Decisions! Decisions!

Part 1 – Slave Wanted.

All societies have their inherent contradictions.

The Gynarchy is no exception. And perhaps one of its most pronounced contradictions is the way in which it selects its slaves; for whilst it is the mistresses who advertise for slaves, it is the male slaves who choose their mistresses. It’s just the way of things.

50 year old slave Thomas was in the market for a new mistress once again. Slaves may choose their mistresses, but it is a mistress’s prerogative to dump her slave. And slave Thomas had been well and truly dumped by his mistress of some 13 years, mistress Angela, simply because she had become bored with him.

By law she was not required to offer him any more detailed explanation than that.

And so he found himself staying in a slave-hostel for homeless slaves, desperately searching through the small ads in the ‘Slavefinder’ magazine, looking for a position as a personal slave to a new mistress.

He was, in actual fact, a fully qualified lady’s footslave, with years of experience in that field not just at the feet of mistress Angela, but before that with several other haughty mistresses. But along the way he had picked up other slavish skills as well – house cleaning; manual labour; personal body-servitude – the way footslaves do for, at the end of the day, a slave is a slave, whatever his speciality, and he is there to be exploited, used and abused by his mistress in whatever way she sees fit.

He therefore trawled the small ads from mistresses looking for slaves with an open mind, and three ads in particular had captured his attention.

The most obvious thing the three ads had in common was that they were all from women of colour – for slave Thomas was white, and very much enjoyed serving women from different ethnic backgrounds to his own. In particular, he liked the fact that, in his own humble experience, black and Asian mistresses often tended to be more strict with him than their white counterparts – perhaps due to a sense of outrage at the way white men had exploited women of colour throughout history before the days of the glorious Gynarchy. Perhaps it was with a sense of sweet, feminine revenge that a black or Asian mistress would lord it over a pathetic representative of the white, male race – a hapless and helpless fall-guy for the erstwhile oppressors of her own female ancestors.

Perhaps all that was just bunkum, and slave Thomas really just liked exotic and beautiful women of colour, but, whatever his motives, nearly all of his previous mistresses had been black or Asian – including the aforementioned mistress Angela, a stunningly beautiful, black Afro-Caribbean woman some 15 years his junior.

And that was the other thing he liked in a mistress – youth; or, at least, youth relative to his own. In that respect he was very much in tune with the prevailing ethos of the Gynarchy – a female-dominated society which very much valued youth over experience. ‘Beauty before age’ was its central axiom, and the most valued and respected citizens of the Gynarchy were young women in their prime, in their twenties and thirties: strong; beautiful; the pinnacle of creation. Yes, slave Thomas, conditioned as he was to the social mores of the Gynarchy and to Female Values, prized superior, feminine youth and beauty above all else.

And so, his perfect mistress would be a young black or Asian woman in her twenties or early thirties – and all three of the advertisers who had caught his roaming slave-eye fitted nicely into that category.

The first advertisement had read as follows:

‘Attractive Indian Mistress, 32, married, seeks full time personal slave and houseboy.

Duties to include personal servitude to the mistress, including foot-servitude, along with heavy housework. The slave can expect to work hard under pain of the whip – with chores ranging from the care and cleaning of the mistress’s feet and footwear; cooking; floor-scrubbing; gardening; and other general maintenance work around the home.

18 hour days with no downtime or freetime permitted.

Basic slave-accommodation and sustenance provided.

A contrite and submissive demeanour is essential.

To request an interview contact………..’

What caught slave Thomas’s eye about this particular advertisement was the fact that it would broaden his horizons and experiences as a slave still further. The mistress was clearly still looking for a personal footslave, but at the same time he would be able to serve her in other ways – with general ‘housework’ around the home, including cooking – something he had never ben permitted to do hitherto, though he had oftentimes been tasked with washing up his mistresses’ dirty plates.

The other conditions of employment sounded pretty much standard – subject to the female whip; basic slave-sustenance and accommodation provided etc. The only thing that slave Thomas didn’t much like about the ad was the mention of the mistress being married. That meant a husband, a free man, to be submitted to also – and slave Thomas had a problem being submissive towards other men.

