The Submissive Migrant

Part 1 – Illegal Alien

He was absolutely determined to emigrate to the Gynarchy.

Richard – or rather, would-be slave Richard – was fed up with having to pretend. He was fed up with having to hide his natural submissiveness vis-à-vis women. He was fed up with having to enjoy his fetishes in private – a surreptitious glance at a shapely, feminine ankle here; a discreet observation of a female sock there.

All he wanted was to be a slave – specifically a woman’s footslave, but the society he lived in could not cater for him. He felt very much like an outsider. The only place he felt drawn towards was the mysterious land of the Gynarchy.

The Gynarchy was a closed society – a Female Police State which successfully kept the world’s media at a distance. The Gynarchy’s infamous ‘feminine firewall’ even kept the Internet at bay with a fair degree of success.

But everyone knew that it was a State run by women – a Slave State, in which men, or at least some of the men, were treated as slaves. The rest of the world knew this from anecdotal evidence from male refugees who had managed to escape over the Gynarchy’s usually impenetrable borders.

But whenever he heard the stories of these non-submissive men who had managed to break out from the Gynarchy, Richard, a natural male submissive, found himself wanting to break in! He was pleased that the male escapees had now found the world where they could fulfil their potential. But, conversely, he needed to break into the world they had left – the world of female domination – if he was to have any fulfilment in life.

And so, he tried the legitimate route first. He applied for a ‘Slave Permit’ through the Embassy of the Gynarchy of Barbaria. They only accepted written applications, but he felt that his completed application form made a strong case for his acceptance into their wonderful country by the Female Authorities:


Embassy of the Gynarchy of Barbaria

Application form for a male slave permit

Complete all sections in block capitals

1. Personal Details:

Name: Richard Dolt

Age: 25

Marital Status: Single

Current Occupation: Librarian

2. Type of slave permit applied for (choose from one of the following categories: personal body-slave; heavy labour slave; personal footslave; public footslave)

Public footslave

3. State reasons for choice of slave-category:

I am a submissive male with a strong foot fetish, but have no previous experience of serving a superior female. Therefore I feel it only right and proper that I should apply for the lowest category of servitude, in the hope that I may eventually be deemed worthy to progress to being a personal footslave in due course.

4. Length of proposed period of bondage:

Indefinite

5. Female Sponsors (if applicable)

None

6. Answer yes or no to all of the following:

Are you fluent in humble slave-speak? Yes

Are you in good physical health and able to take the whip? Yes

Have you ever applied for a slave permit before? No

Have you ever been refused a slave permit or visa for the Gynarchy of Barbaria? No

Have you any criminal convictions? No

7. Declaration

I hereby certify that all statements and declarations made on this form are true and correct. I understand that any false statements or declarations shall render this application form invalid.
I hereby enclose the non-refundable slave permit processing fee of £700

Signed: R Dolt Date: 3/12/07

8. For Embassy use only

Application granted?

Permit valid from:

Valid Until:

Richard was particularly proud of the fact, if ‘pride’ is the right word, that he could speak fluent slave-speak. He knew that he would have to be able to speak the language of a male slave if he was to have any chance of assimilating into the society of slaves. And so he had studied slave-speak via the Internet, and was quietly confident that he could converse humbly with the haughtiest of mistresses.

His hopes of being granted a slave permit to enter the Gynarchy were soon dashed, however, when, just two weeks after posting off his application form, he received the following curt reply through the post:

‘…The Gynarchy of Barbaria does not require any foreign, male slaves at this time.

Your application for a slave permit is hereby refused. You may not appeal against this decision. You may not apply for a further permit for a period of 5 years.’

Five Years! Five Years! He’d be 30 by that time!

No way! Would-be slave Richard was, somewhat inappropriately for a submissive would-be slave, furious! And not just at spending £700 on a non-refundable deposit for a permit he was destined never to get! He was furious that he was being denied the chance to demonstrate his submission to the superior sex in the only country on earth that they truly owned!

He sulked – for a good 6 months, before deciding to do something about it: if he couldn’t enter the Gynarchy legitimately, he would enter it illegitimately.

He contacted a male-slave trafficking ring, again via the Internet, and this time paid more than £1500 for the privilege of being smuggled into the Gynarchy.

Which is why he now found himself lying face down in the back of a lorry which was heading for the Gynarchy’s only land border, covered in boxes of, appropriately enough for a would-be women’s footslave, female boots and shoes. He thought of himself as part of a consignment designed to enhance the feet of the beautiful women of the Gynarchy – the boots and shoes would adorn their pretty feet and legs, whilst he would pamper their feet and footwear.

A good omen was that the box lying directly in front of his face had split open, affording him access to the brand new pair of female, brown leather, zip-up, knee-length boots inside. The leather toe area of the right boot was actually pushing against his lips, and so he kissed it continuously throughout his long and uncomfortable journey in the back of the lorry, even though he could not see the boot in the pitch black of the container. Just the strong leathery smell of the fresh, female boot, and the feel of the female leather boot on his soon-to-be-slave lips, filled him with excitement.

He could only pray that the female driver of the lorry would be able to sweet-talk the Gynarchy’s female border guards into not searching the back of the lorry. Perhaps she could bribe the guards – offer them a new pair of boots each. Perhaps, who knows, the driver might even offer ’slave’ Richard himself up to one of the guards – as a personal footslave!

He realised, as he continued to kiss the brown leather toecap of the as yet unworn female knee-boot, that he was letting his imagination run away with him in the back of the lorry. No – the female border guards of the Gynarchy were incorruptible. He would just have to hope the driver was allowed to proceed through the border checkpoint without her lorry load of boots and shoes being turned out. That was surely his only hope. Not even the officious and bureaucratic female border guards of the Gynarchy could search each and every lorry entering its female territory.

Would-be slave Richard had only caught a glimpse of the lorry driver as she had rather unceremoniously and hurriedly bundled him into the back of her lorry prior to literally throwing the heavy boxes of female boots and shoes down on top of him. She had appeared to be oriental – petite and dark-haired – and had spoken with a strong Chinese accent; hardly surprising given that the slave-trafficking gang arranging his illicit entry into the Gynarchy was a much feared Chinese snakehead gang:

‘You lie still on floor of lorry…not move…not talk. You get caught by female guards, you get whipped and deported! Zhi Wing get put in prison! Zhi Wing boyfriend find you and beat you up for get me into trouble…so you stay still…not get caught…you understand?’

Richard felt that the young, female, Chinese lorry-driver was almost treating him like a slave already. Telling him what to do. Ordering him not to talk. Threatening him with violence and punishment if he did not comply with her demands. She was clearly the one in charge in this situation, and already he liked being in the charge of a young woman. He had wanted to fall down on his hands and knees and to kiss the toes of her dirty, greyish-white sneakers beneath the frayed hems of her dark blue denim jeans immediately following her abrupt, female instructions and threats towards him, but, hopefully for the last time, he had to restrain himself from doing so – for he was not yet a slave; he was not yet in the safety of the Gynarchy:

‘Yes miss Zhi Wing’ was, therefore, his only reply, as he obediently lay down, face first, in the dirt of the back of the container lorry.

And now, several hours later, that lorry was slowing down – entering some sort of queue – the queue at the border checkpoint of the mysterious Gynarchy of Barbaria?

The lorry stopped and its engine was switched off. As he lay motionless under the boxes of feminine shoes and boots, breathing in the strong aroma of fresh female boot and shoe leather, and resting his lips quietly on the toe of the exposed knee-length boot in front of his face, he could hear voices outside. Exclusively female voices; the distinctive, Chinese voice of the dirty-white sneakered lorry-driver miss Zhi Wing, and other, unknown female voices – presumably the voices of the Gynarchy’s female border guards!

Real life mistresses! Mistresses of the Gynarchy! Well used to bossing men about, and to having their boots kissed. They certainly sounded powerful and authoritative. He wished he could crawl out of the lorry and see them. He knew, from pictures taken clandestinely inside the Gynarchy, and then posted on the Internet, that the female border guards of the Gynarchy wore attractive all-blue uniforms consisting of pale blue shirts, navy blue neck-scarves; navy blue jackets; and matching navy blue skirts or boot-cut trousers. Each female border guard would also be carrying, of course, a set of handcuffs and a whip – both attached to the black, leather belt around their waist.

Most importantly of all, however, be they in skirts or trousers, they all wore black leather, zip-up, knee length boots – as a way of enhancing their natural feminine beauty and authority.

He could picture the female guards in his mind’s eye, and almost found himself hoping that he would be caught, if only for the honour and excitement of being roughly arrested and handcuffed by the knee-length booted, uniformed border guards, and then ‘whipped and deported’ as miss Zhi Wing had so brutally informed him.

