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Fruits Of His Hard Labour

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Mistress Maria and her handsome beau like to visit the quarry where their slave toils day and night in order to keep them in the comfortable lifestyle to which they have become accustomed. At such times the taskmaster ensures the slave shows appropriate respect for his visiting masters by kissing their feet! Mistress Maria and her beau like to visit the quarry in order to laugh at their workslave... ...the fruits of whose hard labour keep them in the opulence to which they are accustomed! Day and night the old slave must toil in the quarry under the WHIP... ...expertly wielded by his burly and unforgiving taskmaster-sir! What a pitiful sight the old slaveman makes. No wonder his BETTERS are laughing at him! 'Kiss the FEET of thy masters, slave!' barks the burly taskmaster-sir. 'And praise them for visiting thee!' The slave, as always, obeys: 'Oh pray, master sir. God bless you, master sir. Thank you for visiting me, sir?' The slave's master-sir (his mistre...
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My Humble Lot

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It’s not the most salubrious of surroundings in which to be a public footslave – a dingy, backstreet courtyard – and my customers are, predictably, dressed to match. I therefore spend my days and nights tongue-attending to scruffy sneakers, boots and socks, rather than glamorous high-heels and nylon stockings! But public footslaves can’t be choosers, and this is my humble lot. I must simply suck it up, along with my customers’ BOOT and SHOE DIRT! Not exactly the most glamorous of settings in which to be a public footslave But that doesn't mean that my pretty customer-mistress is any less deserving of my respect - especially as she is a smoker! Her footwear lacks feminine glamour also... ...but again is worthy of my utmost, slavish respect as I do my best to lickshine it... ...beneath her plain, black SOCKS! This is my humble lot! This is my lowly destiny... ...to lickshine the BOOTS and SHOES of my BETTERS in this dark and dingy alleyway! I must accept my humble lot with good gra...
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All I Know

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Of course, I have no way of knowing anything about my customer-mistresses or their busy, superior lives when they emerge triumphantly from the public restroom outside which I am permanently based. All I do know, and all they know about me too, is that I am obliged, by Law, to silently kiss-respect their feet as soon as they are presented to me, and to worshipfully study their SOCKS – as befits a public sock-slavey! Kissing SHOES and admiring SOCKS – the SHOES and SOCKS of my BETTERS – is all I know, and all I need to know! Another potential customer-mistress emerges triumphantly from the ladies' restroom She surveys me, debating within herself whether to do me the honour of using me Being a (presumably) kind and sweet-hearted young woman, she elects to use me... ... looking down upon me with the usual contempt my esteemed customers invariably hold me in For my humble part, all I know is that I am now obliged, by Law, to kiss-respect her SHOES and visually admire her SOCKS Indeed...
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Early-Morning Torment

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My mistress Mukta madam has brought along a chair and a warming cup of coffee (for herself) as she indulges in some early-morning torment of me in the wonky stocks. She begins by mockingly asking me, in between her ostentatiously noisy slurps of her coffee, if I have had a good night? Did I sleep comfortably in my ‘wooden bed’, and she hopes my neck and shoulders aren’t too stiff?’ I am obliged, by Law, to respond to her pertinent questions with slavish awe and reverence and so, in between my humble and respectful kisses to her sneakers, I obsequiously thank her kindly for her ‘kind’ questions, and humbly inform her that I have indeed had a good night, if she would be so kind and understanding mistress-madam, but that it was, regrettably, not that ‘comfortable’, madam, begging her female pardon and understanding miss, since the wonky stocks created painful muscle spasms in my neck and shoulders, madam, as they are designed to do by her clever and erudite husband who built the stock...
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