Doing The Rounds
I am an office shoelick.
My job is to tongue-shine all the lovely boots and shoes of the office ladies – usually whilst they are still wearing them. Every morning I must ‘do my rounds’, and crawl on my hands and knees from room to room, desk to desk, in order to offer up my tongue in humble service to the ladies’ superior footwear.
I am currently entering the room containing the junior, female staff. There are five girls working in it – all young and pretty, their ages ranging from 18 to 25. Being young and haughty they, naturally, take great delight in availing themselves of my servile, shoelicking services, especially since I am twice the age of even the eldest girl in the room, which makes my humiliation at their feet all the more exciting for them.
As it does for me.
It is a very grade-ist office, and I must follow a strict protocol as to which office-lady’s feet and footwear I service first – beginning with the most senior young lady in the office, 25 year old miss Hayley, the office manageress.
The tall and slim, Afro-Caribbean office manageress – miss Hayley
Miss Hayley, being the head of the office juniors’ section, has her own desk in the far corner of the room – a somewhat imposing desk befitting her supervisory status. She is currently seated at her desk, drinking a cup of morning coffee, and reading through her emails on her computer.
I am always a bit nervous about interrupting miss Hayley, as she always appears very strict to me – schoolmarmish almost. She always has her long, black, braided hair tied back in a severe-looking bun, and she wears no-nonsense dark-rimmed glasses on her pretty, Afro-Caribbean face. She also dresses more smartly than some of the other office juniors, even though she is fairly low-ranking herself (I think she has aspirations for promotion).
Today is no exception. Miss Hayley is wearing a smart, businesswoman suit comprised of a stylish, navy blue, pinstriped jacket over a frilly, white, blouse; a demure knee-length skirt; dark nylon stockings (almost black to match her beautiful, rich, black skin); and shiny black, wedge-heeled, round-toed, single-strapped, patent leather office-shoes.
Miss Hayley is seated with her shapely, nylon-stockinged ankles crossed over one another as they rest beneath her desk on the office floor. Her shiny, black, mary-jane style shoes, as always, already look immaculate on her shapely, dark-nylon-stockinged, Afro-Caribbean feet and ankles, yet my job description nevertheless requires me, as the office shoelick, to humbly offer to shine her shoes for her still further, utilising my shoeshining slave-tongue.
I therefore, nervously, interrupt what she is doing, and beg miss Hayley for the honour of sprucing up her outer footwear:
‘Oh pray, mistress Hayley. Good morning, mistress Hayley. Does the mistress desire this dirty shoelick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Hayley?’
She tuts to herself – clearly irritated by my whining, weaselly slave-voice – looks disparagingly down on me through her severe, black-rimmed glasses on the end of her nose, and nonchalantly unfurls her dark-nylon-stockinged ankles so that her right foot is now extended on the floor directly beneath my humbly kneeling nose:
‘You can give them a quick shine, foot-faggot,’ she crows triumphantly down at me in a strong Jamaican accent.
From the haughty and dismissive tone of her Jamaican voice I can tell that mistress Hayley certainly thinks she is bestowing a great honour upon me in acceding to my grovelling request to spruce up her footwear with my tongue.
Which she undoubtedly is.
I shuffle forward on my hands and knees so that my bowed head is directly above the shiny, rounded toe of her outstretched, single-strapped, mary-jane style, patent black leather, office shoe.
I always like to kiss a superior lady’s shoe before I lick it. It’s not actually a written part of my footslave-contract to do so, but I just think it helps to assure the lady of my complete and utter devotion to her and to her footwear – whosoever she may be. By kissing her shoe-leather before I have licked it clean, I am clearly affirming that she is my superior and better, and that I am indeed honoured to be kneeling on the floor at her feet and at her mercy.
Moreover, a respectfully delivered shoekiss should always prove to be a pleasant sensation for the black, female wearer of the shoe - feeling a dirty, male, footslave’s lips paying humble homage to the outer, protective footwear that covers her soft, black feminine foot.
Indeed, a kiss to a lady’s shoe even indicates that the feminine item of footwear is, in and of itself, my female better.
For precisely those same reasons I also like to kiss ladies’ nylon stockings and socks – always on the foot area – just to publicly demonstrate to the world my utter humility and contrition at the feet and footwear of my female betters, whatever their ethnicity, and whatever the material of their footwear.
And so, unbidden, I gently and respectfully place my slave-lips first to the shiny, rounded toe of mistress Hayley’s black shoe leather, and then to the rough, dark-nylon material covering her shapely, outer ankle bone, prior to beginning my allotted task of giving mistress Hayley’s right shoe ‘a quick shine’ with my slave-tongue.
Unlike the rough nylon of her dark stocking, the leather of the young, Afro-Caribbean woman’s shiny, black shoe feels perfectly smooth under my tongue – I fail to detect any traces of street dirt or dust on the outer leather of the shoe. It is, essentially, a clean shoe. I am convinced mistress Hayley must have her smart, office mary-janes tongue-polished by her personal footslave at home every morning before she sets out for work. For they are always immaculate!
This, of course, is somewhat disappointing for a footslave like me. For a male footslave is essentially dirt – and is therefore attracted to dirt. Indeed I would go further – I live on dirt. Ladies’ shoe dirt supplements my meagre diet of bland and tasteless slave-gruel, and spices up my life with its various dirty flavours. Whenever I lick a lady’s shoes, therefore, I am always seeking out dirt with my tongue – shoe-dirt that I can savour and roll about in my mouth before swallowing it!
Swallowing Amazons’ shoe dirt. That’s what I live for.
But in the case of the Amazonian mistress Hayley’s shoe there is simply no dirt to be found – just freshly-polished, clean, black shoe-leather.
At least I can see little traces of white fluff on the fine material of her dark, nylon-stocking as I assiduously lick at her outer footwear. The outstretched positioning of her right foot beneath the desk has caused one or two pleasing little creases to appear in her dark-coloured stocking around her shapely anklebone, and it is in one of those very creases that I can even observe a small, foreign hair.
It is not one of mistress Hayley’s black hairs. It is a tiny, light brown hair. Like the tiny white pieces of fluff, it is clearly a foreign object stuck to the finest denier material of mistress Hayley’s dark-coloured office-stockings.
And there, sadly, is where it will stay – for whilst I may make so bold as to kiss a lady’s stockings by way of a preamble to my foot-servitude at her feet without her expressly bidding me to do so, I know better than to lick pieces of fluff or foreign hairs off a lady’s hosiery without her explicit permission.
Such impertinence in a lowly office footslave would be sure to be severely punished. A brown, leather slave-whip hangs ominously on every wall in the office building for the use of the office ladies on my bare back whensoever they see fit, and - having been acquainted with its sharp, feminine sting many times in the past - I now make it my daily business to do everything I can to avoid displeasing my female superiors and betters by, quite literally, keeping my head down and doing exactly what I am told.
If I am ordered to lick sock or nylon stocking I will do so. If I am ordered merely to shine shoe, then that is what I will do.
I therefore studiously avoid the temptation to lick the foreign debris from the side of mistress Hayley’s otherwise immaculately-nyloned outer ankle bone, and instead run my tongue carefully along the narrow, black leather, buckled strap that runs along the top of her beautiful, Afro-Caribbean foot.
Without even bothering to inspect my work through her black-rimmed glasses, the black woman, mistress Hayley, withdraws her right foot from my mouth after a few minutes, and replaces it with her left, whilst simultaneously sending off a reply to an important email.
She is thinking about the content of her email. Not about me. The email is more important than me, for I am just the office shoelick – hardly worthy of a second thought.
