Sneakers and Spice and all things Nice!
Miss Annapoorna - a pretty-faced, petite, dark-haired, 23 year old girl who hails originally from the far-eastern country of Laos - is my owner and mistress. She makes her living by using me as a public shoe and boot-licker out and about on the streets of the Gynarchy.
Every day – and all day – I must accompany her on my hands and knees, crawling humbly and dutifully behind her Laotian heels until such time as she spots a mistress who may wish to have her shoes or boots licked clean for a small gratuity. It is a form of street-begging, I suppose, although it is not my sweet, refugee-mistress Annapoorna who is the beggar. I am the raggedy-assed, down-at-heel foot-beggar; my mistress Annapoorna simply lives off my illegal, beggarly earnings.
Of course, it can be quite boring for my sweet and kind, oriental mistress – having to watch me lick other ladies’ dirty shoes and boots all day long – and so, quite often, my mistress will seek to spice up both our lives!
This morning, as she opens the door to my cell in the basement of her modest house, she makes it clear to me that she is in just such a mood for one of her ‘special projects’, when she will set us a specific goal in order to make the day more interesting for us both.
As usual, she laughs at me as I eagerly crawl out of my cramped cell-hole and fawn kisses over her pretty, oriental feet:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave pleased to see miss Annapoorna? Slave want work hard today? Want please mistress?’
As I kiss the scuff-marked toes of miss Annapoorna’s dusty, black plastic, cheap-looking, slip-on shoes I can honestly think of nothing more that I want to do other than to please her. For I have learnt, over the year or so that I have been in her female employ, that miss Annapoorna does not suffer slaves gladly, and if I ever do displease her with my public boot and shoe cleaning efforts my naked back soon knows about it in the form of angry, red welts strewn across it. For my petite and kind Laotian mistress sure knows how to whip!
It is always imperative, therefore, that I please my Laotian, female master, which is why I am so keen to assure her of my total submission and compliance to her oriental will, by kissing the tops of her short, navy blue sneaker-socks inside her cheap, black, plastic slip-on shoes, and by eulogising both them and their wearer:
‘Oh pray mistress Annapoorna, this slave truly seeks to please the beautiful mistress, and her shoes and socks, at all times, if it is so pleasing to you most respected and feared mistress Annapoorna, for this slave is the slave of the beautiful mistress’s wonderful shoes and socks, and blesses and praises them, if you would be so kind mistress Annapoorna. God bless you, and God bless your cotton socks, mistress Annapoorna!’
I specifically kiss my mistress’s socks because I know that, like many mistresses, she likes it. She enjoys feeling my lips on the elasticated tops of her somewhat ropey-looking, well-worn, navy blue sneaker-socks.
I don’t wish to imply that my oriental mistress’s socks are particularly dirty or unclean – they just look ropey because they are well-worn. My mistress does not have enough money for a large wardrobe of socks, and so she has to make do with just 6 pairs – of which this pair are one. What is true, however, is that the socks could be said to be somewhat neglected by my mistress, as she has much more important things to think about than the state of her socks – such as where her next meal is coming from!
You see, my mistress is technically an illegal immigrant in the Gynarchy. She has not yet had the confidence to claim female asylum, although I am sure she would be granted it by the Female Authorities straight away – given that she is such a pretty girl!
I, however, am a totally legal slave, and do not have anything better to worry about than the state of my mistress’s footwear. In fact, I spend so much of my time crawling behind her socks and shoes, I have developed an obsession for them. And I think this is what mistress Annapoorna finds so endearing about me – my utter devotion to her scruffy, Laotian footwear. That’s why she likes me kissing her scruffy shoes and socks, and I like doing it because I know it ingratiates me towards my superior, illegal-immigrant mistress.
She laughs at my obsequious devotion to her illegitimate feet and footwear:
‘Ha! Ha! Good! I glad! Today you please me by licking only sneakers. Today we find only women sneakers for dirty slave to lick. Not shoes. Not boots. Not sandals. Only superior young women stinky sneakers and stinky socks. Ha! Ha! I find you young women dirty, stinky sneakers and socks. You tongue-shine sneakers. You clean. You smell young women stinky socks. You do good job – earn miss Annapoorna many money – I not whip! You not do good job – you a bad slave – I whip. I whip you hard! Many pain! Ha! Ha! Slave hear miss Annapoorna? Slave frightened of miss Annapoorna and miss Annapoorna whip?’
My mistress’s command of English is, as you can tell, still somewhat ‘stilted’, but she nevertheless commands me with complete authority and self-assurance, and I do indeed fear both her and her whip – a brown leather, single-tailed slave whip which she found on a rubbish tip (the same rubbish tip where she found me, for I used to be feral). She may be physically petite, like a lot of Asian women, but I am most definitely the weaker sex vis รก vis mistress Annapoorna! And besides, she is clearly the one wearing the trousers (cheap, blue denim jeans in fact). I am only permitted to wear white slave-shorts.
Stull feverishly kissing my young, Laotian mistress’s scuff-marked shoes and ropey, blue anklesocks, I emphasise to her yet again my compliance with her orders, and my fear of her, and her recycled whip:
‘Oh pray mistress Annapoorna, God bless you sweet and kind mistress Annapoorna! This dirty slave truly thanks and blesses the mistress for her kindness in deciding to make him clean superior women’s dirty and smelly sneakers and socks all day long, and promises that he will do a good job in tongue-cleaning those superior, feminine sneakers and socks, most gracious and all-powerful mistress Annapoorna, for this slave truly respects his mistress and fears her whip, if you would be so kind all-powerful goddess-mistress Annapoorna. Truly this slave is honoured to look his cruel mistress in the sock.’
I have learnt that mistress Annapoorna likes to be described as ‘cruel’. It enhances her self-esteem, as does my humble insistence in maintaining eye-contact with her lowly socks. And she also likes to be referred to as a ‘goddess’, because she thinks she is one – a slave-owning goddess in her scruffy, cheap, black plastic shoes and ropey, navy-blue sneaker socks.
She attaches a heavy chain to my scrawny maleslave-neck and beckons me to follow her on my hands and knees:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave – heel!’
I dutifully crawl round behind my superior Laotian mistress and put my doglike snout to her black plastic and ankle-socked heels.
