Wedding Day Service
47 year old Stewart, and his pretty 18 year old Filipina bride, Pearlita, stood in front of the female registrar, in the wedding room at the town hall.
Their friends, and a few of Stewart’s family members, were also there to witness the marriage ceremony. It wasn’t a particularly large gathering, but then, both bride and groom had wanted a quiet, civil ceremony.
They made a lovely couple, despite the age difference between them. Even though Stewart was a divorcee, and Pearlita, who was from a poor village in the Philippines, had obtained her visa solely on the basis of her impending marriage to Stewart, there was absolutely no suggestion that this was a marriage of convenience.
Having said that, it was a mutually convenient arrangement: Stewart had a beautiful, virginal Filipina bride on his arm; and Pearlita had a wealthy, western husband who could not only look after her, but also send money back to her family in the Philippines. He had promised to do so even though he had never actually met them, or even been to the Philippines.
Because she was a virgin (or, at least claimed to be such), the bride was dressed in a beautiful, white wedding dress that flowed down to her shapely, Filipina ankles. On her feet she was wearing virginal white, nylon stockings, and white stiletto, high heeled shoes. If truth be told Pearlita wasn’t used to wearing high-heels – being a village girl she was more accustomed to wearing flip flops on her pretty, brown, bare feet as she worked in the fields. She was, therefore, finding the white stiletto shoes, nice as they were, somewhat uncomfortable on her feet.
But she would grin and bear it – just as she would grin and bear being married to the somewhat unprepossessing, but nevertheless wealthy, Stewart.
The female registrar began the short, civil ceremony by addressing the happy couple:
‘The step which you are about to take is the most important into which human beings can come. It is a union of two people founded upon mutual respect and affection. Your lives will change, your responsibilities will increase, but your joy will be multiplied if you are sincere and earnest with your pledge to one another.
Stewart, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?’
‘I will,’ responded the groom.
‘Pearlita, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, so long as you both shall live?’
‘Pearlita will,’ responded the bride.
‘Stewart, please now place the ring on the bride's finger and say: With this ring, I thee wed.’
Stewart, somewhat ineptly it has to be said, eventually managed to slide the wedding ring onto his pretty, Filipina bride’s finger:
‘With this ring, I thee wed’
The female registrar, smiling reassuringly, resumed:
‘Let this ring be given and received as a token of your affection, sincerity and fidelity to one another.
In as much as Stewart and Pearlita have consented together in wedlock and have witnessed the same before this company, and pledged their vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the State I now pronounce them husband and wife.
Stewart, you may now kiss the bride!’
The onlookers burst into spontaneous applause as Stewart kissed Pearlita lovingly on the lips.
Thus far the ceremony had been quite normal. But this was a wedding ceremony taking place in the European slave State of Barbaria, and so there was a further element to the proceedings.
The female registrar continued:
‘Stewart, do you have a personal footslave for your bride?’
‘I do.’
‘Bring forth the footslave that the bride may rest her foot on his face!’ declared the registrar.
23 year old slave William realized that his big moment had now come as two, young, female ushers who were about the same age as him, and both dressed in smart, matching white blouses, black knee-length skirts and black, low-heeled, court shoes, led him forward on his hands and knees towards the front of the hall where the bride and groom were still standing in front of the similarly attired female registrar.
Unlike the two ushers, the registrar, the bride and groom, and the assembled witnesses to the wedding ceremony, slave William was not smartly dressed. In fact he was wearing nothing but his traditional plain, brown, knee-length slave tunic, and his metal slave collar – as befits a slave.
Pearlita hitched up her luxurious white, wedding dress and raised her petite, shapely right foot a few inches off the ground in order to enable the two ushers to lay slave William on his stomach at her feet. She then rested her stiletto-shod foot back down on his upturned left cheek and stood so that her left foot was directly in front of the prostrate slave’s face. She then allowed the hem of her wedding dress to fall again so that the footslave’s face was enveloped under the folds of her dress.
All that William could now see under the dress was the white stiletto shoe and shapely, white-stocking covered left ankle of his new Filipina mistress-to-be, mistress Pearlita. He noticed two tiny creases in the thin, white nylon of her stocking around her inner ankle bone.
But although his view was now restricted, he could clearly hear the female registrar’s voice as she continued with the ceremony:
‘Pearlita, will you take this slave to be your personal footslave; will you dominate and humiliate him, rebuke and chastise him, and ensure his perpetual enslavement at your feet for as long as you both shall live?’
‘Pearlita will.’