When I have finished tongue-shining mistress Hayley’s left, wedge-heeled, mary-jane shoe (which chore I only know I have finished by virtue of the fact that she has withdrawn her shoe from my face and has stood up to walk out of the room) I crawl over contritely towards the next highest-ranking office junior in the room – 23 year old mistress Joanna (‘Jo’ to her female office colleagues, but most definitely ‘mistress Joanna’ or ‘miss Joanna’ to me – for she is my better).
Mistress Joanna, the goth
Miss Joanna is arguably the cruelest of the 5 girls in the juniors’ office. If you thought that the office-supervisor, miss Hayley, sounded scary and stand-offish – just wait until you meet mistress Joanna!
She is quite a different personality type from her immediate boss – miss Hayley. Mistress Joanna, for one thing, is a ‘goth’ – and she dresses accordingly, albeit toned down for the office.
She still gets away with wearing dark purple make-up to work on her otherwise rather pale, white face, and her naturally brown, straight, shoulder-length hair is died a deep, rich black. She also wears large, gothic-style rings on her pretty, white fingers – depicting skulls and witches’ cauldrons etc.
Anything to do with the dark side.
More importantly – from my viewpoint kneeling on the office floor at her feet – mistress Joanna is always dressed predominantly in black: black jacket; dark blue blouse; black trousers; black ankle socks; and black sneakers.
Her black ankle socks and sneakers are, of course, my primary interest – for it is they that I must focus all my footslavish attention on, day after day.
The only thing that ever seems to change about mistress Joanna’s footwear is the length of her socks. Yes – they are nearly always plain black to match her plain, black lace-up sneakers, but I have seen her wear everything from calf-length socks to short, ‘no show’ socks inside her sneakers and beneath the hems of her black, office trouser legs.
Today, for example, she has opted for the low-cut style of sneaker socks, meaning that, as she sits at her desk above me in all her gothic splendour, only the thin, elasticated tops of her short, black socks are visible above the upper rims of her sneakers.
If truth be told I prefer it when mistress Joanna wears these very short socks inside her sneakers, as it means I get to see the pale white of her bare ankle skin above the stretched tops of her socks. Her pale skin is in such contrast to the rich black of the short cotton socks. It almost looks as though her pasty-white foot is drained of blood, like she was some sort of gothic vampiress, waiting for her next fix of maleslave blood.
Mistress Joanna truly does scare me. I am totally in awe of her as she towers above me seated at her desk. I imagine she could potentially be very cruel towards her personal slave, if she had one. I cannot see her being squeamish about using the whip on a slave’s back, for example – although I have to admit she has never yet had occasion to use the office slave-whip on my bare and prostrate back!
Perhaps she only whips when she rises up out of her coffin in the twilight hours and is thirsting for some maleslave blood!
If I were privileged enough to be a young vampire-woman’s personal footslave – mistress Joanna would be the very young woman I would wish to serve. Even though I truly fear her sinister obsession with all things dark and gothic, and even though I fear the sting of the female whip, I just admire her short, black socks and black, lace-up sneakers so much that I feel as though all the pain in the world would be worth enduring for the honour of spending my whole day (and night?) crawling behind and serving the vampire-mistress miss Joanna’s feet.
But I don’t have all day and night to serve her socks and sneakers – only a few minutes. And so I do my humble best to attract her attention as I kneel beside her sneakered feet under her office desk, by humbly repeating my early morning mantra:
‘Oh pray, mistress Joanna. Good morning, mistress Joanna. Does the mistress desire this dirty shoelick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Joanna?’
Mistress Joanna is eating a blueberry muffin. I can smell it. She is always eating. She is rather overweight – but not on her legs, ankles and feet. All of the excess weight seems to go on her hips and buttocks – and since those parts of her sweet, feminine body are, quite literally, above me, I do not concern myself with mistress Joanna’s weight problem.
She sucks some sticky muffin of her finger and answers me with her mouth full:
‘Clean the filth off my sneakers, slave.’
Once again a female foot, this time a goth foot, is arrogantly and imperiously stretched out before me, although, unlike the previous shoe I was obliged to lick, this shoe is a dirty shoe – a dirt-stained and dusty, plain black, lace-up sneaker. If it wasn’t a black sneaker – if it was a white sneaker – the ingrained street-dirt would stand out even more prominently in front of my eyes, but even against a background of black the dirt is clearly visible.
This is precisely the sort of female footwear I like – dirty, scruffy, tatty, unkempt. It is the footwear of a girl who just doesn’t care. Mistress Joanna’s left sneaker, I happen to know, even has a hole in its side where the stitching on the sole has come loose. I know that because I can sometimes observe her sock through the hole in her left sneaker.
But it is currently her right sneaker that is arrogantly stretched forward on the floor for me to lick clean, and her right sneaker does not, to my knowledge, have any holes in it – just the small, round metal eyelets which the dirty and dusty, thick black laces are threaded through.
Once again I lower my lips to the rounded toe of a black, feminine shoe in order to deliver to it a respectful, slavish kiss – only this time my lips instantly make contact with rough little grains of dirt. I can feel them moving on the surface of the shoe underneath my pursed lips.
Oh what fun I am going to have licking and swallowing those little grains of dirt from the surface of mistress Joanna’s dirty, gothic sneaker!
First, however, I must pay homage to her gothic sock, in line with my personal protocol. I therefore raise my puckered slave-lips to the elasticated top of her short, black sock, just below her pasty-white, but shapely, anklebone and place my lips on the elasticated and stretched, black cotton material – taking great care that my upper lip does not stray onto bare, female flesh. I sense that mistress Joanna likes having her sock kissed – but she would undoubtedly be offended, as any young woman would be, by a slave’s unauthorised contact with her bare skin.
Sneaker and sock duly respected and kissed, I begin to lick sneaker.
I observe how mistress Joanna’s soft, white footflesh flexes above the elasticated top of her short, black, cotton ankle sock as I lick the outer surface of her sneaker - a sure sign of a lady’s pleasurable reaction to the sensation of a humble footslave’s tongue on her outer footwear, only this time there is no nylon stocking to crease and fold in reaction to the involuntary movements in her foot-muscles.
Instead I see a long, prominent, blue vein pulsing along mistress Joanna’s outer ankle.
So her pasty-white, gothic foot does have blood circulating through it after all! Perhaps the blood of a male-slave virgin whom she has seduced and sucked at the night before?
Actually, all joking apart, I know for a fact that mistress Joanna is more likely to be out clubbing all night, than seeking out the blood of male-slave virgins like me. I know that because she seems to spend most of her day at the office ringing round her friends and organising her busy social life.
She has reputedly got several boyfriends - and I am not one of them; though I am probably her greatest, secret admirer.
Speaking of admiration, I admire once again that hole in the side of her tatty left sneaker just as soon as it is presented to me for tongue-cleaning. Sure enough a slither of short, black, feminine sock can be seen through the slender hole near the bottom of the sneaker, and, whilst mistress Joanna appears to be distracted by her first social phone-call of the morning to one of her fellow goths, I allow myself the footslavish-luxury of brushing the sensitive tip of my slave-nose against the soft, cotton material of the exposed sock.
Naughty office shoelick! Mistress Joanna will have the skin of your bare back if she detects your insolence!
Fortunately, however, she is too preoccupied with higher things to notice my unauthorised, sock-nuzzling impudence – and I can relish the thought that my nose has brushed against the lower part of a beautiful, young goth-girl’s short, black sneaker sock whilst she is still wearing it inside her dusty and dirty, black, holey sneaker.
