The Beast of Burden
I work as a footslave-cart in the capital city of the glorious Gynarchy, Barbaria. I have done so for twenty odd years – ever since I became a slave. I am owned by the Female State and available for hire both by female tourists in our fair capital, and by locals alike. It is hard, strenuous work – with little or no reward other than that of being close to superior, young women’s heels and ankles all day long. I suppose that should be reward enough for a dirty, male footslave such as me. My female ‘riders’ or ‘customers’ never really get to see much of me. I am secured on my hands and knees beneath the wooden cart on which they sit – rather like the engine hidden underneath the bonnet of a car. I use my humble slave-energy to push the superior, female cart-driver along whilst her pretty heels rest in front of me on a wooden footplate. The mistress is responsible for giving me directions – telling me when to stop and start, what speed I should crawl at etcetera - a