Posts

Putting Me On The Spot

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A magnificent master-sir puts me on the spot: ‘I heard you praising that girl’s socks, boy! Is she a regular customer of yours, or something?’ ‘Yes, master sir. Begging your pardon master-sir, and thanking you for your kind question, sir. This slave is honoured to be the regular humble-head slave of Ms Mukta madam, sir, if it pleases you, master sir please don’t hurt me sir?’ The master-sir chuckles at me, before hitching up his trouser-leg to expose his left sock atop his black leather boot. It is a dark grey sock (rather like Ms Mukta’s SOCKS before it!): ‘So what about my socks, slavey-boy? Don’t you respect them too? Or are my socks not good enough for you?’ ‘Oh pray! Oh master sir! This slave is indeed most admiring and appreciative of your socks, sir. Oh, your socks, sir! Your socks! Sir, I am the slave of all socks, sir, if you would be so kind and understanding to an humble slave at your feet and at your mercy, kind master-sir?’ He grunts his manly disapproval of ...
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Sock-Teasing Expedition

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Regular visitor to my face, Ms Mukta madam, has come on yet another of her sock-teasing expeditions: ‘Yo sockieboy, guess where my sockies have been to today?’ I have, of course, absolutely no way of knowing where she, and her socks, have been today, and must humbly apologise to her and her socks for my ignorance: ‘Oh pray Ms Mukta madam, oh pray Ms Mukta’s socks, this slave is stupid, madams, and therefore begs his mistresses’ pardons, madams, as he is unable to surmise the answer to the mistress’s kind question, madams, please don’t have me punished, madams?’ Her question is ‘kind’ because it relates to her SOCKS, and whenever a customer discusses his or her socks with me it is viewed, in Law, as an act of kindness on their part. Ms Mukta feigns anger at my stupidity and ignorance (or is it indeed feigned? One can never quite tell with capricious Ms Mukta madam): ‘Tch! Stupid f***wit slave! They’ve been to see around a local stately manor with my hubby, your master Simon ...
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Studying My Mistress Immaculata's Feet, Shoes and Stockings

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My mistress Immaculata relaxes with a coffee in her local coffee shop whilst I kneel by her feet. I cannot relax, as I must study her FEET, SHOES and STOCKINGS in great detail – any SCUFFMARKS on her SHOES; the fine STITCHING in her KNEE-HIGH NYLON STOCKINGS; the TEMPORAL CREASING in her STOCKINGS around her shapely ANKLES resulting from her SUBLIMINAL FOOT MOVEMENTS as she converses on her phone high above me. That’s because I may be asked questions about them later! And WHIP betide me should I fail to answer such questions satisfactorily!  My mistress Immaculata is engaged in a phone conversation high above me as she relaxes in her local cafe I cannot afford to relax. I must diligently study my mistress Immaculata's FEET, SHOES and STOCKINGS... ...lest I be quizzed about them later! Every SCUFFMARK on her SHOES must be accounted for; and every CREASE in her STOCKINGS! I am NOT permitted, of course, to look at, or to even think  about, my mistress Immaculata above her STOCKIN...
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Inducted As Her Boot And Sock Slavey

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Magnificent Ms Karen madam is inducting me into my new, lowly life as her personal BOOT and SOCK slavey: ‘Slave, you are now the slavey of my BOOTS and SOCKS. You shall spend your entire life from now on on your hands and knees, looking only at my BOOTS and SOCKS and thinking only of how you may serve them. You will speak only when you are spoken to and when you address me you must do so via my BOOTS and SOCKS. So, for example, if I order you to tongue-shine my BOOTS, your response must be: ‘Yes, mistress Karen madam’s BOOTS and SOCKS. I obey you, mistress Karen madam’s BOOTS and SOCKS.’ Henceforth you shall be regarded by everyone as my personal BOOT and SOCK slavey. My BOOTS and SOCKS own you. When anyone asks who or what you are, your response must be: ‘Oh pray master sir, oh pray mistress madam, I am the slavey of mistress Karen madam’s BOOTS and SOCKS, begging your pardon sir or madam?’. If ever you fail to be pleasing to my BOOTS or SOCKS you shall be WHIPPED. Do I make...
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Serving Whosoever Comes My Way

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Public footslaves really can’t be choosers. I must serve whosoever comes my way, and so with all due slavish humility and respect! A mountain of a master-sir heads my way ‘You’re gonna kiss my feet, boy!’ ‘Yes, master sir. At once, master sir. It will be my honour, most magnificent master sir.’ I get down to work - kiss-respecting the magnificent master-sir's feet... ...observing his SOCKS... ...and tasting his SHOES! The SHOES and SOCKS of a REAL man A much BETTER man than me! ‘That’s right, boy. Kiss them feet. Taste those shoes an’ look at those socks! Hja! Hja! What a loser!’ ‘Yes, master sir. God bless you, master sir. Pray forgive my patheticness, most magnificent and manly master-sir?’ 'Hja! Hja! Hja!' As the master-sir chucklingly walks away from me... ...my eyes remain respectfully focused on his SHOES and SOCKS... ...as befits a down-in-the-dirt, pathetic footslave who must serve whosoever  comes his way! Thankfully, the next pair of feet to come my way belong to...
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