So today my owner, director and mistress has decided that I shall be servicing girls’ dirty, stinky sneakers and socks – sneakers and spice and all things nice! I do know from bitter experience just how unsweet and unkempt young women’s sneakers can be – sweaty, scruffy things with holes in them; laces half-undone; things handwritten on them in pink felt-tip, like their current boyfriends’ names: ‘Kylie loves Peter’ etc. etc.
And the socks that go with them can be equally grubby – white, turned grey; or cheap, cartoon-print socks; socks with messages to the slave – messages like ‘I am a free young woman, and you are less important than my socks, for you are nothing but a dirty sockslave!’
And yet, however scruffy and unkempt a young woman’s sneakers and socks may be, I must always lick and kiss them with total, slavish respect – for they are the chosen sneakers and socks of a superior mistress, and if mistress ‘Kylie’ does indeed love master ‘Peter’ I must respect that love, and pay slavish homage to their superior relationship by reverentially kissing the dirt beneath the felt-tip message all along the side of miss ‘Kylie’s’ scruffy, white sneaker, since both mistress ‘Kylie’ and master ‘Peter’ are my free superiors and betters.
I’m just a slave.
Nordic Spice
The first pair of sneakers that myself and mistress Annapoorna encounter this morning (although my encounter with them will be much more intimate and ‘in your face’ than the encounter experienced by my owner and mistress) belong to a young, blonde-ponytailed woman in her early twenties – about my own mistress Annapoorna’s age.
The blonde mistress might be called ‘Kylie’ – she might not. There are, sadly, no clues written in felt-tip on her sneakers. But like the imaginary mistress Kylie’s sneakers – they are nominally white.
The young, blonde woman is leaning casually against the back of a tram-shelter, her black denim jeans-covered legs crossed over at the ankles, enjoying an early morning cigarette. I happen to know that smoking in public is illegal in the Gynarchy – even for women – It is only lawful in certain designated smokers’ booths set aside for the purpose. But mistress Blondie appears unconcerned.
How ironic that I should now be at the mercy of two mistresses who, each in their own way, are outlaws! And yet I am the one who faces punishment if I slip up!
Mistress Blondie looks like she may be a shop-assistant on her way into work, and she is wearing a short, black denim jacket and crisp, white blouse along with her black, denim jeans. There is nobody else about for it is still very early in the morning, and quite dark. (My mistress Annapoorna is an early riser – therefore I have to be too).
My mistress skilfully positions me in front of the young, blonde shop-assistant’s white-sneakered feet and offers up my services:
‘Madam like slave lick sneakers? Make sneakers shine?’
As I stare humbly at the blonde girl’s sneakers I can’t help thinking it will be a tough task cleaning them up with my mouth until they shine! They are, or were once, a plain, white pair of Velcro-fastened sneakers – but they could now, on closer inspection, only be described as dirty grey. The rounded toe areas, in particular, are scuff-marked to the point of being holey!
But, of course, to me the sneakers are holy – for they belong to a superior young woman who is clearly my infinite better.
The blonde girl takes a nonchalant drag on her cigarette and gives her informed consent to my tongue:
‘Oh! Oh yes, alright then. You may make him lick all that filth off the sides of my sneakers. But I don’t want him touching my socks!’
Mistress ‘Blondie’ speaks with a pronounced, Scandinavian accent. More of an ‘Agnetha’ than a ‘Kylie’, I fancy.
‘Ha! Ha! No madam. Slave a good slave – very obedient. He not touch madam white socks unless Annapoorna tell him to. I his master. I have whip. He frightened of me.’
A whole mishmash of emotions are whirling through my pathetic, footslave brain at this point in time:
Respect – for the apparent purity of the blonde-ponytailed, Nordic mistress’s pure, white sneaker socks, only the elasticated tops of which are just visible above the rims of her low-cut sneakers, for the pure, white socks only serve to highlight the dirty, greyish-white of her sneaker leather;
Disappointment – that I am not to be permitted to kiss the young blonde woman’s short, white sneaker socks, for although they are for the most part hidden down inside her sneakers, the plain, white elasticated tops of her socks look very inviting to the lips beneath the hems of her black denim jeans;
Pride – that my mistress Annapoorna has described me to a member of the public as a ‘good slave – very obedient’. Coming from the demanding and whip-wielding mistress Annapoorna this is high praise indeed;
Fear – as my mistress has also reminded me that I am very much frightened of her, and her whip, and she clearly takes pleasure in my fear;
And longing – longing to get on with the early morning task-in-mouth of tongue shining, as best I slavishly can, this arrogant, young Scandinavian shop-girl’s dirty, white sneakers. As she herself has pointed out – there is much ingrained street dirt and filth to lick off the sides of her well-worn, white sneakers.
But I still have to await my mistress Annapoorna’s explicit orders. As she says – she is my master. And I am just her slave. I have no will of my own. I must simply do her bidding.
My mistress Annapoorna is not long, however, in ordering me to do her, and the blonde girl’s, superior, female bidding in her cute, oriental accent:
‘Slave lick side of nice young woman sneakers. Make sneakers shine. Make clean. Lick off all dirt from side of sneakers. You not touch nice young woman sock or I whip. I cut you with whip if slave lip touch top of young lady sock! You obey! You start lick now! You a dirty slave!’
‘Yes mistress Annapoorna. At once mistress Annapoorna!’
It is very important that I don’t do anything to embarrass my oriental mistress in front of other mistresses. I must make miss Annapoorna look good, by obeying her words to the letter. For then, hopefully, she will get a good tip from the recipient of my humble labour, and she will be happy.
And then I shall be happy for, being a slave, I am easily pleased, and it will mean I won’t be whipped!
So everyone will be happy – including, hopefully, the blonde, nordic customer-mistress whose sneakers will have been given a new lease of life by my humble slave-tongue.
A still sleepy mistress Blondie indolently unfurls her sneakered ankles in order to afford my aforementioned slave-tongue easier access to the dirt-caked sides of both her white, Scandinavian sneakers – a sweet and kind gesture on the part of the young mistress which is highly appreciated by the humble slave.
I begin by respectfully kissing the scuff-marked, white-leather toe of her right sneaker, as I have been taught by my mistress Annapoorna always to first kiss that which I am about to respectfully service.
The young, blonde Swedish woman then twists her right foot around to one side in order to give my tongue even greater access to the inner side of her dirty sneaker. In so doing she simultaneously creates a small crease along the top of her plain, white sneaker sock – but I remember that I have already been told her sock is out of bounds. I can therefore only admire the crease in the sock from my close-up vantage point. I am sadly not allowed to softly nose or kiss it on this occasion, despite my mistress Annapoorna’s promise that I shall be servicing girls’ socks today.