Imagine being professionally whipped by a fully-trained, female border guard! It would be such an honour! But then, his joy and pleasure would be short lived – for he would, following his whipping, undoubtedly be deported. And worse still, miss Zhi Wing would be thrown into prison for the attempted facilitation of an illegal male into the Gynarchy. And that would never do - getting such a sweet and kind young Chinese woman into trouble, when all she was doing was trying to help him. To say nothing of the vengeance her snakehead-gang boyfriend would wreak upon him!

No – he must keep perfectly still and quiet, and hope that he, and the consignment of other female foot-accessories, got through!

Suddenly the door on the back of the lorry opened up! He held his breath.

The pitch black of the container was replaced with a dull light that allowed him to see the toe of the brown leather knee-length boot that currently adorned his lips for the first time. But he didn’t dare to kiss the now visible brown leather toecap – lest the faintest sound betray him.

He could hear the female voices more clearly now. Miss Zhi Wing was explaining to the guards the nature of her consignment. She sounded very self-assured and convincing. She had obviously done this sort of thing many times before:

‘…I have 500 pair of lady shoes and boots! …Here is paperwork... All boots and shoes made in China…go to shops all over Gynarchy…Ha! Ha! Lady guards like inspect boots?...’

Don’t encourage them, thought ‘clandestine’ Richard to himself! What if one of the lady guards wants to inspect a pair of brown, leather knee-length boots like the ones pressed against my face! I’ll be discovered! Discovered, whipped and deported!

But miss Zhi Wing knew exactly what she was doing, of course. The female guards were much too busy to inspect all the boxes of boots and shoes. They could smell the glorious leather of the female footwear, and were satisfied that the consignment was as declared on the paperwork – especially since that paperwork was signed by a fellow-female, miss Zhi Wing herself.

‘OK, you can go through’ declared one of the female guards, and with those young woman’s words slave Richard was in.

He entered the Gynarchy!

His heart was now racing as he felt increasingly excited. I’m in! I’m actually inside the glorious Gynarchy of Barbaria! My life of bondage and servitude at the feet of superior women begins here!

He had to wait several more hours, however, before the lorry eventually stopped, the back doors of the lorry were opened up, and his enslavement proper could begin.

This time he heard the boxes piled on top of him being moved before the familiar dirty-white sneakers and frayed, blue denim jeans of his saviour, miss Zhi Wing, came into view once again.

Now completely relaxed, she laughed at him when she saw him still lying on his stomach on the dirty floor of the back of the lorry with a brown, leather, female boot-toecap pressed demandingly against his lips:

‘Ha! Ha! You now a slave – you now a women footslave! Ha! Ha! You inside Gynarchy! You have to obey women! Ha! Ha! You begin be slave now – you kiss Zhi Wing feet; thank Zhi Wing for bring you into bondage! Ha! Ha!...’

Slave Richard needed no further encouragement. He moved his now stiff shoulder muscles to crawl across the floor of the container lorry and placed his thirsty lips on the leathery, white scuff-marked toe of miss Zhi Wing’s imperiously outstretched, right, lace-up sneaker.

Oh my God, it tasted so sweet! For the first time he was openly kissing the dirty sneaker of a beautiful young Chinese woman whilst she was still wearing it!

He was a slave! A real-life slave! At long last!

Miss Zhi Wing suddenly withdrew her right sneakered-foot from underneath his slave face, and replaced it wit her left:

‘Ha! Ha! Now you kiss Zhi Wing other shoe, slave! Ha! Ha! You a dirty slave! Zhi Wing your female master! Zhi Wing better than you! You show respect for master Zhi Wing. You kiss foot!’

Her harsh words only served to reinforce his feelings of utter submissiveness and gratitude towards mistress Zhi Wing – his first ever mistress in the Gynarchy, or anywhere else for that matter!

He obediently tasted the dirt on her left, white-sneakered toecap.

He then heard a male voice a reminder to him that not all men in the Gynarchy were slaves.

It was another Chinese voice:

‘Zhi Wing! Welcome! …You have any problem getting slave through?’

‘Ha! Ha! No, Li Pang! …Everything go well ...guards not check boxes. Slave here at Zhi Wing feet! Ha! Ha! Look, Li Pang…Zhi Wing make dirty slave kiss feet! Ha! Ha!’

‘Ha! Ha! Good…Slave will be Chinese women dirty shoe licker! You take slave to hole now. Madam Shiu Ting want slave go straight in hole…not want Female Police find slave on streets…you bring slave, Zhi Wing!’ replied the male voice.

Miss Zhi Wing laughed again:

‘Ha! Ha! No problem, Li Pang …Zhi Wing take slave straight down to dirty hole, where he belong! Ha! Ha!...You, slave, you follow Zhi Wing on hands and knees…you look at back of Zhi Wing feet and sneakers. I take you to hole now!’

Whilst slave Richard, naturally, was enjoying the fact that his fate was being determined by others, including two females, miss Zhi Wing and this other woman, Madam Shiu Ting, whoever she was, he was nevertheless a little bit disturbed about the casual references to a ‘dirty hole’. He was clearly going to be put into some sort of hole by his snakehead-gang superiors – who, effectively, owned him now, as he was now a totally helpless and impecunious illegal entrant in this strange country.

Nevertheless he did as miss Zhi Wing commanded, and not just because he had no choice in the matter, but because she was, as she herself had pointed out, no longer just his female driver, but was now his female master and better.

And so he crawled out of the lorry on all fours and followed the erect miss Zhi Wing’s dirty, white sneakers to heel across some sort of gravel courtyard towards what looked like the tradesman’s entrance of a rather large building.

Once inside the building he could hear the muffled sounds of music and laughter. It sounded like he was in some sort of night club. But the music and laughter was coming from somewhere upstairs in the building, and miss Zhi Wing was soon leading him down some stone steps and into a dark and dingy basement – away from the laughter and merriment.

At the bottom of the stairs was a door which led into what could only be described as a toilet-sized cubicle. But, just as soon as miss Zhi Wing switched on the single, bare, light bulb hanging from the ceiling of the cubicle, slave Richard could see that there was no toilet inside it. Just a straight-backed, black leather chair, with a wooden trapdoor in the floor directly in front of it – a trapdoor with a hole in it; a human-head sized hole!

Miss Zhi Wing kindly explained everything to the gormless slave:

‘Ha! Ha! This footslave-cubicle in Gynarchy’s only Chinese nightclub. Ha! Ha! This your home from now on! Ha! Ha! We put you in hole through trapdoor, so only your head stay above ground! Ha! Ha! Then Chinese ladies come and sit in front of you so you kiss and lick feet! Ha! Ha! You now a Chinese-women footslave! We own you! We keep you in hole forever! Ha! Ha!...’

And with that miss Zhi Wing gleefully unlocked and then slid open the heavy, wooden trapdoor, and gestured to slave Richard with her right sneakered-foot for him to climb, foot first, down into the hole beneath her.

Slave Richard was too tired, and, if truth be told, too excited, not to obey miss Zhi Wing’s sneakered foot, even though he had not anticipated living permanently in a dark and dingy basement foot-hole in the bowels of a Chinese-snakehead nightclub when he had first sought to emigrate to the Gynarchy!

Whatever, a superior, young Chinese woman, with nice white sneakers, was ordering him down into the hole – and so he felt he had no choice but to obey.

As soon as his body was inside the hole, miss Zhi Wing used her dirty-white, sneakered feet to slam the two halves of the wooden trapdoor shut so that his scrawny neck was now enclosed by the neck-sized hole in the trapdoor. His head was now well and truly immobilized – facing the chair – the chair where the superior Chinese ladies must sit in order to have their feet and footwear attended to by their footslave.

By him!

And miss Zhi Wing was eager, of course, to be the first to try out the new nightclub-footwipe! She had, after all, risked imprisonment for this pathetic, dirty slave, and now she would have her reward! She would have him lick the dust and the grime off the tops and the sides of her sneakers.

She gaily moved round to sit on the chair in front of slave Richard’s face, and rested her pretty, petite, Chinese-sneakered feet on the dirty floor directly in front of him.

For the first time, due to miss Zhi Wing’s seated position, slave Richard could see her socks inside her sneakers – soft, feminine, white cotton ankle socks, creased around both ankles. His heart raced with excitement, as he realised this was a dream come true. For the first time in his life he was actually at a girl’s sock-level – able to admire a young woman’s socks, whilst she was still wearing them inside her dirty, tatty white sneakers, at close-up quarters. He was so close to her socks that he could even see the individual stitches in her bright, white socks! (thankfully the single light bulb in the basement footslave-cubicle was quite bright!)