‘Thank you. By the authority vested in me by the State, I therefore pronounce you mistress and footslave. Slave, you will kiss your mistress’s feet.’
Slave William had noticed three differences between his part of the ceremony and the marriage part:
Firstly, he wasn’t named - but was referred to merely as ‘the slave’ or ‘footslave’. He realized that this was because he was no longer a named individual. He was merely an object; a piece of property – the property of mistress Pearlita.
Secondly, as he was just a ‘thing’, there were no words for him to say; no vows for him to undertake. That was because uttering a vow would imply that he had a choice in the matter – just as mistress Pearlita had a choice as to whether or not to take him as a slave. Yet, as a slave, William clearly had no free will, so any ‘vow’ would be meaningless. He nevertheless vowed to himself that he would be a good footslave to his beautiful Filipina mistress.
And thirdly, as if to emphasise his slavehood status, and his lack of free will, he noticed that the female registrar had ordered him to kiss the bride’s feet: “You will kiss your mistress’s feet”; not “you may now kiss your mistress’s feet”.
Be all that as it may, slave William was determined to pay his humble, slavish respects to the beautiful bride on her big day. As the female registrar guided mistress Pearlita to one side and instructed her in how to present her right foot for her new slave to kiss in front of everyone, slave William, as he himself had earlier been coached by the two ushers, got up onto his hands and knees, and kept his slave head bowed to the floor to await his new mistress’s outstretched foot.
Once again the beautiful Filipina girl hitched up the hem of her long, flowing, white wedding dress as she stretched forward her right foot directly under the kneeling footslave’s nose as the registrar had told her to. A ray of light shining in through a window in the hall acted almost as a kind of spotlight for her pretty foot, ensuring that everyone had a good view of the slave’s first humble act of obeisance towards his new mistress. The same ray of light also accentuated the tiny creases in the young woman’s white, nylon stockings and afforded slave William a clear view of the minute, individual stitches in the material of the nylon as he first raised his lips, puckered them, and then lowered them to touch the cool, white leather on the toe of the young Filipina woman’s shoe.
Her foot seemed to wobble slightly in its high-heeled shoe as he kissed.
Again, there was a round of spontaneous applause from the assembled onlookers, but slave William was astute enough to realize that it wasn’t him they were applauding. It was his mistress Pearlita – they were congratulating her on her new acquisition: a personal footslave.
After she had presented, and he had kissed, her other foot, some taped music started up, and the bride and groom, with slave William in tow, on his hands and knees directly behind the frilly, white hem of his new mistress’s ankle-length wedding dress, made their way out of the town hall and into the bright sunshine outside, where they were showered in confetti and posed for pictures.
Then it was off to the hotel for the Reception.
The bride and groom, of course, had their own hired, chauffeured car to take them to their wedding reception. As they sat kissing in the back of the car, slave William was lying under mistress Pearlita’s feet on the floor. He was lying on his stomach, in the dirt, with his upturned left cheek once again acting as a footrest for his 18 year-old Filipina mistress, except that this time he could feel blades of grass stuck to the sole of her white, stiletto shoe as she had been standing in the gardens of the town hall whilst being videoed and photographed.
This is my life from now on, thought slave William to himself – lying under the dirty soles of my new mistress’s shoes and tasting, feeling and smelling where she has been walking.
The couple were giggling and laughing, but the groom, whom slave William now assumed was his ‘master’, still found time to explain to their new slave what was expected of him:
‘You down there, the slave, you are now my wife’s personal footslave. You will stay permanently on your hands and knees and will look only at her feet and footwear. You will address me as “master” and my wife as “mistress”, and your primary role will be to care for her pretty feet as well as all her shoes, boots, stockings and socks. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, master.’
The bride was still giggling, and evidently enjoying her new husband’s masterfulness in talking down so eloquently to the humble footslave:
‘Ha! Ha! What we call the slave, darling? Pearlita want slave have slave-name, like pet dog!’
Pearlita did miss her pet dog, Rufus. But there was no way they could have got her beloved pet through quarantine.
‘Mmm…I don’t think he looks much like a dog, more like an ugly pig, if you ask me!’ opined the witty master.
‘Pig? What is pig?’ queried mistress Pearlita, whose English was clearly not yet fluent.
‘You know – pig! Oink! Oink!’ clarified the master.
‘Ahh! Pig! Ha! Ha! Pearlita understand. Slave look like dirty pig! Ha! Ha! We call him “pig-slave”?’
‘How about “footpig?” suggested master Stewart.
