ...though she needn't woory. If I were to look her in the SOCK, I would do so humbly and admiringly... |
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| ...and with a sense of slavish awe... |
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| ... since it is the SOCK of my infinite better, being the SOCK of a beautiful asnd intelligent young woman! |
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| But her instructions are clear - I am to focus on her BOOT! |
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| 'And the other one, slave!' She switches her booted feet in front of my face. Again, I look at BOOT, not at SOCK! |
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| The BOOTS and SOCKS then turn their backs on me... |
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| ...their wearer walking away from my humble head no dobut with a triumphant grin on her pretty face? |
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| She has every right to feel triumphant, for she has successfully humiliated me |
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| And that's precisely what I'm here for - to be humbled and humiliated at my betters' feet... |
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| ...and to make them feel good about themselves! |
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| Still her forbidden SOCK towers over my bowed head |
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| All I can see are her departing, dirty BOOTSOLES containing the streetdirt she has walked in |
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| I'm just another weed - crushed underfoot by the BOOTS and SOCKS of my unassuming, but uninhibited, betters! |