The Footslave-Beggar
45 year old slave Alex was a footslave-beggar. He crawled the streets of the Gynarchy offering to lick clean the dirty shoes and boots of superior women in return for some loose change.
It’s not that he was homeless, as such. Nor did he himself have any need of the money. For he had a roof over his head of sorts and a mistress of his own – mistress Constance. But it was that very mistress Constance who sent him out onto the streets every night to beg, in order to supplement her income.
That was because mistress Constance, an immigrant from West Africa, could not be bothered to find work herself. She preferred to laze around the house, to rely on the generous handouts she received from the Female State, and to send her personal footslave out to work on her behalf – the footslave supplied to her for free by the same Female Welfare State that had granted her Female Asylum in the Gynarchy some 6 years’ previously.
Mistress Constance, you see, was a rather corpulent and lazy young woman of 27. She had never done a day’s work in her life – and never would. Why should she? She no longer needed to work; she was now set up for life; life as a superior, free mistress in the Gynarchy. Nothing wrong with that.
She lived with her 33 year old, common-law husband Samuel – also a refugee from West Africa; although he had only qualified to stay in the Gynarchy as Constance’s dependant, of course. Males – free males – cannot be granted Asylum in their own right in the Gynarchy! Ha! Ha! Who ever heard of a male being granted Female Asylum?! Ha! Ha!
No, 33 year old Samuel – master Samuel to slave Alex – was also made up for life, providing he kept in with his common-law partner Constance. He too would never have to work and could survive on the income Constance received from the Female State – supplemented by the income they derived from the begging-labour of their slave, the footslave Alex, out on the streets.
It was a typical evening in the contented African couple’s household. Constance and Samuel had just eaten their hearty evening meal, and were canoodling on the sofa in their living room in front of the television.
Slave Alex was on his hands and knees in the kitchen licking up their leftovers from the kitchen floor. It was all he was ever allowed to eat – mistress Constance and master Samuel’s leftovers. It wasn’t that the happy, West African couple couldn’t afford to feed their household slave; the slave came with an allowance so that he could be adequately fed and watered. It was simply that Constance and Samuel preferred to spend the allowance on themselves, buying new clothes and new stuff for the house. They weren’t that bothered if their slave went hungry.
At about 8 o’clock – just as the couple’s favourite soap was about to start on the TV – mistress Constance summoned her slave Alex into the living room in her thick, West African accent:
‘Slave-boy, come here!’
Constance always referred to her personal footslave as a ‘boy’, even though he was nearly 20 years’ her senior, because she knew what it was like to have a real man in the house – her beloved Samuel. She resumed kissing the latter as she lay in his manly arms on the sofa (a sofa paid for in part by her footslave’s begging out on the streets) hardly noticing as slave Alex dutifully and expeditiously crawled on his hands and knees into the living room and knelt, head suitably bowed, beside his superior mistress’s fat, black, bare feet beneath her ankle length, black cotton leggings.
Mistress Constance was not an unattractive girl. She may have been somewhat plump and overweight (as, indeed, was her boyfriend Samuel), but slave Alex was in total awe of his West African mistress. That was because she exuded absolute, female power and treated him like dirt. She clearly didn’t care, for example, that her ankles were fat and unshapely, for she had her footslave kiss, lick and massage her fat, blubbery feet repeatedly throughout the day – sometimes whilst they were bare; sometimes in socks. And mistress Constance unabashedly demanded that her slave worship her fat feet and ankles with his face and tongue; that he treat them like they were some sort of African deities.
The slave Alex indulged his fat mistress in her whims and fancies – as a good slave should – and duly worshipped his African mistress’s thick ankles with all his slavish being. For they were the soft, fat ankles of his self-centred, self-obsessed and lazy mistress; and he realised that, for all their imperfections, they were therefore his betters, and worthy of his adoration and respect.
Indeed, the more mistress Constance treated slave Alex like the dirt beneath her flabby feet, the more he worshipped them. He consumed the sweet, feminine perspiration they exuded with respect and humility, as befits a slave, and supplemented his own meagre diet with his sweet and kind African mistress’s dead footskin whenever he could.
Yes - mistress Constance was his infinite superior and better, and he was just her good-for-nothing, lazy footslave.
The divine and regal mistress Constance interrupted her canoodling with her manly African husband only to bark down her familiar, evening-time orders to her dirty footslave:
‘Slave-boy, go out on the streets and earn us some money. Offer to lick clean the dirty shoes and boots of women, and bring us back what you earn. And make damn well sure you are back by 2 o’clock at the latest! I want you to wash my stinky feet before I go to bed.’
She then indolently extends her podgy (and as she had correctly described it, ‘stinky’), right, bare foot directly underneath slave Alex’s kneeling and attentive face for him to kiss and obey:
‘Yes mistress Constance. At once mistress Constance. As it pleases you goddess-mistress Constance.’
Master Samuel, the goddess’s common law partner, adds in his pennyworth:
‘Ha! Ha! And make sure you bring back at least 10 Fems, slave! Otherwise you will have me to answer to! I am going to buy myself a new coat tomorrow with your money. Now get out!’
‘Yes master Samuel, sir. As you wish, master Samuel, sir.’
Slave Alex, thank goodness, was never required to actually kiss his master’s feet. That was taboo in the Gynarchy. Indeed, it was illegal for a slave to kiss another man’s feet – even the feet of a free man. But slave Alex was obliged by law to respect and fawn to master Samuel – since the free man was his superior, being the chosen sexual partner of his mistress.
Slave Alex, of course, was no-one’s sexual partner; never had been and never would be. He was just a slave - too busy kissing and licking female feet and footwear to have any sexual urges, or to be sexually attractive to anyone.
Slave Alex – the virgin – therefore crawled out into the cold and dark of the Gynarchy’s winter streets whilst his African betters made love in front of the television, in order to earn them some money by tongue-shining female strangers’ shoes throughout the remainder of the evening.
10 Fems in 6 hours! Wow! That was a tall order from his highly respected master and mistress! He really had to get a move on if he was to earn that much money in one night and be back at his mistress’s feet by 2:00 A.M!
Being a full-time footslave he, naturally, had to crawl everywhere he went as, by law, he was obliged to remain at all times on his hands and knees - unless he was being whipped in which case he could temporarily be strung up to the whipping post in mistress Constance’s back yard. Slave Alex even had to sleep on his hands and knees – in the set of wooden stocks located directly beside the wooden whipping post in his mistress’s yard; stocks and a whipping post again supplied free of charge to mistress Constance by the ever beneficent Female State.
Not that slave Alex ever got much sleep at night – for he had to remain awake every night into the wee small hours of the morning until such time as his superior master and mistress elected to retire to bed. And they were always late going to bed – being late risers who loved to lie in of a morning. Slave Alex, of course, had to be up with the lark – in order to tongue shine his beloved, fat and lazy mistress’s boots and shoes; hence he often only ever got a maximum of 2 or 3 hours’ sleep a night!
It was already getting dark, and slave Alex now shivered as he crawled along the cold pavements on his bare hands and knees. Like all slaves in the Gynarchy he was only allowed to wear a pair of flimsy, white slave shorts. The law stated that his maleslave back and torso had to be kept bare at all times in case his mistress (or indeed any female member of the public or female police officer) needed to whip him for any reason. Slave Alex actually wouldn’t have minded being whipped at that particular moment, as the sharp sting of a female whip would have warmed up his shivering back a bit!
Only joking, of course! No matter how cold he was slave Alex did not want to experience the sting of the female lash, for he was essentially a weak and feeble slave, and truly feared the whip. As well he might - especially when it was (illegally) being applied to his back by the strong and muscular master Samuel.
The thought of just such a whipping if he failed to earn enough money to pay for master Samuel’s new coat spurred slave Alex on to crawl ever faster towards the city centre. He must find some pretty, female footwear to lick clean for a pretty penny.
Or rather for a pretty ‘Fem’ – the currency of the Gynarchy.
The Cold, Chinese Couple
As luck would have it he soon spotted a young, oriental couple standing at a bus-stop presumably waiting for a bus to take them out drinking and clubbing in the town centre. Slave Alex would not have the luxury of catching the bus into town himself. Slaves were not allowed onto public transport unless accompanied by their mistresses. Instead, he would have to crawl all the way into town. But he reckoned that he might be able to earn some loose change from this attractive young couple – if he asked them nicely for permission to lick clean the young, oriental woman’s pretty shoes for her!
He could already observe that the petite and delicate-looking, young oriental woman in her early twenties was wearing a stylish pair of ultra pointy-toed, patent black leather courts with medium-length heels beneath her student-girl, blue-denim jeans. Somewhat surprisingly, despite the cold air, the young woman appeared to be barefoot inside her shoes, as slave Alex, from his kneeling position as he approached the bus stop, also caught a pleasing glimpse of her soft and feminine, bare toe-cleavage.
He deferentially crawled up to the happy, laughing couple, and addressed the oriental master – a young man who also appeared to be in his early or mid twenties (slave Alex had learnt always to address the master in such a situation first - even though this was a Gynarchial society – as he realised that free men still liked to look good in front of their superior girlfriends when they were being approached by a dirty, footslave-beggar):
‘Oh pray master sir, please forgive this intrusion, most respected master and mistress, but this dirty footslave was wondering whether the master would like him to lick his beautiful girlfriend’s shoes clean for her, if you would be so kind most respected master and mistress?’
The oriental master laughed, and asked his girlfriend something in Chinese.
She giggled and responded in the same tongue.
The young man then spoke down to slave Alex in broken English:
‘Ha! Ha! My girlfriend say shoes not need cleaned. Ha! Ha! She not want your dirty tongue touch her clean shoes! Ha! Ha! But she say her feet cold. She want you warm her feet. She want you breathe on her feet – make feet warm inside shoe. Ha! Ha! You a slave. You obey. You breathe on my girlfriend feet. Make feet nice and warm. You obey master Li-Fung now!’
Slave Alex wasn’t quite sure whether ‘Li-Fung’ was the name of the young man or the young mistress – his female master, so to speak. But it didn’t much matter – for they were both, self-evidently, his superiors and betters, being young and free, and his breath was indeed only fit to warm the superior young woman’s bare, Chinese feet.
And so slave Alex indicated his complete compliance with the Chinese man’s orders:
‘Yes master sir. At once master sir.’
The young Chinese woman, still giggling, demurely stretched out her dainty, right foot on the cold ground in front of her, thereby revealing even more of her pretty, oriental toe-cleavage below the black, pointy-toe of her court shoe, so that slave Alex could begin warming the exposed part of her bare footskin beneath the narrow, stitched hem of her tight, denim trouser leg.