‘Ha! Ha! Husband clever! Pearlita like name “footpig”. We call Pearlita slave “footpig”. Oink! Oink! Ha! Ha!’, and with that she kicked the prostrate ‘footpig’ in the cheek with her mud and grass encrusted spiked heel.
‘Come on, footpig – oink like a pig! Please your new mistress!’ ordered master Stewart with an ominous tone in his voice that clearly threatened punishment of some sort if the slave didn’t play ball.
‘Oink! Oink!’ duly grunted the footpig.
I suppose I do look like a pig, compared to the beauty of the young mistress, he thought to himself. Beauty and the beast!
The happy, masterful couple were ignoring him again and kissing each other passionately on the lips in the back of the car throughout the rest of the short journey to the hotel.
On arrival at the hotel there were yet more friends waiting to greet and congratulate the newly-wed couple. The footpig was largely ignored as he crawled after his mistress’s heels into the hotel restaurant where a dinner and dance had been arranged. It was a very posh hotel. Master Stewart clearly had plenty of money to lavish on the occasion. Miss Pearlita really had landed on her pretty, Filipina feet – a wealthy husband and a personal footslave to boot; or rather to ‘white stiletto’ at that particular moment in time.
During the sit-down dinner, and the speeches, footpig continued to serve as a footrest for his new mistress Pearlita. He again found himself focusing on the tiny folds and creases in his mistress’s white, nylon stockings. Pathetically, he was actually quite proud of the fact that nobody else could see those tiny creases in the nylon material of her stockings. Then again, of course, nobody else was interested – for nobody else was mistress Pearlita’s personal footslave!
The aptly named footpig (for he did look like a pig) could tell that his young mistress was suffering in those unforgiving, white, high-heeled shoes. Occasionally, under the table and out of sight of anyone else, she would slip off said shoes and rub her nyloned feet together.
He may have been a dirty, stupid pig, but he wasn’t lacking in initiative. Again, out of sight of anyone else, slave footpig gently caressed and massaged his mistress’s feet for her under the table. He hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble over such presumptuousness but his young mistress’s silent acquiescence soon reassured him that he had made the right decision. After all, is it not the duty of a young woman’s personal footslave to anticipate his mistress’s foot-needs without having to be told to do everything all the time? He knew he was performing a welcome service for her – easing the aches and pains in her sweaty, tired Filipina feet.
And her feet were quite sweaty – especially around the area of her toes. The underside of the reinforced nylon area of her stockinged toes was quite damp. Footpig tried desperately to get a whiff of her damp nyloned toes but unfortunately the smell of the delicious food wafting around the hotel restaurant was too overpowering.
Not that footpig was being permitted to partake of any food. He hadn’t expected to be. After all, he was just a young Filipina woman’s footpig, not a free human being.
When it came to the dancing, footpig was relegated to the corner of the dance hall where he was ordered to kneel with his face in the corner, humbly awaiting the return of his mistress. He would have liked to accompany her feet to the dance floor, to observe her feet as she danced in her white, stiletto shoes, to study all the creases and folds coming and going in her nylon stockinged ankles as she moved her pretty Filipina feet in time with the music – but footslaves were not permitted on dance floors. They only got in the way!
And so he wasn’t really required again until the couple, eventually, made their way up to the honeymoon suite. They were not flying off on honeymoon until the following day, meaning they should be able to get a good night’s rest before their long journey to the Caribbean.
Not that master Stewart, at any rate, appeared to have rest or sleep on his mind as the trio of master, mistress and slave entered the bedroom. He wasted no time in playfully throwing his, now somewhat inebriated, bride down onto the marital bed.
Footpig knelt dutifully, head bowed, in a corner of the room – ready to serve his master and mistress at a second’s notice; but equally not wishing to intrude.
Of course, he needn’t have worried. He hadn’t yet fully appreciated that his new owners regarded him as a mere ‘thing’. They were not in the slightest bit embarrassed at his presence. Indeed, master Stewart would have forgotten all about the presence of his wife’s footpig if she hadn’t sat up on the bed to make a complaint about him:
‘Darling’ she pouted, ‘Pearlita angry with footpig-slave. Footpig touch Pearlita feet under table in restaurant without Pearlita permission! Pearlita want punish footpig!’
‘What?’ shouted master Stewart incredulously! ‘He did what?’
Footpig’s heart sank and his mouth went dry. So he had been wrong to use his initiative under the restaurant table after all! His mistress had not wanted her sweaty, nyloned feet to be surreptitiously massaged. Why hadn’t she said something at the time? She had appeared to be enjoying it!
