Mistress Alisha's Foot-Fag
I am the personal foot-fag of the college’s senior student and head girl – 23 year old mistress Alisha.
I was given to her as a personal servant, or ‘fag’, by the college authorities when she first enrolled at the college as a student of Female Law some 4 years ago and, as this is her final year of studies, I shall soon be finishing my period of bondage to her – only to be handed over to yet another new, female entrant to the college, of course!
I shall be truly sorry to leave miss Alisha’s employ, however, for she is a truly kind and generous mistress: a bright; good-looking; self-confident and self-assured, young Afro-Caribbean woman who is the first in her lower middle-class family to enter the higher education system, and who is now assured of a glittering career prosecuting recalcitrant and disobedient male slaves in the Female Law Courts of the Gynarchy.
My mistress Alisha got to be the college’s head girl through sheer hard work and intelligence, and not because she was from a particularly privileged background. Indeed I understand her parents divorced when she was very young, and she had to overcome many obstacles to get to where she is now.
I truly do admire my beautiful, young, Afro-Caribbean mistress.
Every day I have left in her service is, therefore, precious to me, and today, in particular, promises to be a very special day – for her family are coming down to watch her taking part in the college’s sports day. Specifically, my mistress Alisha is a champion rower, and she will be taking part in the finals of the college’s coxless pairs, together with her college rowing partner, miss Jemima.
It is 7 o’clock on the morning of the big day, and my mistress Alisha is just stirring from her slumber in her small, but comfortable, single room in the college halls of residence. I, of course, as her fag, am kneeling with my head humbly bowed by the side of her bed, ready to insert her beautiful, brown bare feet into her furry, red slippers as soon as she swings her pyjama-covered legs out from underneath the duvet.
I don’t have long to wait, for my mistress quickly remembers that today is indeed the big day, and she has lots to do in order to get ready for her big race at 11 o’clock. Her pretty, but as yet unwashed, black feet plonk themselves down on the bedside mat ready for me, her foot-fag, to respectfully don her slippers.
Miss Alisha doesn’t need to verbally order me to put her slippers onto her pretty, black feet. It is an everyday order that goes without saying. She knows that I will have already been awake for nearly two hours, sprucing up all her boots and shoes with my tongue, ready for her to choose which pair to wear for the day; and she also knows that, in accordance with my standing orders, I will have kissed and worshipped her empty, furry, red slippers 200 times each prior to positioning them by the side of her bed, ready for her divine, Afro-Caribbean feet to slip into them just as soon as my black goddess awakes.
And so it is. Her pretty, soft, black feet slide effortlessly into the equally soft, white, inner lining of the furry, red slippers, with next to no assistance required on my part. My role is really just to observe my mistress’s superior, female feet at this point, and to ensure that there are no major disasters – such as one of her still sleepy feet missing the target!
But the slippering process goes very well this morning – hopefully an omen of the successful day ahead for her?
Next my student-mistress Alisha pulls back the duvet and sits up on the side of the bed, ruffling her tousled, black hair, yawning and then scratching the side of her checked-pyjama-clad right leg. I would be more than happy, as mistress Alisha’s fag, to scratch her leg for her – but miss Alisha does not permit me to touch her above the ankle.
She made it perfectly clear to me right from day one that I was very much her foot-fag or foot-servant. She informed me in no uncertain terms that the rest of her beautiful, black body was strictly out of bounds to me – as it should be. For a dirty, middle-aged, male slave like me is not worthy to touch such a divine, athletic, female body as miss Alisha’s above the ankle. Only her boyfriends, all free men of course, are permitted to do that - the latest of whom is a fellow-student from the neighbouring male college called Simon. ‘Master’ Simon to me.
