Drunken Evening

It’s the end of what’s been another long, hard day kissing the FEET of the public and admiring their SOCKS – except it’s not over yet. In fact, it never is, for a public feetslave is never off duty. No holidays; no respite; no downtime is protected by Law. If a customer approaches and wants their feet kissed, day or night, 365 days or nights a year, I must oblige them – for they are all my masters and I am their slave! Moreover, I must do so with a sense of slavish wonderment and awe at their greatness, whilst remembering my own perpetual lowliness. 

It's late at night, and my next customer-mistress appears somewhat unsteady on her feet as she staggers towards me

She's wearing fabulous BOOTS and SOCKS, though!

She manages to steady herself enough in order to stand provocatively in front of me...

...before somehow managing to crouch down and ask me to my face how I like her SOCKS? I can smell her beery breath!

After I have humbly assured her of my fulsome, slavish awe of her SOCKS, she manages to stand upnds up again and presents her right BOOT FOOT to my menial, municipal mouth...

...swiftly followed by her LEFT, much like any other, uninebriated, customer!

Her LONG SOCKS tower over my humble BOOTKISSING HEAD...

...as she takes another SWIG of her BEER high above me!

Truly, she is a superior being to me - free to drink beer; free to walk the streets at night; fully clothed and unencumbered by CHAINS and SHACKLES like me!

But then, I'm just a slave - fit only to kiss this young woman's BOOTS, day or night!

I'm garbage. I'm trash at her FEET!

All I can do is humbly, and wonderingly, look up at her magnificent SOCKS as I taste where she has been!


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