My only regret is that it is not later in the day when her sock would be sweatier and smellier.
The gum-chewing blonde – miss Sarah
Next up is mistress Sarah – a beautiful, slim and petite, blonde girl who always wears her hair tied back with a silvery-pink scrunchie and a ponytail.
Rather like mistress Joanna, mistress Sarah – who sits beside her goth colleague at the same desk – is always to be seen in trousers. In her case, however, she always wears boot-cut, plain, navy blue trousers with a stylish pair of black, block-heeled, square-toed, zip-up, ankle boots.
I say always and I mean always. Mistress Sarah never wears anything other than her stylish, black, office ankle boots – even in the height of summer, which truly excites me because I know that her pretty, white feet must be hot and sweaty inside those boots on a hot summer’s day. True the office itself is fully air-conditioned, but she has to travel into the office in those hot boots on a hot summer’s morning!
I wonder how sweaty her precious feet are inside her black ankle-boots this morning? I would dearly love to unzip the sides of her boots with my tongue and sniff her ankles.
This morning I would be sniffing a pair of navy-blue, ankle-length bootsocks – although mistress Sarah isn’t always quite so conservative in her choice of sockwear. I have variously seen her with red, green, yellow and multicoloured socks inside her boots.
I know this because, even though she is always wearing her boots to work, mistress Sarah consistently makes a point of showing me the tops of her socks – or, at least, I like to flatter myself that that is the case. It could just be, of course, that she wants to make sure my mouth has unencumbered access to the upper rims of her block-heeled, black leather ankle-boots as I am tongue-shining them – but, whatever her motivation, mistress Sarah can always be relied upon to hitch up the hems of her navy-blue, boot-cut trouser legs whilst I am attending to her ankle-boot leather with my slave-tongue.
Hence I can always see girl sock-top whilst I am licking blonde-girl boot.
And a very pretty sight it is too – even plain, blue ankle sock such as she is wearing today inside her boots – for it is the sock-choice of a superior and beautiful, young, blonde woman; an office junior who is infinitely higher up the social scale than I am.
I approach her delightful boots and socks whilst she is seated at her desk with her right leg crossed over her left (hence the first glimpse of navy-blue sock!):
‘Oh pray, mistress Sarah. Good morning, mistress Sarah. Does the mistress desire this dirty bootlick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Sarah?’
You wilI notice that I change my title from ‘shoelick’ to ‘bootlick’, purely out of respect for blonde mistress Sarah’s perennial choice of footwear.
Mistress Sarah is chewing gum. She is always chewing gum, just as she is always wearing black ankle-boots.
She looks down at me from on high and utters her response through her pretty, gum-chewing mouth:
‘Erm…you can just shine up my boots as usual, slave, yeah?’
There are some of miss Sarah’s colleagues, including her supervisor, miss Hayley, who would, I have no doubt, somewhat unkindly describe her as a bit ‘thick’. I could not imagine, for example, that miss Sarah would ever be able to come up with some other boot or foot related task for me to perform on her office footwear. Sweet girl though she is, she simply lacks the imagination to be inventive about such things.
Miss Hayley, for example, frequently has me nose her mary-jane shoe straps, and on one glorious occasion even made me scratch her itchy, bare black foot by rubbing my nose against her bare, black anklebone. Similarly Miss Joanna once ordered me to suck the dirt out of her sneaker-laces, and then breathe on them until they were completely dry again. It took me several hours to blow-dry miss Joanna’s thick sneaker-laces.
But miss Sarah never has me do anything other than ‘shine up’ her boots. As she says ‘as usual yeah?’
But that’s fine. I am happy with that. A slave likes consistency in a mistress. It means that he knows exactly how to please her – and he is therefore less likely to feel the wrath of her office-whip.
Miss Sarah just wants her boots tongue-shined as per usual, and thus I shall dutifully tongue-shine them as per usual. And as per usual I shall kiss the square-shaped toes of miss Sarah’s stylish, block-heeled, ankle-boots, and the tops of her navy-blue socks, just as soon as she uncrosses her leg, rests both her booted feet side by side on the office floor, and hitches up the hems of her navy-blue, boot-cut trouser legs to reveal the elasticated tops of her navy-blue bootsocks atop the leather rims of her black leather ankle-boots, all whilst continuing to chew noisily on her mint-flavoured gum.
I begin by lowering my slave-face to the square-shaped toe of her right boot for my introductory kiss.
This is the moment I love - the moment only a humble footslave can experience. The moment my face becomes so close to the leather of another human being’s boot that I can see the little creases and pores in the very material of the leather. I am unnaturally close to another person’s footwear - but since it is the footwear of a female better it does nothing but thrill me to my slave-core. I breathe in the aroma of blonde girl boot-leather, and thank my lucky stars that I was born a slave by nature!
Sure, free men may get to admire mistress Sarah’s pretty face and beautiful, lithe body. But I get to admire her mud-stained boot leather, and the stitching in the tops of her navy-blue bootsocks!
I wouldn’t swap places with my free-male compatriots for one second. Boot is best in my book!
Mistress Sarah is such a sweet and kind mistress that she not only hitches up the hems of her trouser-legs to give my tongue easier access to her boot, her whole boot, and nothing but her boot. She also coquettishly twists her booted ankle to one side in order that I may better nibble on the side of her boot – the side containing the zipper – whilst she nibbles on her chewing gum, for even the intellectually-challenged and gum chewing, blonde-ponytailed mistress Sarah knows that dust and dirt tend to accumulate along a girl’s boot-zipper.
And besides, she simply enjoys watching me lick clean the side of her dusty, dirty boot. It makes her feel strong and powerful – superior.
And its not often she can feel superior vis-a-vis others.
Everyone, however – even the ‘dumb blonde’ mistress Sarah – can justifiably feel superior to me.
For they are.
Miss Yasmin, the Pakistani girl with heavy biker boots
The next pair of feet I encounter on my humble rounds belong to the delectable and ultra-petite Pakistani girl, mistress Yasmin. Mistress Yasmin – at 19 – is the second youngest girl in the office. And her youth means that she has a lot to learn – at least when it comes to indulging office shoelicks like myself!
You see, mistress Yasmin has taken to wearing heavy, black-leather, calf-length boots beneath her plain, black office trousers, meaning that I have absolutely no chance of seeing what socks she is wearing – if any – inside her boots.
This is so frustrating for me – for she is a truly, beautiful Asian girl. I would dearly love to observe what type of socks she is wearing inside her boots whilst I am licking them clean – for I cannot believe she would be wearing such a heavy pair of biker-style boots without socks.
They are truly heavy-looking, clumping great biker boots, with numerous black leather straps and metal buckles on the sides – which make her petite and delicate Pakistani feet look so much bigger than they actually are. Based on her slender figure, I just know that miss Yasmin must have delightfully skinny ankles inside those great, big, clodhopping boots!
They really aren’t the sort of boots that are suitable for office wear – but girls will be girls! She likes them. They clearly make her feel strong and womanly. And for that reason – I must like and admire and honour her biker boots too, even if they do deny me any vision of her socks!
‘Oh pray, mistress Yasmin. Good morning, mistress Yasmin. Does the mistress desire this dirty bootlick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Yasmin?’
Mistress Yasmin has quite a timid-sounding voice. Not very ‘masterful’ at all. But her stern words belie her seemingly timid tone:
‘Be shining up all the buckles and straps on the sides of my boots, you slave - and be making damn well sure you are getting out all the filth and dirt from beneath the straps, or I will be having you whipped on your bare back, you filthy pig!’