The dirty slave-beggar duly lowered his head over the pretty, Chinese foot and breathed out heavily – to the enormous amusement of the oriental couple standing above him.
The young woman shouted out something in Chinese, which her boyfriend once again kindly translated for the ignorant footslave:
‘Ha! Ha! My girlfriend say slave-breath tickle! Ha! Ha! She say breath not warm foot; make foot tickle! Ha! Ha! You breathe harder! You warm Su-Ling foot, or master Li-Fung beat you hard with stick!’
Slave Alex deduced a number of things from this latest utterance on the part of his oriental better. Firstly, Li-Fung was clearly the young master’s name, and Su- Ling was, therefore, obviously the name of the still giggling young mistress.
Secondly, if he didn’t try harder to warm mistress Su-Ling’s foot with his slave-breath the young man was going to beat him in front of her – presumably with a branch taken from the large tree adjacent to the bus-stop.
And thirdly, it may well have been an idle threat by the master, because the young couple seemed, actually, to find his failure to adequately warm the young, oriental mistress’s feet quite amusing, rather than insulting. They were, after all, both laughing out loud at his feeble, foot-warming efforts.
For his humble part slave Alex was just hoping that his breath didn’t smell, for the last thing he would want would be to mask the natural aroma of a superior young, oriental woman’s feet and shoes!
He verbally acknowledged his failure and assured master Li-Fung of his renewed efforts:
‘Yes master sir. At once master and mistress. This dirty slave will try harder. Please don’t beat me master sir.’
And he did genuinely try harder – not so much because he truly believed he was in danger of being whipped, but because he genuinely wanted to warm the young woman’s feet for her. It wasn’t right that such a beautiful, young woman should be suffering from cold feet on her night out with her beloved boyfriend.
Slave Alex therefore breathed as hard as he could over the mocking, young Chinese woman’s arrogantly outstretched foot, his heavy breathing now only drowned out by the noise of the somewhat inopportune arrival of the bus.
The oriental couple quickly lost interest in slave Alex’s pathetic foot-warming efforts as the bus came to a halt. Slave Alex, the heavy-breather, for his part desperately tried to salvage a few fems for his pitiful efforts before the oriental couple boarded the bus:
‘Oh pray master sir, oh pray mistress madam, please spare a fem for this poor footslave!’
The young, oriental man just turned round and laughed as he and his girlfriend climbed onto the bus:
‘Ha! Ha! You go away slave. You no good! You not warm my girlfriend feet. You just a dirty beggar. Ha! Ha! You a dumbass!’
And with that the automatic doors of the bus abruptly closed and the vehicle pulled away – leaving slave Alex somewhat breathless, and certainly still penniless, as he crawled off in the same direction as the bus towards the city centre.
The Aussie Girls’ Competition
He eventually got there about an hour later, and headed straight for the relative warmth of the central railway station concourse. Not only was it nominally indoors, but there would be lots of potential customers around – women whose boots and shoes he could beg over; especially those of unsuspecting female tourists to the Gynarchy, who might not realise that there were several, officially licensed public footslaves located in proper footslave-booths throughout the station who were obliged by law to lick women’s footwear clean absolutely free of charge!
Ha! Ha! That didn’t exactly make slave Alex’s illicit footslave-begging any easier - the fact that he was offering a paid service for something which any woman could have done for free!
Then again, if he had been really low and despicable he could have just begged – and not offered any service in return, not even the humble service of licking clean dirty, feminine shoes and boots.
He spotted an obvious pair of female tourists over at one of the far corners of the dimly-lit station concourse. Perfect! They looked like backpackers – late twenties or early thirties perhaps. Both white and blonde, and both wearing shorts and sneakers – although one of the girls was wearing a pair of black and white, lace-up, high-top ‘converse-style’ sneakers, whereas the other was wearing plain white, low-top, velcro-fastened sneakers.
Mercifully both were wearing socks – so, presumably, he would not be required to breathe over their feet in an attempt to warm them up! He had already established that he was a miserable failure at doing that!
Footslave-beggar Alex slithered on his hands and knees across the cold floor of the station concourse over towards the two backpacker-girls, who were both leaning against a wall, chatting to each other and eating some sandwiches.
He slithered over to the girl with the black and white converse sneakers first – mainly because they looked to be the dirtiest and scruffiest of the two pairs of female sneakers.
This particular girl was wearing a pair of bright yellow, cotton ankle socks inside her black and white, rubber and canvas, high-top sneakers – yellow socks to match her ultra-short yellow shorts! Slave Alex could just see the elasticated tops of her socks.
He interrupted the girls’ conversation from his knees and addressed the scruffy, black and white converse sneakers:
‘Oh pray mistress. God bless you mistress. Shine your sneakers for you mistress?’
The owner of the scruffy, converse sneakers laughed down at him and turned to her backpacking friend. The converse girl spoke with her mouth apparently full of fresh tuna sandwich:
‘Ha! Ha! Did you hear that Gail? This dork is offering to shine my converse? Ha! Ha!’
It was an Antipodean accent – Australian probably.
The other girl, the one with the white, low-top, velcro-fastened sneakers also laughed out loud:
‘Strewth, Sheila...like anyone could shine those dirty bitches? Ha! Ha!’
The two girls continued laughing, before mistress Sheila offered her own witty retort to her fellow-blonde’s insulting, but good-natured, jibe:
‘Ha! Ha! Like your sneakers don’t need a good tongue-cleaning, or something? Ha! Ha! Your sneakers are minging, Gail! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Alex glanced over to the other girl’s grey-white, low top sneakers. Close up, they certainly did look rather ‘minging’ – or perhaps it was just that the purer white of mistress Gail’s short, white sneaker socks made the dirtier white of the leather sneakers look so relatively grubby?
Whatever – he appeared to have hit Aussie gold, as the two Antipodean girls decided to see which of their respective pairs of dirty, backpacking sneakers could be ‘shined’ up the best by the dirty footslave-beggar.
Mistress Sheila, the girl with the black and white converse, went first:
‘OK slave, you can give them a lick and a shine? But make sure you get off all the gunk and stuff? I wanna see my face in them when you’ve finished? Ha! Ha!’
The two girls just had to laugh at this impossible stipulation! Shining up a pair of rubber and canvas sneakers until she could see her face in them! I don’t think so!
Not that slave Alex wasn’t prepared to try! Right now he’d do anything for a fem!
‘Yes mistress. At once pretty mistress!’
He lowered his lips to the rubbery-smelling, greyish-white sneaker toe of mistress Sheila’s now imperiously outstretched, right foot. On the way down he noticed how the outstretched positioning of her Antipodean foot had revealed yet more of the top of her plain, yellow ankle sock beneath the black, canvas upper rim of her fetching, high-top sneaker.
He diligently ran his own tongue over the dirt on the rounded, rubbery toe area, but was disappointed that it appeared to make no difference to the ingrained dirt stains on the nominally white rubber, other than to cover the ingrained dirt in a shimmering film of his footslave-beggar saliva.
He therefore licked harder.
Still no sign of the young Australian woman’s shoedirt lifting off into his footslave mouth.
He really wasn’t having much luck this evening!
But at least the rubber tasted nice; strong and bitter. A humiliating taste – but one fit for a worthless footslave-beggar.
Slave Alex decided to try his luck on the black, canvas upper of the same arrogantly outstretched sneaker. His efforts here seemed to at least give the illusion of ‘shining up’ the converse sneaker – as his saliva made the soft, black, canvas material look darker and richer. And besides, a lot of the Australian girl’s shoe-dust was definitely coming off onto his footslave-tongue. He could taste it and feel it.
Mistress Sheila, the wearer of the licked, converse sneaker, was meanwhile continuing to tuck into her tuna sandwich whilst chatting with her mouth full to her backpacking friend Gail about where they could possibly find cheap hostel accommodation for the night. They were both studying a tuna-stained map of the locality.
Slave Alex could have easily directed them to the nearby backpackers’ hostel adjacent to the station – but it wasn’t his footslave-tongue’s role to do so. His humble role, right now, was to tongue-shine mistress Sheila’s black and white canvas high-tops. He therefore continued to lick black sneaker-canvas, and suck on grubby, white sneaker-laces.
As his tongue eventually reached the upper rim of her right, converse sneaker he truly admired the top of the aforementioned yellow ankle sock inside the Aussie girl’s soft, high-top shoe. He would have quite liked to – respectfully – brush his nose against the young woman’s soft, cotton ankle-sock. Slave Alex liked girls’ socks – and often got to nose his own mistress Constance’s socks whilst she was wearing them on her fat, black feet.
This Aussie girl’s white feet and ankles were clearly not so fat, however – and her sock fitted nicely over the top of her shapely ankle; not too stretched like his mistress Constance’s socks often seemed to be.
But he was interrupted from his sockslave-reverie by the sudden withdrawal of mistress Sheila’s right, high-top sneaker from his lips, and its replacement with her left.
Sadly, the yellow sock on her left foot was further down inside her sneaker, and so he could literally only see the thin, upper, elasticated rim of the yellow sock as he lowered his face and lips to the even dirtier white, rubbery toe of her grubby, black and white converse sneaker. As if to compensate for the lack of visible sock-top, however, slave Alex did manage to catch a pleasing and exciting glimpse of bright yellow girlsock through a tiny hole in the fabric on the inner side of mistress Sheila’s left sneaker – just above her pretty instep.
The hole in her shoe reminded him, of course, of his own, beggarly status – and of the mammoth task in mouth; to actually tongue-shine such a manky old pair of well-worn, converse girl-sneakers until the wearer of the Antipodean sneakers could actually see her pretty, blonde-framed face in them!
It was mission impossible, really – but slave Alex nevertheless chose to accept it. He would not fail for the want of trying, just as he had genuinely tried his best to warm miss Su-Ling’s toe cleavage with his slave-breath earlier on in the evening.
After some 20 minutes or so of licking mistress Sheila’s tatty, black and white canvas high-tops, slave Alex was brusquely ordered by mistress Gail to turn his slavish attention to her all-white, low-top sneakers.
Slave Alex very much liked the design of mistress Gail’s modern sneakers. The velcro-fastened leather straps across the tops of her grubby, white, leather sneakers should be easier to clean than the dirty white laces on mistress Sheila’s high-top converse sneakers had been. Fiddly shoelaces always got in the way of a footslave’s tongue and were notoriously difficult to suck clean once dirt became ingrained in them.