Miss Zhi Wing smiled with smug satisfaction as she looked down at her successfully smuggled package:

‘Ha! Ha! You lick clean Zhi Wing dirty sneakers, slave! You shine sneakers for Zhi Wing with tongue! Take off dirt with mouth. Ha! Ha! Zhi Wing want see sneakers shine with white! …You lick now! Obey!’

Slave Richard quickly learnt his first lesson as a real-life footslave. However much he might wish to kiss and nuzzle miss Zhi Wing’s creased, bright white ankle socks, she wanted him to merely lick the dirt off the outsides of her greyish-white sneakers. And she was the mistress, whilst he was the slave. It was her will, therefore, that must prevail!

So even being a slave for real has its frustrations! For one split second he wondered whether he had made a terrible mistake in becoming a footslave in the Gynarchy – especially an illegal-entrant footslave! Should he have stuck to his footslave-fantasies in the ‘free’ world?!

The moment his tongue tasted the dirt on the side of miss Zhi Wing’s right, lace-up sneaker, however, he knew he was in his proper place, for the dirt didn’t taste like dirt – it tasted sweet, and purely because it was no ordinary dirt; it was the dirt from a superior, young, Chinese woman’s sneaker. It was good dirt.

Miss Zhi Wing, however, had clearly realised that slave Richard himself was nothing but bad dirt:

‘Ha! Ha! You dirt! You filth! You a dirty foot-whore!...’ she declared triumphantly in reaction to the new Chinese women’s footslave obediently and shamelessly licking the dirt off the sides of her truly filthy sneakers….’Zhi Wing hate you! Zhi Wing spit on you. You nothing but a Chinese-girl dirty footlick! Ha! Ha!’

And with that miss Zhi Wing, true to her word, noisily gathered up some mucous in her pretty, Chinese mouth and propelled it in a most unladylike manner down onto the top of slave Richard’s trap-doored head.

He felt honoured to have the Chinese girl’s spit trickling down the side of his cheek whilst her sneaker dirt trickled down his slave throat. The dirt from the very sneakers that had driven him here. Oh if only Miss Zhi Wing would permit him to kiss her white ankle socks!

Suddenly, however, he heard other feminine footsteps coming down the stone staircase that led to the footslave-cubicle. He knew they were feminine because they were the click-clacking sound of high heels.

Miss Zhi Wing suddenly stood up from the chair and her sneakered feet, along with her awesome, bright, white ankle-socks, disappeared behind him. He heard her greet the new arrival:

‘Good evening Madam Shiu Ting!’ she chirped in a most respectful tone.

‘Good evening, Zhi Wing! I see you have brought slave safely from England?’

‘Ha! Ha! Yes Madam Shiu Ting. Zhi Wing get slave through border checks with no problem!’

‘Ha! Ha! Well done, Zhi Wing. I have left your money on my desk…please leave me alone with the slave now. Go and collect your money, and tell barman to give you free drink on me!’

‘Thank you, Madam!’ and slave Richard then heard the soft, sneakered feet of miss Zhi Wing bounding up the stairs behind him.

He wondered, somewhat forlornly, whether he would ever get to see her sneakered feet again, and more importantly, her white socks.

But for now the white sneakered and white socked feet of miss Zhi Wing were replaced by the dark nylon-stockinged and shiny, black, high-heeled, court-shoed feet of Madam Shiu Ting who had now occupied the seat of female power in front of his face.

Madam Shiu Ting was wearing a smart pair of black slacks, so in actual fact he could not be sure whether they were nylon stockings, tights or popsocks that she was wearing on her feet inside her shiny, spike-heeled, black leather shoes. He just assumed they were stockings, as sexy stockings would seem to match the sexy high-heels of the middle-aged Chinese woman he presumed was the owner of the nightclub, and who was therefore his new owner.

Somewhat disconcertingly Madam Shiu Ting remained silent in front of him as her petite, Chinese feet rested demurely side by side on the dusty floor of the footslave-cubicle directly in front of slave Richard’s gormless, trap-doored face.

He wondered whether he should be kissing the toes of her shiny, black stilettos – on his own slave-initiative as it were, without first awaiting madam Shiu Ting’s orders to do so. But slave Richard just didn’t have the bottle to initiate any kind of submissive activity with a superior female – not in his home country, and not even here – deep inside the Gynarchy.

Suddenly the silence was broken as madam Shiu Ting spoke:

‘What your name, slave?’

This was to be slave Richard’s first ever proper conversation with a superior mistress in the Gynarchy, for the delightful miss Zhi wing had merely fired instructions and commands at him; she had not asked him any questions as such.

Time to put his knowledge of humble slave-speak into use.

He replied to Madam Shiu Ting’s nylon-stockinged feet:

‘Oh pray Madam, if it pleases you Madam, this dirty slave goes by the name of slave Richard, if it so pleases you most superior and gracious Madam Shiu Ting.’

He hoped he had not overstepped the mark by using Madam Shiu Ting’s name before she had explicitly given him permission to do so.

But she didn’t seem to take offence. She just laughed at him:

‘Ha! Ha! …You now my slave, so I give you new name. I call you ‘Shoe Lick’. Ha! Ha! I – Shiu Ting! You – Shiu Lick!’ Ha! Ha! ..You thank me for give you new slave name!’

Slave Richard liked a mistress with a sense of humour. Even if he hadn’t liked her, he would still have had to thank her, for she had commanded him to do so:

‘Oh pray, Madam Shiu Ting; God bless you, Madam Shiu Ting; this slave is truly honoured to have been given a new slave name by his superior Chinese owner and mistress, if is so pleasing to you most respected and gracious mistress, Madam Shiu Ting.’

Madam Shiu Ting (whom he estimated from the somewhat prominent veins running down the tops of her feet beneath the dark nylon in her stockings to be in her mid to late forties) continued to laugh at her own witty play on words.

She then positioned her right foot ever so slightly further forward in front of her left, and barked an order down at him:

‘You kiss Madam Shiu Ting nylon foot, Shiu Lick! You bless Madam Shiu Ting foot with mouth. Kiss foot with respect; feel nylon stocking on lips! You obey Madam Shiu Ting now, dirty slave!’

Madam Shiu Ting sounded almost impatient, and her mood seemed to have darkened following her earlier pleasure at her joke. Slave ‘Shiu Lick’ therefore wasted in no time in obeying this superior and authoritative Chinese woman who now held his fate in her pretty, Chinese hands.

As he did so Madam Shiu Ting explained to him in more detail how his life would be from now on:

‘You now my slave…we bring you here to my Chinese nightclub in Gynarchy, so you serve feet of superior Chinese women! You an illegal alien here in Gynarchy, so we keep you down here in dirty hole! You never come out of hole or see daylight. Ha! Ha! You just lick Chinese women shoes and boots! Ha! Ha! You never get to see outside, but you get to taste outside on sole of Chinese women’s boots! Ha! Ha!...’

Despite her joyous laughter, the mercurial madam Shiu Ting’s up and down moodswings seemed to suddenly change for the worse again:

‘You please Madam Shiu Ting female customers. You lick off dirt from female customers’ shoes and boots. Make shoes and boots shine! Female customer not satisfied – make complaint to Madam Shiu Ting – I have you punish! Give you many pain! You understand, dirty slave Shiu Lick?’

‘Yes Madam Shiu Ting, if it pleases you Madam Shiu Ting, this dirty slave understands and obeys his superior, Chinese mistress, if it so pleases you most gracious and all-powerful, feminine mistress. This slave shall indeed endeavour to be a good footslave to the mistress’s female customers, if it so pleases you most kind and generous mistress. Oh pray, Madam Shiu Ting! God bless you, madam Shiu Ting! Please don’t hurt me, madam Shiu Ting!’

Slave Shiu Lick had no idea how Madam Shiu Ting would punish him and cause him physical pain whilst he was confined in the dirty hole. She had, after all, informed him that he would never leave the hole, and yet she could hardly whip him across the back and shoulders whilst only his head was accessible above ground level.

But then again as he looked at the sharp, pointy toes of her black. patent leather, stiletto- heeled shoes, it didn’t take too much slavish imagination to work out how vulnerable his face would be at her feet. And so, as Madam Shiu Ting demurely presented her left, somewhat veiny, nylon-covered, Chinese foot for him to respectfully kiss, he made damn sure that his admiration and submission towards her was strongly conveyed through his slave lips, as they brushed subserviently against the nylon material of her dark-coloured stocking.

After he had respectfully kissed both her veiny, nylon-stockinged feet, Madam Shiu Ting smiled and gave him another order:

‘Ha! Ha! Now you lick shoe, Shiu Lick!’ , and she raised her right, pointy-toed, black leather stiletto-shoe slightly off the ground so that its dirty, beige sole was now hovering in front of slave Shiu Lick’s lips.