Ahh – I do like that in a young, 19 year old, Pakistani woman: arrogance; petulance; menace. It is a case of ‘small-woman syndrome’. Petite and delicate of stature she may be, but her heavy, black leather biker-boots certainly inspire her with confidence. Despite her somewhat timid-sounding voice, her harsh words demonstrate that inside she is in reality a strong and powerful young woman – fully aware of her power and authority over me, a pathetic, old slave-man more than twice her age.
She knows that she may not have the strong arm muscles to whip me hard herself, but she will surely find someone else in this office who will be prepared to whip me on her sweet, feminine behalf – mistress Joanna, perhaps; or even mistress Hayley, the supervisor.
I therefore, without further ado, lower my lips to the reinforced and somewhat scuff-marked leather toecap of Asian-goddess mistress Yasmin’s imperiously outstretched, right, black leather biker-boot and respectfully kiss it, before inserting my tongue underneath the lowest strap on the outside of her calf-length boot – the strap just above the ankle area.
No sock to kiss this time, of course!
It’s a real pity!
Mistress Yasmin knows her favourite pair of calf-length biker-boots well – there is indeed a lot of street-filth and grime stuck beneath that first boot strap. I suppose it is inevitable that dirt will get trapped in such boot-fastenings – although I sense that all these multitudinous straps are more decorative than intended to tighten miss Yasmin’s boot onto her pretty, slender, Pakistani calf-muscles.
As I slowly work my way up to the strap at the top of her boot mistress Yasmin, like mistress Sarah before her, graciously hitches up the hem of her plain, black trouser leg, but even though I get a pleasing glimpse of her soft, smooth, brown Pakistani calf-skin as a result, there is just no way I will be able to look down into the darkness of her boot to see whether miss Yasmin is wearing any socks inside her boots or not.
I therefore, frustratingly, have to content myself with fantasising. I fantasise that she must be wearing a pair of really manky, dirty-white ankle socks inside her hot and heavy, black leather biker-boots – socks made yellowy-brown by repeated wear and repeated footsweat.
Oh what I wouldn’t give to kiss, sniff and lick mistress Yasmin’s manky, yellowy-white bootsocks!
If she is indeed wearing any, that is.
Miss Yasmin’s younger cousin – 18 year old miss Nazia. Soft ballet flats and thick towelling socks.
The final mistress I must serve in this particular room of female office-juniors is the youngest of the five, beautiful young women – 18 year old miss Nazia, another south-asian girl.
In fact, miss Nazia, I am led to believe, is actually miss Yasmin’s first cousin! Hardly surprising since her uncle, miss Yasmin’s father, is the personnel officer for the company, and was easily able to secure both his daughter and niece their positions within the company.
Miss Nazia, unlike her cousin, left school with next to no academic qualifications, and is therefore having to start her career on the lowest rung of the ladder, so to speak. She basically is the office dogsbody – making the tea; doing the filing; fixing the photocopier etc.
But however lowly and menial her office tasks may be at the moment, she is assured a glorious and illustrious career in business in the long run – thanks to the fact that she is female, and connected.
It won’t be too long before miss Nazia has a secretary of her own (probably male) to make the tea.
For the time being however, she can always lord it over me. For I am most definitely below her in rank. In fact, I am little more than middle-aged, pond life compared to 18 year old miss Nazia – and she knows it.
I guess that’s why – of all the girls – she seems to take the most pleasure out of my shoelicking services, deliberately wearing the dirtiest, mankiest footwear she can get away with, and often having me spend anything up to an hour under her desk tongue-cleaning her manky, old shoes, and occasionally even massaging her sweaty-socked feet.
Today is no exception – miss Nazia is wearing manky old socks and shoes: a pair of well-worn and scuff-marked, red leather ballet flats with incongruous, bright yellow towelling socks underneath her boot-cut, tatty and torn, blue-denim jeans!
Mistress Nazia just doesn’t care how scruffy or unfashionable her footwear may be – or how much the various bright colours of her footwear may clash with each other! And why should she care about the state of her footwear? She has the office shoelick to do that for her!
I kneel in front of her well-worn, red leather ballet-flats and thick, yellow ankle socks as she swivels around on her office chair and rests both her feet on the floor beneath my kneeling and expectant face:
‘Oh pray, mistress Nazia. Good morning, mistress Nazia. Does the mistress desire this dirty shoelick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Nazia?’
I then quickly lower my lips to the scuff-marked toes of each of her manky, and musty-smelling, bright red ballet flats, and then to the exposed material of her thick, fluffy, bright yellow, towelling socks, each in turn, even before she can give me her shoeshining orders.
This is because, one of the things I particularly like about serving the arrogant and impetuous mistress Nazia, is that she will often kick off her shoes or boots and rest her socked feet beside them on the floor whilst I endeavour to spruce up her discarded shoes or boots with my tongue. In complete contrast to her sock-hiding cousin, miss Yasmin, I therefore get to see the whole of miss Nazia’s socks of a morning.
But much as I would always encourage any young woman to slip off her shoes and show me her socks whilst my tongue ministers to her outer footwear, I do like my initial reverential kiss to her outer footwear to take place whilst the mistress is still wearing the shoe over her sock. Kissing a discarded shoe is honour enough for a humble footslave – but nothing can beat the sense of degradation and humility one gets from kissing the dirty footwear of another human being whilst they are still wearing it. In so doing you are paying homage to the wearer of the shoe – and not just the shoe itself!
This morning, as I anticipated, miss Nazia does indeed slip her yellow-socked feet out of her manky, red ballet flats just as soon as I have finished kissing her shoes and socks:
‘Be licking clean the insides of my shoes, filthy foot-pig. And I am wanting to be seeing my face in them when you are being finished!’
You see? Inventive! What an inventive young woman miss Nazia is – totally unlike miss Sarah. Miss Sarah would never think to order the office shoelick to lick clean the insides of her ankle boots – nor would she reinforce such a degrading command with the somewhat ridiculous stipulation that she must be able to see her reflection in the insides of her shoes when I have finished licking them!
Miss Nazia is setting me up for a punishment, by setting me an impossible task – that of tongue-shining the insides of her manky old ballet flats; ballet flats with a dull, beige inner lining, marked with various darker areas of ingrained sweat.
Mission impossible or not, I get down to it with my tongue, eagerly inhaling the aroma of stale sweat from inside miss Nazia’s musty old, red leather ballet flats as I simultaneously taste the saltiness of that stale, girlish footsweat on my footslave tongue.
And all the while mistress Nazia mischievously seeks to distract me from my licking of her manky, red ballet flats by consciously wriggling her pretty, Pakistani toes inside her equally manky-looking, thick and fluffy, bright yellow towelling socks – socks whose tops disappear up into the hems of her boot-cut, tatty and torn, blue denim jean legs.
I do hope that miss Nazia will have me massage her yellow-socked toes and feet after I have tongue-shone the insides of her scruffy, red ballet flats to her complete, feminine satisfaction. The socks already look rather damp and moist, and I would dearly love to feel that feminine warmth and moistness on my slave fingers!
I cannot see miss Nazia’s precious calf-muscle beneath her denim jeans, but I know that, like her cousin miss Yasmin's leg, it will be brown – the soft, brown leg-skin of a beautiful Pakistani girl.
I continue to lick the Pakistani girl’s inner shoe-lining, and admire her thick, yellow towelling socks. This is what I do for living. It is my job. And I hope you have enjoyed crawling around the floor with me as I humbly do my rounds.
But before you ask – no; there are no vacancies for a new office shoelick at present.
At least – not in this office. Not while I serve and breathe!
The End.