Ha! Ha! Poor, naïve footpig! His mistress Pearlita had, of course, enjoyed his impromptu foot massage – but it is a mistress’s prerogative to both enjoy the humble ministrations of a slave and to have him punished for them!
The master was now striding angrily over towards the kneeling slave:
‘Whack!’
Master Stewart slapped him hard across the right cheek:
‘Dirty slave! Dirty, no-good footpig! How dare you touch my wife’s feet without her permission!’
He slapped footpig hard across his other cheek.
‘Pearlita sweetheart, you’ll find what you’re looking for in that suitcase over there.’
Footpig, his head still bowed as he knelt in the corner of the room could see out of the corner of his now watery left eye his mistress Pearlita kicking off her white stilettos and walking round in her white-stockinged feet to a suitcase which had been deposited on the floor on the other side of the bed.She opened the case, rummaged inside it for a few seconds, and then withdrew a long, thin, wooden stick with a rubber hand-grip at the thickest end. It was a punishment cane!
Although slave William had been a slave for several years, he was unaccustomed to pain. He had been lucky. His previous mistresses had been kindly towards him: just the occasional slap or light spanking with the hand if he had inadvertently slipped up. He could tell already, however, that his new master and mistress took a different view on the efficacy of corporal punishment, and not just from the strength of the blows delivered by his new master, but also from the way mistress Pearlita was now swishing the whippy cane through the air. He could tell that the young Filipina woman was going to greatly enjoy administering corporal punishment to her slave, even if she had never caned a slave before!
Master Stewart’s mood at least seemed to lighten somewhat as he saw how pleased his wife was with her new, whippy toy :
‘Ha! Ha! I thought you’d like that, honey! It’s my special wedding gift to my beautiful bride on her wedding night – a stick for you to beat your slave with!’
‘Ha! Ha! Pearlita like stick! Stick long - bend in air. Cause slave many pain! Ha! Ha!’ replied his pretty, young bride, delighted with her new present.
She moved over to where her husband was standing, stood on tip toe and kissed him lovingly on the lips. From where he was kneeling footpig could only see the creases in her nyloned soles as she stood on tip toe.
The happy couple finished embracing:
‘Well, darling, why don’t you punish him now before we make love? It might help to arouse you!’ suggested master William.
Mistress Pearlita, whom it has to be said did already sound a bit breathless with excitement, concurred with her husband:
‘Ha! Ha! Yes – Pearlita beat footpig. Punish footpig for touch Pearlita feet without permission! Pearlita think…twelve lashes?’
‘Twelve? Oh I think he deserves more than that, honey! How about fifty!’ opined master Stewart.
Footpig swallowed hard!
‘Ha! Ha! Fifty - too many! Pearlita tired. Arms tired!’
Now it was master Stewart’s turn to laugh:
‘OK, well how about a compromise then, sweetheart? Twelve lashes across his bare bottom, and he then has to kiss your feet 50 times?’
Listening to the conversation between his superior master and mistress from his lowly, helpless position at their feet, footpig was only glad the master, with his strong right arm, hadn’t offered to deliver some of the cane strokes himself!
‘Ha! Ha! Pearlita like! Pearlita give dirty footpig twelve lashes and husband make slave kiss Pearlita feet 50 times. OK?’
‘OK!’ confirmed her husband.
So it was all agreed. Mistress Pearlita would beat her footpig for gently and helpfully massaging her feet and then master Stewart would cast the swine down before his Pearlita.
It really was a deliciously perverse world they all lived in!
Within seconds footpig found himself bent over the arm of a wooden chair, his slave tunic pulled up to expose his bare buttocks to the cane, whilst mistress Pearlita, her wedding dress rustling, moved to position herself behind him with the cane.
The only clue that footpig had to the arrival of the first stinging stroke was when his mistress Pearlita once again stood on tip toe in her nylon-stockinged feet in order to raise the cane as high as she could and bring it down as hard as her delicate, feminine Filipina arm would allow onto the sensitive crease between his buttocks and thighs.
He howled and moaned.
After he had received his twelve, sharp, agonizing strokes of the cane, slave footpig collapsed on the ground at his mistress’s stockinged feet and, with master Stewart kindly assisting him by holding his head over each of her pretty feet in turn, placed 50 respectful kisses onto his new mistress’s damp-stockinged toes.
Mistress Pearlita licked her pretty Filipina lips as the slave kissed her pretty Filipina feet. One way or another there was going to be a lot more howling and moaning in the honeymoon suite that night!