As Madam Shiu Ting had so helpfully pointed out to him, as an illegal footslave confined in a basement hole in the bowels of a Chinese-snakehead owned nightclub, he might not get to see the streets of the glorious Gynarchy for himself, but at least he would get to taste them off the bottoms of superior, immigrant Chinese women’s shoes!

He was grateful for such small mercies, therefore, as he diligently tasted where Madam Shiu Ting had been walking.


Part 2 – Raided!

The days passed into weeks, and the weeks into months – and still slave Shiu Lick found himself trapped up to the neck and licking Chinese women’s shoes and boots in his dirty, basement foot-cubicle.

He was becoming increasingly depressed and disillusioned with his lot. This was not the new life he had imagined back in England when he had taken the momentous decision to sell himself into slavery and pay the Chinese snakehead gang to smuggle him into the Gynarchy! He had thought, in his naivety, that by now he would be the personal footslave of a beautiful young woman, a native mistress of the Gynarchy – washing her feet; giving her pedicures; dressing her feet; massaging her feet; following her feet to heel as she went into town; acting as her footrest in the evening whilst she watched television etc. etc.

He did not expect to be buried up to the neck in a dingy and dirty nightclub basement, unable to even touch soft, feminine feet with his hands, let alone massage ladies’ soft, bare feet!

Not that being confined in a footslave-cubicle didn’t have its compensations. He was getting to know and appreciate women’s feet and footwear much more deeply – seeing as how his gormless face was now regularly so close to sweet, feminine shoes and boots. He was beginning to distinguish the nuances between the various smells and tastes of the many different types of feminine shoe leather, and was becoming something of an expert in extracting dirt and mud from the seemingly most inaccessible areas of a lady’s footwear, using nothing more than his footslave tongue.

But, if truth be told, slave Shiu Lick was, for the most part, bored. His existence was becoming very monotonous. It was the same routine every day – and today would be no exception (or so he thought).

At 06:00 a.m. the nightclub cleaner, miss Olukunmi - an attractive, if somewhat podgy, West African girl - came down the stairs in order to wake him, shave him and feed him.

Her boots were therefore the first thing he saw every morning – and she always seemed to wear the same pair of black leather, flat-heed, slip-on, round-toed, calf-length boots, into the tops of which were tucked her ubiquitous blue denim jeans.

Of course, it had only slowly dawned on slave Shiu Lick, who you will have gathered by now is a bit slow in the brain department, that the reason why miss Olukunmi always wore the same pair of black leather, calf-length boots was that she could only afford one set of footwear being, like him, in all probability, an illegal entrant – albeit one who was being paid a meagre wage (whereas he, of coursed, as a slave, was paid nothing!)

Not that slave Shiu Lick didn’t appreciate miss Olukunmi’s soft, black leather, calf-length boots. They not only accentuated her shapely, African calf-muscles, but they were also the type of boots that look ‘scrunched up’ on a lady’s lower leg – therefore there were lots of creases and folds in the matt, black boot-leather for him to admire and, occasionally, if miss Olukunmi was in the mood, for him to lick. The leather creases did tend to attract dust and dirt, and so miss Olukunmi was quite often inclined to avail herself of the footslave’s services – even though she was technically only there to shave and feed him.

Of course, another reason why miss Olukunmi sometimes liked to have the slave tongue-clean her leather boots was the simple fact that it made her feel good – for it reminded her that, even though she was pretty much bottom of the social scale when it came to female society in the Gynarchy (being an illegal-immigrant cleaning-woman in a dodgy Chinese nightclub), she was nevertheless superior to the basement-cubicle footslave. She could certainly lord it over him, even if virtually everyone else, or at least virtually every other woman in the Gynarchy, could lord it over her!

And so she was always quite curt and abrupt with slave Shiu Lick, as she felt that was how a superior mistress should speak to a dirty slave.

Even if she didn’t want her boots licked, miss Olukunmi always made the slave kiss the scuff-marked toes of her boots before feeding him of a morning. She would therefore switch on the cubicle light, walk round towards the leather chair which was situated in front of him and sit down on it. She would then, if the dirty, lazy slave was still asleep, rudely awaken him by kicking him hard in the face with the rounded toe of her right boot (no wonder her toecaps were scuff-marked) laughing at his distress at being woken up in such a derogatory and humiliating manner – by the toe of an African cleaning-woman’s boot:

‘Ha! Ha! Kiss my boots, dirty footlick!’

She always spoke with a cute, yet authoritative, West African accent – and, as we said before, always abruptly and to the point. Mistress Olukunmi could not see the point in having lengthy conversations with a dirty foot and shoe lick like the nightclub footslave. He was too far beneath her for that – both figuratively, and literally as she now sat above him in the chair of power!

And so the first thing slave Shiu Lick tasted this morning, and every morning, before he got to eat some of the nightclub’s leftovers from the night before – scrapings taken from the plates of the superior, Chinese lady customers – he got to taste a stroppy West African girl’s black, leather boots.

He had learnt to kiss the toecaps of mistress Olukunmi’s boots repeatedly, and alternately – first the right and then the left – until such time as she barked the order down at him to stop.

Satisfied that her boots had received sufficient footslave-homage , miss Olukunmi would then place a plate of cold and deeply unappetising leftovers, many of them showing signs of having been partially chewed, down onto the ground between her calf-length booted feet, and would order him to ‘eat the muck’.

Sometimes, if she was feeling in a particularly wicked mood, like she was this morning, she would then rub the soles of her dusty and dirty boots in the leftovers just in order to add some ‘flavour’ to them – the flavour of her West African dirty boot soles. It was such an honour and a privilege for slave Shiu Lick to have this done to his food - not so much because of the extra flavouring, but because he could admire, close up, the movement in the various creases and folds in the black leather of miss Olukunmi’s well-worn boots as she stepped in his food – especially around her, no-doubt shapely, ankle bones.

Not that he had ever seen mistress Olukunmi’s African ankle bones – thanks to her ubiquitous boots. She never took them off, and he, of course, was powerless to take them off for her. What frustrated him most about this was not knowing whether mistress Olukunmi was wearing any socks inside her boots. He would have dearly loved to see an African girl’s socks inside her black, leather calf-length boots. He imagined that, as with her one pair of boots, she may only be able to afford a limited number of socks, and that the socks she had on, if any, would therefore be quite ‘ropey’ looking. He imagined them to be plain, grey, thick, ankle-length bootsocks – comfortable, but perhaps showing signs of wear and tear at the backs and on the heels.

But, of course, it was all speculation on his part – for, as we have already noted, she had never taken off her boots and shown him her socks. He might as well have been back in his Librarian job in England, fantasising about African girls’ socks again – for he was, frustratingly, so near and yet so far from mistress Olukunmi’s socks!

Inevitably whenever mistress Olukunmi trod in his breakfast, bits and pieces of the scraps and leftovers stuck to the black, leather soles of her boots. She, of course, demanded in such circumstances that slave Shiu Lick lick them off – lest she slip and fall whilst going about her business of cleaning the rest of the nightclub. Mistress Olukunmi did not have to clean the footslave-cubicle as such (apart from perhaps giving the ladies’ black leather seat of power a quick wipe) as the owner of the nightclub, Madam Shiu Ting, had informed her at the outset that the footslave’s cubicle was meant to be dirty. Madam Shiu Ting had kindly explained to the West African cleaner that the slave Shiu Lick was dirt, and that it was therefore appropriate that he be treated like dirt, and confined in dirt.

Miss Olukunmi was only too happy to oblige – one less cleaning job for her!

Once he had breakfasted, she shaved his face – for mistresses in the Gynarchy, as a rule, do not like hairy, male slaves. They like their bodies, including their faces, to be smooth, so that they can see the red marks on them when they whip and slap them.

Before leaving the footslave-cubicle miss Olukunmi always liked to mock the slave, and to remind him, in her cute, sing-song, West African accent, of his humble role in the nightclub – much humbler than hers:

‘Ha! Ha! You will be licking women’s dirty shoes and boots tonight, dirty slave! Ha! Ha! I am better than you, for while I am cleaning floors you are cleaning women’s dirty boots! Ha! Ha! Dirt! Filth!’

And with that she picks up his empty plate, switches off the cubicle light, and marches off back up the stairs - leaving slave Shiu Lick alone in his dirty, black hole.

And he would, like as not, remain alone in the dark hole for anything up to 13 hours, for his first customers of the night would be unlikely to appear anytime before 7:00 p.m. It was a night club after all, and, disappointingly neither the nightclub owner, Madam Shiu Ting, nor her courier, miss Zhi Wing, ever seemed to visit slave Shiu Lick during the daytime. Or, indeed, at any time of the day or night. The harsh truth was that he had seen neither woman again since that first night of his clandestine arrival in the Gynarchy.