He wondered whether mistress Gail had noticed his lusting over her compatriot’s yellow ankle socks (though he had endeavoured to be discreet) for she uttered a very specific warning to him as his face descended onto her somewhat scuff-marked, white leather sneaker toes:
‘Make sure your face doesn’t touch my socks, slave? Like, just concentrate your face on my sneakers? I don’t want you dirtying my nice clean socks with your ugly face, or something?’
‘Yes mistress. This slave hears and obeys the mistress.’
Slave Alex could well understand the young, blonde Australian woman’s desire to keep her white socks fresh and unsullied by the footslave-beggar’s dirty mouth. However, realistically, there was little or no chance of his lips even inadvertently brushing against the fastidious mistress Gail’s fresh, white sneaker-socks. They were so short that only the tiniest slither of feminine sock was visible above the rims of her low-top, leather sneakers - just enough, as we said earlier, to show up the duller white of her much grubbier sneakers!
Slave Alex knew instantly that his tongue was having more success in ‘shining’ mistress Gail’s ‘minging’, white, sneakers, than he could ever have had shining the black, canvas ‘bitches’ of mistress Sheila! It was never going to be an even contest, and the two girls agreed, at the end of the ‘sneaker-shining competition’, that mistress Gail was the winner.
The two girls equally agreed that the footslave-beggar was a loser, and they both laughed heartily at their residual sneaker-dirt which was now covering his gormless face.
The two Aussie girls were about to walk off when slave Alex respectfully reminded them that he offered his sneaker-shining services for a small fee:
‘Oh pray mistresses, if it pleases you sweet and kind Australian mistresses, please spare this dirty, hungry footslave a few Fems, if you would be so kind most respected mistresses. Truly this slave admires the mistresses’ sneakers and socks!’
In beggar-slave Alex’s not inconsiderable experience it never did any harm to throw in a bit of footwear-flattery when begging for female money.
It worked. Mistress Gail – who was the winner of the competition after all – nonchalantly tossed him a 1 Fem coin.
‘Oh thank you mistress. God bless you sweet mistress.’
Mistress Sheila perhaps had more sense and gave him nothing – but then, she would have been quite within her rights to give him 20 lashes with her female whip, since he had let her converse sneakers down whilst lasciviously lusting after her yellow ankle-socks.
He was a lecherous failure, since she still could not see her face in her canvas sneakers!
The Busy, Black Businesswoman
Slave Alex, ever conscious that the clock was ticking and that master Samuel’s whip was awaiting him if he failed to earn the 10 Fems he had been ordered to bring back, decide to change tack. He would go more upmarket, and try to target wealthier-looking women in the trendy coffee-bar at the other end of the station.
He first made sure there were no uniformed, Female Police officers around and the slithered across the concourse toward the coffee-bar in question.
Sure enough he spotted a particularly attractive, young, black businesswoman seated on a bar stool in front of one of the round, high, coffee tables. She was not only drinking coffee but also reading the financial pages of a newspaper. A wealthy black businesswoman if ever he’d seen one, and hopefully ripe for the picking!
The businesswoman was tall and slim, and was wearing a smart, dark grey, pinstriped trouser suit over a crisp, white blouse. She was sitting cross-legged on the raised bar stool – with her right foot dangling in the air beneath the high coffee table whilst her left foot rested on the circular, metal footrest at the base of the stool.
On her black-businesswoman feet she was wearing a smart pair of chunky-heeled, round-toed, black leather, zip-up ankle boots – and due to the positioning of her right, booted foot hovering in the air slave Alex caught an exciting glimpse of rich, black cotton bootsock.
The sock must also be ankle length, for Slave Alex could equally see a slither of the black lady’s rich brown ankle skin above the elasticated top of her sock.
Oh if only his own, black mistress – mistress Constance – had such shapely black calf muscles! This black businesswoman’s sock sits so well on her shapely lower leg, rather like mistress Sheila’s yellow sock before her! None of that extreme stretching in the stitching that mistress Constance’s socks constantly displayed on her fat and rather shapeless legs and ankles!
Still, slave Alex was not here to admire sock. He was here to lick boot – should the black businesswoman in the posh coffee bar permit him to do so. He wouldn’t have long though. The female coffee bar staff would be sure to ‘boot’ him out after just a few minutes of pestering their black customer.
He therefore crawled straight up to the black businesswoman’s hovering, right ankle boot and begged:
‘Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you mistress. Shine your boots for you, mistress?
The young black woman tuts, apparently annoyed at having her newspaper-reading interrupted by the dirty beggar, looks down at the kneeling slave with disdain, and dismisses him with a peremptory:
‘Go away, slave!’
Her right, ankle-booted foot swivels in the air petulantly in front of the kneeling beggar’s face, causing the top of her black, cotton bootsock to crease and fold most fetchingly in front of his footslave eyes, thereby making slave Alex even more determined not to take no for an answer - not even from a superior, black mistress (something he would never dare to do at home, incidentally!):
‘Oh pray mistress – oh pity pray. Please have sweet, feminine pity on this poor male beggar, and allow him to polish your boots, most sweet and kind black mistress.’
The mistress merely responds with an even more scornful and irritated expression on her pretty, black features:
‘Tch! I said no, slave! I don’t need my boots to be polished!’
It was true of course. Slave Alex could tell that the lady’s smart, businesswoman ankle-boots were already pristine and shiny on her superior, black-socked feet.
But he had also learnt through his years of footslave-begging that dogged persistence can, sometimes, pay off.
He decided to try a different approach though, and offer to service her socks rather than her boots:
‘Oh pray mistress, oh pity pray …nuzzle your socks for you mistress?’
This was not such a ridiculous suggestion as might at first appear. Slave Alex knew that some mistresses do like the feel of a humble footslave’s nose running along the top of their sock. It’s such a degrading and humiliating thing for a slave to have to do – especially in public - and Alex thought he sensed that this preoccupied and glamorous, young, black businesswoman might be up for some public footslave-humiliation as she casually sipped her coffee and read her financial newspaper.
But no – he had seriously miscalculated!
She slammed down her coffee cup and paper on the table above him and shouted down at him at the top of her voice:
‘I SAID NO, SLAVE! LEAVE ME ALONE!’
Her raised voice attracted the attention of one of the female, coffee-bar staff who immediately rushed over in her red and white uniform and kicked the dirty footslave-beggar out of her nice, clean restaurant, apologising profusely to the black female customer as she did so.
The kicks from the waitress’s white sneakers hurt slave Alex, but at least he got to see an exciting flash of bright, red waitress-uniform sock beneath the hem of her red-corduroy, uniform trouser-leg as she literally kicked him to the kerb!
The Demure Pakistani Girl
Licking his beggar’s wounds, the rejected and ejected slave scurried on his hands and knees back into the main station concourse, where his trained footslave-beggar eye immediately spotted another potential victim – erm, customer! A traditionally dressed Pakistani girl in her late teens or early twenties who was dressed in a fetching, female salwar kameez outfit consisting of a purple headscarf, a long green, silken blouse, and matching green silken trousers with a motif of brightly coloured flowers on the elasticated hems.
What really caught his footslave eye, however, were the pretty, purple socks on her Pakistani feet inside her black leather, chunky-heeled, round-toed, slip-on shoes. Her green trousers with the flower-motifed hems, the bright purple socks, and the black slip-on shoes all made for a fascinatingly attractive and very feminine combination. Footslave Alex immediately felt drawn to the young Pakistan woman’s exotic feet and footwear.
She was standing beside several, large suitcases – looking a bit lost and apparently guarding the cases whilst the person or persons accompanying her freshened up in the nearby restrooms. She was clearly feeling a bit anxious and disorientated, and appeared somewhat mesmerised by all the hustle and bustle of the busy station around her. Definitely an out-of-towner, and possibly a fresh arrival in the Gynarchy. The increasingly desperate, and hence despicable, footslave-beggar Alex saw a golden opportunity for some footslave fleecing!
He crawled over to the pretty, Pakistani-girl shoes and socks:
‘Oh pray mistress. God bless you pretty mistress. Shine your shoes for you mistress? Kiss your socks for you mistress?’
Slave Alex was fervently hoping the young, traditionally dressed Pakistani woman would allow him to do both!
But she merely straightened her purple headscarf over her pretty, dark black hair and smiled nervously.
Slave Alex – shame upon him – knew that he had to go ahead and lick shoe without the young woman’s express permission. He sought to justify his outrageous actions by convincing himself that the young, foreign woman must not speak any English, and therefore had not understood what he had said or been able to respond.
He would have liked to go straight onto her delicious, purple socks - but not even slave Alex was so caddish as to kiss a young Pakistani woman’s intimate socks without permission! He would at least restrict himself to her somewhat dusty and grimy outer footwear.
He therefore placed his lips onto her coyly positioned right shoe – directly on the rounded toe area - and tasted Pakistani-girl, black shoe leather.
Slave Alex genuinely meant it to be taken as an expression of his respect for her musty-smelling shoe, but the young woman appeared shocked, and hurriedly withdrew her foot from his lips:
‘What are you being doing, dirty slave! Shoo! Shoo!’
Ah, so the young woman did speak some English! Somehow, though, slave Alex just knew that this young woman was not shouting ‘Shoe! Shoe!’ at him.
She clearly wanted him to go away.
But he just couldn’t! He needed the money! He had to keep trying to ingratiate himself with this superior, young woman.
He shuffled forwards until his dirty lips were once again hovering over the young Pakistani woman’s pretty, black leather slip-on shoe. Oh – such a nice contrast with her bright, purple sock! If only he could kiss her sock! Surely this young woman would come round?
But he didn’t dare! That really would be taking too much of an advantage! Instead he again begged to kiss shoe:
‘Oh pray, mistress. Oh pity pray, please permit this dirty slave to kiss the mistress’s beautiful shoe!’
At that point he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his buttocks – the result of a traditionally dressed Pakistani man’s shoe up his backside.
Oh no! The young woman’s partner had evidently come back! Her husband perhaps?
Whoever he was, he was furious at the footslave-beggar’s behaviour – and justifiably so!
‘GO AWAY DIRTY SLAVE…KICK…KICK…GET OUT OF HERE ….KICK…KICK… DIRTY FOOT-WHORE!.... KICK…KICK…BEGONE, OR I’LL CALL THE FEMALE POLICE!’
