Patheticus Minimus 3D

My pretty mistress always has me kiss-greet her feet every time she enters her home. And rightly so, for I’m just her slave! My magnificent mistress doesn't even have to say the words ' Kiss my feet, slave ' whenever she enters the room It's an everyday part of her household ritual... ...and she can be sure that I will kiss-greet her sneakers with the utmost  slavish respect! I am also a great admirer of her SOCKS! I make sure to keep my eyes glued to her SOCKS whilst I kiss her sneakers, as is befitting in a domestic footslave These are, after all, the SOCKS of my owner... ...and thus they too own me! My mistress continues to say nothing by way of greeting me - her slave... ...merely silently switching her SNEAKERED FEET beneath my kneeling face... ...before continuing on her way into her living room She is rightly proud of her superiority over me Whilst I continue to keep my humble head bowed in the presence of her superb SNEAKERS and SOCKS!

Many of my esteemed customers, quite rightly, like to mock me whilst I am kissing their BOOTS or SHOES – pointing out my lowliness and inferiority compared to them and contrasting their own exciting and fulfilled lives with my life of abject submission and emptiness. Take the young woman who is using me right now, for example. I’ve never had the honour of serving her before, but she mocks me mercilessly as she kindly ‘grants me a taste’ of foreign soil on her boots, since she knows I can never go anywhere myself, being a permanently immured slave in this dirty alcove. A pretty customer-mistress explains that she has been hiking in Laos and kindly offers me a taste of her hiking BOOTS I humbly confirm that I would be most grateful to accept her kind offer as it is the only way I can get a taste of foreign soil As I verbally respond to the mistress, I visually admire the SCUFFMARKS and CREASES in her LEATHER BOOTS  As well as admiring her SOCKS, of course! Oh to get a taste of thos...

My mistress Mukta kindly visits me in her back garden, wonky stocks late at night before she retires to her warm and comfortable bed with her husband in order to counsel me to get a ‘good night’s sleep’. She gloatingly reminds me that I am to be WHIPPED by her husband, my master-sir, first thing in the morning, and that I shall need all my strength to endure the pain! She gleefully points out that her husband has even left the black leather WHIP dangling on the fence nearby so that he can have easy access to it in the morning – and she suggests that I should look at the WHIP and remember its POWER as I prepare myself mentally and physically for the onset of its mighty STING! The reason for my impending WHIPPING is not clear to me – something about an allegation by one of their neighbours that I had ‘disrespected her sock’ by taking my eyes off it whilst I had been kiss-greeting her foot. If true, that would certainly be a whipping offence under the Laws of the Gynarchy, but I reall...