He hid his negative feelings in this regard quite well, but he still blamed mistress Angela’s live-in boyfriend, for example, for her decision to dump him as a slave. His relationship with his erstwhile mistress Angela had definitely deteriorated after her boyfriend, master Winston, had moved in with her. Slave Thomas had had to ‘pussyfoot’ around him; making sure not to make him jealous whenever he was massaging or kissing his beloved mistress Angela’s soft, brown, bare feet – for example – as the last thing mistress Angela wanted was to make her manly and much-loved boyfriend Winston jealous of a mere footslave.

As far as slave Thomas was concerned the writing was finally on the wall when mistress Angela had started inviting her boyfriend Winston to massage her tired and aching feet – instead of Thomas her personal footslave. From that moment onwards slave Thomas was, in effect, no longer needed in mistress Angela’s household. He was superfluous to requirements (though the sting in the whiptail had been that she had promptly acquired a younger, fitter footslave just days after dumping him – or so he had heard on he slave grapevine).

Yes, other men in the household, free men, were in slave Thomas’s limited experience bad news for a live-in, male slave. Nevertheless there was enough in the advert to compel him to request an interview with the 32 year old Indian mistress. He could make his final decision once he was in possession of more of the facts. It was, after all, his choice whether to become her slave or not!

Of course, the sensible out-of-work slave doesn’t confine himself to responding to just one mistress’s ad – where would be the choice in that? And so he had circled a second advertisement as being of interest to him in the ‘Slavefinder’ magazine:

‘Stunning, young Pakistani mistress, 27, single, seeks live-in, full-time personal footslave.

Duties will be to concentrate exclusively on the mistress’s feet and footwear in a manner befitting a humble footslave.

Must have all the appropriate qualifications and experiences in foot –servitude.

The mistress operates a benign, but nevertheless demanding, regime. The slave must be fully fit and able to withstand sustained physical punishment.

Applications for interview to……….’

This was a truly intriguing advertisement – not so much for the type of servitude being required by the mistress; it was clearly a fairly straightforward personal footslave position that was on offer. Rather it was the reference to a ‘benign, but nevertheless demanding regime’ with ‘sustained physical punishment’ that caught his eye. Even more intriguing was the absence of any mention of the ‘whip’. The implication was that whipping was not a regular part of this particular Pakistani mistress’s slave-management regime, yet she clearly still believed in physical punishment and discipline of some description!

Slave Thomas found the concept of being physically disciplined by a young, 27 year old Pakistani mistress in ways other than by being whipped both exciting and intriguing. Perhaps this particular mistress had a certain imagination and ingenuity that other mistresses lacked? The use of the whip was ubiquitous throughout the Gynarchy. It was, after all, the very symbol of feminine power (along with the stiletto heel), and appeared as a logo on all the female State’s official publications. The fact that this young, Pakistani mistress had apparently turned her back on its use (as opposed to using it on her slaves’ turned backs) was captivating.

And the Pakistani mistress was still single! Slave Thomas just had to reply to this particular advertisement!

The final advertisement that caught his slave-eye was as follows:

‘Dirty, male footslave required for superior African-American mistress, 24.

The slave shall be subject to the whip, and should already be broken in spirit, though spirit-breaking by means of the female whip may be arranged by the mistress in exceptional circumstances.

Duties to be restricted to the service of the mistress’s inner and outer footwear only. All skin contact expressly prohibited.

Only elderly male slaves (45+) need apply

For appointment contact…’’

This advertisement appealed to slave Thomas because it reeked of youthful, female arrogance. This was clearly a young woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and just how to treat a filthy, dirty male footslave such as himself!

(Poor slave Thomas! What he didn’t realise was that the advertisement had been drafted by the young African-American woman’s live-in boyfriend – hence the prohibition on all skin-contact with the mistress!)

There was much in the advertisement that didn’t appeal to the more selfish elements of slave Thomas’s nature – the focus exclusively on foot (or more accurately footwear) servitude, in stark contrast to the first ad. That and the young mistress’s clear reliance on the whip to discipline and castigate her slaves, unlike in the second advert.