The man may have been in traditional, Pakistani attire, but from his accent he obviously was resident in the Gynarchy. As he scurried away from his Pakistani betters, slave Alex surmised that the young Pakistani woman with the purple socks was probably the man’s bride-to-be – recently arrived from Pakistan in order to start a new life in the Gynarchy with her free husband.
Give it a few months and she’d be happily kicking male footslaves with her own, demure, Pakistani feet!
Slave Alex felt ashamed of himself. What type of a welcome to the Gynarchy had he provided to this delightful, young Pakistani woman - pestering her shoes and socks with his lascivious slave-lips? He knew he deserved to be punished.
He almost wanted to go back and apologise to the mistress and her husband-to-be, but thought better of it. The man had, after all, been threatening to call the dreaded Female Police!
Oh well, not such an easy buck after all!
The African Cleaning-Girl
Slave Alex was beginning to get desperate. It was now nearly 9.30 in the evening – and still only 1 measly Fem to take back to mistress Constance and master Samuel!
He hid in a dark corner of the station and tried to spot his next customer-victim.
Suddenly he had to take cover behind some cardboard boxes as he saw two female police officers patrolling nearby. God they looked hot! Black leather knee-high boots under knee-length, navy blue, uniform skirts. How he would dearly love to tongue-shine those female, police boots for a Fem apiece!
But, of course, he couldn’t. Footslave-begging was completely illegal in the Gynarchy – as a female tannoy announcement which echoed around the station concourse now made clear:
‘Ladies and Gentlemen – illegal footslaves are known to be touting for business on this station. Please use the official public footslaves in the booths provided, and report any unlicensed footslave-beggars to the Female Police. Thank you.’
Slave Alex’s heart sank. He knew that it must have been his activities which had prompted the angry tannoy announcement. Either the waitress in the coffee-bar, or the Pakistani man, must have reported him to the Station mistress. And now the Female Police appeared to be looking for him!
He would have to be ultra carful now not to get caught, for those female Police officers’ boots were not made for licking – they were made for kicking and holding him under arrest whilst the police van came to pick him up.
He knew that because he’d been arrested for begging many times before!
Slave Alex decided, despite the fact that time was pressing on, to lie low for half an hour or so around the back of the station - just until the dust settled on his potential female customers’ boots and shoes!
However, as we all know, there is no rest for the wicked footslave – and just when he thought he was safe one of the female station cleaners came out to the bin area where he was hiding. He knew she was one of the station staff because of her blue, uniform sweatshirt beneath her ‘Gynarchy Railways’ yellow, fluorescent jacket.
That – and the fact that she was emptying some smelly rubbish sacks into the bins!
She spotted him – of course she did. Was she not trained to spot rubbish?
The girl, who was black and in her early twenties, laughed at him – crouching amongst the other rubbish. She walked confidently over to him:
‘Ha! Ha! What are you doing hiding behind here, dirty footslave? Are you on the run from the Female Police? Ha! Ha!’
Her West African accent reminded slave Alex of his own mistress Constance’s voice – although this charming, young cleaning-woman was much slimmer and prettier. He lowered his head to her African feet as he must always do when confronted by a superior, young woman, and admired her cheap-looking, black and white striped sneakers beneath her plain black, denim jeans.
He could not see her socks beneath her jeans – not yet anyway:
‘Oh pray mistress-cleaner, if it pleases you mistress-cleaner, please don’t report this dirty beggar to the authorities, all-powerful and most respected cleaning-girl mistress!’
He then placed his lips onto the dusty and scuff-marked toe of the African cleaning-girl’s unbranded, black leather, lace-up sneaker.
Although it was dark in the bin area at the back of the station, slave Alex now caught a clear glimpse of some sweet, greyish-white sock inside the African girl’s black sneaker – just beneath the dirt-stained hem of her black, denim jean leg.
He heard the girl laugh at him – revelling in her cleaning-girl power and authority over his wretched life at that particular moment in time. He was at her mercy. She could easily report him to the station mistress or the Female Police and have him arrested. She knew exactly what he was: he was nothing but a dirty, footslave-beggar – a beggar at her feet!
She moved over to a nearby wall, rested her behind on a concrete window sill, and summoned the dirty beggar over to her feet:
‘Ha! Ha! Take off my sneakers and smell me, slave. I want you to smell my dirty socks, otherwise I will report you to the Female Police! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Alex was in no doubt as to what he had to do – he had to obey the African cleaning girl, take off her shoes, and smell her sweaty, grey-white socks. Such a humiliation would certainly be preferable to a night in the Female Police cells – followed, no doubt, by a beating from master Samuel’s whip for failing to bring back any money!
And so, even though this was all taking up valuable time, slave Alex dutifully and humbly crawled over to the African girl’s cheap, dirty, black and white striped sneakers, untied the laces on her right sneaker, and slipped off the shoe in order to lower his footslave-beggar nose onto the stinky, reinforced toe area of her grey-white socks and audibly sniff them for her pleasure.
Even in the gloom and the dark he could clearly detect with his trained footslave-eyes some yellowy-brown sweat stains on the greyish-white girlsock – especially on the area immediately beneath her African toes. Not that he needed his sense of sight to detect her footsweat. His sense of smell was enough to do that for him!
But slave Alex did not baulk at the sweaty smell as he sniffed African-girl, grubby white sock. Far from it, he immersed himself in the cleaning girl’s sweaty socked aroma, for it was the sock-smell of his female master and better; the girl with all the power; the power to sweep him off the streets just as she swept the rubbish off the station concourse.
He therefore sniffed her socks willingly in exchange for no payment – other than the ‘reward’ of not being reported to the Female Police.
The African cleaning-girl laughed at him as she put her sneakers back onto her smelly-socked feet and returned to her work.
The Classy, Latina Prostitute
Slave Alex was by now truly desperate! It was 10:30 p.m. and he still had only 1 Fem in his slave-shorts’ pocket!
He was also becoming slavishly desperate to lick black leather, knee-length, female boot. The sight of the Female Police officers’ black leather, knee-high boots earlier on had tickled his fancy, and he decided to seek out a similar pair of boots that he could lick clean in the train station, now that all the fuss seemed to have died down.
His luck was (almost) in as he suddenly spotted a familiar pair of stylish, dark brown, knee-high boots standing next to a tobacco-kiosk near the side entrance to the station. But they were not the boots of a female police officer. They were much too pointy-toed and spike-heeled to belong to one of the Gynarchy’s finest (quite apart from being the wrong colour!)
No, these were the familiar knee-high boots of the Latina mistress, mistress Maria – one of the many prostitutes who frequented the station concourse almost as often as footslave-beggar Alex himself!
He knew her name, and that she was a prostitute, because he had witnessed her going off with male clients many times – sometimes to the very bin area where he had been so unsuccessfully trying to hide just a few moments earlier!
He knew also that she was a Latina lady who originated from Central America – partly because of her cute, Latina accent, but also because of her long, dark, curly hair and her slightly swarthy Latina complexion.
Slave Alex was quite enamoured by superior mistress Maria. She had beautiful, dark, gypsy-like eyes, and always wore a short, fur coat, a sexy, black leather miniskirt, and black, fishnet stockings with her ubiquitous, brown leather, knee-high, prostitute’s boots! She really was quite beautiful for a prostitute in her late thirties. She ‘scrubbed up well’ as a free man might put it! Slave Alex thought she really could do so much better for herself, though he was aware that she had a drug habit to support.
Like he was in any position to judge a superior young Latina woman’s chosen lifestyle!
Anyway, slave Alex’s heart gladdened at the comforting sight of mistress Maria’s boots – because she really was a ‘tart with a heart’. He knew from previous experience that she would almost certainly accede to his request to lick-shine her boots, and would even generously toss him a shiny Fem coin or two from her own illicit earnings – one ‘panhandler’ to another, so to speak! So what if her boots were brown, rather than the black he now craved?
Beggars can’t be choosers!
He quickly crawled over to mistress Maria’s pitch where she was enjoying a cigarette next to the tobacco-kiosk, and greeted her with long, lingering, slavish kisses to her thirtysomething street-boots:
‘Oh pray mistress Maria …kiss…kiss... God bless you mistress Maria… kiss…kiss…pray pity this poor footslave…kiss…kiss…sweet and kind mistress…kiss…kiss... and spare him a few Fems, mistress…kiss…kiss… if you would be so kind most beautiful and respected mistress… kiss…kiss.’
Mistress Maria smiled condescendingly down at the wretched male slave-beggar grovelling in the dirt at her brown-booted, prostitute feet.
She then deliberately stubbed out her cigarette beneath the pointy toe of her right boot directly below his kneeling face, in order to add to his footslave frustration. Mistress Maria knew men well, and she knew that, for a footslave, the mere thought of her dirty cigarette butt stuck to the sole of her leather boot would be quite maddening!
She then laughed at the unfortunate slave:
‘Ha! Ha! So your mistress has sent you out onto the streets again slave, eh? Ha! Ha! How much have you earned tonight, darling?’
Slave Alex was ashamed to have to admit to prostitute-mistress Maria that he had only managed to earn one measly Fem thus far this evening. He hoped, however, that this would invoke her prostitute-pity on him, and prompt her to chuck him a few Fems.
It didn’t.
Sadly for slave Alex it seemed that business had been slow for prostitute-mistress Maria also that evening. She was – as she so delicately put it – ‘skint’; or so she claimed!
Slave Alex nevertheless continued to lick her pointy-toed brown leather boot – and even managed to eat the discarded, lipstick-covered cigarette butt from the Latina prostitute’s mouth as he licked the dirt beneath her spiked, prostitute heels.
Mistress Maria effectively betrayed him, however, for whilst he was worshipping the ground beneath her booted feet – for free – she omitted to warn him that the Female Police were approaching from behind him, eager to make an arrest. Not an arrest of the female prostitute, of course – female prostitution is entirely legal in the Gynarchy since it is the free woman’s choice. No – they had come to arrest the dirty, male footslave-beggar – the one who had been pestering women on the station concourse all evening!
And so slave Alex actually got his wish to be surrounded by black leather, knee-high boots that evening after all – for he was repeatedly kicked in the face by each and every female police officer who entered the police cells that night, leaving their black, boot-polish stains all over his gormless, footslave-beggar face.
And, to add insult to injury, the Female Police confiscated his illicit earnings – all 1 fem – before turfing him back out onto the streets, battered and bruised, to make his way home on his hands and knees to his mistress Constance’s house in the suburbs, where a livid master Samuel and mistress Constance were waiting for him.
