Posts

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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Slave Of His Master's Socks

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My master-sir isn’t exactly the tidiest of men. But my humble role, as his personal SOCKSLAVE, is to ensure his SOCKS are neat and tidy on his FEET and ANKLES. That’s all I’m good for. Staring at my master's SOCKS as he works on his laptop in his dormitory bedroom I am fit only to look my master in the SOCKS! His SOCKS! I am the SLAVE of his SOCKS! His SOCKS are better than me I'm just a sockieboy slave I study the creases in my master's SOCKS... ...whilst he studies on his laptop computer high above me My master-sir is a magnificent, if messy, man! He is certainly  a much better man than me, which is why I am only fit to look him in the SOCK His SOCKS! My master's SOCKS! The SOCKS! Haha, that's right, slave. Humbly study your master's SOCKS on his FEET - the FEET and SOCKS of a REAL man!
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What I Love

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What I love about regular customer Ms Mukta madam is that, day or night, she always takes the time to discuss with me her SOCKS (or her ‘SOCKIES’ as she calls them) – even if she is just wearing her plain, dark grey SOCKS. She is happy to discuss the STITCHING in her SOCKS; the CREASES; any SNAGS in the cotton SOCK MATERIAL etc. I therefore feel I can really get to know her SOCKS, which, for a PATHETIC SOCKIEBOY SLAVE like me, is the be-all and end-all of my existence! Studying Ms Mukta's plain, grey SOCKS whilst kiss-respecting her SNEAKERS Unlike many of my customers, Ms Mukta is only too happy to indulge my unseemly inquisitiveness about her SOCKS! She happily answers all my impertient questions about them Of course, it's difficult to verbally enquire after her SOCKS with a mouth full of SNEAKER MUD! But I can study her SOCKS with my eyes also! SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS!... Ms Mukta's SOCKS! Her SOCKS! God bless her SOCKS! I dare not even think  of Ms Mukta, or ...
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