He would therefore spend the long lonely hours of the daytime fantasising to himself:

fantasising about where miss Zhi Wing might be at that moment in time, and imagining the creases in her white ankle socks coming and going inside her dirty white sneakers as she pumps the foot pedals in her articulated lorry;

fantasising about Madam Shiu Ting as she eats lunch at a posh restaurant, her veiny, nylon-stockinged feet tucked around each other at the heels as she enjoys her fine food and wine;

fantasising about the holes in the West African cleaning girl’s imaginary grey bootsocks inside her creased and scrunched-up-around-the-ankles, black leather, calf length boots.

It was, however, all just fantasy. Reality didn’t bite until the nightclub opened up in the evening.

Then too a pattern would emerge. The female customers to his footslave-cubicle would become increasingly emboldened, as they became increasingly inebriated as the evening progressed. Similarly, their pretty, mainly Chinese, feet would become increasingly sweaty and stinky inside their shoes or boots as they danced the night away with their male partners and boyfriends.

By midnight he could expect to have been serving at least one very merry, totally uninhibited, and very stinky-footed young Chinese woman – and tonight was to be no exception.

He heard her almost collapsing down the stone staircase that led to his humble footslave-cubicle in the nightclub basement, unably assisted by her equally drunken Chinese boyfriend.

Alarms bells always started ringing in slave Shiu Lick’s thick and totally exposed skull whenever drunken boyfriends accompanied their women to the footslave-cubicle. He braced himself for some serious humiliation.

The couple were, of course, finding it highly amusing that the young woman had nearly broken her nek whilst climbing down the steep, stone staircase. Her three inch stiletto heels couldn’t have helped - three inch heeled, strappy, open toed, sling-backed, silver-coloured sandals worn with a garish pair of luminous pink, ankle-length, towelling socks which had a red logo written in Chinese on the sides.

Slave Shiu Lick, despite his Chinese-sounding slave name, so generously donated to him by his owner Madam Shiu Ting, still did not speak any Chinese. Only humble slave-speak. And so exactly what the red logo on the sides of the young woman’s luminous, pink, fluffy socks said was a mystery to him.

Not that it particularly mattered, for as the young Chinese woman’s boyfriend gigglingly helped his equally tipsy girlfriend into the footslave-cubicle seat, slave Shiu-Lick’s eyes were inevitably drawn towards the reinforced stitching on the area of her pink socks covering her pretty, feminine toes – which he could clearly see thanks to the peep-toe design of the strappy, silvery sandals.

This was quite an unusual and intriguing combination of young-woman footwear. Socks and sandals! It was clearly party footwear – perhaps the young woman was celebrating her 21st birthday; or perhaps her engagement to the young Chinese man?

Whatever, she was clearly having a fun night out, and slave Shiu Lick was just grateful for the opportunity to see a pair of young woman’s brightly-coloured party socks close up and in all their glory. It made such a change from the ubiquitous ankle boots and ballet flats - both of which afforded only a partial glimpse of sock, if any, and then, usually, of black or dark-coloured sock!

Slave Shiu Lick noticed as the young Chinese woman settled into the chair situated in front of his head, that her left sock was twisted and creased on her shapely ankle bone, although he suspected that the young woman herself was probably to drunk to notice or even care that her sock was twisted on her ankle.

He humbly awaited his orders whilst the young Chinese man and woman finished off a prolonged, alcohol-induced, giggling fit.

They eventually started whispering something to each other in Chinese, before the young man, moved to stand behind slave Shiu Lick’s head and barked some drunken orders down at him in broken English:

‘Slave…this my girlfriend, Wai Yong…Ha! Ha! ..You now her slave…Ha! Ha! …You her sock-slave…Ha! Ha!... My girlfriend take off shoe…You kiss my girlfriend sock…You worship stinky sock...You smell, lick sock, like dirty dog!...Ha! Ha!...You not obey, I kick you in face…Wai Yong, you take off shoe now….make slave smell sock!’

Miss Wai Yong obediently, and gigglingly, kicked off her right, strappy, silvery, high-heeled sandal, inadvertently hitting slave Shiu Lick in the face, to both her and her drunken boyfriend’s enormous amusement:

‘Ha! Ha! Wai Yong dirty shoe hit slave in face! Ha! Ha!...’ commented the young Chinese man, clearly with an ability to speak the blindingly (almost literally blindingly) obvious!

‘…Wai Yong, now you rub sock on dirty slave face... Ha! Ha!...You rub stink off sock onto slave face…Make slave face stink of superior Chinese girl sock!...Ha! Ha!’

Miss Wai Yong – clearly an obedient and submissive young woman towards her free and masterful boyfriend, did exactly as he suggested, and slave Shiu Lick’s face was soon enveloped in soft, luminous pink towelling sock, with only the tiny little balls of pink and black sock lint feeling rough on his cheeks as she ran the sole of her right, socked foot all over his slave nose and face.

The young Chinese master was still directing the action:

‘Ha! Ha! You smell my girlfriend sock, slave…You sniff sock out loud while she rub sock on face …We want hear you breathe in stink! Ha! Ha!...’

Just like miss Wai Yong, slave Shiu Lick felt compelled to obey the young master as he did not want to get his face kicked in. Better to have a face stinking of young Chinese woman sweaty sock, than a face that was bruised and bloodied.

And so he absorbed as much of miss Wai Yong’s sock-stink as he possibly could. His facial pores soaked up as much of her sock-sweat as they could, and his slave nostrils inhaled as much of the sock-smell as they could. His face became nothing more than a receptacle for a young Chinese woman’s pink sock stink.

Of course, the whole process had to be repeated for her left foot – the one with the creased and twisted sock.

Those creases and folds were bugging slave Shiu Lick. Having sniffed and licked at the dirty sole of her left, pink, luminous sock, he desperately wanted to straighten the side of the ankle sock with his footslave facial features – so that the red logo, whatever it said, would be properly visible on the side of the young woman’s superior sock. He therefore made so bold as to suggest hat he perform this service for her. Naturally, he humbly addressed the master of ceremonies, her boyfriend:

‘Oh pray master, if you will forgive my presumptuousness all-powerful master, this dirty slave has noticed that the beautiful miss Wai Yong’s left sock is twisted and creased around her most superior and beautiful, feminine ankle, if it so pleases you most powerful and merciful master, and humbly requests your permission and authority to straighten your beautiful girlfriend’s sock using his slave nose, mouth and lips, if it would be so pleasing to the superior master and mistress.’

The Chinese couple hesitated for a moment as they tried to work out what it was that the humble slave was waffling on about. For a terrible moment slave Shiu Lick thought again that he may have overstepped the mark, and that he was therefore about to get a face-kicking. But fortunately for him the sweet and kind miss Wai Yong understood what he was saying, and spoke to him directly herself for the first time:

‘Ha! Ha! Slave want straighten Wai Yong wonky sock?..…Ha! Ha! Make sock beautiful on Wai Yong foot?..Ha! Ha! ..Wai Yong agree! Wai Yong let slave straighten sock with face, but slave not touch Wai Yong bare skin, or Wai Yong make boyfriend punish slave – kick slave in head! Ha! Ha!...’

Miss Wai Yong’s drunken boyfriend clearly agreed that the slave Shiu Lick could straighten his beloved girlfriend’s left sock with his face, but only if he took great care not to touch his girlfriend’s bare, ankle skin:

‘Ha! Ha! You hear my girlfriend, slave… You obey Wai Yong…You straighten Wai Yong sock with face, but not touch skin, or I kick you! Ha! Ha! …You move face…You obey…You obey now!’

Just as slave Shiu Lick was about to lower his nose to the offending crease on the outer side of miss Wai Yong’s left, pink, luminous sock there was a crashing noise at the top of the stairs, the sound of several raised female voices, followed by the clumping of heavy, black knee-length boots rushing down the stone staircase with shouts of ‘nobody move!’

It was the Female Police! The club was being raided!

To cut a long story short, the Female Police apologised to miss Wai Yong and her boyfriend for interrupting their sock-worshipping session, but asked them to leave whilst they extracted the footslave from the hole and arrested him on suspicion of illegal entry into the Gynarchy.

Slave Shiu Lick didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He was, on the one hand, relieved to be released from the dirty slave-hole in the basement footslave-cubicle; on the other hand, he had been denied his chore of nose-straightening miss Wai Yong’s beautiful, if sweaty, left, pink luminous, towelling sock; and more importantly he was now under arrest and, presumably, facing the threat of a whipping at the fair hands of the Female Police, and deportation from the Gynarchy!