He also found the young woman’s perceptions of ‘elderliness’ somewhat amusing (‘45+ !) . But, nevertheless, being 50 he clearly more than qualified for the position of being a haughty and arrogant young black woman’s elderly personal-footslave, and he could do ‘broken in spirit’ just as well as the next slave!

He therefore encircled the ad and applied to all three superior, young mistresses of colour for an interview.

His first interview, with the Indian mistress of the first ad, took place the following week.


Part 2 – Prospective Mistress Lakshana.

They say you can tell a lot about a mistress from the decor in her home, and as he knelt in front of 32 year old prospective Indian mistress, mistress Lakshana, in her opulent living room, slave Thomas could tell a lot about mistress Lakshana from his unfamiliar surroundings.

She was obviously well-off and a young lady of leisure. Her husband (who did not appear to be present) must have a well-paid job, well able to keep his beautiful Indian wife in the luxury to which she was clearly accustomed.

She was sitting on an expensive-looking, white leather sofa, her feet resting demurely side by side on the fluffy white carpet directly below slave Thomas’s humble, kneeling face. He could see mistress Lakshana’s feet close up. She was wearing black, boot-cut slacks, black ankle socks, and black leather, double-strapped, block-heeled and round-toed, mary-jane-style shoes on her pretty, petite Indian feet and ankles.

Slave Thomas liked the way mistress Lakshana’s black footwear contrasted starkly with the white of the leather sofa and the white of the fluffy, living-room carpet on which her delicate, feminine feet were resting.

First impressions were that mistress Lakshana was a pretty, dark-haired, petite, albeit slightly plump, Indian mistress – and that she was a young woman who was used to dealing with slaves and to being obeyed. As if to emphasise that point she was sitting with a short, black leather, single-tailed slave-whip resting on her lap – another black contrast to the white leather of the sofa.

Slave Thomas respectfully awaited the Indian mistress’s permission before lowering is lips to the rounded, black leather toe of her right, mary-jane shoe in order to pay his slavish respects to it. As his lips touched female shoe-leather, he had a delightful close-up view of black, female ankle-sock inside the pretty, female shoe – and what caught his eye in particular was the very feminine flowery pattern in the black stitching of the sock. He also admired a tiny crease in the stitching which began on the arch of mistress Lakshana’s right foot, just below the lower of the two black leather straps which ran across the top of her socked foot, and disappeared down into the very, hallowed instep of her shoe.

He found himself, momentarily, longing to trace his slave nose right down that crease in her beautiful, black, cotton ankle-sock.

But mistress Lakshana was not yet convinced that slave Thomas would make the right slave for her. As he paid his humble footslavish respects to the, surprisingly slightly scuffed, leather toe of her left shoe, she wanted to make sure he was fully aware of the wide range of duties she would expect from him:

‘Mmm…I see that you are knowing how to be kissing a superior lady’s shoes, slaveboy, but you must also be remembering that I am requiring more than just a personal foot-servant in this household. If you are becoming my slave you will be being expected to serve my household in many other ways. You will be rising out of your hole every morning at 05:00 a.m. in order to first hand-wash my dirty socks, tights or stockings that I have been wearing the day before. You will then be selecting, and preparing, my footwear for the day ahead in accordance with my written instructions, and will be kneeling by my bedside ready for when I am wakening so that you may be washing my bare feet and assisting me with my getting dressed.

You will then be preparing breakfast for myself and my husband. Only when my husband and I are being finished our breakfast will you be being permitted to eat our leftover scraps, should there be being any. If there are not you will be starving.

You will then be washing up the breakfast utensils and crockery following our meal, and you will be performing all of these tasks whilst are being remaining on your hands and knees. Throughout the day whenever you are being in my presence you will be humbly looking at my feet. You will not be raising your head above the level of my knee.

You will be being put to work scrubbing floors, weeding the garden, polishing the silver, shining my boots and shoes and so on, but you will be doing all of this while you are being on your hands and knees. You will never be being permitted to walk upright while you are in this household, for you are being nothing other than a dirty slave!

You will be working damn hard, and will be sweating while you are being working, otherwise you will be feeling the sting of my whip…’

At this point mistress Lakshana licked her lips and ran the tail of her black, leather whip through her pretty, if somewhat podgy, Indian fingers:

‘….Believe me, I am being expert in the application of the whip, and your bare back will be being very sore if you are not pleasing me with your work!