The End.
Their friends, and a few of Stewart’s family members, were also there to witness the marriage ceremony. It wasn’t a particularly large gathering, but then, both bride and groom had wanted a quiet, civil ceremony.
They made a lovely couple, despite the age difference between them. Even though Stewart was a divorcee, and Pearlita, who was from a poor village in the Philippines, had obtained her visa solely on the basis of her impending marriage to Stewart, there was absolutely no suggestion that this was a marriage of convenience.
Having said that, it was a mutually convenient arrangement: Stewart had a beautiful, virginal Filipina bride on his arm; and Pearlita had a wealthy, western husband who could not only look after her, but also send money back to her family in the Philippines. He had promised to do so even though he had never actually met them, or even been to the Philippines.
Because she was a virgin (or, at least claimed to be such), the bride was dressed in a beautiful, white wedding dress that flowed down to her shapely, Filipina ankles. On her feet she was wearing virginal white, nylon stockings, and white stiletto, high heeled shoes. If truth be told Pearlita wasn’t used to wearing high-heels – being a village girl she was more accustomed to wearing flip flops on her pretty, brown, bare feet as she worked in the fields. She was, therefore, finding the white stiletto shoes, nice as they were, somewhat uncomfortable on her feet.
But she would grin and bear it – just as she would grin and bear being married to the somewhat unprepossessing, but nevertheless wealthy, Stewart.
The female registrar began the short, civil ceremony by addressing the happy couple:
‘The step which you are about to take is the most important into which human beings can come. It is a union of two people founded upon mutual respect and affection. Your lives will change, your responsibilities will increase, but your joy will be multiplied if you are sincere and earnest with your pledge to one another.
Stewart, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?’
‘I will,’ responded the groom.
‘Pearlita, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, so long as you both shall live?’
‘Pearlita will,’ responded the bride.
‘Stewart, please now place the ring on the bride's finger and say: With this ring, I thee wed.’
Stewart, somewhat ineptly it has to be said, eventually managed to slide the wedding ring onto his pretty, Filipina bride’s finger:
‘With this ring, I thee wed’
The female registrar, smiling reassuringly, resumed:
‘Let this ring be given and received as a token of your affection, sincerity and fidelity to one another.
In as much as Stewart and Pearlita have consented together in wedlock and have witnessed the same before this company, and pledged their vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the State I now pronounce them husband and wife.
Stewart, you may now kiss the bride!’
The onlookers burst into spontaneous applause as Stewart kissed Pearlita lovingly on the lips.
Thus far the ceremony had been quite normal. But this was a wedding ceremony taking place in the European slave State of Barbaria, and so there was a further element to the proceedings.
The female registrar continued:
‘Stewart, do you have a personal footslave for your bride?’
‘I do.’
‘Bring forth the footslave that the bride may rest her foot on his face!’ declared the registrar.
23 year old slave William realized that his big moment had now come as two, young, female ushers who were about the same age as him, and both dressed in smart, matching white blouses, black knee-length skirts and black, low-heeled, court shoes, led him forward on his hands and knees towards the front of the hall where the bride and groom were still standing in front of the similarly attired female registrar.
Unlike the two ushers, the registrar, the bride and groom, and the assembled witnesses to the wedding ceremony, slave William was not smartly dressed. In fact he was wearing nothing but his traditional plain, brown, knee-length slave tunic, and his metal slave collar – as befits a slave.
Pearlita hitched up her luxurious white, wedding dress and raised her petite, shapely right foot a few inches off the ground in order to enable the two ushers to lay slave William on his stomach at her feet. She then rested her stiletto-shod foot back down on his upturned left cheek and stood so that her left foot was directly in front of the prostrate slave’s face. She then allowed the hem of her wedding dress to fall again so that the footslave’s face was enveloped under the folds of her dress.
All that William could now see under the dress was the white stiletto shoe and shapely, white-stocking covered left ankle of his new Filipina mistress-to-be, mistress Pearlita. He noticed two tiny creases in the thin, white nylon of her stocking around her inner ankle bone.
But although his view was now restricted, he could clearly hear the female registrar’s voice as she continued with the ceremony:
‘Pearlita, will you take this slave to be your personal footslave; will you dominate and humiliate him, rebuke and chastise him, and ensure his perpetual enslavement at your feet for as long as you both shall live?’
‘Pearlita will.’
‘Thank you. By the authority vested in me by the State, I therefore pronounce you mistress and footslave. Slave, you will kiss your mistress’s feet.’