Never mind – there are plenty more socks on the street!
The dirt-stained, inner side of the young, blonde smoker’s right sneaker smells musty and tastes bitter. I quickly realise that it is not just the visible dirt I am licking, but the ingrained sweat and dirt from many previous wearings. I am honoured by that thought – for it means I am tasting the very essence of this superior, young stranger-woman’s foot, and in licking the tiny creases and folds along the inner side of her white sneaker-leather I am effectively licking the contours of her Scandinavian foot, so moulded has the well-worn sneaker become to its shape.
My mistress Annapoorna is keen to direct my work so that the customer’s footwear is cleaned properly to high female standards. She therefore barks down some supplementary instructions to me in her cute, Laotian accent:
‘Slave lick harder! Get off all dirt from side of young woman sneaker! You obey – or feel whip!’
The whip is now ominously unhooked from my own mistress’s jean belt, it’s somewhat frayed, single-tailed tip now dangling threateningly in the air beside my kneeling face.
I hear the young blonde woman laughing over me:
‘Ha! Ha! Do you have to whip him often? I mean, you did say earlier that he was a good slave?’
‘Ha! Ha! Slave very good – madam. But all slave need whip. Whip keep slave down. Make slave work hard. He a lazy dumb-ass if not for whip. Power of whip make him work!’
‘Ha! Ha! Cool! If I had my own slave I’d whip him too – just for the hell of it, you know?’ mistress Blondie informs my dark-haired mistress Annapoorna, and the two female law-breakers laugh together.
‘Ha! Ha! Madam want try whip on slave? I make him beg madam for whip, if madam like. You hurt slave if want to. It not matter. He a nothing. He just a slave!’
The young, blonde Scandinavian smoker takes a final drag on her illicit cigarette before throwing it carelessly down on the ground, and looks as though she may be about to take up my mistress on her kind offer, when I am saved by the bell!
The bell of the approaching tram!
Mistress Blondie’s tram has arrived! Suddenly the side of her filthy, right sneaker is unceremoniously withdrawn from my mouth - shining all along its side under the tram-shelter light not so much due to the successful removal of any ingrained dirt, but more due to the fact that my impure, footslave-saliva is glistening all along her shapely, sneakered instep!
I am, of course, devastated to know that I shall not even get a chance to lick the side of the young, Scandinavian woman’s, grubby, Velcro-fastened left sneaker. Damn you, tram! You may have saved me from a gratuitous whipping, but you have equally denied me a taste of nordic-girl left sneaker!
At least my mistress Annapoorna still gets her gratuitous payment, for the generous young blonde woman tosses her a 1 Fem coin as she boards the tram.
I can relax, therefore. My mistress has been paid and I won’t be whipped!
But a footslave-beggar’s work is never done, and my mistress Annapoorna has already spotted our next customer.
Caribbean Spice
Just as the tram is pulling away from the tram stop my mistress and I hear a young black woman shouting in vain at the tram to stop. She is running, and out of breath by the time she reaches the tram-shelter.
But the tram has well and truly gone.
The young, twenty-something, black woman unabashedly utters a tirade of angry expletives.
Despite being so angry and flustered, however, I must say she looks ultra-cool. She is wearing dark sunglasses (even though it is still dark); a loose, green cotton jacket over a white blouse; green shorts; and black, high-top, converse-style sneakers with thick, black laces; and calf-length socks which are a mixture of red, green, yellow and black.
Her socks particularly catch my eye. The coloured elements of the socks comprise a thin red rim at the top of the socks, and the Jamaican national flag on the outer side of each sock - consisting of a yellow St Andrew’s cross over a green and black background – directly above the Caribbean girl’s shapely, canvas-covered anklebones. The rest of the socks are pure black.
Obviously, the design of such unique socks is of enormous interest to me as I must spend so much of my life studying and admiring young women’s socks.
But of even more significance is the way the black girl is wearing her socks inside her black, canvas high-top sneakers. Her socks are fully pulled up. If she were to turn them over at the cuffs they would be purely ankle-length socks. But she chooses not to – she proudly wears her Jamaican socks at full stretch, thereby enhancing the natural beauty of her shapely, black shin and calf muscles as she shows off her patriotism and national flag.
No need to exhort this particular, breathless and sweating young black woman to pull her socks up. She already has!
My mistress Annapoorna sees her chance – the next tram won’t be along for at least another 15 minutes.
‘I sorry you miss tram, madam! You want slave clean sneakers while wait for next tram come along?’
The young black woman appears to notice me for the first time as she slumps down onto the plastic seating-bench in the tram-shelter.
She takes a few seconds to catch her breath before replying to my mistress:
‘No thanks, sister. My sneakers don’t need cleaning, innit?’
I know my mistress Annapoorna well by now – well enough to know that she won’t be put off so easily. Besides, she is a Laotian woman of her word – and she has promised me sock, so sock I shall have, and before the sun is up! I know I can rely on my sweet and kind oriental mistress to get me up close and personal to her Afro-Caribbean sister’s beautiful, Jamaican-themed socks – for I truly belong with them!
I’m guessing that this young black woman is actually on her way home this early in the morning. She looks as though she may have been out clubbing all night – hence the sunglasses. She’s probably feeling a bit the worse for wear. Poor thing!
The Jamaican girl is flagging! Oh if only I could revive her, and recompense her for missing her tram by respectfully nosing her flag-print socks?
My mistress Annapoorna appears to be thinking that selfsame thing:
‘Madam like slave worship madam socks? Kiss and nuzzle top of socks while madam catch her breath and wait for next tram?’
We have already established that this young, black woman is proud of her socks – as well she might be. She has pulled them fully up so that everyone may clearly see her national flag on the sides of her socks. These socks are not just something she threw on willy-nilly lat night. They are a fashion statement. They declare to the world not only her Caribbean ethnicity, but also that she is a fun-loving girl, and they are an integral part of her clubbing outfit, collecting her foot-perspiration whilst she dances the night away on the sweaty dance-floor.
I must confess the thought that these spectacular calf-length socks have been on her Jamaican dancing feet and legs all night thrills me to the very fundament of my humble footslave-being!
I must get my mouth and nose onto those ethnic socks. Oh pray mistress Annapoorna. Please work your oriental magic. Please get me those spicy, Caribbean socks!