If you are being a good and diligent slave, however, you will be being permitted from time to time to be removing my shoes from my feet and to be sniffing the toes of my socks or tights. This is being your reward for hard and diligent labour in my household! So it will be being your choice – my whip or my socks!...’

Listening to the lecture from his prospective Indian mistress, mistress Lakshana, slave Thomas liked what he heard. A strict, no-nonsense regime, with plenty of opportunities to broaden his skills-base (for example by learning how to cook and prepare breakfast, something which none of his previous mistresses had ever used him for), and yet at the same time retaining his core function as a personal footslave – living permanently on his hands and knees and with no other ‘reward’ than that of being allowed to sniff the reinforced toe-ends of his Indian mistress’s sweaty, black ankle-socks, or moist nylon stockings, whilst she was still wearing them.

It sounded almost perfect – a real opportunity for personal development whilst remaining on his hands and knees as a down-in-the-dirt footslave! Slave Thomas expressed his interest in the position by verbally blessing mistress Lakshana and then being so bold as to kiss the crease in her black sock which he had meanwhile been admiring so much.

Mistress Lakshana, however, was keen to show him what his accommodation would be like should he elect to take up the position as her household slave, and promptly ordered him to follow her on his hands and knees to heel as she escorted him down to his slave ‘hole’.

As he crawled behind her blocky, mary-jane heels, slave Thomas was delighted by the occasional glimpse of the backs of mistress Lakshana’s black ankle socks, beneath the flapping, wide hems of her black boot-cut slacks, as she walked along. He found the whole experience of crawling to heel behind her particularly thrilling for two main reasons.

Firstly, he actually caught the occasional glimpse of her soft, brown skin above the elasticated tops of he short, black ankle socks – especially when she was leading him down a flight of stairs towards what was presumably the dark basement level where his slave-hole would be located. That glimpse of petite, Indian mistress Lakshana’s beautiful, brown ankle skin was truly precious to him – for it was the soft, feminine skin of a superior, young woman.

Secondly, her black ankle-socks were showing the first signs of wearing thin at the backs of her shoes – presumably where various pairs of shoes and boots had previously been rubbing them. This meant that, even when mistress Lakshana’s bare skin was not visible to him, he could still see her veiled, brown skin – the rough skin of her heels - beneath the thinning, cotton material of her black socks.

Oh how he longed to pay his footslavish respects to that thinning cotton covering her divinely-shapely heels! He tried to focus all his footslavish attention on mistress Lakshana’s socked heels, for he felt an almost instant bondage to them.

What he did not find quite so enamouring was the ‘accommodation’ mistress Lakshana had so kindly set aside for him in the dark and dingy basement of her otherwise opulent home. It was, literally, just a dirty hole – a dirty hole at the end of a long and bleak basement corridor, with no room for him to even kneel up in it. He would have to crawl backwards into it and spend his nights sleeping on his bare stomach on a cold, concrete floor.

The ‘hole’s’ entrance also had a heavy, metal hatch which served as a kind of ‘door, and which mistress Lakshana took great pleasure in informing him she would slam shut – literally in his stupid, slave face – every night, even though she wouldn’t lock it as neither she nor her husband had any desire to get up at 05:00 a.m. every morning just in order to let him out!

She assured him, however, that when the hatch was closed he would be lying in the dirt in total darkness – alone, disorientated and cold – and this thought clearly tickled her as she laughed at him as he tried the hole out for size.

Slave Thomas was quite a tall slave (or he would have been had he ever been given permission to stand up) and found that he could barely fit into the slave-hole that had ben set side for him, but, in spite of that, he liked the way he was forced to look at mistress Lakshana’s pretty feet as he slithered backwards into the hole. It did have some plus points, therefore.

Before she dismissed him from her presence and sent him on his way to ponder his decision as to whether or not she was the right mistress for him, mistress Lakshana placed one, block-heeled foot on the top of slave Thomas’s balding head whilst deliberately resting her other foot directly in front of his prostrate face.