Slave Alex did lots more begging that morning – begging for mercy, as his African owners justifiably vented their spleen on their lazy, good-for-nothing, footslave-beggar!
The End
It’s not that he was homeless, as such. Nor did he himself have any need of the money. For he had a roof over his head of sorts and a mistress of his own – mistress Constance. But it was that very mistress Constance who sent him out onto the streets every night to beg, in order to supplement her income.
That was because mistress Constance, an immigrant from West Africa, could not be bothered to find work herself. She preferred to laze around the house, to rely on the generous handouts she received from the Female State, and to send her personal footslave out to work on her behalf – the footslave supplied to her for free by the same Female Welfare State that had granted her Female Asylum in the Gynarchy some 6 years’ previously.
Mistress Constance, you see, was a rather corpulent and lazy young woman of 27. She had never done a day’s work in her life – and never would. Why should she? She no longer needed to work; she was now set up for life; life as a superior, free mistress in the Gynarchy. Nothing wrong with that.
She lived with her 33 year old, common-law husband Samuel – also a refugee from West Africa; although he had only qualified to stay in the Gynarchy as Constance’s dependant, of course. Males – free males – cannot be granted Asylum in their own right in the Gynarchy! Ha! Ha! Who ever heard of a male being granted Female Asylum?! Ha! Ha!
No, 33 year old Samuel – master Samuel to slave Alex – was also made up for life, providing he kept in with his common-law partner Constance. He too would never have to work and could survive on the income Constance received from the Female State – supplemented by the income they derived from the begging-labour of their slave, the footslave Alex, out on the streets.
It was a typical evening in the contented African couple’s household. Constance and Samuel had just eaten their hearty evening meal, and were canoodling on the sofa in their living room in front of the television.
Slave Alex was on his hands and knees in the kitchen licking up their leftovers from the kitchen floor. It was all he was ever allowed to eat – mistress Constance and master Samuel’s leftovers. It wasn’t that the happy, West African couple couldn’t afford to feed their household slave; the slave came with an allowance so that he could be adequately fed and watered. It was simply that Constance and Samuel preferred to spend the allowance on themselves, buying new clothes and new stuff for the house. They weren’t that bothered if their slave went hungry.
At about 8 o’clock – just as the couple’s favourite soap was about to start on the TV – mistress Constance summoned her slave Alex into the living room in her thick, West African accent:
‘Slave-boy, come here!’
Constance always referred to her personal footslave as a ‘boy’, even though he was nearly 20 years’ her senior, because she knew what it was like to have a real man in the house – her beloved Samuel. She resumed kissing the latter as she lay in his manly arms on the sofa (a sofa paid for in part by her footslave’s begging out on the streets) hardly noticing as slave Alex dutifully and expeditiously crawled on his hands and knees into the living room and knelt, head suitably bowed, beside his superior mistress’s fat, black, bare feet beneath her ankle length, black cotton leggings.
Mistress Constance was not an unattractive girl. She may have been somewhat plump and overweight (as, indeed, was her boyfriend Samuel), but slave Alex was in total awe of his West African mistress. That was because she exuded absolute, female power and treated him like dirt. She clearly didn’t care, for example, that her ankles were fat and unshapely, for she had her footslave kiss, lick and massage her fat, blubbery feet repeatedly throughout the day – sometimes whilst they were bare; sometimes in socks. And mistress Constance unabashedly demanded that her slave worship her fat feet and ankles with his face and tongue; that he treat them like they were some sort of African deities.
The slave Alex indulged his fat mistress in her whims and fancies – as a good slave should – and duly worshipped his African mistress’s thick ankles with all his slavish being. For they were the soft, fat ankles of his self-centred, self-obsessed and lazy mistress; and he realised that, for all their imperfections, they were therefore his betters, and worthy of his adoration and respect.
Indeed, the more mistress Constance treated slave Alex like the dirt beneath her flabby feet, the more he worshipped them. He consumed the sweet, feminine perspiration they exuded with respect and humility, as befits a slave, and supplemented his own meagre diet with his sweet and kind African mistress’s dead footskin whenever he could.
Yes - mistress Constance was his infinite superior and better, and he was just her good-for-nothing, lazy footslave.
The divine and regal mistress Constance interrupted her canoodling with her manly African husband only to bark down her familiar, evening-time orders to her dirty footslave:
‘Slave-boy, go out on the streets and earn us some money. Offer to lick clean the dirty shoes and boots of women, and bring us back what you earn. And make damn well sure you are back by 2 o’clock at the latest! I want you to wash my stinky feet before I go to bed.’
She then indolently extends her podgy (and as she had correctly described it, ‘stinky’), right, bare foot directly underneath slave Alex’s kneeling and attentive face for him to kiss and obey:
‘Yes mistress Constance. At once mistress Constance. As it pleases you goddess-mistress Constance.’
Master Samuel, the goddess’s common law partner, adds in his pennyworth:
‘Ha! Ha! And make sure you bring back at least 10 Fems, slave! Otherwise you will have me to answer to! I am going to buy myself a new coat tomorrow with your money. Now get out!’
‘Yes master Samuel, sir. As you wish, master Samuel, sir.’
Slave Alex, thank goodness, was never required to actually kiss his master’s feet. That was taboo in the Gynarchy. Indeed, it was illegal for a slave to kiss another man’s feet – even the feet of a free man. But slave Alex was obliged by law to respect and fawn to master Samuel – since the free man was his superior, being the chosen sexual partner of his mistress.
Slave Alex, of course, was no-one’s sexual partner; never had been and never would be. He was just a slave - too busy kissing and licking female feet and footwear to have any sexual urges, or to be sexually attractive to anyone.
Slave Alex – the virgin – therefore crawled out into the cold and dark of the Gynarchy’s winter streets whilst his African betters made love in front of the television, in order to earn them some money by tongue-shining female strangers’ shoes throughout the remainder of the evening.
10 Fems in 6 hours! Wow! That was a tall order from his highly respected master and mistress! He really had to get a move on if he was to earn that much money in one night and be back at his mistress’s feet by 2:00 A.M!
Being a full-time footslave he, naturally, had to crawl everywhere he went as, by law, he was obliged to remain at all times on his hands and knees - unless he was being whipped in which case he could temporarily be strung up to the whipping post in mistress Constance’s back yard. Slave Alex even had to sleep on his hands and knees – in the set of wooden stocks located directly beside the wooden whipping post in his mistress’s yard; stocks and a whipping post again supplied free of charge to mistress Constance by the ever beneficent Female State.
Not that slave Alex ever got much sleep at night – for he had to remain awake every night into the wee small hours of the morning until such time as his superior master and mistress elected to retire to bed. And they were always late going to bed – being late risers who loved to lie in of a morning. Slave Alex, of course, had to be up with the lark – in order to tongue shine his beloved, fat and lazy mistress’s boots and shoes; hence he often only ever got a maximum of 2 or 3 hours’ sleep a night!
It was already getting dark, and slave Alex now shivered as he crawled along the cold pavements on his bare hands and knees. Like all slaves in the Gynarchy he was only allowed to wear a pair of flimsy, white slave shorts. The law stated that his maleslave back and torso had to be kept bare at all times in case his mistress (or indeed any female member of the public or female police officer) needed to whip him for any reason. Slave Alex actually wouldn’t have minded being whipped at that particular moment, as the sharp sting of a female whip would have warmed up his shivering back a bit!
Only joking, of course! No matter how cold he was slave Alex did not want to experience the sting of the female lash, for he was essentially a weak and feeble slave, and truly feared the whip. As well he might - especially when it was (illegally) being applied to his back by the strong and muscular master Samuel.
The thought of just such a whipping if he failed to earn enough money to pay for master Samuel’s new coat spurred slave Alex on to crawl ever faster towards the city centre. He must find some pretty, female footwear to lick clean for a pretty penny.
Or rather for a pretty ‘Fem’ – the currency of the Gynarchy.
The Cold, Chinese Couple
As luck would have it he soon spotted a young, oriental couple standing at a bus-stop presumably waiting for a bus to take them out drinking and clubbing in the town centre. Slave Alex would not have the luxury of catching the bus into town himself. Slaves were not allowed onto public transport unless accompanied by their mistresses. Instead, he would have to crawl all the way into town. But he reckoned that he might be able to earn some loose change from this attractive young couple – if he asked them nicely for permission to lick clean the young, oriental woman’s pretty shoes for her!
He could already observe that the petite and delicate-looking, young oriental woman in her early twenties was wearing a stylish pair of ultra pointy-toed, patent black leather courts with medium-length heels beneath her student-girl, blue-denim jeans. Somewhat surprisingly, despite the cold air, the young woman appeared to be barefoot inside her shoes, as slave Alex, from his kneeling position as he approached the bus stop, also caught a pleasing glimpse of her soft and feminine, bare toe-cleavage.
He deferentially crawled up to the happy, laughing couple, and addressed the oriental master – a young man who also appeared to be in his early or mid twenties (slave Alex had learnt always to address the master in such a situation first - even though this was a Gynarchial society – as he realised that free men still liked to look good in front of their superior girlfriends when they were being approached by a dirty, footslave-beggar):
‘Oh pray master sir, please forgive this intrusion, most respected master and mistress, but this dirty footslave was wondering whether the master would like him to lick his beautiful girlfriend’s shoes clean for her, if you would be so kind most respected master and mistress?’
The oriental master laughed, and asked his girlfriend something in Chinese.
She giggled and responded in the same tongue.
The young man then spoke down to slave Alex in broken English:
‘Ha! Ha! My girlfriend say shoes not need cleaned. Ha! Ha! She not want your dirty tongue touch her clean shoes! Ha! Ha! But she say her feet cold. She want you warm her feet. She want you breathe on her feet – make feet warm inside shoe. Ha! Ha! You a slave. You obey. You breathe on my girlfriend feet. Make feet nice and warm. You obey master Li-Fung now!’
Slave Alex wasn’t quite sure whether ‘Li-Fung’ was the name of the young man or the young mistress – his female master, so to speak. But it didn’t much matter – for they were both, self-evidently, his superiors and betters, being young and free, and his breath was indeed only fit to warm the superior young woman’s bare, Chinese feet.
And so slave Alex indicated his complete compliance with the Chinese man’s orders:
‘Yes master sir. At once master sir.’
The young Chinese woman, still giggling, demurely stretched out her dainty, right foot on the cold ground in front of her, thereby revealing even more of her pretty, oriental toe-cleavage below the black, pointy-toe of her court shoe, so that slave Alex could begin warming the exposed part of her bare footskin beneath the narrow, stitched hem of her tight, denim trouser leg.