As the young, black woman does not immediately reject my mistress’s sock-servicing advances, my clever Laotian owner moves in for the kill:
‘I make slave kiss Jamaican flag on side of madam pretty sock 100 times. Then I make him nuzzle side of sock. He worship madam sock and make madam feel strong. He be at your mercy and in your power!’
Brilliant! I just know that my mistress Annapoorna is pressing all the right buttons with this proud, young black woman. Like any superior young woman she wants to have a humble male slave in her sweet feminine power – a humble, white man paying slavish homage to her black ethnicity and her ethnic socks, and all whilst she is still wearing them inside her thick-laced, high-top sneakers.
She is hooked!
‘Erm…yeah, okay then. But make sure he only kisses and nuzzles the flag, innit? I don’t want him sniffin’ and slobberin’ all over my socks like some dirty dog, yeah?’
My mistress assures the black girl, on my behalf, that I will not misbehave over her socks:
‘Ha! Ha! Madam not worry. Slave will obey superior mistress. He respect madam socks. I have whip!’
Duly reassured, the fit - but still somewhat out of breath - young black woman rests her sneakered and socked feet side by side on the ground as she rests her substantial behind on the plastic bench of the tram-shelter, and having regained her composure and her breath a little bit, she proceeds to grant me her female permission to begin worshipping her spicy, Caribbean socks:
‘OK slave, start kissing the flags on the sides of my socks, yeah? Kiss both of them 100 times, and don’t kiss any other part of my socks, yeah? Then start to nuzzle my socks, but I only wanna feel your lips and nose on the flags, man, yeah? Don’t touch the rest of my socks, or I’ll have you whipped, yeah?’
The two green, black and yellow Jamaican flag motifs cover her shapely, outer calf muscles, giving the flags a somewhat stretched appearance. This small fact only serves to enhance my sock-kissing and sock-nuzzling pleasure, as I get to kiss and nose the most dynamic and striking parts of the young black woman’s socks. I am content with that.
I assure the black mistress that the rest of her socks are safe from my lips and face:
‘Yes mistress. At once mistress. This slave obeys the pretty mistress, and respects her socks.’
As I begin by kissing the upper sides of her socks, however, I cannot help but inhale the aroma emanating from the lower parts of her socks, deep inside her black, canvas, high-top sneakers. I was right! She has been dancing in these socks all night. I can smell the warm, moist perspiration emanating from her lower sock area! The smell is funky and spicy – spicy Caribbean sock!
My God, I am a lucky slave this morning! First licking the dirty, grey-white sneaker of a beautiful, young blonde woman, and now kissing and nuzzling the proud, ethnic socks of an equally pretty young, black Jamaican woman – all whilst being closely supervised by my oriental mistress in her ropey, navy blue socks and cheap, flat, black plastic, slip-on shoes. Truly my cup of female shoes and socks runneth over!
I take my time – out of respect for that which I am kissing and nuzzling. But also because I know I have fifteen minutes in which to fill my lips and nose with sweet, feminine, black-girl sock!
My mistress gets a generous tip from the proud and outgoing Caribbean girl.
Celtic Spice
My mistress Annapoorna and I eventually move on to the nearby overground railway station where we soon spot our next customer.
She is one of those office girls who likes to commute into work in her sneakers, and then change into a smart pair of black, office courts once she is in her place of work. The red-head is wearing thick, black, opaque woollen tights beneath her smart, grey pinstriped, knee-length skirt, meaning that the whole of her shapely calves are exposed – albeit beneath her woolly tights.
Her low-top, lace-up, leather sneakers, by way of contrast to the black, woolly tights, are almost pure white – almost pure, for give me any pair of sweet, white, feminine sneakers and I guarantee you I shall find dirt on them; as I did with mistress Blondie earlier.
Mistress Ginger is standing in front of the departure board at the train station, waiting for her train to be called.
My mistress Annapoorna, with her astute entrepreneurial business brain, sees an opportunity and moves in with me, quite literally, in tow behind her own, flat black plastic heels:
‘Good morning, madam. Madam like slave clean sneakers while madam wait for train?’
The young red-headed office manageress, whom I would estimate to be in her early thirties, looks down at me with utter disdain and contempt written all over her pretty, pale-skinned and freckled features. She clearly is the sort of young woman who accepts that my ugly maleslave-face is indeed a fitting place for her sneakers to be on:
She looks at her watch, presumably not prepared to trust the station clock!
‘Erm…yeah, okay. They could do with a quick lick and a shine, to be sure. Oh, and would you mind also making him take off my sneakers and freshening up my tights, please? I think they may be quite stinky and sweaty since I’ve been wearing them for two days in a row!’
My mistress laughs gleefully – this special request can only mean more money for her:
‘Ha! Ha! Yes certainly madam! Please to be seated on this wall over here!’
My mistress then guides the red-headed office girl, who had spoken with a distinctive Irish lilt, over to a nearby wall on the station concourse where the customer can take an artificial seat whilst I humbly attend to both her outer and inner footwear.
As usual, I politely await my detailed instructions from mistress Annapoorna:
‘Slave – you heard madam. You start by lick sneakers. Lick off all madam sneaker-dirt. Then you untie sneakers and suck sweat out of madam dirty tights. You not touch madam tights above ankles – only sweaty parts on toes and heels. You obey now or feel whip!’
‘Yes mistress Annapoorna. At once mistress Annapoorna.’
I would prefer to have to suck the sweat out of sweet, feminine socks – rather than tights. But tights will do for now. The day is still young!
But first, of course, I must taste the dirt on the red-head’s Irish sneakers. As I said before, they don’t look too bad – just one or two black stains around the rounded toe areas and a greeny-grasslike stain on the back of the left heel. As my mistress has already confirmed, I am a good slave and I always eat up my greens, so the grass stain is soon transferred into my slave mouth and down my slave throat.
I can then get on to the more interesting and exotic part of my humble foot-service towards the redheaded and freckle-faced Irish mistress – sucking the foot-perspiration out of her spicy, two day old, black woolly tights.
As soon as the Irish girl’s sneakers come off my nostrils are assailed by the funky aroma of sweaty, black tights. The wryly smiling redheaded mistress even wriggles her toes underneath my nose in order to deliberately release yet more of the aromatic fragrance up my waiting nostrils.
One thing I do like about opaque, woolly, black tights is how they become progressively darker in hue the lower down the female leg one goes. This is caused, of course, by the fact that the stitching in the woollen material of the tights is less stretched around a lady’s feet and ankles, than it is over her shapely calf and thigh muscles.