She then pressed the side of his slave face into the dirty ground of her concrete basement floor with the dirty sole of her right, mary-jane-style shoe - just to emphasise to him, whilst he was obliged to stare at the dirty and slightly scuff-marked side of her left shoe, her potential power and authority over him, and to remind him that, however hard he may be required to work at other household chores, he would still be spending much of his slave-time labouring under her pretty feet and footwear. He would remain, fundamentally, a down-in-the-dirt footslave – beneath and beside the dirty, dusty soles of her block-heeled shoes, and lower than the socks which were protecting her delicate, Indian toes inside those shoes.

All in all, a promising and inviting prospect!


Part 3 – Prospective Mistress Yasmin.

The next day he found himself on his hands and knees in the somewhat less opulent living room of the 27 year old Pakistani mistress, whose name, it transpired, was mistress Yasmin.

Her living room may have been less opulent than that of her slightly older, married, Indian counterpart, mistress Lakshana, but her feet and footwear were much more exotic I appearance than the former’s.

That was because miss Yasmin was wearing a traditional, light blue, silk headscarf, together with a matching light blue salwar kameez outfit consisting of a pale, light blue top over tight-fitting, pale blue trousers – the narrow, elasticated hems of which were somewhat scrunched up around her pretty, Pakistani ankle bones. Also, beneath her light, silk trousers she was wearing what appeared to be a pair of fancy-patterned nylon tights or stockings inside her low-heeled, single-strapped, black leather shoes.

Rather like mistress Lakshana’s shoes, miss Yasmin’s shoes could be described as ‘mary-jane-style’, and were also ‘round-toed’, but the single strap across the arch of her pretty, nylon-stockinged foot ended in a round, clip-on button rather than the more traditional metal buckles of the two straps across mistress Lakshana’s shoes.

It was the fancy pattern on her nylon tights, however, that really set Pakistani mistress Yasmin’s feet apart from those of her Indian rival. The fancy, nylon pattern consisted of some bright red flower-motifs sewn in to the otherwise black stitching –some of which ‘flowers’ were fully visible, others of which were partially obscured by the leather of her shoes (including the strap).

Slave Thomas felt he could spend an eternity just studying the flowers in the pattern of mistress Yasmin’s pretty, nylon stockings. Or were they tights? Or even just knee-length popsocks or nylon ankle-socks? He had no way of knowing as they were for the most part hidden underneath the hems of her light blue trouser legs.

Whatever, they looked very nice and, dare he say it, ‘ethnic’, on the beautiful mistress Yasmin’s feet. He even wondered whether she may have purchased them abroad, as he had never seen tights or stockings quite like them before, and they seemed to reflect the culture and style of the orient.

He was well and truly ‘hooked’ by them, and therefore, as he placed his first introductory kiss to the rounded toe of her right, black leather shoe, he made sure to focus his humble, footslave-eyes on one of the pretty, feminine, red, patterned flowers that was, as it were, in full bloom – i.e. unencumbered by black-leather shoe strap.

Mistress Yasmin for her part was fully aware of her would-be personal footslave’s admiration and devotion towards her exotic-nyloned feet, but would he be able to withstand the alternative punishment to whipping that she so favoured?

As he paid his respects to the leather toes of her single-strapped, mary-jane-style shoes, she adjusted her pale blue headscarf and explained her philosophy of punishment to the kneeling slave at her feet, in perfect, crystal-clear English without any hint of a Pakistani accent:

‘Slave, as I mentioned in my advert, I do not believe in the use of the whip to discipline my slaves. I find it too messy and noisy. I much prefer, therefore, to use the heavy cangue to punish my slaves…Have you ever been cangued, slave?’

Slave Thomas had heard about the cangue, but had never actually been cangued or seen it in action. He knew that the cangue consisted of a large, heavy wooden board through which the slave’s neck was inserted and locked - a bit like a personal set of portable stocks! The heavy, wooden collar would then gradually wear the culprit down, making it well-nigh impossible for the slave to raise his head and neck off the floor – or so it was claimed.

Slave Thomas had his doubts that the cangue could possibly be so effective and terrible a device – until, that is, mistress Yasmin produced her beloved punishment-cangue from behind her sofa.