Mistress Alisha ignores me as she stretches her long, athletic arms and then stands up to walk over to her ensuite bathroom. I remain kneeling, with my head humbly bowed, by the side of her bed. She doesn’t even bother to close the ensuite bathroom door whilst she performs her early morning ablutions, as she does not regard me as a person before whom she has any cause to feel inhibited or embarrassed. I am just a fag – her foot-fag; a thing, supplied by the college, to do her superior bidding and take care of her student feet and footwear. I am less than an animal in her pretty, Afro-Caribbean eyes.
And so I wait until she has finished her morning ablutions, and she duly emerges from the bathroom now fully clothed in her grey and white college T shirt and her black tracksuit bottoms.
She sits on the edge of her bed, once again, her feet now denuded of their furry, red slippers so that I can clearly see the chipped and flaking red paint on her pretty, Afro-Caribbean toenails – the remains of the pedicure I so lovingly applied to her pretty feet some 3 days ago now.
She speaks for the first time this morning:
‘White sneakers and white sports socks.’
It is an order directed at me, in the sharpest of curt mistress-speak. As there is nobody else in the room she does not even need to address me as ‘fag’, and nor, of course, does she feel the need to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’.
And why should she? Why should a superior mistress like miss Alisha waste her precious, feminine breath on a mere foot-fag like me?
I, on the other hand, must always acknowledge her commands, and my readiness to instantly obey them, in the most verbose and sycophantic of humble slave-speak:
‘Yes mistress Alisha, At once, most beautiful mistress Alisha. This dirty fag obeys his mistress.’
And with that I tear myself temporarily away from my mistress’s bare, black, red-painted toes and over to the base of her wardrobe where she keeps her shoes and socks. She doesn’t have that many pairs – being an impecunious student – so it doesn’t take me long to locate the desired for pair of white sneakers and matching white socks.
My mistress Alisha always wears the same pair of white sneakers when she is going rowing, but she doesn’t necessarily wear her white, cotton sports socks with them. Sometimes she chooses to wear her black ankle socks with her white sports-sneakers– to match her black tracksuit bottoms.
I don’t mind which pair of socks she chooses, for I like them both on her pretty feet – the plain, white pair because they contrast so sweetly with the black skin of her shapely, feminine ankles; and the plain, black pair because they contrast with the dirty-white of her well-worn sneakers.
My mistress has decided, however, that today will be a ‘white-socks’ day, and so I place the rolled up pair of ankle socks in my mouth as I crawl back towards my mistress from the wardrobe using only my left hand, her sneakers held firmly in my right hand.
My mistress lights up a cigarette, which is against the rules in the college halls of residence. But, if you are a free woman, as she is, rules are made to be broken. It is, after all, me - her fag- who will be punished if she is detected having an illicit fag!
Which is appropriate enough when you think about it!
My extremely fit and healthy mistress Alisha does little to help me as I raise her right foot gently off the ground in order to apply the first of her socks. It seems that I am not required to either wash or to pedicure her feet this morning. She has doubtless bathed her feet in the shower when she was in her ensuite bathroom, and she must have decided that the stale pedicure will do for the time being, as she is in a hurry to get down to the college refectory for her health-conscious, sportswoman’s breakfast of cereal and fresh orange juice.
I scrunch up the white, ankle length, sports sock in my foot-fag hands and carefully pull it over my mistress Alisha’s precious right foot, watching as her black foot-skin disappears into the bright white material of the soft, cotton sock. Although she has worn this same pair of socks many times before, they are still in relatively good condition – all apart from a few stubborn grey stains on the soles which, try as I might, I just can’t suck out.
When she has her white sneakers on, however, no-one will be able to see the grey stains on the soles of the socks, and her socks will look almost as good as new, as the dirty greyish-white of the well-worn sneakers will actually help to show off the relative snowy-bright white of the upper parts of her beautiful ankle socks.
And the sides of her socks will be highly visible underneath the hems of her black tracksuit bottoms, for my mistress Alisha always keeps the zips on the sides of her tracksuit-bottom hems undone – mainly for my benefit, I’m sure, as she knows I like to stare at her socked ankles when I am grovelling down in the dirt beside her feet all day long.
My mistress Alisha is very thoughtful in that regard.
