Foot Lifestyle Changes
Foot-Lifestyle Changes
I’ve always had what I would regard as a good working relationship with my petite and comely, 27 year old, brunette-haired, personal footmistress – miss Ivy. Having been enslaved to her all our adult lives since we were both 21 years old, I think we have come to know each other rather well, and we have become an integral part of each other’s existence – so much so that she rarely needs to beat me with her household cane, since I now know all her footmistressly likes and dislikes quite intimately!
I know, for example, that she likes me to kiss her right foot on the middle of her shapely instep, in between two little natural, brown moles which are conveniently positioned a mouth-distance apart. This applies even if she is wearing socks, nylons, shoes or boots – my footkissing mouth will always endeavour to kiss her on the instep of her right foot as an acknowledgement of her foot moles. For reasons of symmetry I routinely kiss the same area of her left foot, even though there are no corresponding birth-moles on her left instep!
Similarly, she knows that I suffer the most if she beats me with her thin, whippy, rattan cane on the crease at the back of my bare thighs; I seem to be particularly sensitive to pain in that area of my footslave anatomy, and so she will always direct her cane-strokes to that specific area, with me bent over her basement punishment-room punishment trestle, admiring her shoes and socks behind me whilst she beats me. Not that she has occasion to beat me very often these days, since I know what she likes so well, and consequently am a good and obedient, personal footslave who is apt to please her!
However, all that, it seems, is about to change – for my beloved mistress Ivy has summoned me, ominously, to the punishment room; she appears somewhat agitated as I kneel before her black jeans, black socks, and black ballet-flats. Holding the punishment cane in her pretty, feminine hands, she sullenly stretches forth her right foot beneath my face, and I kiss it in the middle of her shapely, black-socked instep, as per usual.
The dainty, ballet-flated and socked foot is angrily withdrawn from my face and, unusually, not immediately replaced with her left:
‘Stop it, slave! Now that I’m dating master Simon sir things are going to have to change around here! I don’t want you making him jealous by kissing my feet on the insteps, like a lover! From now on you may only kiss my feet on my outer shoe or boot toes! Is that clear, dirty slave?’
‘Y…yes…m…mistress Ivy, m…madam! I will obey you, m…madam! P…pray forgive me, m…mistress Ivy madam. P…please don’t b…beat me on the backs of my thighs, m…madam!’
I am somewhat taken aback at her distinctly unfriendly tone! It was certainly never my intention to embarrass the mistress in front of her manly new boyfriend! Why would he be jealous of a slave’s kiss to her instep? I am clearly not fit to be his girlfriend’s lover!
Meanwhile, miss Ivy seems sceptical of my assurances that I shall avoid touching her socks with my lips in future:
‘Hah! I know you can’t resist kissing me on the sides of my socks, slave, but I’m warning you – if you can’t keep your lips away from my socked insteps I’ll just switch to wearing boots all the time! I am your mistress, not your friend. Do you understand, slave?’
‘Y…yes, m…madam!’
She does indeed know me well – I do like the feel of her soft, black, bobbled cotton socks on my lips; almost as much as I enjoy (or have enjoyed hitherto!) the feel of her soft, white footskin on my mouth. Indeed, the mere thought of my lips being confined to her scuffmarked shoe or boot-toes from now on fills me with dread, for I shall truly miss the intimacy of her skin and sock!
But the sight of her agitated, whippy cane twisting through her dainty fingers above me reminds me that I shall have no choice in the matter; my mistress (not ‘friend’) of 6 years has spoken!
‘Oh, and another thing, slave! I don’t very much care for the look of smug contentment on your face whenever you are kissing my feet! If you can’t develop a more suitably downcast and downbeat demeanour, I shall be forced to fit a permanent footfool-mask on your smug face – one which will make you look suitably pained and oppressed! Do you understand, fool?’
Fool! My beloved mistress Ivy has never called me that before – not even in anger! Nor did I realise I was kissing her feet with a look of ‘smug contentment’ on my face! I humbly apologise to her, for I certainly don’t wish to be fitted with an ignominious and soul-destroying footfool-mask – a mask that would turn me into just another, literally faceless, rubbery-masked footslave-face in the crowd!
‘Oh p…pray, mistress Ivy… pray f...forgive me, m…mistress Ivy! Truly this slave will amend his ways, m…mistress…and look suitably oppressed in front of your friends, and the m…master-sir…in future, m…most sweet and understanding mistress Ivy m…madam! Please don’t beat me, madam! Please don’t mask me, m…madam!’
Her mood lightens at my evident sense of fear:
‘Ha! Ha! Yes – a garish, sickly-green mask with a wonky, downcast mouth and sad eyes; and the words ‘Property of mistress Ivy madam and master Simon sir’ written all along the front in big, bold letters! Ha! Ha! Yes - I like that idea, slave!’
‘Oh p…pray, m…mistress Ivy! Oh p…pray!’
She wishes her cane through the basement punishment-room air – a few ‘practice’ strokes, it seems:
‘Bend over the trestle, slave, and hitch up the backs of your slave-shorts! I’m going to give you twenty strokes cross the backs of your bare thighs – just to reinforce my message that things are about to change around here!’
‘Y…yes, m...mistress Ivy! Thank you, m…mistress! At once, m…mistress Ivy!’
Evidently only some things are about to change; I may no longer to be able to kiss her feet on my favourite spots, but she is still about to cane me on her favourite spot:
Swish…Crack!
Aiiiiiii!... My thighs!
Follow up story by Slave Paul - Additional Foot Lifestyle Changes