The dirty slave-beggar duly lowered his head over the pretty, Chinese foot and breathed out heavily – to the enormous amusement of the oriental couple standing above him.
The young woman shouted out something in Chinese, which her boyfriend once again kindly translated for the ignorant footslave:
‘Ha! Ha! My girlfriend say slave-breath tickle! Ha! Ha! She say breath not warm foot; make foot tickle! Ha! Ha! You breathe harder! You warm Su-Ling foot, or master Li-Fung beat you hard with stick!’
Slave Alex deduced a number of things from this latest utterance on the part of his oriental better. Firstly, Li-Fung was clearly the young master’s name, and Su- Ling was, therefore, obviously the name of the still giggling young mistress.
Secondly, if he didn’t try harder to warm mistress Su-Ling’s foot with his slave-breath the young man was going to beat him in front of her – presumably with a branch taken from the large tree adjacent to the bus-stop.
And thirdly, it may well have been an idle threat by the master, because the young couple seemed, actually, to find his failure to adequately warm the young, oriental mistress’s feet quite amusing, rather than insulting. They were, after all, both laughing out loud at his feeble, foot-warming efforts.
For his humble part slave Alex was just hoping that his breath didn’t smell, for the last thing he would want would be to mask the natural aroma of a superior young, oriental woman’s feet and shoes!
He verbally acknowledged his failure and assured master Li-Fung of his renewed efforts:
‘Yes master sir. At once master and mistress. This dirty slave will try harder. Please don’t beat me master sir.’
And he did genuinely try harder – not so much because he truly believed he was in danger of being whipped, but because he genuinely wanted to warm the young woman’s feet for her. It wasn’t right that such a beautiful, young woman should be suffering from cold feet on her night out with her beloved boyfriend.
Slave Alex therefore breathed as hard as he could over the mocking, young Chinese woman’s arrogantly outstretched foot, his heavy breathing now only drowned out by the noise of the somewhat inopportune arrival of the bus.
The oriental couple quickly lost interest in slave Alex’s pathetic foot-warming efforts as the bus came to a halt. Slave Alex, the heavy-breather, for his part desperately tried to salvage a few fems for his pitiful efforts before the oriental couple boarded the bus:
‘Oh pray master sir, oh pray mistress madam, please spare a fem for this poor footslave!’
The young, oriental man just turned round and laughed as he and his girlfriend climbed onto the bus:
‘Ha! Ha! You go away slave. You no good! You not warm my girlfriend feet. You just a dirty beggar. Ha! Ha! You a dumbass!’
And with that the automatic doors of the bus abruptly closed and the vehicle pulled away – leaving slave Alex somewhat breathless, and certainly still penniless, as he crawled off in the same direction as the bus towards the city centre.
The Aussie Girls’ Competition
He eventually got there about an hour later, and headed straight for the relative warmth of the central railway station concourse. Not only was it nominally indoors, but there would be lots of potential customers around – women whose boots and shoes he could beg over; especially those of unsuspecting female tourists to the Gynarchy, who might not realise that there were several, officially licensed public footslaves located in proper footslave-booths throughout the station who were obliged by law to lick women’s footwear clean absolutely free of charge!
Ha! Ha! That didn’t exactly make slave Alex’s illicit footslave-begging any easier - the fact that he was offering a paid service for something which any woman could have done for free!
Then again, if he had been really low and despicable he could have just begged – and not offered any service in return, not even the humble service of licking clean dirty, feminine shoes and boots.
He spotted an obvious pair of female tourists over at one of the far corners of the dimly-lit station concourse. Perfect! They looked like backpackers – late twenties or early thirties perhaps. Both white and blonde, and both wearing shorts and sneakers – although one of the girls was wearing a pair of black and white, lace-up, high-top ‘converse-style’ sneakers, whereas the other was wearing plain white, low-top, velcro-fastened sneakers.
Mercifully both were wearing socks – so, presumably, he would not be required to breathe over their feet in an attempt to warm them up! He had already established that he was a miserable failure at doing that!
Footslave-beggar Alex slithered on his hands and knees across the cold floor of the station concourse over towards the two backpacker-girls, who were both leaning against a wall, chatting to each other and eating some sandwiches.
He slithered over to the girl with the black and white converse sneakers first – mainly because they looked to be the dirtiest and scruffiest of the two pairs of female sneakers.
This particular girl was wearing a pair of bright yellow, cotton ankle socks inside her black and white, rubber and canvas, high-top sneakers – yellow socks to match her ultra-short yellow shorts! Slave Alex could just see the elasticated tops of her socks.
He interrupted the girls’ conversation from his knees and addressed the scruffy, black and white converse sneakers:
‘Oh pray mistress. God bless you mistress. Shine your sneakers for you mistress?’
The owner of the scruffy, converse sneakers laughed down at him and turned to her backpacking friend. The converse girl spoke with her mouth apparently full of fresh tuna sandwich:
‘Ha! Ha! Did you hear that Gail? This dork is offering to shine my converse? Ha! Ha!’
It was an Antipodean accent – Australian probably.
The other girl, the one with the white, low-top, velcro-fastened sneakers also laughed out loud:
‘Strewth, Sheila...like anyone could shine those dirty bitches? Ha! Ha!’
The two girls continued laughing, before mistress Sheila offered her own witty retort to her fellow-blonde’s insulting, but good-natured, jibe:
‘Ha! Ha! Like your sneakers don’t need a good tongue-cleaning, or something? Ha! Ha! Your sneakers are minging, Gail! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Alex glanced over to the other girl’s grey-white, low top sneakers. Close up, they certainly did look rather ‘minging’ – or perhaps it was just that the purer white of mistress Gail’s short, white sneaker socks made the dirtier white of the leather sneakers look so relatively grubby?
Whatever – he appeared to have hit Aussie gold, as the two Antipodean girls decided to see which of their respective pairs of dirty, backpacking sneakers could be ‘shined’ up the best by the dirty footslave-beggar.
Mistress Sheila, the girl with the black and white converse, went first:
‘OK slave, you can give them a lick and a shine? But make sure you get off all the gunk and stuff? I wanna see my face in them when you’ve finished? Ha! Ha!’
The two girls just had to laugh at this impossible stipulation! Shining up a pair of rubber and canvas sneakers until she could see her face in them! I don’t think so!
Not that slave Alex wasn’t prepared to try! Right now he’d do anything for a fem!
‘Yes mistress. At once pretty mistress!’
He lowered his lips to the rubbery-smelling, greyish-white sneaker toe of mistress Sheila’s now imperiously outstretched, right foot. On the way down he noticed how the outstretched positioning of her Antipodean foot had revealed yet more of the top of her plain, yellow ankle sock beneath the black, canvas upper rim of her fetching, high-top sneaker.
He diligently ran his own tongue over the dirt on the rounded, rubbery toe area, but was disappointed that it appeared to make no difference to the ingrained dirt stains on the nominally white rubber, other than to cover the ingrained dirt in a shimmering film of his footslave-beggar saliva.
He therefore licked harder.
Still no sign of the young Australian woman’s shoedirt lifting off into his footslave mouth.
He really wasn’t having much luck this evening!
But at least the rubber tasted nice; strong and bitter. A humiliating taste – but one fit for a worthless footslave-beggar.
Slave Alex decided to try his luck on the black, canvas upper of the same arrogantly outstretched sneaker. His efforts here seemed to at least give the illusion of ‘shining up’ the converse sneaker – as his saliva made the soft, black, canvas material look darker and richer. And besides, a lot of the Australian girl’s shoe-dust was definitely coming off onto his footslave-tongue. He could taste it and feel it.
Mistress Sheila, the wearer of the licked, converse sneaker, was meanwhile continuing to tuck into her tuna sandwich whilst chatting with her mouth full to her backpacking friend Gail about where they could possibly find cheap hostel accommodation for the night. They were both studying a tuna-stained map of the locality.
Slave Alex could have easily directed them to the nearby backpackers’ hostel adjacent to the station – but it wasn’t his footslave-tongue’s role to do so. His humble role, right now, was to tongue-shine mistress Sheila’s black and white canvas high-tops. He therefore continued to lick black sneaker-canvas, and suck on grubby, white sneaker-laces.
As his tongue eventually reached the upper rim of her right, converse sneaker he truly admired the top of the aforementioned yellow ankle sock inside the Aussie girl’s soft, high-top shoe. He would have quite liked to – respectfully – brush his nose against the young woman’s soft, cotton ankle-sock. Slave Alex liked girls’ socks – and often got to nose his own mistress Constance’s socks whilst she was wearing them on her fat, black feet.
This Aussie girl’s white feet and ankles were clearly not so fat, however – and her sock fitted nicely over the top of her shapely ankle; not too stretched like his mistress Constance’s socks often seemed to be.
But he was interrupted from his sockslave-reverie by the sudden withdrawal of mistress Sheila’s right, high-top sneaker from his lips, and its replacement with her left.
Sadly, the yellow sock on her left foot was further down inside her sneaker, and so he could literally only see the thin, upper, elasticated rim of the yellow sock as he lowered his face and lips to the even dirtier white, rubbery toe of her grubby, black and white converse sneaker. As if to compensate for the lack of visible sock-top, however, slave Alex did manage to catch a pleasing and exciting glimpse of bright yellow girlsock through a tiny hole in the fabric on the inner side of mistress Sheila’s left sneaker – just above her pretty instep.
The hole in her shoe reminded him, of course, of his own, beggarly status – and of the mammoth task in mouth; to actually tongue-shine such a manky old pair of well-worn, converse girl-sneakers until the wearer of the Antipodean sneakers could actually see her pretty, blonde-framed face in them!
It was mission impossible, really – but slave Alex nevertheless chose to accept it. He would not fail for the want of trying, just as he had genuinely tried his best to warm miss Su-Ling’s toe cleavage with his slave-breath earlier on in the evening.
After some 20 minutes or so of licking mistress Sheila’s tatty, black and white canvas high-tops, slave Alex was brusquely ordered by mistress Gail to turn his slavish attention to her all-white, low-top sneakers.
Slave Alex very much liked the design of mistress Gail’s modern sneakers. The velcro-fastened leather straps across the tops of her grubby, white, leather sneakers should be easier to clean than the dirty white laces on mistress Sheila’s high-top converse sneakers had been. Fiddly shoelaces always got in the way of a footslave’s tongue and were notoriously difficult to suck clean once dirt became ingrained in them.
