Geekdom

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 straps across the tops of her plain white ankle socks. Socks with sandals – and on a relatively warm summer’s day! Why does she bother wearing socks with such open-toed footwear, unless she deliberately wishes to appear ‘geeky’?

Perhaps the geek-look is the new cool, but I have to say that in my limited experience of what free men might think, this girl, who should be in her prime of physical attractiveness being in her early to mid twenties, is unlikely to ‘turn heads’ in such an outfit. To be perfectly honest she does look quite plain to begin with; she is not what you would describe as a natural ‘looker’. But if she will insist on wearing such a dorky combination of clothing and footwear she can hardly be said to be making much of an effort to improve on her appearance!

She seems happy enough in her geeky isolationism, however, as she steps confidently up to the wooden footblock over which I am kneeling on the ground, and rather inelegantly plonks her right, sandalled foot down on top of the wooden block directly beneath my face, whilst simultaneously hitching up the lower hem of her right, blue denim jean-leg – as if to afford me an even better view of her plain, white sock inside her strappy, open-toed, blue leather sandal:

‘Kiss my sock, slave…kiss each area of sock between my sandal straps 50 times – starting with the toe area.’

Well, at least the geeky young woman knows her own mind! She seems to know exactly what she requires of me. But…erm...has she not realised that the public sock-kisser is just around the corner? Has she not seen the sign above my head on the wall behind me:

‘Ladies’ Public Shoelick’ ?!

I am trained to lick clean dirty, female shoes and boots – not to kiss female socks!

But, of course, a superior mistress, even a superior geeky mistress, can never be in the wrong. If this young woman wants me to simply kiss her white socks, then kissed they shall be! I have absolutely no desire to feel the sting of the public-use whip which hangs threateningly from a hook on the wall behind me.

The young geek-woman may have missed my sign, but she sure as hell won’t have missed the whip!

Besides, it will be a welcome change for me to feel soft feminine sock on my lips as opposed to my usual diet of dirty, feminine shoe-leather.

I therefore happily take up the young lady’s unorthodox challenge:

‘Yes, superior mistress. At once, superior mistress.’

I decide to throw in the ‘superior’ epithet as it occurs to me that this young woman could probably do with some morale-boosting, footslave-flattery. I mean, she surely can’t be very used to feeling innately superior to anyone. Geeks are normally looked down upon by their free peers, aren’t they?

I am determined, therefore to make this geeky young woman’s experience of having her socked and sandalled feet kissed in public as pleasurable as possible for her – give her a real sense of what it means to feel superior to someone for a change, for, geek or not, she is undoubtedly better than me, both in law and in nature, being free and female!

Since time immemorial the act of kissing another human being’s feet has been an unmistakable act of admiration and submission on the part of the foot-kisser – and you will probably have gathered by now that the longer this young woman deigns to grace me with her presence, the more I am coming to genuinely admire and respect her.

I just loved the way she so abruptly and confidently barked her orders down at me, unconcerned as to whether I liked the sight of her sandals and socks or not, and totally unabashed about any possible dirt or stinkiness on her white sock. ‘Kiss my sock…’ she had demanded, in a quite ungeeklike manner - and she was even prepared to specify which areas of sock I was to kiss - and how many times in each area.

It’s true what they say – never judge a geek by its cover!

Her orders will, in effect, mean that I shall be kissing her white, cotton sock 150 times in total, for there are three distinct areas to kiss - the toe area, as she has already specified herself; the area between the lower and middle blue leather sandal straps; and finally the area between the middle and upper straps. I’m guessing that I won’t be required to place my lips above the uppermost sandal strap as, even with her jean-hem helpfully hitched up, there is not enough sock area to kiss. It is a very short, sneaker-style ankle-sock!

I therefore begin my act of public humility and meekness, as instructed, by lowering my slave lips to the reinforced, white cotton covering her socked toes.

Although the sock-material may be reinforced and slightly thicker in this area, because it is almost pure white with little sign of dirt or dust on the sock I can see the geeky mistress’s pink, big toenail directly underneath the edge of the sock. The toenail probably needs trimming, for it appears to be almost ready to burst out from underneath the mistress’s sock.

When I say her big toenail is ‘pink’ I don’t think it has been painted pink. Geek-girls tend not to bother with pedicures – especially when they are disposed to cover their toes with socks!