Slave William had noticed three differences between his part of the ceremony and the marriage part:
Firstly, he wasn’t named - but was referred to merely as ‘the slave’ or ‘footslave’. He realized that this was because he was no longer a named individual. He was merely an object; a piece of property – the property of mistress Pearlita.
Secondly, as he was just a ‘thing’, there were no words for him to say; no vows for him to undertake. That was because uttering a vow would imply that he had a choice in the matter – just as mistress Pearlita had a choice as to whether or not to take him as a slave. Yet, as a slave, William clearly had no free will, so any ‘vow’ would be meaningless. He nevertheless vowed to himself that he would be a good footslave to his beautiful Filipina mistress.
And thirdly, as if to emphasise his slavehood status, and his lack of free will, he noticed that the female registrar had ordered him to kiss the bride’s feet: “You will kiss your mistress’s feet”; not “you may now kiss your mistress’s feet”.
Be all that as it may, slave William was determined to pay his humble, slavish respects to the beautiful bride on her big day. As the female registrar guided mistress Pearlita to one side and instructed her in how to present her right foot for her new slave to kiss in front of everyone, slave William, as he himself had earlier been coached by the two ushers, got up onto his hands and knees, and kept his slave head bowed to the floor to await his new mistress’s outstretched foot.
Once again the beautiful Filipina girl hitched up the hem of her long, flowing, white wedding dress as she stretched forward her right foot directly under the kneeling footslave’s nose as the registrar had told her to. A ray of light shining in through a window in the hall acted almost as a kind of spotlight for her pretty foot, ensuring that everyone had a good view of the slave’s first humble act of obeisance towards his new mistress. The same ray of light also accentuated the tiny creases in the young woman’s white, nylon stockings and afforded slave William a clear view of the minute, individual stitches in the material of the nylon as he first raised his lips, puckered them, and then lowered them to touch the cool, white leather on the toe of the young Filipina woman’s shoe.
Her foot seemed to wobble slightly in its high-heeled shoe as he kissed.
Again, there was a round of spontaneous applause from the assembled onlookers, but slave William was astute enough to realize that it wasn’t him they were applauding. It was his mistress Pearlita – they were congratulating her on her new acquisition: a personal footslave.
After she had presented, and he had kissed, her other foot, some taped music started up, and the bride and groom, with slave William in tow, on his hands and knees directly behind the frilly, white hem of his new mistress’s ankle-length wedding dress, made their way out of the town hall and into the bright sunshine outside, where they were showered in confetti and posed for pictures.
Then it was off to the hotel for the Reception.
The bride and groom, of course, had their own hired, chauffeured car to take them to their wedding reception. As they sat kissing in the back of the car, slave William was lying under mistress Pearlita’s feet on the floor. He was lying on his stomach, in the dirt, with his upturned left cheek once again acting as a footrest for his 18 year-old Filipina mistress, except that this time he could feel blades of grass stuck to the sole of her white, stiletto shoe as she had been standing in the gardens of the town hall whilst being videoed and photographed.
This is my life from now on, thought slave William to himself – lying under the dirty soles of my new mistress’s shoes and tasting, feeling and smelling where she has been walking.
The couple were giggling and laughing, but the groom, whom slave William now assumed was his ‘master’, still found time to explain to their new slave what was expected of him:
‘You down there, the slave, you are now my wife’s personal footslave. You will stay permanently on your hands and knees and will look only at her feet and footwear. You will address me as “master” and my wife as “mistress”, and your primary role will be to care for her pretty feet as well as all her shoes, boots, stockings and socks. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, master.’
The bride was still giggling, and evidently enjoying her new husband’s masterfulness in talking down so eloquently to the humble footslave:
‘Ha! Ha! What we call the slave, darling? Pearlita want slave have slave-name, like pet dog!’
Pearlita did miss her pet dog, Rufus. But there was no way they could have got her beloved pet through quarantine.
‘Mmm…I don’t think he looks much like a dog, more like an ugly pig, if you ask me!’ opined the witty master.
‘Pig? What is pig?’ queried mistress Pearlita, whose English was clearly not yet fluent.
‘You know – pig! Oink! Oink!’ clarified the master.
‘Ahh! Pig! Ha! Ha! Pearlita understand. Slave look like dirty pig! Ha! Ha! We call him “pig-slave”?’
‘How about “footpig?” suggested master Stewart.
