Patheticus Minimus 3D

Tale no. 14 – Long Time, No Foot-See ‘I was licking and kissing female feet and shoes the other day, as per usual, at my public footslave stand in the Arrivals Hall of the main international airport, when a very slim and attractive young woman in her early to mid forties presented her freshly-tanned right foot – clad in a white, slip-on, canvas deck shoe – onto the wooden footblock directly beneath my kneeling face for kissing. Nothing unusual in that – until the owner of the foot suddenly asked me if I recognised the taste and feel of her foot on my lips. Worryingly, I had to confess to the superior female that I didn’t. I was worried because the implication of the young woman’s question was that I should recognise her foot. I needn’t have worried, however, for the young woman – far from being offended – just laughed at me, and then enlightened me as to who she was. She explained that she was my former mistress – mistress Nicola – who had purchased me at auction some 25 years ago, an

Tale no. 2 – Miss Mannequin ‘My mistress Alisha is a beautiful, black, 23 year old woman with long legs and a shapely figure. My mistress turns heads wherever she goes, such are her fashion-model looks. My own head, however, must always be fixed on her pretty, black feet and ankles, for I am her personal footslave and that is the law. For her part my mistress Alisha – whilst she likes having a sycophantic and admiring personal footslave crawling on his hands and knees behind her heels everywhere she goes – nevertheless, quite properly, despises me. My mistress is aware of her great beauty and she correctly regards herself as being ‘all that’. She equally correctly is aware of the fact that my cringing servility only serves to augment her goddess-like status, and she is therefore particularly keen on demonstrating her innate superiority over me, her personal lickspittle, at every available opportunity – and especially in public. Take the other day, for example, when I was accompanying

Tale no. 11 – Geekdom ‘One of the things I love about being a ladies’ public footslave in the central town square is the sheer fact that I can have no say on exactly who approaches my ‘step up’ shoelick-stand at any given time in order to have their feet attended to. Any woman - black or white, oriental or south Asian, rich or poor, beautiful or plain -can use my services, and as a male slave, I must afford each and every one of them the same degree of slavish respect and submissiveness. Take the young, white woman who is gaily approaching my ‘step up’ shoelick stand right now. She looks like a bit of a ‘geek’ – thick, black, horn-rimmed glasses; untidy, tousled, mousy-brown hair; scruffy blue denim jeans and a matching blue denim jacket over a plain, white T shirt; and – most significantly of all from my point of view as a humble footwear-slave – short, plain, white ankle-socks with flat, blue leather, strappy sandals. The blue sandals are open-toed and open-heeled with 3 broad str

Tale no. 8 – Sneakers, Socks and Saris '27 year old miss Kadal, a pretty Sri Lankan lady, is one of my regular customers. She visits my public-footslave stand in the Town Square regularly as clockwork – every morning during weekdays at 08:30 on her way into work, and every Saturday at 10:00 on her way into the shops to spend her hard earned cash. Whether she is smartly dressed for work, or casually dressed for shopping, she always seems to wear the same pair of round-toed, block-heeled, zip-up, black leather ankle boots with black trousers. I get the impression that she doesn’t spend much of her money on clothes, as her wardrobe appears quite limited – apart, that is, from her socks: miss Kadal seems to have many different pairs of socks, all of which she kindly displays to me by hitching up the hem of her black, trouser leg above the top of her black leather ankle boot whenever she presents me with her booted foot for cleaning on my wooden footblock. I am never allowed to touch he

Tale no. 12 – Exercise ‘I am on my hands and knees in the laundry room tongue-polishing a pair of my mistress’s scuff-marked, white, spike-heeled, pointy-toed, zip-up ankle boots. After I have finished licking clean my mistress’s boots there is a pile of her dirty socks and tights for me to mouth-wash. My mistress is a very strict, young West-African woman called miss Odubijo. She is just 25 years old – therefore twenty years’ my junior – and she is, or rather was, an illegal immigrant. However she qualified to stay here under the ‘amnesty for women-illegals’ announced by the Supreme Mistress Julia Caesar last year, and since then my mistress has also been joined by her common-law husband from Africa, 30 year old master Atumbe. I was given to miss Odubijo as a good-will gesture by the State at the time of the Amnesty as the Supreme Mistress Julia Caesar had also decreed that every female former illegal-immigrant should be given a personal footslave to help her assimilate fully into soc

Tale no. 15 – The Human Vacuum Cleaner ‘I am the private footslave and general dogsbody of a rich Arab woman, Madam Abrar (40), and her daughter, miss Furat (20). Madam also employs an Indian maid, miss Sanvani (25), to supervise my work. It is the only work miss Sanvani has to do – and she does it very well. She is, even if I have to admit it myself – a most excellent and diligent taskmistress and supervisor, who works me very hard on behalf of her two Arab mistresses. This morning miss Sanvani is making me vacuum-clean miss Furat’s bedroom floor with my mouth. It is a task which I have to perform just once a week, but I always dread it. I am always left with a sore throat, caused by having to suck up and swallow all the dust and germs from the lavish, snowy-white carpet of miss Furat’s opulent bedroom floor. In particular, I am required to look out for any little pieces of black sock-lint from the soles of miss Furat’s pretty, black ankle socks. Miss Furat likes to walk around her be

‘Ladies! Buy our novelty message-socks for your pretty feet! All colours, sizes, lengths and styles available! Tease and torment your footslave with sexy messages on the sides of your socks, such as: “Smell my socks, sockslave!” “Look only at my socks, sockboy!” “You’re going to be whipped tonight, footslave!” - just some of the exciting messages you can have printed on your socks!   Give your slave something to read all day long as he kneels beside your socked feet. Brighten up his dreary existence! Novelty message socks – available today at all good retail stores!’