My job is to tongue-shine all the lovely boots and shoes of the office ladies – usually whilst they are still wearing them. Every morning I must ‘do my rounds’, and crawl on my hands and knees from room to room, desk to desk, in order to offer up my tongue in humble service to the ladies’ superior footwear.
I am currently entering the room containing the junior, female staff. There are five girls working in it – all young and pretty, their ages ranging from 18 to 25. Being young and haughty they, naturally, take great delight in availing themselves of my servile, shoelicking services, especially since I am twice the age of even the eldest girl in the room, which makes my humiliation at their feet all the more exciting for them.
As it does for me.
It is a very grade-ist office, and I must follow a strict protocol as to which office-lady’s feet and footwear I service first – beginning with the most senior young lady in the office, 25 year old miss Hayley, the office manageress.
The tall and slim, Afro-Caribbean office manageress – miss Hayley
Miss Hayley, being the head of the office juniors’ section, has her own desk in the far corner of the room – a somewhat imposing desk befitting her supervisory status. She is currently seated at her desk, drinking a cup of morning coffee, and reading through her emails on her computer.
I am always a bit nervous about interrupting miss Hayley, as she always appears very strict to me – schoolmarmish almost. She always has her long, black, braided hair tied back in a severe-looking bun, and she wears no-nonsense dark-rimmed glasses on her pretty, Afro-Caribbean face. She also dresses more smartly than some of the other office juniors, even though she is fairly low-ranking herself (I think she has aspirations for promotion).
Today is no exception. Miss Hayley is wearing a smart, businesswoman suit comprised of a stylish, navy blue, pinstriped jacket over a frilly, white, blouse; a demure knee-length skirt; dark nylon stockings (almost black to match her beautiful, rich, black skin); and shiny black, wedge-heeled, round-toed, single-strapped, patent leather office-shoes.
Miss Hayley is seated with her shapely, nylon-stockinged ankles crossed over one another as they rest beneath her desk on the office floor. Her shiny, black, mary-jane style shoes, as always, already look immaculate on her shapely, dark-nylon-stockinged, Afro-Caribbean feet and ankles, yet my job description nevertheless requires me, as the office shoelick, to humbly offer to shine her shoes for her still further, utilising my shoeshining slave-tongue.
I therefore, nervously, interrupt what she is doing, and beg miss Hayley for the honour of sprucing up her outer footwear:
‘Oh pray, mistress Hayley. Good morning, mistress Hayley. Does the mistress desire this dirty shoelick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Hayley?’
She tuts to herself – clearly irritated by my whining, weaselly slave-voice – looks disparagingly down on me through her severe, black-rimmed glasses on the end of her nose, and nonchalantly unfurls her dark-nylon-stockinged ankles so that her right foot is now extended on the floor directly beneath my humbly kneeling nose:
‘You can give them a quick shine, foot-faggot,’ she crows triumphantly down at me in a strong Jamaican accent.
From the haughty and dismissive tone of her Jamaican voice I can tell that mistress Hayley certainly thinks she is bestowing a great honour upon me in acceding to my grovelling request to spruce up her footwear with my tongue.
Which she undoubtedly is.
I shuffle forward on my hands and knees so that my bowed head is directly above the shiny, rounded toe of her outstretched, single-strapped, mary-jane style, patent black leather, office shoe.
I always like to kiss a superior lady’s shoe before I lick it. It’s not actually a written part of my footslave-contract to do so, but I just think it helps to assure the lady of my complete and utter devotion to her and to her footwear – whosoever she may be. By kissing her shoe-leather before I have licked it clean, I am clearly affirming that she is my superior and better, and that I am indeed honoured to be kneeling on the floor at her feet and at her mercy.
Moreover, a respectfully delivered shoekiss should always prove to be a pleasant sensation for the black, female wearer of the shoe - feeling a dirty, male, footslave’s lips paying humble homage to the outer, protective footwear that covers her soft, black feminine foot.
Indeed, a kiss to a lady’s shoe even indicates that the feminine item of footwear is, in and of itself, my female better.
For precisely those same reasons I also like to kiss ladies’ nylon stockings and socks – always on the foot area – just to publicly demonstrate to the world my utter humility and contrition at the feet and footwear of my female betters, whatever their ethnicity, and whatever the material of their footwear.
And so, unbidden, I gently and respectfully place my slave-lips first to the shiny, rounded toe of mistress Hayley’s black shoe leather, and then to the rough, dark-nylon material covering her shapely, outer ankle bone, prior to beginning my allotted task of giving mistress Hayley’s right shoe ‘a quick shine’ with my slave-tongue.
Unlike the rough nylon of her dark stocking, the leather of the young, Afro-Caribbean woman’s shiny, black shoe feels perfectly smooth under my tongue – I fail to detect any traces of street dirt or dust on the outer leather of the shoe. It is, essentially, a clean shoe. I am convinced mistress Hayley must have her smart, office mary-janes tongue-polished by her personal footslave at home every morning before she sets out for work. For they are always immaculate!
This, of course, is somewhat disappointing for a footslave like me. For a male footslave is essentially dirt – and is therefore attracted to dirt. Indeed I would go further – I live on dirt. Ladies’ shoe dirt supplements my meagre diet of bland and tasteless slave-gruel, and spices up my life with its various dirty flavours. Whenever I lick a lady’s shoes, therefore, I am always seeking out dirt with my tongue – shoe-dirt that I can savour and roll about in my mouth before swallowing it!
Swallowing Amazons’ shoe dirt. That’s what I live for.
But in the case of the Amazonian mistress Hayley’s shoe there is simply no dirt to be found – just freshly-polished, clean, black shoe-leather.
At least I can see little traces of white fluff on the fine material of her dark, nylon-stocking as I assiduously lick at her outer footwear. The outstretched positioning of her right foot beneath the desk has caused one or two pleasing little creases to appear in her dark-coloured stocking around her shapely anklebone, and it is in one of those very creases that I can even observe a small, foreign hair.
It is not one of mistress Hayley’s black hairs. It is a tiny, light brown hair. Like the tiny white pieces of fluff, it is clearly a foreign object stuck to the finest denier material of mistress Hayley’s dark-coloured office-stockings.
And there, sadly, is where it will stay – for whilst I may make so bold as to kiss a lady’s stockings by way of a preamble to my foot-servitude at her feet without her expressly bidding me to do so, I know better than to lick pieces of fluff or foreign hairs off a lady’s hosiery without her explicit permission.
Such impertinence in a lowly office footslave would be sure to be severely punished. A brown, leather slave-whip hangs ominously on every wall in the office building for the use of the office ladies on my bare back whensoever they see fit, and - having been acquainted with its sharp, feminine sting many times in the past - I now make it my daily business to do everything I can to avoid displeasing my female superiors and betters by, quite literally, keeping my head down and doing exactly what I am told.
If I am ordered to lick sock or nylon stocking I will do so. If I am ordered merely to shine shoe, then that is what I will do.
I therefore studiously avoid the temptation to lick the foreign debris from the side of mistress Hayley’s otherwise immaculately-nyloned outer ankle bone, and instead run my tongue carefully along the narrow, black leather, buckled strap that runs along the top of her beautiful, Afro-Caribbean foot.
Without even bothering to inspect my work through her black-rimmed glasses, the black woman, mistress Hayley, withdraws her right foot from my mouth after a few minutes, and replaces it with her left, whilst simultaneously sending off a reply to an important email.
She is thinking about the content of her email. Not about me. The email is more important than me, for I am just the office shoelick – hardly worthy of a second thought.