Soon the other sock is on, and as she rests both her pretty, white-socked feet side by side on the bedside mat beneath my kneeling face, I can now straighten both the female ankle-socks so that they are nice and even on my mistress Alisha’s feet. Finally, I turn them both over by about an inch or so at the elasticated tops - because I know that my mistress Alisha likes it that way.
No other reason.
Next I must slip her freshly socked, but unpedicured, feet into her stinky, dirty-white sneakers. I should explain that my beloved mistress Alisha doesn’t have particularly sweaty feet, but her sneakers do tend to retain the odour of her feet – despite the fact that I do my level best to inhale all the odour from their insides at the end of each day. I suppose the stale sweat from her pretty feet is just too deeply ingrained in the grey, and oftenplace worn, inner lining of her sneakers.
The hardest part, as always, is tying up her dirty grey sneaker laces. Needless to say this is an extremely important task, for I can’t have my mistress Alisha tripping over her laces and injuring herself. Can you imagine the injuries she, and the college authorities, would inflict on me if such a disaster were to take place?!
Fortunately, it never yet has, so skilled have I become at humbly lacing up another human being’s shoelaces.
And so, fully sneakered and socked, my mistress Alisha is ready to go down to the refectory for breakfast. She stubs out her illegitimate fag in the bathroom, and clicks her fingers in order to signal to her legitimate fag that he is to follow her on his hands and knees to heel. One of my main duties is to always follow my superior mistress Alisha on my hands and knees wherever she goes. It is the lot of a humble, college foot-fag to spend his days crawling behind his student-mistress’s sneakered feet throughout the campus like an obedient puppy-dog.
In the college refectory I kneel beside her feet under the communal table and stare at the side of her right sock – the area of the white sock which is fully visible thanks to the V-shape at the bottom of her black, tracksuit trouser-leg, caused by the undone zip. As my mistress tucks into her delicious bowl of milk and cereal, I note with some consternation that my carefully straightened and folded over sock on her right foot is already beginning to crease due to the movement of her pretty, black foot muscles.
I know that my mistress Alisha won’t mind, or even be aware of such small imperfections developing in her socks. But they are of concern to me, since my job as her foot-fag is to concern myself about the state of my mistress’s socks throughout the day.
As I ponder all this I notice that mistress Alisha is joined at the table by her rowing mate, miss Jemima. I recognise her not just from her posh, upper-class voice as she greets my mistress Alisha seated above me, but also from her footwear – for they are feet that I have respectfully kissed many times before, always at the behest, of course, of my own mistress Alisha.
Student-mistress Jemima is wearing her ubiquitous pink and blue, designer sneakers with a delightful pair of short, sneaker-style, navy blue socks. I can only just see the very tops of the elasticated rims of her sneaker socks running along her shapely, white insteps, before her socks disappear down into the heels of her pink and blue, lace-up sneakers.
I am therefore now surrounded by two pairs of student-girls’ socks and sneakers as I kneel humbly at my mistress Alisha’s feet underneath the communal breakfast table.
The two young women are talking excitedly above me to one another about their forthcoming boat race, whilst I, for my part, am concentrating on the side of my mistress Alisha’s white sock – trying desperately not to be distracted by the equally fetching navy blue sneaker-socks of mistress Jemima.
It has to be said she has even prettier ankle bones than my mistress Alisha!
Be that as it may, I am acutely aware that I am mistress Alisha’s foot-fag, and that I must focus my attention on her feet and footwear – not least because if she catches me lusting after her friend’s socks without permission she will doubtless have me whipped! Mistress Alisha knows only to well that my foot-fag head can be easily turned by a pretty sock, and she is always on the look out for any sock-disloyalty on my part!