These darker parts of the tights – below the ankle – are my only legitimate areas of interest – seeing as how I am a lowly footslave and not a legslave!
And yet a well worn pair of tights such as these also contain little patches around the foot area where the stitching will inevitably have thinned and worn away – thereby affording me an exciting, if veiled, glimpse of the mistress’s bare, white footflesh underneath.
As I lower my expectant mouth to the stinkiest part of mistress Ginger’s right, woolly-tight-covered foot – her toes – I am therefore compensated for the stink by the fetching sight of the superior mistress’s red-painted toenails beneath a worn and thinning area of woollen tight directly over her big toe. I can thus see the very source of the stink – her sweaty toes – beneath the thick, black wool!
I respectfully kiss the woollen-covered big toenail out of complete and utter slavish respect for its funky aroma. Oh if only I could get my mouth onto its sticky, two day old toejam underneath the tights!
But there is no way this young Irish woman – a good Catholic girl – is going to remove her tights in public just in order to feed me her spicy toejam! I would, of course, happily accompany her to a nearby toilet cubicle if she wanted to divest herself of her tights in there – but I know that this is just a flight of footslave fancy on my part. The red-headed office girl is expecting her train to be announced at any minute, and she specifically requested that her tights be freshened up, not her sweaty, bare toes!
An ever vigilant miss Annapoorna, keen to ensure that my slave-mind is concentrating on the woolly subject matter in mouth, abruptly reminds me with a verbal rebuke and a stinging application of her ubiquitous single-tailed, brown leather slave-whip, that I am there purely to do the young, Irish office-manageress’s bidding:
Swish – Crack!
‘Slave concentrate on madam woolly tights! Suck sweat and dirt out of tights. Not look at toes underneath – only tights!’
‘Aaow! Yes mistress. At once mistress!’
I now have a nice, red stripe across my back to match the red-toenail paint of the red-headed, office-girl mistress, as my mouth fills with the spicy taste of her funky-smelling, black woollen, Irish tights.
The tights do look fresher around the toe and heel areas of mistress Ginger’s feet after I have finished sucking on them – even if I do say so myself! I am particularly gratified to note that all of the little pubic hairs and other pieces of detritus which had been soiling the mistress’s tights before have now disappeared – inside my mouth, presumably.
I like the thought that I have been of some service to this superior young woman in being able to freshen and clean up her dirty, sweaty tights. My mistress Annapoorna is equally gratified to receive a large tip from her (5 full Fems I believe!)
Indian Spice.
It is then that my ever alert mistress Annapoorna comes up trumps – for she spots a young Indian woman hobbling over on the far side of the station.
The Indian girl – who looks to be in her mid to late twenties – is hobbling because she is on crutches. She is wearing a semi-diaphanous, pink sari, and pale green headscarf and on her right foot she is wearing a matching, pink and green sneaker and pale pink ankle sock.
Her left leg, however, is in plaster – a plaster cast covered by her other, fully-stretched, pink cotton ankle sock, presumably in an effort to protect her Indian tootsies from the elements.
The stretched toe area of her left sock, however – being fully exposed to the elements as it is – is showing considerable signs of dirt and dust. In short, it needs cleaning – and mistress Annapoorna knows just the sockslave-coolie for the job!
She drags me over behind her own, Laotian heels on my hands and knees towards the young, traditionally dressed Indian woman who has broken her delicate anklebone:
‘Madam want slave clean madam pink sock? Suck dirt off sock? Make sock look fresh on madam sore foot?’
The young, sari-clad Indian woman appears relieved that my humble, unsolicited sock-cleaning services are being offered to her in such a timely manner:
‘Ha! Ha! Oh yes please miss. My sock is being getting wery dirty in this railway station. I am thinking that I must be finding a slave to be cleaning it up for me!’
Still balancing on her crutches, she then stretches forward her broken foot into the air directly beneath my kneeling nose. I can smell ointment as well as pink sock.
Once again I await my mistress Annapoorna’s specific instructions:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave obey Indian madam. Clean madam pink sock. Suck dirt out of sock. Make sock nice and pink on young madam sore foot. No dirt! No black!’
The toe area of the sock is indeed turning black – black with the inevitable dirt and grime from the city streets. I cannot have it soiling this superior, young Indian woman’s protective, pink sock, and so I dive in with my footslave mouth immediately after I utter a quick:
‘Yes mistress Annapoorna. At once mistress Annapoorna.’
I have to soak the toe-end of the Indian girl’s pink sock in my mouth for several minutes before the dirt and grime begins to show signs of coming off. It feels odd to have the hard plaster underneath the sock as opposed to soft, feminine footflesh, although I can also feel the young Indian woman’s toenails scraping the roof of my mouth through her pink, cotton sock.
Meanwhile, my customer is explaining to my mistress Annapoorna how her unfortunate ankle-injury came about:
‘Wery bad thing happen. I am tripping and falling down an escalator at the airport. I am not being used to such things as I am being from a small village in Gujarat. But everyone is being so kind to me, even your slave. Ha! Ha!’
Mistress Annapoorna begs to differ:
‘Ha! Ha! He not being kind, madam. He just like suck dirty sock! He a whore! He a animal!’
Both Asian women laugh at me as I continue to suck dirt out of Indian girl exposed sock.
Oriental Spice
As I have only one Indian sock to service, and one Indian sneaker to then respectfully kiss on departure, my mistress and I are soon ready for our next customer. I am dragged over - crawling and eager - to serve what appears to be a Japanese student-girl accompanied by her Japanese student-boyfriend.
I suspect the young, dark-haired Japanese woman may be studying fashion design, judging by the rather eccentric way she is dressed. She is wearing a bright pink leather jacket, over a bright red T shirt; a frilly pink, puff-ball miniskirt; stripy red and black thigh-high socks; and plain, white high-top, lace-up converse sneakers.
God she looks hot!
Her thigh-high socks, in particular catch my eye. I can only detect that they are socks – and not tights – by the finest slither of bare, soft, Japanese-girl thigh flesh peeping out from beneath the hem of her ultra-short, pink, puff-ball miniskirt.
I quickly lower my gaze for, as I have already indicated, my jurisdiction is the young woman’s feet and ankles – not her calves or thighs – and certainly not the area above her thigh-length socks! That area is exclusively for her manly, Japanese boyfriend to admire. I am fit only to look the Japanese girl in the sock – and the lower sock at that, for I am a slave - not a man!