When I have finished tongue-shining mistress Hayley’s left, wedge-heeled, mary-jane shoe (which chore I only know I have finished by virtue of the fact that she has withdrawn her shoe from my face and has stood up to walk out of the room) I crawl over contritely towards the next highest-ranking office junior in the room – 23 year old mistress Joanna (‘Jo’ to her female office colleagues, but most definitely ‘mistress Joanna’ or ‘miss Joanna’ to me – for she is my better).
Mistress Joanna, the goth
Miss Joanna is arguably the cruelest of the 5 girls in the juniors’ office. If you thought that the office-supervisor, miss Hayley, sounded scary and stand-offish – just wait until you meet mistress Joanna!
She is quite a different personality type from her immediate boss – miss Hayley. Mistress Joanna, for one thing, is a ‘goth’ – and she dresses accordingly, albeit toned down for the office.
She still gets away with wearing dark purple make-up to work on her otherwise rather pale, white face, and her naturally brown, straight, shoulder-length hair is died a deep, rich black. She also wears large, gothic-style rings on her pretty, white fingers – depicting skulls and witches’ cauldrons etc.
Anything to do with the dark side.
More importantly – from my viewpoint kneeling on the office floor at her feet – mistress Joanna is always dressed predominantly in black: black jacket; dark blue blouse; black trousers; black ankle socks; and black sneakers.
Her black ankle socks and sneakers are, of course, my primary interest – for it is they that I must focus all my footslavish attention on, day after day.
The only thing that ever seems to change about mistress Joanna’s footwear is the length of her socks. Yes – they are nearly always plain black to match her plain, black lace-up sneakers, but I have seen her wear everything from calf-length socks to short, ‘no show’ socks inside her sneakers and beneath the hems of her black, office trouser legs.
Today, for example, she has opted for the low-cut style of sneaker socks, meaning that, as she sits at her desk above me in all her gothic splendour, only the thin, elasticated tops of her short, black socks are visible above the upper rims of her sneakers.
If truth be told I prefer it when mistress Joanna wears these very short socks inside her sneakers, as it means I get to see the pale white of her bare ankle skin above the stretched tops of her socks. Her pale skin is in such contrast to the rich black of the short cotton socks. It almost looks as though her pasty-white foot is drained of blood, like she was some sort of gothic vampiress, waiting for her next fix of maleslave blood.
Mistress Joanna truly does scare me. I am totally in awe of her as she towers above me seated at her desk. I imagine she could potentially be very cruel towards her personal slave, if she had one. I cannot see her being squeamish about using the whip on a slave’s back, for example – although I have to admit she has never yet had occasion to use the office slave-whip on my bare and prostrate back!
Perhaps she only whips when she rises up out of her coffin in the twilight hours and is thirsting for some maleslave blood!
If I were privileged enough to be a young vampire-woman’s personal footslave – mistress Joanna would be the very young woman I would wish to serve. Even though I truly fear her sinister obsession with all things dark and gothic, and even though I fear the sting of the female whip, I just admire her short, black socks and black, lace-up sneakers so much that I feel as though all the pain in the world would be worth enduring for the honour of spending my whole day (and night?) crawling behind and serving the vampire-mistress miss Joanna’s feet.
But I don’t have all day and night to serve her socks and sneakers – only a few minutes. And so I do my humble best to attract her attention as I kneel beside her sneakered feet under her office desk, by humbly repeating my early morning mantra:
‘Oh pray, mistress Joanna. Good morning, mistress Joanna. Does the mistress desire this dirty shoelick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Joanna?’
Mistress Joanna is eating a blueberry muffin. I can smell it. She is always eating. She is rather overweight – but not on her legs, ankles and feet. All of the excess weight seems to go on her hips and buttocks – and since those parts of her sweet, feminine body are, quite literally, above me, I do not concern myself with mistress Joanna’s weight problem.
She sucks some sticky muffin of her finger and answers me with her mouth full:
‘Clean the filth off my sneakers, slave.’
Once again a female foot, this time a goth foot, is arrogantly and imperiously stretched out before me, although, unlike the previous shoe I was obliged to lick, this shoe is a dirty shoe – a dirt-stained and dusty, plain black, lace-up sneaker. If it wasn’t a black sneaker – if it was a white sneaker – the ingrained street-dirt would stand out even more prominently in front of my eyes, but even against a background of black the dirt is clearly visible.
This is precisely the sort of female footwear I like – dirty, scruffy, tatty, unkempt. It is the footwear of a girl who just doesn’t care. Mistress Joanna’s left sneaker, I happen to know, even has a hole in its side where the stitching on the sole has come loose. I know that because I can sometimes observe her sock through the hole in her left sneaker.
But it is currently her right sneaker that is arrogantly stretched forward on the floor for me to lick clean, and her right sneaker does not, to my knowledge, have any holes in it – just the small, round metal eyelets which the dirty and dusty, thick black laces are threaded through.
Once again I lower my lips to the rounded toe of a black, feminine shoe in order to deliver to it a respectful, slavish kiss – only this time my lips instantly make contact with rough little grains of dirt. I can feel them moving on the surface of the shoe underneath my pursed lips.
Oh what fun I am going to have licking and swallowing those little grains of dirt from the surface of mistress Joanna’s dirty, gothic sneaker!
First, however, I must pay homage to her gothic sock, in line with my personal protocol. I therefore raise my puckered slave-lips to the elasticated top of her short, black sock, just below her pasty-white, but shapely, anklebone and place my lips on the elasticated and stretched, black cotton material – taking great care that my upper lip does not stray onto bare, female flesh. I sense that mistress Joanna likes having her sock kissed – but she would undoubtedly be offended, as any young woman would be, by a slave’s unauthorised contact with her bare skin.
Sneaker and sock duly respected and kissed, I begin to lick sneaker.
I observe how mistress Joanna’s soft, white footflesh flexes above the elasticated top of her short, black, cotton ankle sock as I lick the outer surface of her sneaker - a sure sign of a lady’s pleasurable reaction to the sensation of a humble footslave’s tongue on her outer footwear, only this time there is no nylon stocking to crease and fold in reaction to the involuntary movements in her foot-muscles.
Instead I see a long, prominent, blue vein pulsing along mistress Joanna’s outer ankle.
So her pasty-white, gothic foot does have blood circulating through it after all! Perhaps the blood of a male-slave virgin whom she has seduced and sucked at the night before?
Actually, all joking apart, I know for a fact that mistress Joanna is more likely to be out clubbing all night, than seeking out the blood of male-slave virgins like me. I know that because she seems to spend most of her day at the office ringing round her friends and organising her busy social life.
She has reputedly got several boyfriends - and I am not one of them; though I am probably her greatest, secret admirer.
Speaking of admiration, I admire once again that hole in the side of her tatty left sneaker just as soon as it is presented to me for tongue-cleaning. Sure enough a slither of short, black, feminine sock can be seen through the slender hole near the bottom of the sneaker, and, whilst mistress Joanna appears to be distracted by her first social phone-call of the morning to one of her fellow goths, I allow myself the footslavish-luxury of brushing the sensitive tip of my slave-nose against the soft, cotton material of the exposed sock.
Naughty office shoelick! Mistress Joanna will have the skin of your bare back if she detects your insolence!
Fortunately, however, she is too preoccupied with higher things to notice my unauthorised, sock-nuzzling impudence – and I can relish the thought that my nose has brushed against the lower part of a beautiful, young goth-girl’s short, black sneaker sock whilst she is still wearing it inside her dusty and dirty, black, holey sneaker.
My only regret is that it is not later in the day when her sock would be sweatier and smellier.