And so I close my mind to mistress Jemima’s pretty, pink and blue, designer sneakers and enticing, navy-blue sneaker socks, and instead start to count the creases in my mistress Alisha’s white sock on her right foot whilst she finishes off her breakfast. She does order me to kiss miss Jemima’s feet as they depart the refectory - something which I very much enjoy doing as it gives me the opportunity to legitimately study, albeit only too briefly, the fine pattern in the stitching of miss Jemima’s navy-blue, elasticated sock-tops as I do so.
I hope I will be seeing more of those posh, designer, upper-class sneakers and socks later in the day, but for now I must accompany my mistress Alisha’s lower middle-class sneakers and socks to heel over towards the college boatyard, where her boyfriend Simon is already preparing her sweep-oar rowing boat.
Master Simon is a white man, some 20 years my junior, and a student of engineering at the neighbouring male college. This being the Gynarchy, he can’t hope to get as good and as well-paid a job as his girlfriend Alisha when he graduates, but he is still very much my superior as he is a free man as opposed to a foot-bonded labourer.
Though I respect him as my social better, I am nevertheless jealous of him, as he has my mistress Alisha’s love and respect in ways that I can never know.
‘What are you doing about your fag?’ I hear him ask my mistress in his snooty tones. ‘Are you taking him in the boat with you?’
‘Erm...yeah, I think I will, innit?...’ responds my mistress Alisha, who, unlike master Simon, and indeed her rowing-companion miss Jemima, is not all that posh. ‘…Secure him inside the boat for me, would you honey?’
I listen as the two superior human beings, who are both my betters, talk about me and decide my fate. Although I have absolutely no say in the matter, I am absolutely delighted that my mistress Alisha has decided to secure me beside her feet in the boat, as she always has the option, in an important competition race such as this, of leaving me chained up on the quayside.
It is a measure of her confidence in her, and in miss Jemima’s, rowing abilities, that she feels relaxed about carrying my extra weight in the boat.
I am therefore subdued and compliant as master Simon roughly manhandles and kicks me down onto the floor of the pointy, canoe-shaped rowing boat, securing me in the ‘slave-space’ which is specifically designed for slaves to be placed in so that their faces are resting directly next to the footbrace onto which the female rower’s feet are placed.
I shall be observing my mistress Alisha’s socks and sneakers close-up as she pulls on the oar, a sight I am very much looking forward to, as the movement in her socks will be most exciting for me to watch. I shall, in particular, be observing how the outer side of her left sock, which will be the one resting directly next to my foot-fag face, is becoming more and more creased, and more and more sweaty, as she expends all her youthful, feminine power and energy on propelling the boat forward as quickly as she can in tandem with her equally young and fit rowing partner, miss Jemima.
My mistress Alisha always occupies the bow position in the boat. She is also the steerswoman, with the rudder cable attached to the toe of her right sneaker. She is, therefore, the lead rower of the coxless pair – as you might expect of the college’s head girl! Unfortunately, however, this means that all I get to see of her rowing partner, miss Jemima’s, footwear, as she climbs into the boat in front of us at the stern end, are the dirty and muddy, beige-coloured, rubbery soles of her pink and blue, designer rowing-sneakers. Sadly, I can’t catch a glimpse of her pretty, navy blue sneaker-socks this time at all!
Not that it matters, for my own mistress Alisha’s sneakered and socked feet are now firmly placed on the footbrace inside the boat, directly in front of my face. Furthermore, her track suit bottoms have ridden up slightly giving me a clear and uninterrupted view not only of the outer side of her left sock, but also of her smooth, hairless, soft black skin above the top of her carefully folded-over, white sports sock.
It truly is a sight for a foot-fag’s sore eyes and, as the race starts, and my mistress starts pulling on the oar, her ankles begin to move back and forth as they rest on the footbrace, causing the side of her left sock to crease in several places right in front of my eyes!
I am in foot-fag sock-heaven as I watch the movement in my mistress’s feet and socks, and even observe the occasional splash of water landing on her white-socked ankle.
I am glad at times like this that I am mistress Alisha’s foot-fag and not mistress Jemima’s, for her navy-blue sneaker-socks are so short I would be quite unable to observe them creasing and folding inside her designer sneakers. Then again, I would get to observe the creases and folds in her bare, white, upper-class ankle skin as she pulled on the back oar!