‘Ha! Ha! Husband clever! Pearlita like name “footpig”. We call Pearlita slave “footpig”. Oink! Oink! Ha! Ha!’, and with that she kicked the prostrate ‘footpig’ in the cheek with her mud and grass encrusted spiked heel.
‘Come on, footpig – oink like a pig! Please your new mistress!’ ordered master Stewart with an ominous tone in his voice that clearly threatened punishment of some sort if the slave didn’t play ball.
‘Oink! Oink!’ duly grunted the footpig.
I suppose I do look like a pig, compared to the beauty of the young mistress, he thought to himself. Beauty and the beast!
The happy, masterful couple were ignoring him again and kissing each other passionately on the lips in the back of the car throughout the rest of the short journey to the hotel.
On arrival at the hotel there were yet more friends waiting to greet and congratulate the newly-wed couple. The footpig was largely ignored as he crawled after his mistress’s heels into the hotel restaurant where a dinner and dance had been arranged. It was a very posh hotel. Master Stewart clearly had plenty of money to lavish on the occasion. Miss Pearlita really had landed on her pretty, Filipina feet – a wealthy husband and a personal footslave to boot; or rather to ‘white stiletto’ at that particular moment in time.
During the sit-down dinner, and the speeches, footpig continued to serve as a footrest for his new mistress Pearlita. He again found himself focusing on the tiny folds and creases in his mistress’s white, nylon stockings. Pathetically, he was actually quite proud of the fact that nobody else could see those tiny creases in the nylon material of her stockings. Then again, of course, nobody else was interested – for nobody else was mistress Pearlita’s personal footslave!
The aptly named footpig (for he did look like a pig) could tell that his young mistress was suffering in those unforgiving, white, high-heeled shoes. Occasionally, under the table and out of sight of anyone else, she would slip off said shoes and rub her nyloned feet together.
He may have been a dirty, stupid pig, but he wasn’t lacking in initiative. Again, out of sight of anyone else, slave footpig gently caressed and massaged his mistress’s feet for her under the table. He hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble over such presumptuousness but his young mistress’s silent acquiescence soon reassured him that he had made the right decision. After all, is it not the duty of a young woman’s personal footslave to anticipate his mistress’s foot-needs without having to be told to do everything all the time? He knew he was performing a welcome service for her – easing the aches and pains in her sweaty, tired Filipina feet.
And her feet were quite sweaty – especially around the area of her toes. The underside of the reinforced nylon area of her stockinged toes was quite damp. Footpig tried desperately to get a whiff of her damp nyloned toes but unfortunately the smell of the delicious food wafting around the hotel restaurant was too overpowering.
Not that footpig was being permitted to partake of any food. He hadn’t expected to be. After all, he was just a young Filipina woman’s footpig, not a free human being.
When it came to the dancing, footpig was relegated to the corner of the dance hall where he was ordered to kneel with his face in the corner, humbly awaiting the return of his mistress. He would have liked to accompany her feet to the dance floor, to observe her feet as she danced in her white, stiletto shoes, to study all the creases and folds coming and going in her nylon stockinged ankles as she moved her pretty Filipina feet in time with the music – but footslaves were not permitted on dance floors. They only got in the way!
And so he wasn’t really required again until the couple, eventually, made their way up to the honeymoon suite. They were not flying off on honeymoon until the following day, meaning they should be able to get a good night’s rest before their long journey to the Caribbean.
Not that master Stewart, at any rate, appeared to have rest or sleep on his mind as the trio of master, mistress and slave entered the bedroom. He wasted no time in playfully throwing his, now somewhat inebriated, bride down onto the marital bed.
Footpig knelt dutifully, head bowed, in a corner of the room – ready to serve his master and mistress at a second’s notice; but equally not wishing to intrude.
Of course, he needn’t have worried. He hadn’t yet fully appreciated that his new owners regarded him as a mere ‘thing’. They were not in the slightest bit embarrassed at his presence. Indeed, master Stewart would have forgotten all about the presence of his wife’s footpig if she hadn’t sat up on the bed to make a complaint about him:
‘Darling’ she pouted, ‘Pearlita angry with footpig-slave. Footpig touch Pearlita feet under table in restaurant without Pearlita permission! Pearlita want punish footpig!’
‘What?’ shouted master Stewart incredulously! ‘He did what?’
Footpig’s heart sank and his mouth went dry. So he had been wrong to use his initiative under the restaurant table after all! His mistress had not wanted her sweaty, nyloned feet to be surreptitiously massaged. Why hadn’t she said something at the time? She had appeared to be enjoying it!