He wondered whether mistress Gail had noticed his lusting over her compatriot’s yellow ankle socks (though he had endeavoured to be discreet) for she uttered a very specific warning to him as his face descended onto her somewhat scuff-marked, white leather sneaker toes:
‘Make sure your face doesn’t touch my socks, slave? Like, just concentrate your face on my sneakers? I don’t want you dirtying my nice clean socks with your ugly face, or something?’
‘Yes mistress. This slave hears and obeys the mistress.’
Slave Alex could well understand the young, blonde Australian woman’s desire to keep her white socks fresh and unsullied by the footslave-beggar’s dirty mouth. However, realistically, there was little or no chance of his lips even inadvertently brushing against the fastidious mistress Gail’s fresh, white sneaker-socks. They were so short that only the tiniest slither of feminine sock was visible above the rims of her low-top, leather sneakers - just enough, as we said earlier, to show up the duller white of her much grubbier sneakers!
Slave Alex knew instantly that his tongue was having more success in ‘shining’ mistress Gail’s ‘minging’, white, sneakers, than he could ever have had shining the black, canvas ‘bitches’ of mistress Sheila! It was never going to be an even contest, and the two girls agreed, at the end of the ‘sneaker-shining competition’, that mistress Gail was the winner.
The two girls equally agreed that the footslave-beggar was a loser, and they both laughed heartily at their residual sneaker-dirt which was now covering his gormless face.
The two Aussie girls were about to walk off when slave Alex respectfully reminded them that he offered his sneaker-shining services for a small fee:
‘Oh pray mistresses, if it pleases you sweet and kind Australian mistresses, please spare this dirty, hungry footslave a few Fems, if you would be so kind most respected mistresses. Truly this slave admires the mistresses’ sneakers and socks!’
In beggar-slave Alex’s not inconsiderable experience it never did any harm to throw in a bit of footwear-flattery when begging for female money.
It worked. Mistress Gail – who was the winner of the competition after all – nonchalantly tossed him a 1 Fem coin.
‘Oh thank you mistress. God bless you sweet mistress.’
Mistress Sheila perhaps had more sense and gave him nothing – but then, she would have been quite within her rights to give him 20 lashes with her female whip, since he had let her converse sneakers down whilst lasciviously lusting after her yellow ankle-socks.
He was a lecherous failure, since she still could not see her face in her canvas sneakers!
The Busy, Black Businesswoman
Slave Alex, ever conscious that the clock was ticking and that master Samuel’s whip was awaiting him if he failed to earn the 10 Fems he had been ordered to bring back, decide to change tack. He would go more upmarket, and try to target wealthier-looking women in the trendy coffee-bar at the other end of the station.
He first made sure there were no uniformed, Female Police officers around and the slithered across the concourse toward the coffee-bar in question.
Sure enough he spotted a particularly attractive, young, black businesswoman seated on a bar stool in front of one of the round, high, coffee tables. She was not only drinking coffee but also reading the financial pages of a newspaper. A wealthy black businesswoman if ever he’d seen one, and hopefully ripe for the picking!
The businesswoman was tall and slim, and was wearing a smart, dark grey, pinstriped trouser suit over a crisp, white blouse. She was sitting cross-legged on the raised bar stool – with her right foot dangling in the air beneath the high coffee table whilst her left foot rested on the circular, metal footrest at the base of the stool.
On her black-businesswoman feet she was wearing a smart pair of chunky-heeled, round-toed, black leather, zip-up ankle boots – and due to the positioning of her right, booted foot hovering in the air slave Alex caught an exciting glimpse of rich, black cotton bootsock.
The sock must also be ankle length, for Slave Alex could equally see a slither of the black lady’s rich brown ankle skin above the elasticated top of her sock.
Oh if only his own, black mistress – mistress Constance – had such shapely black calf muscles! This black businesswoman’s sock sits so well on her shapely lower leg, rather like mistress Sheila’s yellow sock before her! None of that extreme stretching in the stitching that mistress Constance’s socks constantly displayed on her fat and rather shapeless legs and ankles!
Still, slave Alex was not here to admire sock. He was here to lick boot – should the black businesswoman in the posh coffee bar permit him to do so. He wouldn’t have long though. The female coffee bar staff would be sure to ‘boot’ him out after just a few minutes of pestering their black customer.
He therefore crawled straight up to the black businesswoman’s hovering, right ankle boot and begged:
‘Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you mistress. Shine your boots for you, mistress?
The young black woman tuts, apparently annoyed at having her newspaper-reading interrupted by the dirty beggar, looks down at the kneeling slave with disdain, and dismisses him with a peremptory:
‘Go away, slave!’
Her right, ankle-booted foot swivels in the air petulantly in front of the kneeling beggar’s face, causing the top of her black, cotton bootsock to crease and fold most fetchingly in front of his footslave eyes, thereby making slave Alex even more determined not to take no for an answer - not even from a superior, black mistress (something he would never dare to do at home, incidentally!):
‘Oh pray mistress – oh pity pray. Please have sweet, feminine pity on this poor male beggar, and allow him to polish your boots, most sweet and kind black mistress.’
The mistress merely responds with an even more scornful and irritated expression on her pretty, black features:
‘Tch! I said no, slave! I don’t need my boots to be polished!’
It was true of course. Slave Alex could tell that the lady’s smart, businesswoman ankle-boots were already pristine and shiny on her superior, black-socked feet.
But he had also learnt through his years of footslave-begging that dogged persistence can, sometimes, pay off.
He decided to try a different approach though, and offer to service her socks rather than her boots:
‘Oh pray mistress, oh pity pray …nuzzle your socks for you mistress?’
This was not such a ridiculous suggestion as might at first appear. Slave Alex knew that some mistresses do like the feel of a humble footslave’s nose running along the top of their sock. It’s such a degrading and humiliating thing for a slave to have to do – especially in public - and Alex thought he sensed that this preoccupied and glamorous, young, black businesswoman might be up for some public footslave-humiliation as she casually sipped her coffee and read her financial newspaper.
But no – he had seriously miscalculated!
She slammed down her coffee cup and paper on the table above him and shouted down at him at the top of her voice:
‘I SAID NO, SLAVE! LEAVE ME ALONE!’
Her raised voice attracted the attention of one of the female, coffee-bar staff who immediately rushed over in her red and white uniform and kicked the dirty footslave-beggar out of her nice, clean restaurant, apologising profusely to the black female customer as she did so.
The kicks from the waitress’s white sneakers hurt slave Alex, but at least he got to see an exciting flash of bright, red waitress-uniform sock beneath the hem of her red-corduroy, uniform trouser-leg as she literally kicked him to the kerb!
The Demure Pakistani Girl
Licking his beggar’s wounds, the rejected and ejected slave scurried on his hands and knees back into the main station concourse, where his trained footslave-beggar eye immediately spotted another potential victim – erm, customer! A traditionally dressed Pakistani girl in her late teens or early twenties who was dressed in a fetching, female salwar kameez outfit consisting of a purple headscarf, a long green, silken blouse, and matching green silken trousers with a motif of brightly coloured flowers on the elasticated hems.
What really caught his footslave eye, however, were the pretty, purple socks on her Pakistani feet inside her black leather, chunky-heeled, round-toed, slip-on shoes. Her green trousers with the flower-motifed hems, the bright purple socks, and the black slip-on shoes all made for a fascinatingly attractive and very feminine combination. Footslave Alex immediately felt drawn to the young Pakistan woman’s exotic feet and footwear.
She was standing beside several, large suitcases – looking a bit lost and apparently guarding the cases whilst the person or persons accompanying her freshened up in the nearby restrooms. She was clearly feeling a bit anxious and disorientated, and appeared somewhat mesmerised by all the hustle and bustle of the busy station around her. Definitely an out-of-towner, and possibly a fresh arrival in the Gynarchy. The increasingly desperate, and hence despicable, footslave-beggar Alex saw a golden opportunity for some footslave fleecing!
He crawled over to the pretty, Pakistani-girl shoes and socks:
‘Oh pray mistress. God bless you pretty mistress. Shine your shoes for you mistress? Kiss your socks for you mistress?’
Slave Alex was fervently hoping the young, traditionally dressed Pakistani woman would allow him to do both!
But she merely straightened her purple headscarf over her pretty, dark black hair and smiled nervously.
Slave Alex – shame upon him – knew that he had to go ahead and lick shoe without the young woman’s express permission. He sought to justify his outrageous actions by convincing himself that the young, foreign woman must not speak any English, and therefore had not understood what he had said or been able to respond.
He would have liked to go straight onto her delicious, purple socks - but not even slave Alex was so caddish as to kiss a young Pakistani woman’s intimate socks without permission! He would at least restrict himself to her somewhat dusty and grimy outer footwear.
He therefore placed his lips onto her coyly positioned right shoe – directly on the rounded toe area - and tasted Pakistani-girl, black shoe leather.
Slave Alex genuinely meant it to be taken as an expression of his respect for her musty-smelling shoe, but the young woman appeared shocked, and hurriedly withdrew her foot from his lips:
‘What are you being doing, dirty slave! Shoo! Shoo!’
Ah, so the young woman did speak some English! Somehow, though, slave Alex just knew that this young woman was not shouting ‘Shoe! Shoe!’ at him.
She clearly wanted him to go away.
But he just couldn’t! He needed the money! He had to keep trying to ingratiate himself with this superior, young woman.
He shuffled forwards until his dirty lips were once again hovering over the young Pakistani woman’s pretty, black leather slip-on shoe. Oh – such a nice contrast with her bright, purple sock! If only he could kiss her sock! Surely this young woman would come round?
But he didn’t dare! That really would be taking too much of an advantage! Instead he again begged to kiss shoe:
‘Oh pray, mistress. Oh pity pray, please permit this dirty slave to kiss the mistress’s beautiful shoe!’
At that point he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his buttocks – the result of a traditionally dressed Pakistani man’s shoe up his backside.
Oh no! The young woman’s partner had evidently come back! Her husband perhaps?
Whoever he was, he was furious at the footslave-beggar’s behaviour – and justifiably so!
‘GO AWAY DIRTY SLAVE…KICK…KICK…GET OUT OF HERE ….KICK…KICK… DIRTY FOOT-WHORE!.... KICK…KICK…BEGONE, OR I’LL CALL THE FEMALE POLICE!’
The man may have been in traditional, Pakistani attire, but from his accent he obviously was resident in the Gynarchy. As he scurried away from his Pakistani betters, slave Alex surmised that the young Pakistani woman with the purple socks was probably the man’s bride-to-be – recently arrived from Pakistan in order to start a new life in the Gynarchy with her free husband.