As he lay helplessly under the black, zip-up, knee-length booted feet of one of the terrifying female police officers in the back of the Police van, he was gripped by fear; fear that the stink from miss Wai Yong’s socks which was now on his face might sully the soles of the all-powerful female police officer’s boots; fear that miss Wai Yong’s left sock might remain unstraightened on her pretty foot; and fear of the unknown.

What were the female police officers going to do to him at the Police station?


Part 3 – Clemency

To his surprise he was actually treated quite well by the knee-length booted young women of the Female Police. Yes he was effectively confined in yet another dirty hole – this time a windowless police cell in the basement of the Central Police station; and yes, within that lonely cell, he was further confined in a set of wooden, kneeling stocks, forcing him to look continuously down at the dirty, concrete floor of the cell, and causing his arm, neck and shoulder muscles to throb and ache after just a few hours.

But the police women themselves seemed almost sympathetic towards him – perhaps, who knows, because of the nature of his crime; wishing to serve women! Some of the female guards, those that were wearing their black, zip-up, knee length, uniform police boots with their navy blue, knee length, police-uniform skirts even allowed him to stretch his neck forward and make contact via his lips on the upper rims of their leather boots whenever they came into his cell to feed and water him, thereby affording him an exciting close-up glimpse of the fine, but stretched, nylon stitches in their dark-coloured, police-uniform stockings around their shapely knees.

Those female guards who wore navy blue, boot-cut trousers over their black, knee-length boots did not, of course, afford him any such luxuries, but his kneeling position in the heavy wooden stocks nevertheless allowed him to admire their dusty, rounded, toecaps, and to imagine what it would be like to have to lick the dust of his female guards’ black leather boots.

Apart from the long periods of boredom, therefore, prisoner Shiu Lick was relatively at ease in his prison cell, and quite honoured to be in the presence of the Gynarchy’s world-famous, highly-trained, and much-feared female police officers.

The course of justice runs relatively quickly in the Gynarchy (since all males charged with any crime are automatically deemed to be guilty) and so it was a mere two weeks later that his cell door opened and a tall and somewhat gangly-looking, young black woman in her mid to late twenties, with long, black braided hair and wearing a white T shirt with black, corduroy jeans and soft, black lace-up hush-puppies entered, accompanied by a knee-length booted female guard, of course.

A civilian! I wonder what she wants, thought prisoner Shiu Lick to himself!

The female guard, a young, ponytailed blonde whom he had, somewhat disrespectfully, secretly christened ‘junior officer-mistress Barbie’ because he did not know her real name, asked the young black visitor if she wanted the prisoner released from the stocks.

‘Yes please, officer…I want him to pay his respec to my feet, innit?’ replied the gangly, young black woman in what sounded very much like a Caribbean accent.

Prisoner Shiu Lick was just relieved, after two solid weeks in the kneeling stocks, to feel junior officer-mistress Barbie’s soft, fair hands unlocking and lifting the heavy, dark brown wooden crossbar off his neck, thereby allowing him to collapse onto the dirt of the cell floor at the black, civilian woman’s feet.

‘Thank you officer…you can leave me alone with my client now, innit?’

Client! Somewhat confused and disorientated as he was, prisoner Shiu Lick wondered for a brief second whether the black woman was some sort of prostitute, come to have her wicked way with him! Had the female guards actually provided him with a prostitute?

If so, he didn’t want her here – for slave Shiu Lick did not regard himself as being worthy of having sexual intercourse with a woman; with any woman – even a prostitute!

Then he remembered where he was! In the Gynarchy! There were no female prostitutes in the Gynarchy! At least, not as far as he knew! Women did not exist as sex objects for men’s gratification in this glorious country! He must be some other type of ‘client’ to this superior, young black woman.

The gangly, casually dressed, young black woman with the long, braided hair waited for him to regain his strength and get back up onto his knees, before stretching forward her right, black hush-puppied foot in the dirt of the police cell floor directly under the prisoner’s kneeling nose:

‘Kiss my feet, innit?’ she commanded in Caribbean English.

Prisoner Shiu Lick, though he still had no idea who this female stranger was, knew, nevertheless that she was just that – a female stranger; and therefore his superior and better; and therefore worthy of having her feet kissed by him, a mere male, whoever and whatever she was.

As he slowly lowered his lips to the soft, leather toe of her outstretched, black lace-up, hush-puppy shoe he noticed that the young black woman was wearing an attractive pair of blue and white striped ankle socks beneath the somewhat frayed hems of her black, corduroy jeans. It could, perhaps, have been argued that the blue and white socks didn’t go particularly well with the black hush-puppies and black corduroy jeans, but slave Shiu Lick, being a fan of brightly-coloured female socks as we have already established, and having been effectively starved of the sight of female sock since that fateful night of his arrest in the nightclub over two weeks ago, had nothing but admiration for the young black woman’s sock.

He therefore kissed the dusty toe of her black, leather hush-puppy with gusto, appreciating the feminine beauty of her blue and white stripy sock as he did so.

The young black woman stared down at him and said nothing. She just let him repeatedly kiss the toe of her shoe. He could feel her wriggling her black toes with delight inside her soft black hush-puppies however.

After what seemed like 5 minutes, but was probably only one minute, of repeated kisses to the toe of her right foot, she suddenly withdrew it from under his nose only to replace it with her left foot:

‘And the other one, innit?’

Again, a slither of soft blue and white cotton sock came into view – interestingly this time with one of the blue stripes running along the upper rim of her black, hush-puppy shoe. Prisoner Shiu Lick was sure it had been one of the white stripes in that favoured position on her other foot. Her socks must be on her pretty, black feet unevenly, therefore, with one sock creased and twisted inside her shoes more than the other one!

Worryingly, however, he couldn’t tell which one it was and, bizarrely, the very thought of twisted, female sock brought back memories of some unfinished business for him, concerning a certain miss Wai Yong’s twisted, pink luminous sock!

There was nothing much he could do about miss Wai Yong’s twisted sock now, but if this young black woman, whoever she was, wanted him to, he would happily untie her shoe laces, slip her soft, black hush-puppies off her pretty, socked feet, and humbly straighten her socks for her - there and then!

But no such command was forthcoming from the black giantess standing, with her hands on her hips, high above him. So he just continued to pay his slavish ‘respec’ to the dusty toe of her left, hush-puppy shoe.

‘I is your defence lawyer, miss Alisha, innit?...’ declared the young black woman suddenly.

It almost sounded like she was asking him rather than telling him. Perhaps she was asking him? Perhaps he had to confirm that he wanted to appoint her as his defence lawyer?

Like he had any choice!

She withdrew her left foot from under his nose and he stopped kissing. Fortunately he could still see tiny slithers of her blue and white stripy socks as she now stood with both her feet side by side in front of him.

‘..Tell me what happened, boy!’

Boy! She can’t be any older than me, thought slave Shiu Lick to himself! Younger even perhaps? Yet she is addressing me as ‘boy’!

Then he remembered what he was – an illegal, male slave in the Gynarchy of Barbaria. He was a ‘boy’, in the sense that he was, as far as this female-dominated society was concerned, a very junior slave-boy!

‘Oh pray, mistress Alisha, if it pleases you, mistress Alisha, this dirty slave was smuggled into the Gynarchy by a female member of a snakehead gang, miss Zhi Wing, and was sold to a illegal Chinese nightclub operated by a Chinese lady by the name of Madam Shiu Ting, and was imprisoned in a footslave-cubicle in the basement where he had to…’

Crack!

The female defence lawyer suddenly slapped her kneeling client hard across his right cheek with the palm of her black hand, sending him reeling back down into the dirt, where he belonged!

‘I doesn’t want to hear any of that crap, boy! How dare you try to blame superior women for your crimes!...You is nothin’ but a dirty, illegal male slave – and don’t you forget it, slave-boy!’

Illegal slave-boy Shiu Lick, suitably reprimanded by a superior, young woman, scuffled back onto his knees and bowed his head in shame over the hush-puppied feet of his female defence lawyer, miss Alisha. How stupid could he have been? This was the Gynarchy! Did he really think he could get away with just kneeling here and blaming his current predicament on superior women? Ha! Ha! Dolt by name; shoe-lick by nature!

What an idiot!

Miss Alisha kindly explained to the dolt what he would, in fact, be saying in his written confession to the Female Court at his trial, which she helpfully informed him had ben set for 3 weeks from that day. She showed him the already prepared statement, written for him by her own, sweet feminine hand:

‘I, prisoner no. 564289, known by the slave name of ‘Shiu Lick’, and also under the alias of ‘Richard Dolt’, do hereby confess to the Female Court that I have wilfully entered the glorious Gynarchy of Barbaria without proper authority, and have toiled as a ladies’ footslave in said Gynarchy without the appropriate slave permit.