Slightly-built young woman that she was, she could barely lift it, but she eventually managed to rest it on her delicate lap:

‘This is the heavy cangue which I use to punish my slaves. I am told that it is a truly terrifying device and that after just 10 minutes or so around a slave’s neck the victim’s neck starts to ache and throb uncontrollably. After 20 minutes, or so I’m told, the slave has no option but to rest the base of the wooden cangue on the floor as his neck and shoulder muscles are no longer capable of keeping the cangue off the ground. They say it weighs heavily on the slave’s psyche as well, causing him to feel depressed and low as the unrelenting weight quite literally drags him down.

Ha! Ha! I once cangued a slave for 12 hours and he was such a physical and emotional wreck by the end of that time, he couldn’t even remember his own slave-name any more! Ha! Ha! It was quite funny! All he wanted was for me to release him from the heavy cangue…he was actually praying to me for release, and desperately trying his best to kiss my feet and that…but, of course, the cangue made it impossible for him to kiss my feet as his stupid lips couldn’t get anywhere near my shoes unless I held my foot up to his stupid face! Ha! Ha!...’

Slave Thomas was increasingly impressed at mistress Yasmin’s character and personality. He had originally assumed that she disliked using the whip because she was a ‘soft’ mistress; but listening to her evident pleasure in describing the cruel effects of the heavy cangue on her slaves, he was quickly coming to realise that she chose to use the cangue because it was actually a worse punishment for her slaves!

He subconsciously gulped as he surreptitiously looked at the cangue resting on mistress Yasmin’s lap from his humble kneeling position at her fancy-nyloned feet.

Mistress Yasmin composed herself once again, and then continued with her eulogy to the cangue:

‘..If you wish to become my personal footslave you will have to be able to take the cangue, slave. If you are serious about becoming my slave, therefore, I shall have to insist that you wear it now for at least 10 minutes. If you really can’t withstand the pain for that long I shall take it off early – but you won’t be able to become my slave in that case.

So, slave, what do you say? Do you still wish to be my personal footslave? Are you prepared to undergo the cangue test?’

Slave Thomas, now extremely nervous, was, nevertheless, determined to give the cangue a go. It was partly a matter of male-slave pride. No male slave likes to appear weak in the face of punishment at the fair hands of a younger mistress. Contrite, penitent and frightened – yes. But not weak!

‘Yes mistress Yasmin…if it pleases you mistress Yasmin…this slave is indeed prepared to take the cangue, if it so pleases you sweet and kind mistress Yasmin.’

Mistress Yasmin clapped her pretty, Pakistani hands and squealed with delight:

‘Ha! Ha! Very well, slave, so be it…it’s your choice! Now, make sure you keep your neck outstretched while I enclose it in the heavy cangue…Try not to move your head until I have secured the lock on the hinge, or you won’t like it much! Just concentrate on looking straight down at my feet.’

And with that mistress Yasmin, using both her pretty, feminine hands, and all the young-woman, female strength she could muster, placed the heavy wooden contraption around his neck and padlocked it shut, whilst slave Thomas did his level best to concentrate on her pretty, red and black nyloned feet inside her black, single-strapped, mary-jane-style shoes.

Embarrassingly, just as soon as mistress Yasmin let go of the wooden device, it pulled his head straight down onto the carpet of the living room floor, the wooden base of the heavy cangue narrowly missing mistress Yasmin’s toes!

Never before had slave Thomas ever encountered such a heavy, oppressive weight around his neck. Try as he might he just could not lift his head up off the ground – not even by a few millimetres.

Mistress Yasmin appeared both amused and disappointed at one and the same time by his ineptitude and weakness.

She tutted at him:

‘Tch! What a weakling! Get your head of the floor this instant, slave! I want you kneeling with your head hovering over my feet, not resting on the floor beside them! Come on…do as I say, or I’ll fail you this instant!...Get your head up!...Up, I said! I want to see those neck muscles straining and throbbing!’

Footslave Thomas did not want to fail the cangue test after just a few seconds, and so, with a superhuman effort, he managed to lift his head an inch or so up above mistress Yasmin’s exotically-clad, Pakistani feet.