Give it a few months and she’d be happily kicking male footslaves with her own, demure, Pakistani feet!
Slave Alex felt ashamed of himself. What type of a welcome to the Gynarchy had he provided to this delightful, young Pakistani woman - pestering her shoes and socks with his lascivious slave-lips? He knew he deserved to be punished.
He almost wanted to go back and apologise to the mistress and her husband-to-be, but thought better of it. The man had, after all, been threatening to call the dreaded Female Police!
Oh well, not such an easy buck after all!
The African Cleaning-Girl
Slave Alex was beginning to get desperate. It was now nearly 9.30 in the evening – and still only 1 measly Fem to take back to mistress Constance and master Samuel!
He hid in a dark corner of the station and tried to spot his next customer-victim.
Suddenly he had to take cover behind some cardboard boxes as he saw two female police officers patrolling nearby. God they looked hot! Black leather knee-high boots under knee-length, navy blue, uniform skirts. How he would dearly love to tongue-shine those female, police boots for a Fem apiece!
But, of course, he couldn’t. Footslave-begging was completely illegal in the Gynarchy – as a female tannoy announcement which echoed around the station concourse now made clear:
‘Ladies and Gentlemen – illegal footslaves are known to be touting for business on this station. Please use the official public footslaves in the booths provided, and report any unlicensed footslave-beggars to the Female Police. Thank you.’
Slave Alex’s heart sank. He knew that it must have been his activities which had prompted the angry tannoy announcement. Either the waitress in the coffee-bar, or the Pakistani man, must have reported him to the Station mistress. And now the Female Police appeared to be looking for him!
He would have to be ultra carful now not to get caught, for those female Police officers’ boots were not made for licking – they were made for kicking and holding him under arrest whilst the police van came to pick him up.
He knew that because he’d been arrested for begging many times before!
Slave Alex decided, despite the fact that time was pressing on, to lie low for half an hour or so around the back of the station - just until the dust settled on his potential female customers’ boots and shoes!
However, as we all know, there is no rest for the wicked footslave – and just when he thought he was safe one of the female station cleaners came out to the bin area where he was hiding. He knew she was one of the station staff because of her blue, uniform sweatshirt beneath her ‘Gynarchy Railways’ yellow, fluorescent jacket.
That – and the fact that she was emptying some smelly rubbish sacks into the bins!
She spotted him – of course she did. Was she not trained to spot rubbish?
The girl, who was black and in her early twenties, laughed at him – crouching amongst the other rubbish. She walked confidently over to him:
‘Ha! Ha! What are you doing hiding behind here, dirty footslave? Are you on the run from the Female Police? Ha! Ha!’
Her West African accent reminded slave Alex of his own mistress Constance’s voice – although this charming, young cleaning-woman was much slimmer and prettier. He lowered his head to her African feet as he must always do when confronted by a superior, young woman, and admired her cheap-looking, black and white striped sneakers beneath her plain black, denim jeans.
He could not see her socks beneath her jeans – not yet anyway:
‘Oh pray mistress-cleaner, if it pleases you mistress-cleaner, please don’t report this dirty beggar to the authorities, all-powerful and most respected cleaning-girl mistress!’
He then placed his lips onto the dusty and scuff-marked toe of the African cleaning-girl’s unbranded, black leather, lace-up sneaker.
Although it was dark in the bin area at the back of the station, slave Alex now caught a clear glimpse of some sweet, greyish-white sock inside the African girl’s black sneaker – just beneath the dirt-stained hem of her black, denim jean leg.
He heard the girl laugh at him – revelling in her cleaning-girl power and authority over his wretched life at that particular moment in time. He was at her mercy. She could easily report him to the station mistress or the Female Police and have him arrested. She knew exactly what he was: he was nothing but a dirty, footslave-beggar – a beggar at her feet!
She moved over to a nearby wall, rested her behind on a concrete window sill, and summoned the dirty beggar over to her feet:
‘Ha! Ha! Take off my sneakers and smell me, slave. I want you to smell my dirty socks, otherwise I will report you to the Female Police! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Alex was in no doubt as to what he had to do – he had to obey the African cleaning girl, take off her shoes, and smell her sweaty, grey-white socks. Such a humiliation would certainly be preferable to a night in the Female Police cells – followed, no doubt, by a beating from master Samuel’s whip for failing to bring back any money!
And so, even though this was all taking up valuable time, slave Alex dutifully and humbly crawled over to the African girl’s cheap, dirty, black and white striped sneakers, untied the laces on her right sneaker, and slipped off the shoe in order to lower his footslave-beggar nose onto the stinky, reinforced toe area of her grey-white socks and audibly sniff them for her pleasure.
Even in the gloom and the dark he could clearly detect with his trained footslave-eyes some yellowy-brown sweat stains on the greyish-white girlsock – especially on the area immediately beneath her African toes. Not that he needed his sense of sight to detect her footsweat. His sense of smell was enough to do that for him!
But slave Alex did not baulk at the sweaty smell as he sniffed African-girl, grubby white sock. Far from it, he immersed himself in the cleaning girl’s sweaty socked aroma, for it was the sock-smell of his female master and better; the girl with all the power; the power to sweep him off the streets just as she swept the rubbish off the station concourse.
He therefore sniffed her socks willingly in exchange for no payment – other than the ‘reward’ of not being reported to the Female Police.
The African cleaning-girl laughed at him as she put her sneakers back onto her smelly-socked feet and returned to her work.
The Classy, Latina Prostitute
Slave Alex was by now truly desperate! It was 10:30 p.m. and he still had only 1 Fem in his slave-shorts’ pocket!
He was also becoming slavishly desperate to lick black leather, knee-length, female boot. The sight of the Female Police officers’ black leather, knee-high boots earlier on had tickled his fancy, and he decided to seek out a similar pair of boots that he could lick clean in the train station, now that all the fuss seemed to have died down.
His luck was (almost) in as he suddenly spotted a familiar pair of stylish, dark brown, knee-high boots standing next to a tobacco-kiosk near the side entrance to the station. But they were not the boots of a female police officer. They were much too pointy-toed and spike-heeled to belong to one of the Gynarchy’s finest (quite apart from being the wrong colour!)
No, these were the familiar knee-high boots of the Latina mistress, mistress Maria – one of the many prostitutes who frequented the station concourse almost as often as footslave-beggar Alex himself!
He knew her name, and that she was a prostitute, because he had witnessed her going off with male clients many times – sometimes to the very bin area where he had been so unsuccessfully trying to hide just a few moments earlier!
He knew also that she was a Latina lady who originated from Central America – partly because of her cute, Latina accent, but also because of her long, dark, curly hair and her slightly swarthy Latina complexion.
Slave Alex was quite enamoured by superior mistress Maria. She had beautiful, dark, gypsy-like eyes, and always wore a short, fur coat, a sexy, black leather miniskirt, and black, fishnet stockings with her ubiquitous, brown leather, knee-high, prostitute’s boots! She really was quite beautiful for a prostitute in her late thirties. She ‘scrubbed up well’ as a free man might put it! Slave Alex thought she really could do so much better for herself, though he was aware that she had a drug habit to support.
Like he was in any position to judge a superior young Latina woman’s chosen lifestyle!
Anyway, slave Alex’s heart gladdened at the comforting sight of mistress Maria’s boots – because she really was a ‘tart with a heart’. He knew from previous experience that she would almost certainly accede to his request to lick-shine her boots, and would even generously toss him a shiny Fem coin or two from her own illicit earnings – one ‘panhandler’ to another, so to speak! So what if her boots were brown, rather than the black he now craved?
Beggars can’t be choosers!
He quickly crawled over to mistress Maria’s pitch where she was enjoying a cigarette next to the tobacco-kiosk, and greeted her with long, lingering, slavish kisses to her thirtysomething street-boots:
‘Oh pray mistress Maria …kiss…kiss... God bless you mistress Maria… kiss…kiss…pray pity this poor footslave…kiss…kiss…sweet and kind mistress…kiss…kiss... and spare him a few Fems, mistress…kiss…kiss… if you would be so kind most beautiful and respected mistress… kiss…kiss.’
Mistress Maria smiled condescendingly down at the wretched male slave-beggar grovelling in the dirt at her brown-booted, prostitute feet.
She then deliberately stubbed out her cigarette beneath the pointy toe of her right boot directly below his kneeling face, in order to add to his footslave frustration. Mistress Maria knew men well, and she knew that, for a footslave, the mere thought of her dirty cigarette butt stuck to the sole of her leather boot would be quite maddening!
She then laughed at the unfortunate slave:
‘Ha! Ha! So your mistress has sent you out onto the streets again slave, eh? Ha! Ha! How much have you earned tonight, darling?’
Slave Alex was ashamed to have to admit to prostitute-mistress Maria that he had only managed to earn one measly Fem thus far this evening. He hoped, however, that this would invoke her prostitute-pity on him, and prompt her to chuck him a few Fems.
It didn’t.
Sadly for slave Alex it seemed that business had been slow for prostitute-mistress Maria also that evening. She was – as she so delicately put it – ‘skint’; or so she claimed!
Slave Alex nevertheless continued to lick her pointy-toed brown leather boot – and even managed to eat the discarded, lipstick-covered cigarette butt from the Latina prostitute’s mouth as he licked the dirt beneath her spiked, prostitute heels.
Mistress Maria effectively betrayed him, however, for whilst he was worshipping the ground beneath her booted feet – for free – she omitted to warn him that the Female Police were approaching from behind him, eager to make an arrest. Not an arrest of the female prostitute, of course – female prostitution is entirely legal in the Gynarchy since it is the free woman’s choice. No – they had come to arrest the dirty, male footslave-beggar – the one who had been pestering women on the station concourse all evening!
And so slave Alex actually got his wish to be surrounded by black leather, knee-high boots that evening after all – for he was repeatedly kicked in the face by each and every female police officer who entered the police cells that night, leaving their black, boot-polish stains all over his gormless, footslave-beggar face.
And, to add insult to injury, the Female Police confiscated his illicit earnings – all 1 fem – before turfing him back out onto the streets, battered and bruised, to make his way home on his hands and knees to his mistress Constance’s house in the suburbs, where a livid master Samuel and mistress Constance were waiting for him.
Slave Alex did lots more begging that morning – begging for mercy, as his African owners justifiably vented their spleen on their lazy, good-for-nothing, footslave-beggar!
The End