This dirty prisoner hereby throws himself on the sweet feminine mercy of the Female Court, and begs the Court’s clemency and indulgence. Oh pray, most respected and kind good Lady Magistrate, please have clemency on this piece of male filth!’

Prisoner Shiu Lick had to agree that the written statement pretty much said it all. His guilt was assured, and he had no business seeking to drag the innocent mistresses Zhi Wing or Shiu Ting down with him. He would be taking the rap for his illegal entry entirely on his own, and that was as it should be. After all, had he not initiated the whole sorry process by contacting the snakehead slave-trafficking gang on the Internet?

Slave Shiu Lick therefore humbly signed the written confession that miss Alisha, his defence lawyer, had so quickly been able to beat out of him, and only had one, humble question for her:

‘Oh pray, miss Alisha, if it pleases you, miss Alisha, what sort of sentence am I looking at, sweet and kind mistress Alisha?’

The young black woman clicked her teeth in a gesture of some impatience and irritation:

‘Tch! Doesn’t you know anything, boy?...You is lookin’ at 70 lashes minimum and immediate deportation!’

She stopped to allow the full import of her words to sink in.

It wasn’t the lashes that frightened him. It was the deportation. Slave Shiu Lick so much wanted to say in the Gynarchy! Everyone had been treating him so well!

He threw himself onto his female defence lawyer’s soft, black, feminine hush-puppies and plastered them in feverish and supplicating kisses, even allowing his dirty, prisoner-lips to stray onto the sides of her stripy, blue and white ankle socks:

‘Oh pray mistress Alisha …oh pray…is there any way this dirty, no-good slave can remain in the Gynarchy?... Oh pray…oh pray, mistress…this dirty slave only wishes to serve at the feet of superior women, if it so pleases you sweet and kind mistress Alisha…oh pray…oh pray…!

His verbal entreaties, mixed with his feverish kisses to the young black woman’s feet, were a truly pitiful sight. But miss Alisha was not moved to pity – she just laughed at him.

She laughed out loud at his desperation to be a slave, and her mocking, female laughter echoed around the bare walls of the cell.

But that’s not to say that she was not a kind and compassionate young woman. Why else would she have chosen to become a defence lawyer for dirty, male prisoners?

The answer to that question actually soon became apparent.

‘Ha! Ha! You is guaranteed the whipping, boy…but I might be able to save you from the deportation, innit?’

On hearing these words – which were music to his submissive ears – slave Shiu Lick immediately began kissing the sides of miss Alisha’s stripy, blue and white ankle socks with even more fervour:

‘Oh pray mistress Alisha…oh pray…please tell this dirty slave how he might avoid the sentence of deportation!...Oh pray mistress…oh pray!...’

Miss Alisha was enjoying having her shoes and socks slobbered over by a desperate, male prisoner, and so she kept the pathetic creature at her feet in suspense for a few more minutes before explaining her plan to him:

‘…Well , boy, I is a counsellor for refugee-women from other countries who come to the gynarchy to claim female asylum, innit?... One of my young refugee-women, miss Najju, arrived from Nepal just 3 weeks ago. She’s already been granted asylum, but she needs a personal footslave, innit?...I might just be able to persuade the Female Court to let her try you out as her personal slave, innit?’

Prisoner Shiu-Lick’s heart skipped a beat! So that was miss Alisha’s motive in being a defence lawyer for dirty, male prisoners! It provide he with a ready-made source of cheap slave labour for her recently arrived ‘refugee-women’.

Whatever her motives, slave Shiu Lick was overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude towards this tall and gangly, young, black woman for her kind offer! To be the slave – the personal footslave – of a beautiful, young Nepalese girl – here in the glorious Gynarchy of Barbaria – that really would be a dream come true!

He expressed his approval of the plan, and his gratitude to miss Alisha, through the medium of foot-worship. Never before in the history of the Gynarchy had so many kisses been placed on a pair of black, female hush-puppies, by someone so weak and pathetic!

Miss Alisha just laughed, called for the guards, and instructed them to place her client back in the stocks as she left his cell.

‘I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do, prisoner!’ were her parting words to him.

As junior officer-mistress Barbie merrily enclosed the male prisoner’s scrawny neck in heavy wood once again, slave Shiu Lick had an overwhelming feeling of hope in his confined breast. Hope that he would, after all, be permitted to remain as a slave in the Gynarchy, and faith in miss Alisha’s ability to persuade the Female Court to allow him to stay. After all, does she not counsel refugee-women in how to claim asylum in the Gynarchy?

He began, in his loneliness, also to fantasise about how his new Nepalese mistress, miss Najju, might look – dark skinned, obviously; long, dark hair; pretty brown eyes; possibly traditionally dressed in a Sari? And, of course, pretty, brown feet. But would she like wearing brightly-coloured, feminine socks – perhaps even stripy socks like those of his black defence lawyer-mistress, miss Alisha? Or would she, even in the relatively cold, European climate of the Gynarchy, wear open-toed sandals on her soft, bare feet? Just how westernised would the young Nepalese refugee-woman be after only 3 weeks living in the female freedom of the Gynarchy? Would she even be in jeans and a T Shirt?

Prisoner Shiu-Lick had plenty to preoccupy his mind in the three remaining weeks before his trial.

The trial was actually delayed for some unknown, bureaucratic reasons, but he did, eventually, get his day in court – some three months later.

Miss Alisha escorted him into court along with one of the female police guards. The guard, of course, was wearing the ubiquitous black, knee-length leather boots – pleasingly with a knee-length, navy blue uniform skirt – as he crawled on his hands and knees and in shackles behind her into the Female Courtroom. What excited him even more, however, was the fact that his defence lawyer, moss Alisha, appeared to be wearing the same, black hush-puppies, and same blue and white stripy socks, as she had been wearing all those months ago at their meeting in his cell.

A coincidence? Or does she just not change her socks very often?

He found himself hoping it was the latter.

Whatever, the sight of the familiar, blue and white stripy socks of his all-powerful, female defence lawyer brought back only happy memories to him as he recalled how he had thrown himself at their mercy, festooning them with feverish kisses. What a woman! What a pair of socks!

Miss Alisha stood directly in front of him as he knelt in the dock in front of the good lady magistrate’s table of judgement, so he had a good, close-up view of the backs of his female defence-lawyer’s black, hush-puppies underneath the hems of her black, corduroy jeans. Due to the hem of her left jean-leg being slightly twisted at the back, he even had a glimpse of one of the blue stripes on her left sock!

He resolved to concentrate on that slither of blue sock as he listened to the court proceedings going on around him. However, his slavish resolution, admirable though it was, did not last for long as his eyes were quickly drawn to the soft, black, round-toed ballet flats and multicolour-polka-dot-patterned, black ankle socks of the good lady magistrate just as soon as she entered her courtroom and took up her seat of power in front of the dock.

The good lady magistrate was a stunningly beautiful Indonesian girl, no more than about 21 or 22 years old, dressed in a traditional, Indonesian outfit consisting of a white hijab-headscarf, a shiny blue, frilly blouse, and black silken, pleated trousers that narrowed in at her, shapely, socked ankles. She looked very strict, but also, somewhat incongruously, rather bored.

Well, it was the 5th case of illegal male entry that she had presided over that day!

Prisoner Shiu Lick, however, was just fascinated by her low-cut, polka-dot socks inside her soft, black ballet flats. Because the young lady judge was sitting at her table of judgement with her right leg crossed over her left, her petite and shapely right foot was twisting and flexing in the air at prisoner Shiu Lick’s ugly, male face-level, just a couple of feet away from him - literally, as he could see the good lady magistrate’s right foot beyond the backs of his female defence lawyer’s two, black hush-puppies and blue and white stripy socks.

The thought occurred to him that he was very much in the hands – and at the feet – of these two young women and their respective socks. He was truly in their power and at their mercy!

The rather bored-sounding young lady magistrate read out the details of the charges herself, all the while subconsciously twisting her pretty, right, Indonesian foot in the air under the table, causing the cotton material in her equally pretty, polka-dot socked foot to twist and fold in front of the kneeling prisoner’s eyes:

‘Case no. 564289/08 – Slave Shiu Lick, also known as Richard Dolt. The charge is illegal entry into the Gynarchy and unauthorised employment as a public footslave in the Gynarchy. How does the prisoner plead?’

Miss Alisha spoke up on behalf of her contrite and penitent client:

‘Your honour, my client pleads guilty as charged, and has prepared a written statement begging the Female Court’s clemency,’ and with that she handed over the written statement her client had signed, under appropriate, feminine duress, in the cells.