The gum-chewing blonde – miss Sarah
Next up is mistress Sarah – a beautiful, slim and petite, blonde girl who always wears her hair tied back with a silvery-pink scrunchie and a ponytail.
Rather like mistress Joanna, mistress Sarah – who sits beside her goth colleague at the same desk – is always to be seen in trousers. In her case, however, she always wears boot-cut, plain, navy blue trousers with a stylish pair of black, block-heeled, square-toed, zip-up, ankle boots.
I say always and I mean always. Mistress Sarah never wears anything other than her stylish, black, office ankle boots – even in the height of summer, which truly excites me because I know that her pretty, white feet must be hot and sweaty inside those boots on a hot summer’s day. True the office itself is fully air-conditioned, but she has to travel into the office in those hot boots on a hot summer’s morning!
I wonder how sweaty her precious feet are inside her black ankle-boots this morning? I would dearly love to unzip the sides of her boots with my tongue and sniff her ankles.
This morning I would be sniffing a pair of navy-blue, ankle-length bootsocks – although mistress Sarah isn’t always quite so conservative in her choice of sockwear. I have variously seen her with red, green, yellow and multicoloured socks inside her boots.
I know this because, even though she is always wearing her boots to work, mistress Sarah consistently makes a point of showing me the tops of her socks – or, at least, I like to flatter myself that that is the case. It could just be, of course, that she wants to make sure my mouth has unencumbered access to the upper rims of her block-heeled, black leather ankle-boots as I am tongue-shining them – but, whatever her motivation, mistress Sarah can always be relied upon to hitch up the hems of her navy-blue, boot-cut trouser legs whilst I am attending to her ankle-boot leather with my slave-tongue.
Hence I can always see girl sock-top whilst I am licking blonde-girl boot.
And a very pretty sight it is too – even plain, blue ankle sock such as she is wearing today inside her boots – for it is the sock-choice of a superior and beautiful, young, blonde woman; an office junior who is infinitely higher up the social scale than I am.
I approach her delightful boots and socks whilst she is seated at her desk with her right leg crossed over her left (hence the first glimpse of navy-blue sock!):
‘Oh pray, mistress Sarah. Good morning, mistress Sarah. Does the mistress desire this dirty bootlick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Sarah?’
You wilI notice that I change my title from ‘shoelick’ to ‘bootlick’, purely out of respect for blonde mistress Sarah’s perennial choice of footwear.
Mistress Sarah is chewing gum. She is always chewing gum, just as she is always wearing black ankle-boots.
She looks down at me from on high and utters her response through her pretty, gum-chewing mouth:
‘Erm…you can just shine up my boots as usual, slave, yeah?’
There are some of miss Sarah’s colleagues, including her supervisor, miss Hayley, who would, I have no doubt, somewhat unkindly describe her as a bit ‘thick’. I could not imagine, for example, that miss Sarah would ever be able to come up with some other boot or foot related task for me to perform on her office footwear. Sweet girl though she is, she simply lacks the imagination to be inventive about such things.
Miss Hayley, for example, frequently has me nose her mary-jane shoe straps, and on one glorious occasion even made me scratch her itchy, bare black foot by rubbing my nose against her bare, black anklebone. Similarly Miss Joanna once ordered me to suck the dirt out of her sneaker-laces, and then breathe on them until they were completely dry again. It took me several hours to blow-dry miss Joanna’s thick sneaker-laces.
But miss Sarah never has me do anything other than ‘shine up’ her boots. As she says ‘as usual yeah?’
But that’s fine. I am happy with that. A slave likes consistency in a mistress. It means that he knows exactly how to please her – and he is therefore less likely to feel the wrath of her office-whip.
Miss Sarah just wants her boots tongue-shined as per usual, and thus I shall dutifully tongue-shine them as per usual. And as per usual I shall kiss the square-shaped toes of miss Sarah’s stylish, block-heeled, ankle-boots, and the tops of her navy-blue socks, just as soon as she uncrosses her leg, rests both her booted feet side by side on the office floor, and hitches up the hems of her navy-blue, boot-cut trouser legs to reveal the elasticated tops of her navy-blue bootsocks atop the leather rims of her black leather ankle-boots, all whilst continuing to chew noisily on her mint-flavoured gum.
I begin by lowering my slave-face to the square-shaped toe of her right boot for my introductory kiss.
This is the moment I love - the moment only a humble footslave can experience. The moment my face becomes so close to the leather of another human being’s boot that I can see the little creases and pores in the very material of the leather. I am unnaturally close to another person’s footwear - but since it is the footwear of a female better it does nothing but thrill me to my slave-core. I breathe in the aroma of blonde girl boot-leather, and thank my lucky stars that I was born a slave by nature!
Sure, free men may get to admire mistress Sarah’s pretty face and beautiful, lithe body. But I get to admire her mud-stained boot leather, and the stitching in the tops of her navy-blue bootsocks!
I wouldn’t swap places with my free-male compatriots for one second. Boot is best in my book!
Mistress Sarah is such a sweet and kind mistress that she not only hitches up the hems of her trouser-legs to give my tongue easier access to her boot, her whole boot, and nothing but her boot. She also coquettishly twists her booted ankle to one side in order that I may better nibble on the side of her boot – the side containing the zipper – whilst she nibbles on her chewing gum, for even the intellectually-challenged and gum chewing, blonde-ponytailed mistress Sarah knows that dust and dirt tend to accumulate along a girl’s boot-zipper.
And besides, she simply enjoys watching me lick clean the side of her dusty, dirty boot. It makes her feel strong and powerful – superior.
And its not often she can feel superior vis-a-vis others.
Everyone, however – even the ‘dumb blonde’ mistress Sarah – can justifiably feel superior to me.
For they are.
Miss Yasmin, the Pakistani girl with heavy biker boots
The next pair of feet I encounter on my humble rounds belong to the delectable and ultra-petite Pakistani girl, mistress Yasmin. Mistress Yasmin – at 19 – is the second youngest girl in the office. And her youth means that she has a lot to learn – at least when it comes to indulging office shoelicks like myself!
You see, mistress Yasmin has taken to wearing heavy, black-leather, calf-length boots beneath her plain, black office trousers, meaning that I have absolutely no chance of seeing what socks she is wearing – if any – inside her boots.
This is so frustrating for me – for she is a truly, beautiful Asian girl. I would dearly love to observe what type of socks she is wearing inside her boots whilst I am licking them clean – for I cannot believe she would be wearing such a heavy pair of biker-style boots without socks.
They are truly heavy-looking, clumping great biker boots, with numerous black leather straps and metal buckles on the sides – which make her petite and delicate Pakistani feet look so much bigger than they actually are. Based on her slender figure, I just know that miss Yasmin must have delightfully skinny ankles inside those great, big, clodhopping boots!
They really aren’t the sort of boots that are suitable for office wear – but girls will be girls! She likes them. They clearly make her feel strong and womanly. And for that reason – I must like and admire and honour her biker boots too, even if they do deny me any vision of her socks!
‘Oh pray, mistress Yasmin. Good morning, mistress Yasmin. Does the mistress desire this dirty bootlick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Yasmin?’
Mistress Yasmin has quite a timid-sounding voice. Not very ‘masterful’ at all. But her stern words belie her seemingly timid tone:
‘Be shining up all the buckles and straps on the sides of my boots, you slave - and be making damn well sure you are getting out all the filth and dirt from beneath the straps, or I will be having you whipped on your bare back, you filthy pig!’