The one thing he knew he mustn’t now do was allow his head to suddenly slump down again, as the wooden base of the cangue would be sure to crush mistress Yasmin’s pretty toes insider her black leather, mary-jane shoes! What a disaster that would be – the sentence of the Female Courts didn’t bear thinking about! Crushing a mistress’s toes – the penalty for that must surely be life in the foothole, at the very least!

Mistress Yasmin, for her part, didn’t appear to be too concerned about the safety of her delicate, feminine feet beneath the kneeling slave’s heavy cangue. She merely readjusted her headscarf, lit up a cigarette , and cocked her head to one side to get a clearer view of the now taught and straining muscles in the footslave’s pathetic neck.

She laughed out loud at his discomfort!

‘Ha! Ha! Only two minutes gone, slave, and already you’re breaking out into an ugly, male sweat! Ha! Ha! Truly you’re learning the power of the female cangue the hard way!

She spoke the truth. Slave Thomas certainly was coming to respect the cangue as an instrument of punishment, as spasms of pain pulsated throughout his neck and shoulder muscles.

The only thing which seemed to ease his discomfort was to concentrate on mistress Yasmin’s feet and footwear – not too difficult as her feet were now all he could see thanks to the wooden sides of the cangue filling all of his peripheral vision.

As he pain increased, he told himself that he must hold on – one minute at a time – he must hold on, for at least 10 minutes, otherwise he would never get to pay homage to those fancy-patterned nylon tights on mistress Yasmin’s pretty, Asian feet. And that thought caused him even more distress than the pain of the cangue in his neck and shoulder muscles.

Somehow, he bore it. Mistress Yasmin gleefully informed him after what seemed like an eternity that the 10 minutes was up, and she even congratulated him as she unlocked the heavy wooden contraption from around his neck.

The sense of relief as the dreadful device came off was almost indescribable. He suddenly felt as free as a bird – although he soon discovered that even the slightest movement of his neck or shoulders sent renewed waves of agony pulsating through his spine. Best to keep still – still and stiff. He was learning fast, and the main thing he was learning fast was that if he was to serve mistress Yasmin as a personal footslave he would have to learn her likes and dislikes fast – if he was to survive.

His ‘reward’ for successfully wearing the cangue for 10 minutes, however, was to kiss the sweet and kind mistress Yasmin’s nylon stockinged feet ten times each – one kiss to each pretty, Pakistani foot for each minute he had slavemanfully borne the weight of the frightful cangue on his scrawny neck.

He made sure to kiss the red-patterned flowers on each foot as he felt he had earned that privilege.

Mistress Yasmin said and did nothing to suggest she disagreed. Indeed, she clearly relished the feel of his slave lips on her foot-nylon.

But, for all his slavish pride at pleasing his prospective new Pakistani mistress, slave Thomas nevertheless was wondering as he kissed her nylon foot-flowers whether he could possibly live with the constant threat of the heavy punishment-cangue around his neck. Perhaps he just wasn’t cut out for such slow and tortuous punishment?

Perhaps he was just cut-out for the much more familiar and acute pain of the female whip?!



Part 4 – Prospective Mistress Jocelyn.

If it was the sting of the whip he craved, it was the sting of the whip he would get from his next prospective mistress – the African-American mistress, 24 year old mistress Jocelyn!

Even her voice was sharp like a whip, and her long, black hair was tied back in a severe, whip-like ponytail. Moreover, unlike the other two mistresses who had remained seated, mistress Jocelyn insisted on interviewing her prospective slave standing up, her black, single-tailed slave-whip dangling ominously from her slender fingers as slave Thomas knelt below her whip with his face hovering over her feet.

And what pretty feet they were – clad in black cotton socks and flat, black leather, pointy-toed, slip on shoes beneath the hems of her plain black denim jeans. Socks, flats and jeans – an almost unbeatable combination as far as slave Thomas was concerned!

Moreover, this close up to her feet, he could see tiny little balls of soft, black sock lint stuck to the tops of mistress Jocelyn’s socks. True there was no flowery stitching like there had been in Indian mistress Lakshana’s pretty, black ankle-socks – just lots of thin, straight lines. But mistress Jocelyn’s plain black socks were starting to turn grey at the sweat line just above the upper rims of her low-cut, flat leather shoes, and slave Thomas knew that meant they were a well-worn pair of female socks – just ripe for the kissing. He was already in love with mistress Jocelyn’s socks.