I am such an incorrigible foot-fag!
Needless to say my strong mistress and her equally strong rowing-partner easily win their race, and I can hear the two young women’s whoops of relief and delight as they finally slump over their oars and their feet come to a rest on their respective footbraces.
My mistress Alisha’s white socks – or her left sock at any rate, the one directly in front of my face - is now well creased and sweaty-looking. I am in for a treat tonight when I eventually have to peel those sweaty, white socks off her divine feet!
The next thing I have to do, however, is to kneel behind her heels as she stands triumphantly on the winner’s rostrum, alongside miss Jemima, in order to be presented with her winner’s medal. As I do so, I notice, to my horror, a wet mud stain on the very back of my mistress’ right, white-sneakered heel, a mud stain that even extends onto the back of her erstwhile snowy-white ankle sock!
How on earth did that get there? It must have happened immediately after the race when master Simon was playfully chasing his victorious girlfriend across the college lawn in order to give her a big, congratulatory kiss. I’ve only just noticed the stain however!
I make a mental note to remove that stain, from both the heel of my mistress Alisha’s white sneaker and the back of her white sock, at the earliest opportunity! For that is what foot-fags do – they clean and take care of their student-mistresses’ feet and footwear.
For now, however, nobody else is interested, or has even noticed, the mud stains on the back of my victorious mistress Alisha’s footwear, least of all the wearer of the muddy sneakers and socks herself. They are all too busy sharing in her joy and excitement at winning the coxless pairs’ medal. And rightly so! I too am pleased for my mistress Alisha, not that anybody gives two hoots about what I think!
After the medal presentation, my mistress Alisha is surrounded by her proud family – including her mother, a fine looking black woman in her early fifties who goes by the name of mistress Hilda; and her sister, the somewhat dumpy-looking, 19 year old miss Taheisha.
Mistress Hilda is smartly and attractively dressed in a black, frilly hat; a matching jacket over a frilly, white blouse and a smart, black knee-length skirt; and dark-coloured, finest denier, nylon stockings on her still shapely legs, with shiny, black high-heeled shoes on her equally shapely Afro-Caribbean feet and ankles.
Miss Taheisha, on the other hand, is much less smartly dressed, in a scruffy-looking, beige-coloured anorak with a hoodie, and a pair of dark blue, denim jeans tucked into the tops of a pair of heavy looking, ankle-length, beige, sheepskin Ugg boots.
At least her boots match her coat!
I notice too that miss Taheisha appears to have much lighter skin than her elder sister. She is definitely mixed race, and I’m guessing that she must be mistress Alisha’s half-sister. She certainly doesn’t get her dumpy physique from her beautiful, Afro-Caribbean mother!
Mistress Hilda is now giggling and laughing out loud as her elder daughter orders her ‘foot-fag’ to kiss her mother’s feet. I notice the older, black lady’s fine denier stocking crease and fold around her still well-formed, middle-aged, right ankle as I respectfully place my lips on the pointy toe of her black, pointy, high-heeled stiletto shoe. I can see some of hr foot veins twitching with delight beneath the thin material of her dark nylon stocking.
Mistress Hilda then withdraws her right foot and superciliously stretches forward her left foot in the grass underneath my kneeling foot-fag face for me to kiss. But, although she is laughing with glee at my humiliation at her stiletto-shod feet, she says nothing.
Unlike my mistress’s younger half-sister, miss Taheisha, when I crawl over towards her in order to respectfully kiss the slightly-damp-from-the-grass, beige, sheepskin Ugg boot on her eagerly outstretched right foot:
‘Is he your fag that you keep talking about, Alisha? He’s well ugly, innit?’
I kiss the damp, rounded toe of the young mistress’s enormous looking and somewhat creased, beige-coloured sheepskin ankle-boot with all the more foot-faggish respect, given the young woman’s astute observations on my repulsive-to-women physical appearance.