No, I am referring to the pink of her toe-skin underneath the white sock. I am thrilled to see her big toe twitch inside the sock, causing the white sock material to crease and fold slightly, as I place my first of the ordered 50 kisses on the tops of the bespectacled, be-tousled, denim-clad, geek-girl’s socked toes. It’s as if her toes are wriggling with gleeful anticipation of my impending humility and servitude towards them.

Although I don’t routinely kiss feet for a living (I lick shoes for a living) I was, of course, given some training in the delicate art of humble foot-kissing whilst undergoing my training course at the Public Footslave Training Academy all those many years ago. I remember, for example, how the female trainers had always stressed the importance of ‘bobbing one’s head up and down’ in between each individual footkiss. This was deemed very important as the mistress may wish to count the number of kisses to her feet herself – although it is by law the footslave’s own responsibility to ensure that the requisite number of kisses is delivered to his mistress’s feet.

The point I am trying to make, however, is that a mistress might lose count of the number of kisses to her feet if the slave fails to remove his lips from her skin or sock after each kiss. Hence it is considered best slave-practice for a slave to always raise his head after each kiss (still looking respectfully down at the superior, female foot he is venerating of course) and to wait for one full second before lowering his head and lips for the next deferential footkiss.

It’s not only courteous to the mistress – it also prevents any inappropriate lasciviousness on the part of the dirty footslave. He is not to kiss the lady’s feet lustfully or erotically, with lingering, passionate kisses such as a male lover might deliver to his girlfriend’s or wife’s feet! On the contrary, the footkisses of a public footslave are to be sharp and respectful. They are to be the ‘the respectful and worshipful kisses of a self-evident inferior towards the feet and footwear of his manifest better’. That was the mantra they drummed into us all those years ago at the Footslave Training Academy!

And so my training all comes flooding back to me as I lift my lips off the young, bespectacled, geeky-looking woman’s right sock for the first time, count to one, and then lower my lips for the second kiss.

The geek-girl is clearly paying close attention to my work as she towers over me, her right leg outstretched imperiously before her on the wooden footblock, for she verbally reminds me of something else that was drummed, or more accurately beaten, into us at the Footslave Training Academy, but which I must confess I had temporarily forgotten:

‘Don’t just kiss my big toe, dirty slave! Kiss my other toes as well!’ snaps the young woman impatiently.

Now, leaving aside the technicality that it is not actually her toes that I am kissing, but her sock, the young woman is quite right to pull me up on my performance. For I had made the classic mistake of automatically kissing her socked big-toe in exactly the same place as before, rather than directing my lips to the neighbouring toe. To be fair, the young woman had specifically stipulated that I was to kiss each area of her sock, starting with the toe area, and yet there I was lazily and clumsily placing two of my 50 kisses on an identical area of sock!

No wonder the young woman felt the need to verbally chide and correct me!

I humbly implore her forgiveness:

‘Yes mistress. Please forgive this dirty, stupid slave, mistress. This slave obeys his mistress,’ and I immediately ensure that my third kiss to the toe area of her white sock is placed beside the original two kisses.

Likewise I continue to move my bobbing head and lips back and forth along the entire reinforced toe area of the geeky-mistress’s white, ankle-socked foot, and this seems to satisfy the owner and wearer of the white sock, for she says nothing more until I reach kiss no. 50.

She must indeed be counting the number of footkisses herself, for she moves her right foot ever so slightly further forward on the wooden footblock as I prepare to position my slave-lips over the second area of white sock – that between the lower and middle of the three blue, leather straps that cross the top of her socked foot.

Before I can lower my lips for my second series of 50 respectful kisses, the mistress provides me with some further, timely advice:

‘Make sure your dirty lips don’t touch my sandal straps, slave! Kiss only the sock!’

She is using the word ‘dirty’ figuratively, of course. My slave lips are not literally dirty! If they were they would be leaving dirty marks on her geekily-clean, nice white socks – and that would be most disrespectful!

No, the young woman is, quite rightly, merely reminding me that she is pure and female, whilst I am male and dirty.

I verbally acknowledge that I have registered her timely warning in my weak and feeble male brain:

‘Yes mistress. This slave obeys the mistress’s every wish, most beautiful and respected mistress.’

I’m not that worried, to be honest. Providing the most beautiful and respected mistress doesn’t try to trick me by suddenly moving her right foot, I should have no difficulty in keeping my lips well way from her blue, leather, sandal straps. There is plenty of white sock to kiss in this area – superior, feminine sock which demands and deserves my utmost, male-footslavish respect.