Unfortunately for slave Thomas, however, the feelings of admiration did not appear to be mutual, for mistress Jocelyn spent the entire interview, which took place only two days after his interview with mistress Yasmin, verbally berating him in her strong, North-American accent and threatening him with the whip. He could hardly get a footkiss in edgeways, as she paced up and down her living room floor in front of him:

‘If you become my slave you’ll get a lot of pain, slave. I love to whip…I love the sound of the whip as it swishes through the air and then cracks across a slave’s naked back! Even better I love it when my boyfriend Leroy whips my slaves in front of my feet. Ha! Ha! I love feeling them begging for mercy and crying into my socks while they’re being whipped!

Ha! Ha!... Also, slave, you will never be permitted to touch my bare flesh – only my socks. I don’t want your dirty, slave hands anywhere near my bare feet, and Leroy says that if you ever do touch my skin he’ll peel yours off your back! Ha! Ha! Just imagine it, slave – never being able to touch my bare footskin with your dirty, slave lips! The nearest you’ll ever get to it is when you take off my socks at night and suck all the dead skin off the insides of my dirty socks before going to bed! Ha! Ha! That’s right slave – every night you’ll have to suck clean my dirty, sweaty socks while master Leroy and I make love in front of you…’

At this point mistress Jocelyn suddenly, and unexpectedly, spat on top of salve Thomas’s kneeling and balding head:

‘..Ha! Ha! That’s what I think of you, slave – a dirty, sock-sucking queer, fit only to feel the bacteria in my saliva running down your ugly, slave face! Ha! Ha!’

She then brought down her whip on his still-aching-from-the-cangue, bare back and shoulders as a further demonstration, if one were needed, of her absolute black female power over him.

He sucked up the pain, just as he sucked up some black sock-lint off mistress Jocelyn’s right sock.

It almost seemed as though mistress Jocelyn was attempting to put him off becoming her personal footslave; plenty of whip; no bare feet to worship and admire; sweaty socks; a jealous and potentially cruel boyfriend; and clearly an existence filled with constant nagging from mistress Jocelyn’s high-pitched and excitable voice.

But, for all that, he still could not help but admire her well-worn, black ankle socks. Mistress Jocelyn would be an excellent sockmistress. The only question was did he really want to restrict himself to being a young African-American woman’s sockslave, potentially for the rest of his slave-life?


Part 5 – Decision Time!

Slave Thomas retired to his slave-hostel to weigh up the pros and cons of his three potential mistresses. The only thing he knew for sure at the start of his deliberations was that he would choose to be the slave of one of them. He had, after all, been without female feet and footwear to serve for almost two months now – much too long for a red-blooded footslave in his prime!

And so he made a list of the pros and cons of serving each of the three mistresses:

Mistress Lakshana; the pros:

Nice tastes in footwear (strappy, mary-jane-style, black leather shoes and beautiful, flowery-patterned black socks);

Subject to the whip (which was what he was used to);

Opportunities to serve the mistress in other ways, such as cooking, cleaning, gardening etc.

Mistress Lakshana; the cons:

She was married, so he would have the master to deal with also;

He would often go hungry (eating only the scraps from his master’s and mistress’s plates, if there were any);

Poor slave-accommodation (a dirty slave-hole in the basement).


Mistress Yasmin; the pros:

Exotic and unusual tastes in footwear (fancy, patterned nylon tights);

She was single – no master to placate;

Mistress Yasmin; the cons:

Punishment by means of the heavy cangue, rather than the whip;

Nylons, not socks.


Mistress Jocelyn; the pros:

Superb socks (plain, black, well-worn, with lots of sock-lint);

An expert with the whip.

Mistress Jocelyn; the cons:

Has a boyfriend, Leroy, whom she is apparently keen to involve in the punishment of her slave;

No bare foot contact.



It was a finely balanced decision, but in the end slave Thomas chose to serve mistress………..

The End