The young lady magistrate of Indonesian origins then read through the written confession and plea for clemency, her right foot now bobbing up and down in the air. The prisoner kneeling in the dock couldn’t help looking at her soft, brown, Indonesian ankle skin above the elasticated top of her short black and colour-polka-dotted sneaker sock.

‘…Mmm, are there any female victim statements in this case?’

‘Yes your honour…’ declared the voice of a nearby, female court clerk. ‘We have a female victim statement from a Madam Shiu Ting.’

‘Call Madam Shiu Ting!’ declared the good, young-lady magistrate.

Madam Shiu Ting! She must be here in Court, thought prisoner Shiu Lick to himself. But she’s taking a hell of a risk, isn’t she? After all, she was the one who had apparently organised his illegal entry into the Gynarchy – and the Female Police knew it was her nightclub he had been caught working illegally in as a public footslave!

Besides, what do they mean by a ‘victim’ statement? How is Madam Shiu Ting a victim in all of this?

He was soon to find out the answers to all his naïve questions, as miss Alisha’s black hush-puppies suddenly stepped to one side only to be replaced in front of him by the instantly recognisable veiny, nyloned feet in shiny, black high-heeled courts, of Madam Shiu Ting - the Chinese nightclub owner and suspected head of the snakehead, slave-smuggling gang.

Smuggled slave Shiu Lick noticed that the backs of Madam Shiu Ting’s, middle-aged heels looked quite chapped and rough beneath her finest denier, flesh coloured, nylon stockings.

Madam Shiu Ting then proceeded to give evidence against him – explaining to the Female Court in her broken English how she had been shocked to discover that the slave she employed in her respectable nightclub’s footslave-cubicle was an illegal entrant; and demanding that she be compensated financially by the Female authorities for the loss of her footslave-employee.

As he studied the backs of Madam Shiu Ting’s shapely, nyloned heels, slave Shiu Lick had to agree that she made out a good case to the Court. Her fellow-oriental, good lady magistrate certainly had no hesitation in awarding Madam Shiu Ting damages of £3000 for the inconvenience of losing her nightclub-footslave.

She is, therefore, quids in, thought slave Shiu Lick to himself. I paid her £1500 to be smuggled over the border – so at least Madam Shiu Ting has made a good profit out of me and my labour!

The good lady magistrate with the polka dot socks then invited miss Alisha to stand over her kneeling client in the dock again, and to offer up any mitigating circumstances before she handed down sentence on the convicted, male criminal.

Slave Shiu Lick braced himself. This was it – make or break time. Depending on miss Alisha’s powers of persuasion, he would soon either be spending the rest of his life as a Nepalese refugee-girl’s personal footslave in the Gynarchy, or be heading home to England, whipped and deported.

He respectfully concentrated on the backs of miss Alisha’s soft, black hush-puppy shoes as she made her plea for clemency to the Female Court on his behalf:

‘Your honour, the convicted prisoner is very remorseful for his actions, and apologises to the Female Court, and in particular to his victim Madam Shiu Ting, for all the distress and inconvenience he has caused towards womankind, innit?

He acted as he did because he was desperate to serve as a women’s footslave in our glorious Gynarchy, and he still wishes to place himself at the service of superior women’s feet and footwear.

Your honour, I have a female sponsor who is willing to take on this dirty male as a full-time, personal footslave - if the Female Court is disposed to show clemency towards the prisoner and to allow him to remain in the Gynarchy. Her name is miss Najju, and she is a recently arrived female refugee from Nepal, innit? Your honour, she is willing to give evidence to the Court right now, if the Court so wishes, innit?’

Slave Shiu Lick wished he could lean forward and kiss the backs of miss Alisha’s hush-puppied feet for it had been a truly moving and eloquent speech – far better than anything he himself could have mustered up.

The Indonesian, good lady magistrate signalled her willingness to hear from miss Najju, and slave Shiu Lick’s heart raced as miss Alisha’s familiar, black hush puppies once more moved to one side, this time to alow the feet of his potential new Nepalese mistress, miss Najju, to stand in front of him for the first time.

A young woman dressed in a traditional, green headscarf and matching, bright green salwar kameez outfit took up her place in the dock - standing directly in front and above the prisoner as he knelt, his head humbly bowed, at the Female Court’s mercy.

Miss Najju’s bright green, pleated, silk trousers were quite shiny in texture, and rather like the good Lady magistrate’s silken, black trousers, were tapered in at the ankle, to reveal the backs of a pair of plain, black ankle-socks above a pair of matching, low-heeled, black leather, slip-on shoes.

Slave Shiu Lick liked what he saw. Okay, so his potential new mistress was wearing plain, dark-coloured socks as opposed to stripy or multicoloured socks, but convicted, male prisoners can’t be choosers, and the mere fact that she was wearing any socks at all sent his male slave pulse racing! These are the socks of the young woman whom I hope will be my new and lawful mistress in the Gynarchy! I may soon be permitted, legally, to kiss the backs of those black, feminine socks whilst my Nepalese mistress is still wearing them on her pretty, Indian-subcontinent feet!

Oh how the dirty, male prisoner in the dock longed to lean forward in order to place his lips on those pretty, black-socked, feminine heels!

But he had to restrain himself - for the Female Court had not yet given him permission to kiss sock!

He heard the good lady magistrate politely address the witness:

‘Miss Najju – first of all let me congratulate you on your grant of asylum in the Gynarchy. I trust you are settling in well?’

‘Oh yes, your honour, I am being most happy here. I am thanking you for your asking me, your honour!’

The girl sounded very sweet, and very Nepalese!

‘So, please tell the Court why you are willing to take in this filthy, male wretch as your personal footslave,’ continued the young, slip-of-a-girl, lady magistrate.

‘Your honour, I am not knowing this prisoner or meeting him before this day, but I am very much wanting to be having a slave to be serving at my feet, since I am having many bad experiences with men in my own country. I am wanting to be having a dirty, male slave that I can be beating and humiliating at my feet, but I cannot be affording to be buying a slave in the markets, your honour.’

The good lady magistrate pondered miss Najju’s words for a second or two, all the while still subconsciously flexing her right foot muscles in the air under the table in front of which the prisoner in the dock was kneeling, and causing her polka-dotted sock to crease and fold enticingly in front of his slave eyes:

‘Mmm… I see; and so you are willing to take this filth in, are you, and to treat him harshly as a male slave should be?’

‘Oh yes, your honour! Miss Alisha, my counsellor, is kindly being supplying me with a slave-whip, and I am making a cell for my slave in my shoe-cupboard in my new home. I am being sure that I will be making my slave’s life miserable, and he will be being kept low and at my feet at all times, your honour.’

Listening to miss Najju’s promises to treat him harshly, to whip him, and to keep him low at her feet, it was all that slave Shiu Lick could do to stop himself from throwing his lips onto the backs of her black socks!

He prayed – he prayed to the Goddess – that the good lady magistrate would hear miss Najju’s eloquent plea, and permit him to remain as her personal, legitimate footslave in the Gynarchy!

Eventually, the good lady magistrate spoke:

‘Very well. This Court’s decision is that the convicted criminal, slave Shiu Lick, should be permitted to remain in the Gynarchy as the personal footslave of miss Najju.

Clerk, will you please ensure that a slave permit is issued forthwith?’

‘Yes, your honour.’

Slave Shiu Lick was almost sick with relief and excitement!

The good and compassionate lady magistrate with the soft, black ballet flats and multicoloured, polka dot sneaker socks continued:

‘…However, mindful of the seriousness of this slave’s crimes, and the distress and inconvenience he has caused to his female victim, Madam Shiu Ting, this Court further orders that the slave Shiu Lick be subjected tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. to a public flogging in the town square consisting of 70 lashes with the cane.

Slave, you may kiss your new mistress’s socks!’

Result! I am a slave! A slave in the Gynarchy!

Slave Shiu Lick was truly overjoyed. As, it seemed, was his new mistress, miss Najju, who was embracing, and being embraced by, his excellent defence lawyer, miss Alisha.

Miss Najju quickly composed herself, however, and turned round to extend her right foot towards the kneeling prisoner in the dock – her kneeling prisoner, whom she now owned:

‘You are hearing the good lady magistrate, slave. You are now being my slave. Please to be humbly kissing my sock!’

And with that she hitched up the elasticated and tapered hem of her bright green, salwar kameez, silken trouser leg in order to afford her newly acquired footslave an even greater expanse of plain, black, cotton ankle sock to kiss above her flat, black leather, slip-on shoe.

Slave Shiu Lick obediently lowered his lips and kissed that pretty, Nepalese-refugee girl’s sock. He kissed it like there was no tomorrow.

Although tomorrow, of course, would come – when he would be publicly whipped with the female cane!

The End