The main difference I notice is how much softer this area of sock feels under my lips compared to the reinforced cotton covering the toe area. Perhaps that’s because there are no hard toenails underneath this area of sock - just soft, feminine foot-skin. It is truly a delight to kiss such soft, protective sock – sock which is presumably designed to protect the geeky mistress’s bare foot from the elements, exposed as it would otherwise be in such pretty, open toed and strappy, blue leather sandals.

My only regret is that the sock is not a bit dirtier or sweatier. It would seem to be fresh on the mistress’s foot this morning. She may dress like a geek – but she is evidently a very clean and fastidious young woman. Even the blue leather straps on her sandals appear to be quite clean.

Clean or not, I do find my professional shoelick impulses starting to kick in, and have an almost overwhelming urge to transgress against my geek-mistress’ specific orders, and to lick her blue leather sandal straps!

I must be allowing my performance to wane from the immediate task-in-mouth with these thoughts, however, as suddenly the geek-mistress-girl again expresses her dissatisfaction with my sock-kissing efforts:

‘Concentrate on my sock, slave! Think about what you are doing, and stop looking at my sandal-straps!’

Spooky as well as geeky! This intelligent, young woman can evidently read my thoughts. Crikey! I hope she doesn’t have some sort of geeky mind-reading ability. All those unflattering assumptions I’ve been thinking about her!

I am genuinely grateful to her kindly words of warning, and immediately snap out of my shoelick-reverie:

‘Yes mistress. At once mistress. This slave truly admires and honours the mistress’s sock, most respected mistress!’

Well, that much is true! The more I kiss her sock, the more I am coming to admire it – for it is, like the mistress herself - pure, soft and white. The soft, white sock of a soft and kind, young woman who chooses to verbally warn me of my underperformance rather than just impetuously reaching for the punishment whip in order to beat me, as most of her non-geek peers would undoubtedly do!

I kiss the middle area of her white sock with renewed slavish-vigour and respect. 50 times in total. As I do so, I wonder if free men are watching me and laughing at me – the bespectacled geek-girl’s public footslave and sock-kisser!

The superior mistress’s foot then moves even further forward for the third and final area of sock to be kissed – that between her middle and upper sandal straps. This area seems even softer than the previous area of sock under my lips, but I surmise that this is because there are more creases and folds in the higher area of sock caused by the outstretched positioning of the young woman’s right foot.

As I near my 50th kiss to this final designated area of her right sock my heart is gladdened by the thought that I shall in all probability have to repeat the whole humiliating and degrading process with her left foot. Very few mistresses ever wish to have only one foot attended to by a public footslave.

But then, this particular mistress is different. One of a kind. She stands out from the crowd. She is a geek. And I am proved wrong – for as soon as my lips leave her right sock for the last time, her foot is withdrawn from the footblock and is not replaced by her left.

Instead she just walks off.

My sense of shock and disappointment is quite overwhelming. Clearly I must not have pleased the superior mistress as much as I would have liked, for she is so unimpressed with my sock-kissing efforts to her right foot she evidently cannot be bothered to present me with her left socked and sandalled foot for kissing.

Instead she just walks away - off, no doubt, to buy yet more geeky clothes in the nearby shops – and leaving me with no more white sock to kiss, and you with no more white-sock-kissing to read about.

But then, that is her choice to make. She may be a geek, but she is free to do whatsoever she pleases. And rightly so, for she is a superior female.

Unlike me, an inferior male slave. As I said right at the beginning, I have no say in who approaches my shoelick-stand for their feet to be serviced, nor do I have any say in what that service involves, or in how long it lasts for.

You could say it keeps me on my footslave-toes – being at the constant mercy of others. But it can also be so terribly frustrating!

I lick my lips so that I may taste the residue of the disappearing geek-mistress’s white ankle-sock one last time, before my next female customer – a very ungeeklike young, blonde woman in her mid to late twenties wearing a very flimsy-looking and short little black summer dress and stylish, shiny, bright red, high-heeled stilettos - places her shapely, right, tattooed foot and ankle down onto my wooden footblock!

The free men in the town square will undoubtedly be more interested in observing my humble foot-service towards this young blonde woman’s sexy, red, high-heeled shoes , but if you’ve bothered to read this far I suspect that, like me, you would rather hold on to the memory of the geek-girl’s plain white socks and flat, blue leather sandals!’