You can tell a lot about a girl from her choice of sockwear. Short white socks would indicate that she is modest and pure, like mistress Blonde-spice earlier in the day. Stripy, red and black thigh-high socks are much more menacing, and indicate that this young woman is a bit of a minx. She is a young woman of the world. This young, twenty-something, Japanese woman knows the power of her legs and socks.
And my mistress Annapoorna also knows that there is much potential for footslave-humiliation, and therefore money, in those long, stripy socks, and so she quickly leads me on my hands and knees over towards the exotically dressed Japanese girl, who is passionately embracing her much more conventionally dressed Japanese boyfriend.
Well, they do say that opposites attract!
As we approach the happy couple, the girl is actually standing on tip-toe, giggling and kissing her Japanese boyfriend on the lips. I notice that her right, sneakered foot is also coquettishly twisted behind her as she kisses him, causing the area of her red and black sock just above the ankle to crease and fold in front of my mesmerized eyes.
I like those sock-creases around the back of her right anklebone just above the upper rim of her high-top, white canvas sneaker, and therefore I focus in on them, whilst my mistress Annapoorna politely interrupts the happy, courting, oriental couple:
‘Excuse me madam; sir... You like slave clean madam dirty sneakers? Nose madam stripy socks? Slave very good sock-boy; like socks; know how to nose women socks very well!’
Nobody can see it, but I am blushing with slavish pride as I hear these words of recommendation from my mistress Annapoorna. I am indeed a good sock-boy! I am an expert noser and nuzzler of girlsocks – but then I do owe it all to my mistress Annapoorna’s excellent training methods. She should really be the one to receive all the glory!
Which, of course she will be – since she will be the one getting paid for my efforts.
The young, worldly-wise, Japanese woman stops kissing her manly Japanese boyfriend high above me, looks down at me, and giggles behind her delicate, oriental hand.
She then whispers something demurely into her boyfriend’s ear, and he kindly translates for her:
‘Ha! Ha! My girlfriend Kuki say she want slave nose red stripes on socks up as far as thighs – but only red stripes! Ha! Ha! She not want slave nose black stripes. Ha! Ha! He not worthy nose black stripes. Ha! Ha!’
I am somewhat puzzled, as indeed you probably are, as to why the young Japanese student-woman regards me as worthy only to nose the red stripes on her red and black striped socks. I can only think it may be because the very top stripe in her socks is black, and that she regards that as being much too close to her intimate areas for a slave to be nuzzling!
If so, she has a point! For a slave like me to even be given permission to nose a lady’s legwear above the level of her knees is a rare privilege indeed!
Also, it would appear that I am to go straight to nosing the young oriental woman’s spicy socks without the aperitif of tasting her tatty, white, high-top, canvas sneakers.
Pity!
But mine is not to reason why. Mine is to obey, as my mistress Annapoorna now reminds me:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave obey Japanese master and mistress. They your master. You nose only red stripes on young woman stripy sock. Start above sneaker. Then work way up to top of sock. You not touch black stripes. You obey your master. He better than you. Madam Kuki better than you. We all better than you!’
‘Yes mistress Annapoorna. Yes mistress Kuki. Yes Japanese master!
I am surrounded by my oriental betters as I lower my head to the first red stripe I can see above the upper rim of mistress Kuki’s right, high-top sneaker.
The young Japanese woman, still pretending that she has never had her socks nosed before in public (yeah – right!) demurely puts her Japanese hand up to her red lipstick-painted mouth and giggles again, before helpfully stretching forward her right leg for me to start nosing the red stripe immediately above her white sneaker-rim.
I’m afraid I can’t resist surreptitiously sniffing the inside of her canvas sneaker as I nose the red, cotton stripe above her shapely, oriental anklebone. It smells nice down inside her sneaker – a heady mixture of sweet, canvas sneaker and spicy, oriental foot aroma. Sugar and spice!
Fortunately also each red stripe is thick enough to accommodate the entire tip of my nose – so there is little or no danger of my stupid slave-nose inadvertently straying onto the black stripe above or below each red stripe, thereby earning me my own, thick red stripes across my bare back, courtesy of my mistress Annapoorna’s rummaged whip!
You might be wondering what exactly is the point of nosing a young woman’s socks in such a regimented way? The point is humiliation of the slave - pure and simple. The young woman wearer of the sock has the pleasure of observing and feeling the male slave paying homage to her sock by gently rubbing his nose along a particular area or areas that she has designated. It represents controlled respect on the part of the slave for her sockwear – and is a humiliating and degrading thing for a slave to have to do, especially in public; and especially in front of, and on the gleeful instructions of, her boyfriend!
What I get out of it, of course, is the delicate feel of the superior, young woman’s soft cotton sock material on the sensitive tip of my nose, accompanied by the equally delicate aroma of her ankle, calf, knee, and in this case even thigh skin – although any sweaty aroma obviously diminishes the higher up the young woman’s soft leg I go.
In fact, her upper calves, knees and thighs don’t smell at all – all my nose can detect is the aroma of fresh, red cotton, and this, presumably, smells exactly the same as the black cotton in the forbidden stripes, although I shall never know for sure!
Meanwhile the young, stripy-socked Japanese woman resumes kissing her boyfriend, just as I begin nosing (and sniffing) the highest red stripe which my slave-nose is permitted to reach on her spicy, right leg.
She must be in seventh heaven. Her beloved boyfriend on her lips and a dirty, public footslave on her socks. She is being worshipped by two representatives of the male species – one high and one low.
Small wonder, then, that my mistress Annapoorna receives yet another large tip when I finish nosing stripes!
………………………………………………………………………………………
And so we move on with our quest – my mistress Annapoorna and I – ignoring the many delicious and inviting pairs of smart, brown ankle boots; black, court leather shoes; beige-coloured Ugg boots; and black, silver or gold ballet flats that surround us. For today we are on a mission. We are on the hunt for yet more funky sneakers and socks – sneakers and socks from exotic locations all over the world.
Sneakers and spice and all things nice!
The End
Every day – and all day – I must accompany her on my hands and knees, crawling humbly and dutifully behind her Laotian heels until such time as she spots a mistress who may wish to have her shoes or boots licked clean for a small gratuity. It is a form of street-begging, I suppose, although it is not my sweet, refugee-mistress Annapoorna who is the beggar. I am the raggedy-assed, down-at-heel foot-beggar; my mistress Annapoorna simply lives off my illegal, beggarly earnings.