Ha! Ha! Poor, naïve footpig! His mistress Pearlita had, of course, enjoyed his impromptu foot massage – but it is a mistress’s prerogative to both enjoy the humble ministrations of a slave and to have him punished for them!
The master was now striding angrily over towards the kneeling slave:
‘Whack!’
Master Stewart slapped him hard across the right cheek:
‘Dirty slave! Dirty, no-good footpig! How dare you touch my wife’s feet without her permission!’
He slapped footpig hard across his other cheek.
‘Pearlita sweetheart, you’ll find what you’re looking for in that suitcase over there.’
Footpig, his head still bowed as he knelt in the corner of the room could see out of the corner of his now watery left eye his mistress Pearlita kicking off her white stilettos and walking round in her white-stockinged feet to a suitcase which had been deposited on the floor on the other side of the bed.She opened the case, rummaged inside it for a few seconds, and then withdrew a long, thin, wooden stick with a rubber hand-grip at the thickest end. It was a punishment cane!
Although slave William had been a slave for several years, he was unaccustomed to pain. He had been lucky. His previous mistresses had been kindly towards him: just the occasional slap or light spanking with the hand if he had inadvertently slipped up. He could tell already, however, that his new master and mistress took a different view on the efficacy of corporal punishment, and not just from the strength of the blows delivered by his new master, but also from the way mistress Pearlita was now swishing the whippy cane through the air. He could tell that the young Filipina woman was going to greatly enjoy administering corporal punishment to her slave, even if she had never caned a slave before!
Master Stewart’s mood at least seemed to lighten somewhat as he saw how pleased his wife was with her new, whippy toy :
‘Ha! Ha! I thought you’d like that, honey! It’s my special wedding gift to my beautiful bride on her wedding night – a stick for you to beat your slave with!’
‘Ha! Ha! Pearlita like stick! Stick long - bend in air. Cause slave many pain! Ha! Ha!’ replied his pretty, young bride, delighted with her new present.
She moved over to where her husband was standing, stood on tip toe and kissed him lovingly on the lips. From where he was kneeling footpig could only see the creases in her nyloned soles as she stood on tip toe.
The happy couple finished embracing:
‘Well, darling, why don’t you punish him now before we make love? It might help to arouse you!’ suggested master William.
Mistress Pearlita, whom it has to be said did already sound a bit breathless with excitement, concurred with her husband:
‘Ha! Ha! Yes – Pearlita beat footpig. Punish footpig for touch Pearlita feet without permission! Pearlita think…twelve lashes?’
‘Twelve? Oh I think he deserves more than that, honey! How about fifty!’ opined master Stewart.
Footpig swallowed hard!
‘Ha! Ha! Fifty - too many! Pearlita tired. Arms tired!’
Now it was master Stewart’s turn to laugh:
‘OK, well how about a compromise then, sweetheart? Twelve lashes across his bare bottom, and he then has to kiss your feet 50 times?’
Listening to the conversation between his superior master and mistress from his lowly, helpless position at their feet, footpig was only glad the master, with his strong right arm, hadn’t offered to deliver some of the cane strokes himself!
‘Ha! Ha! Pearlita like! Pearlita give dirty footpig twelve lashes and husband make slave kiss Pearlita feet 50 times. OK?’
‘OK!’ confirmed her husband.
So it was all agreed. Mistress Pearlita would beat her footpig for gently and helpfully massaging her feet and then master Stewart would cast the swine down before his Pearlita.
It really was a deliciously perverse world they all lived in!
Within seconds footpig found himself bent over the arm of a wooden chair, his slave tunic pulled up to expose his bare buttocks to the cane, whilst mistress Pearlita, her wedding dress rustling, moved to position herself behind him with the cane.
The only clue that footpig had to the arrival of the first stinging stroke was when his mistress Pearlita once again stood on tip toe in her nylon-stockinged feet in order to raise the cane as high as she could and bring it down as hard as her delicate, feminine Filipina arm would allow onto the sensitive crease between his buttocks and thighs.
He howled and moaned.
After he had received his twelve, sharp, agonizing strokes of the cane, slave footpig collapsed on the ground at his mistress’s stockinged feet and, with master Stewart kindly assisting him by holding his head over each of her pretty feet in turn, placed 50 respectful kisses onto his new mistress’s damp-stockinged toes.
Mistress Pearlita licked her pretty Filipina lips as the slave kissed her pretty Filipina feet. One way or another there was going to be a lot more howling and moaning in the honeymoon suite that night!
The End.