Meanwhile I can hear all her loving family members, including my mistress Alisha, laugh at miss Taheisha’s comment:
‘Ha! Ha! You’re not wrong, Taheisha, innit? Hey, why don’t you pull up the hems of your jeans and show him the tops of your socks inside your boots? He likes girls’ socks!’ my mistress Alisha gaily informs her.
‘Cool!’ responds the Ugg-booted miss Taheisha, not even waiting until I have kissed her left boot before she pulls the bottoms of her blue, denim jeans out of the tops of both her ankle-length Ugg boots to reveal the tops of a delightfully feminine pair of black, cotton bootsocks with what appears to be a row of pink hearts running along the elasticated tops.
‘Well, foot-fag, what do you think of my socks, innit? Is they to your liking? Ha! Ha!’ she enquires mockingly.
As I explained earlier, I must always acknowledge a superior mistress’s order or enquiry - be it delivered in curt mistress-speak or in a supercilious and mocking tone - in humble, self-deprecating and respectful slave-speak:
‘Oh pray, mistress Taheisha, if it pleases you, sweet and powerful mistress Taheisha, this slave does indeed admire and respect your most beautiful pink and black bootsocks, if it is so pleasing to you most sweet and kind mistress.’
Her sister, mistress Alisha, laughs:
‘Ha! Ha! Go on, Taheish! Order him to kiss the tops of your socks. You know he wants to! Ha! Ha!’
Everyone, including the girls’ mother, is laughing at me now as miss Taheisha, still hitching up her blue denim jeans above the tops of her beige, sheepskin ankle boots, teases me further with her pink and black bootsocks:
‘Ha! Ha! Is that what you wants, fag? Is you longing to kiss the tops of my socks? Is you?’
‘Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you mistress Taheisha, that would indeed be an honour for this humble foot-fag, most respected mistress Taheisha!’
Suddenly, however, to roars of approval and encouragement from the onlookers, miss Taheisha drops her denim trouser legs and tucks them back inside the tops of her thick, ankle-length Ugg boots:
‘Nah …I don’t think so, foot-fag. At least, not until I start college myself next term. Alisha, you did say I could have him as my fag when you leave, innit?’
Miss Alisha smiles somewhat condescendingly at her younger sister:
‘God, Taheisha, all I said was I’d see what I could do! But it’s not really up to me. It’s up to the college board of governesses, innit?’
Her mother, mistress Hilda, who - as befitting a mature and sophisticated Caribbean lady of such poise and elegance - was very well-spoken, albeit with a strong Jamaican accent, interjected at this point:
‘Hee! Hee! Me is sure that something can be arranged, Taheisha darling. After all, your big sister is the toast of the college today - the winner of one of the most prestigious competitions of the college’s sports day! Me is sure the college governesses will listen to any suggestions your medal-winning sister has to put forward about what to do with her loser foot-fag, after she graduate from the college next month! Hee! Hee!’
Mistress Hilda wasn’t wrong.
I was indeed given to miss Taheisha as her personal fag the following term, when she entered the college in order to study sports sciences for four years.
And, sweet and kind young woman that she was, miss Taheisha kindly kept her promise made in front of all those witnesses on sports day, and wore that very same pair of fetching black socks with the pink hearts motif on her first day at the college, just so that I could finally pull off her thick Ugg boots and kiss her socks in my capacity as her college foot-fag.
And kiss them I did. I kissed each and every individual pink heart running along the tops of her black socks 100 times.
Miss Alisha’s foot-fag had been passed down to the youngest member of the family like a mouldy old foot-rag, and I was so proud to become the humble foot-servant of my athletic miss Alisha’s dumpy, 19 year old half-sister.
As she followed in her illustrious sister’s footsteps, I humbly followed her own Ugg-booted footsteps - all around the college grounds, on my hands and knees, over the course of the next four years!’
The End
A Young Woman's Personal Foot-Fag
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