Of course, it can be quite boring for my sweet and kind, oriental mistress – having to watch me lick other ladies’ dirty shoes and boots all day long – and so, quite often, my mistress will seek to spice up both our lives!
This morning, as she opens the door to my cell in the basement of her modest house, she makes it clear to me that she is in just such a mood for one of her ‘special projects’, when she will set us a specific goal in order to make the day more interesting for us both.
As usual, she laughs at me as I eagerly crawl out of my cramped cell-hole and fawn kisses over her pretty, oriental feet:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave pleased to see miss Annapoorna? Slave want work hard today? Want please mistress?’
As I kiss the scuff-marked toes of miss Annapoorna’s dusty, black plastic, cheap-looking, slip-on shoes I can honestly think of nothing more that I want to do other than to please her. For I have learnt, over the year or so that I have been in her female employ, that miss Annapoorna does not suffer slaves gladly, and if I ever do displease her with my public boot and shoe cleaning efforts my naked back soon knows about it in the form of angry, red welts strewn across it. For my petite and kind Laotian mistress sure knows how to whip!
It is always imperative, therefore, that I please my Laotian, female master, which is why I am so keen to assure her of my total submission and compliance to her oriental will, by kissing the tops of her short, navy blue sneaker-socks inside her cheap, black, plastic slip-on shoes, and by eulogising both them and their wearer:
‘Oh pray mistress Annapoorna, this slave truly seeks to please the beautiful mistress, and her shoes and socks, at all times, if it is so pleasing to you most respected and feared mistress Annapoorna, for this slave is the slave of the beautiful mistress’s wonderful shoes and socks, and blesses and praises them, if you would be so kind mistress Annapoorna. God bless you, and God bless your cotton socks, mistress Annapoorna!’
I specifically kiss my mistress’s socks because I know that, like many mistresses, she likes it. She enjoys feeling my lips on the elasticated tops of her somewhat ropey-looking, well-worn, navy blue sneaker-socks.
I don’t wish to imply that my oriental mistress’s socks are particularly dirty or unclean – they just look ropey because they are well-worn. My mistress does not have enough money for a large wardrobe of socks, and so she has to make do with just 6 pairs – of which this pair are one. What is true, however, is that the socks could be said to be somewhat neglected by my mistress, as she has much more important things to think about than the state of her socks – such as where her next meal is coming from!
You see, my mistress is technically an illegal immigrant in the Gynarchy. She has not yet had the confidence to claim female asylum, although I am sure she would be granted it by the Female Authorities straight away – given that she is such a pretty girl!
I, however, am a totally legal slave, and do not have anything better to worry about than the state of my mistress’s footwear. In fact, I spend so much of my time crawling behind her socks and shoes, I have developed an obsession for them. And I think this is what mistress Annapoorna finds so endearing about me – my utter devotion to her scruffy, Laotian footwear. That’s why she likes me kissing her scruffy shoes and socks, and I like doing it because I know it ingratiates me towards my superior, illegal-immigrant mistress.
She laughs at my obsequious devotion to her illegitimate feet and footwear:
‘Ha! Ha! Good! I glad! Today you please me by licking only sneakers. Today we find only women sneakers for dirty slave to lick. Not shoes. Not boots. Not sandals. Only superior young women stinky sneakers and stinky socks. Ha! Ha! I find you young women dirty, stinky sneakers and socks. You tongue-shine sneakers. You clean. You smell young women stinky socks. You do good job – earn miss Annapoorna many money – I not whip! You not do good job – you a bad slave – I whip. I whip you hard! Many pain! Ha! Ha! Slave hear miss Annapoorna? Slave frightened of miss Annapoorna and miss Annapoorna whip?’
My mistress’s command of English is, as you can tell, still somewhat ‘stilted’, but she nevertheless commands me with complete authority and self-assurance, and I do indeed fear both her and her whip – a brown leather, single-tailed slave whip which she found on a rubbish tip (the same rubbish tip where she found me, for I used to be feral). She may be physically petite, like a lot of Asian women, but I am most definitely the weaker sex vis รก vis mistress Annapoorna! And besides, she is clearly the one wearing the trousers (cheap, blue denim jeans in fact). I am only permitted to wear white slave-shorts.
Stull feverishly kissing my young, Laotian mistress’s scuff-marked shoes and ropey, blue anklesocks, I emphasise to her yet again my compliance with her orders, and my fear of her, and her recycled whip:
‘Oh pray mistress Annapoorna, God bless you sweet and kind mistress Annapoorna! This dirty slave truly thanks and blesses the mistress for her kindness in deciding to make him clean superior women’s dirty and smelly sneakers and socks all day long, and promises that he will do a good job in tongue-cleaning those superior, feminine sneakers and socks, most gracious and all-powerful mistress Annapoorna, for this slave truly respects his mistress and fears her whip, if you would be so kind all-powerful goddess-mistress Annapoorna. Truly this slave is honoured to look his cruel mistress in the sock.’
I have learnt that mistress Annapoorna likes to be described as ‘cruel’. It enhances her self-esteem, as does my humble insistence in maintaining eye-contact with her lowly socks. And she also likes to be referred to as a ‘goddess’, because she thinks she is one – a slave-owning goddess in her scruffy, cheap, black plastic shoes and ropey, navy-blue sneaker socks.
She attaches a heavy chain to my scrawny maleslave-neck and beckons me to follow her on my hands and knees:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave – heel!’
I dutifully crawl round behind my superior Laotian mistress and put my doglike snout to her black plastic and ankle-socked heels.
So today my owner, director and mistress has decided that I shall be servicing girls’ dirty, stinky sneakers and socks – sneakers and spice and all things nice! I do know from bitter experience just how unsweet and unkempt young women’s sneakers can be – sweaty, scruffy things with holes in them; laces half-undone; things handwritten on them in pink felt-tip, like their current boyfriends’ names: ‘Kylie loves Peter’ etc. etc.
And the socks that go with them can be equally grubby – white, turned grey; or cheap, cartoon-print socks; socks with messages to the slave – messages like ‘I am a free young woman, and you are less important than my socks, for you are nothing but a dirty sockslave!’