Ahh – I do like that in a young, 19 year old, Pakistani woman: arrogance; petulance; menace. It is a case of ‘small-woman syndrome’. Petite and delicate of stature she may be, but her heavy, black leather biker-boots certainly inspire her with confidence. Despite her somewhat timid-sounding voice, her harsh words demonstrate that inside she is in reality a strong and powerful young woman – fully aware of her power and authority over me, a pathetic, old slave-man more than twice her age.
She knows that she may not have the strong arm muscles to whip me hard herself, but she will surely find someone else in this office who will be prepared to whip me on her sweet, feminine behalf – mistress Joanna, perhaps; or even mistress Hayley, the supervisor.
I therefore, without further ado, lower my lips to the reinforced and somewhat scuff-marked leather toecap of Asian-goddess mistress Yasmin’s imperiously outstretched, right, black leather biker-boot and respectfully kiss it, before inserting my tongue underneath the lowest strap on the outside of her calf-length boot – the strap just above the ankle area.
No sock to kiss this time, of course!
It’s a real pity!
Mistress Yasmin knows her favourite pair of calf-length biker-boots well – there is indeed a lot of street-filth and grime stuck beneath that first boot strap. I suppose it is inevitable that dirt will get trapped in such boot-fastenings – although I sense that all these multitudinous straps are more decorative than intended to tighten miss Yasmin’s boot onto her pretty, slender, Pakistani calf-muscles.
As I slowly work my way up to the strap at the top of her boot mistress Yasmin, like mistress Sarah before her, graciously hitches up the hem of her plain, black trouser leg, but even though I get a pleasing glimpse of her soft, smooth, brown Pakistani calf-skin as a result, there is just no way I will be able to look down into the darkness of her boot to see whether miss Yasmin is wearing any socks inside her boots or not.
I therefore, frustratingly, have to content myself with fantasising. I fantasise that she must be wearing a pair of really manky, dirty-white ankle socks inside her hot and heavy, black leather biker-boots – socks made yellowy-brown by repeated wear and repeated footsweat.
Oh what I wouldn’t give to kiss, sniff and lick mistress Yasmin’s manky, yellowy-white bootsocks!
If she is indeed wearing any, that is.
Miss Yasmin’s younger cousin – 18 year old miss Nazia. Soft ballet flats and thick towelling socks.
The final mistress I must serve in this particular room of female office-juniors is the youngest of the five, beautiful young women – 18 year old miss Nazia, another south-asian girl.
In fact, miss Nazia, I am led to believe, is actually miss Yasmin’s first cousin! Hardly surprising since her uncle, miss Yasmin’s father, is the personnel officer for the company, and was easily able to secure both his daughter and niece their positions within the company.
Miss Nazia, unlike her cousin, left school with next to no academic qualifications, and is therefore having to start her career on the lowest rung of the ladder, so to speak. She basically is the office dogsbody – making the tea; doing the filing; fixing the photocopier etc.
But however lowly and menial her office tasks may be at the moment, she is assured a glorious and illustrious career in business in the long run – thanks to the fact that she is female, and connected.
It won’t be too long before miss Nazia has a secretary of her own (probably male) to make the tea.
For the time being however, she can always lord it over me. For I am most definitely below her in rank. In fact, I am little more than middle-aged, pond life compared to 18 year old miss Nazia – and she knows it.
I guess that’s why – of all the girls – she seems to take the most pleasure out of my shoelicking services, deliberately wearing the dirtiest, mankiest footwear she can get away with, and often having me spend anything up to an hour under her desk tongue-cleaning her manky, old shoes, and occasionally even massaging her sweaty-socked feet.
Today is no exception – miss Nazia is wearing manky old socks and shoes: a pair of well-worn and scuff-marked, red leather ballet flats with incongruous, bright yellow towelling socks underneath her boot-cut, tatty and torn, blue-denim jeans!
Mistress Nazia just doesn’t care how scruffy or unfashionable her footwear may be – or how much the various bright colours of her footwear may clash with each other! And why should she care about the state of her footwear? She has the office shoelick to do that for her!
I kneel in front of her well-worn, red leather ballet-flats and thick, yellow ankle socks as she swivels around on her office chair and rests both her feet on the floor beneath my kneeling and expectant face:
‘Oh pray, mistress Nazia. Good morning, mistress Nazia. Does the mistress desire this dirty shoelick’s services this morning, if you would be so kind most respected mistress Nazia?’
I then quickly lower my lips to the scuff-marked toes of each of her manky, and musty-smelling, bright red ballet flats, and then to the exposed material of her thick, fluffy, bright yellow, towelling socks, each in turn, even before she can give me her shoeshining orders.
This is because, one of the things I particularly like about serving the arrogant and impetuous mistress Nazia, is that she will often kick off her shoes or boots and rest her socked feet beside them on the floor whilst I endeavour to spruce up her discarded shoes or boots with my tongue. In complete contrast to her sock-hiding cousin, miss Yasmin, I therefore get to see the whole of miss Nazia’s socks of a morning.
But much as I would always encourage any young woman to slip off her shoes and show me her socks whilst my tongue ministers to her outer footwear, I do like my initial reverential kiss to her outer footwear to take place whilst the mistress is still wearing the shoe over her sock. Kissing a discarded shoe is honour enough for a humble footslave – but nothing can beat the sense of degradation and humility one gets from kissing the dirty footwear of another human being whilst they are still wearing it. In so doing you are paying homage to the wearer of the shoe – and not just the shoe itself!
This morning, as I anticipated, miss Nazia does indeed slip her yellow-socked feet out of her manky, red ballet flats just as soon as I have finished kissing her shoes and socks:
‘Be licking clean the insides of my shoes, filthy foot-pig. And I am wanting to be seeing my face in them when you are being finished!’
You see? Inventive! What an inventive young woman miss Nazia is – totally unlike miss Sarah. Miss Sarah would never think to order the office shoelick to lick clean the insides of her ankle boots – nor would she reinforce such a degrading command with the somewhat ridiculous stipulation that she must be able to see her reflection in the insides of her shoes when I have finished licking them!
Miss Nazia is setting me up for a punishment, by setting me an impossible task – that of tongue-shining the insides of her manky old ballet flats; ballet flats with a dull, beige inner lining, marked with various darker areas of ingrained sweat.
Mission impossible or not, I get down to it with my tongue, eagerly inhaling the aroma of stale sweat from inside miss Nazia’s musty old, red leather ballet flats as I simultaneously taste the saltiness of that stale, girlish footsweat on my footslave tongue.
And all the while mistress Nazia mischievously seeks to distract me from my licking of her manky, red ballet flats by consciously wriggling her pretty, Pakistani toes inside her equally manky-looking, thick and fluffy, bright yellow towelling socks – socks whose tops disappear up into the hems of her boot-cut, tatty and torn, blue denim jean legs.
I do hope that miss Nazia will have me massage her yellow-socked toes and feet after I have tongue-shone the insides of her scruffy, red ballet flats to her complete, feminine satisfaction. The socks already look rather damp and moist, and I would dearly love to feel that feminine warmth and moistness on my slave fingers!
I cannot see miss Nazia’s precious calf-muscle beneath her denim jeans, but I know that, like her cousin miss Yasmin's leg, it will be brown – the soft, brown leg-skin of a beautiful Pakistani girl.
I continue to lick the Pakistani girl’s inner shoe-lining, and admire her thick, yellow towelling socks. This is what I do for living. It is my job. And I hope you have enjoyed crawling around the floor with me as I humbly do my rounds.
But before you ask – no; there are no vacancies for a new office shoelick at present.
At least – not in this office. Not while I serve and breathe!
The End.