And yet, however scruffy and unkempt a young woman’s sneakers and socks may be, I must always lick and kiss them with total, slavish respect – for they are the chosen sneakers and socks of a superior mistress, and if mistress ‘Kylie’ does indeed love master ‘Peter’ I must respect that love, and pay slavish homage to their superior relationship by reverentially kissing the dirt beneath the felt-tip message all along the side of miss ‘Kylie’s’ scruffy, white sneaker, since both mistress ‘Kylie’ and master ‘Peter’ are my free superiors and betters.
I’m just a slave.
Nordic Spice
The first pair of sneakers that myself and mistress Annapoorna encounter this morning (although my encounter with them will be much more intimate and ‘in your face’ than the encounter experienced by my owner and mistress) belong to a young, blonde-ponytailed woman in her early twenties – about my own mistress Annapoorna’s age.
The blonde mistress might be called ‘Kylie’ – she might not. There are, sadly, no clues written in felt-tip on her sneakers. But like the imaginary mistress Kylie’s sneakers – they are nominally white.
The young, blonde woman is leaning casually against the back of a tram-shelter, her black denim jeans-covered legs crossed over at the ankles, enjoying an early morning cigarette. I happen to know that smoking in public is illegal in the Gynarchy – even for women – It is only lawful in certain designated smokers’ booths set aside for the purpose. But mistress Blondie appears unconcerned.
How ironic that I should now be at the mercy of two mistresses who, each in their own way, are outlaws! And yet I am the one who faces punishment if I slip up!
Mistress Blondie looks like she may be a shop-assistant on her way into work, and she is wearing a short, black denim jacket and crisp, white blouse along with her black, denim jeans. There is nobody else about for it is still very early in the morning, and quite dark. (My mistress Annapoorna is an early riser – therefore I have to be too).
My mistress skilfully positions me in front of the young, blonde shop-assistant’s white-sneakered feet and offers up my services:
‘Madam like slave lick sneakers? Make sneakers shine?’
As I stare humbly at the blonde girl’s sneakers I can’t help thinking it will be a tough task cleaning them up with my mouth until they shine! They are, or were once, a plain, white pair of Velcro-fastened sneakers – but they could now, on closer inspection, only be described as dirty grey. The rounded toe areas, in particular, are scuff-marked to the point of being holey!
But, of course, to me the sneakers are holy – for they belong to a superior young woman who is clearly my infinite better.
The blonde girl takes a nonchalant drag on her cigarette and gives her informed consent to my tongue:
‘Oh! Oh yes, alright then. You may make him lick all that filth off the sides of my sneakers. But I don’t want him touching my socks!’
Mistress ‘Blondie’ speaks with a pronounced, Scandinavian accent. More of an ‘Agnetha’ than a ‘Kylie’, I fancy.
‘Ha! Ha! No madam. Slave a good slave – very obedient. He not touch madam white socks unless Annapoorna tell him to. I his master. I have whip. He frightened of me.’
A whole mishmash of emotions are whirling through my pathetic, footslave brain at this point in time:
Respect – for the apparent purity of the blonde-ponytailed, Nordic mistress’s pure, white sneaker socks, only the elasticated tops of which are just visible above the rims of her low-cut sneakers, for the pure, white socks only serve to highlight the dirty, greyish-white of her sneaker leather;
Disappointment – that I am not to be permitted to kiss the young blonde woman’s short, white sneaker socks, for although they are for the most part hidden down inside her sneakers, the plain, white elasticated tops of her socks look very inviting to the lips beneath the hems of her black denim jeans;
Pride – that my mistress Annapoorna has described me to a member of the public as a ‘good slave – very obedient’. Coming from the demanding and whip-wielding mistress Annapoorna this is high praise indeed;
Fear – as my mistress has also reminded me that I am very much frightened of her, and her whip, and she clearly takes pleasure in my fear;
And longing – longing to get on with the early morning task-in-mouth of tongue shining, as best I slavishly can, this arrogant, young Scandinavian shop-girl’s dirty, white sneakers. As she herself has pointed out – there is much ingrained street dirt and filth to lick off the sides of her well-worn, white sneakers.
But I still have to await my mistress Annapoorna’s explicit orders. As she says – she is my master. And I am just her slave. I have no will of my own. I must simply do her bidding.
My mistress Annapoorna is not long, however, in ordering me to do her, and the blonde girl’s, superior, female bidding in her cute, oriental accent:
‘Slave lick side of nice young woman sneakers. Make sneakers shine. Make clean. Lick off all dirt from side of sneakers. You not touch nice young woman sock or I whip. I cut you with whip if slave lip touch top of young lady sock! You obey! You start lick now! You a dirty slave!’
‘Yes mistress Annapoorna. At once mistress Annapoorna!’
It is very important that I don’t do anything to embarrass my oriental mistress in front of other mistresses. I must make miss Annapoorna look good, by obeying her words to the letter. For then, hopefully, she will get a good tip from the recipient of my humble labour, and she will be happy.
And then I shall be happy for, being a slave, I am easily pleased, and it will mean I won’t be whipped!
So everyone will be happy – including, hopefully, the blonde, nordic customer-mistress whose sneakers will have been given a new lease of life by my humble slave-tongue.
A still sleepy mistress Blondie indolently unfurls her sneakered ankles in order to afford my aforementioned slave-tongue easier access to the dirt-caked sides of both her white, Scandinavian sneakers – a sweet and kind gesture on the part of the young mistress which is highly appreciated by the humble slave.
I begin by respectfully kissing the scuff-marked, white-leather toe of her right sneaker, as I have been taught by my mistress Annapoorna always to first kiss that which I am about to respectfully service.
The young, blonde Swedish woman then twists her right foot around to one side in order to give my tongue even greater access to the inner side of her dirty sneaker. In so doing she simultaneously creates a small crease along the top of her plain, white sneaker sock – but I remember that I have already been told her sock is out of bounds. I can therefore only admire the crease in the sock from my close-up vantage point. I am sadly not allowed to softly nose or kiss it on this occasion, despite my mistress Annapoorna’s promise that I shall be servicing girls’ socks today.
Never mind – there are plenty more socks on the street!
The dirt-stained, inner side of the young, blonde smoker’s right sneaker smells musty and tastes bitter. I quickly realise that it is not just the visible dirt I am licking, but the ingrained sweat and dirt from many previous wearings. I am honoured by that thought – for it means I am tasting the very essence of this superior, young stranger-woman’s foot, and in licking the tiny creases and folds along the inner side of her white sneaker-leather I am effectively licking the contours of her Scandinavian foot, so moulded has the well-worn sneaker become to its shape.
My mistress Annapoorna is keen to direct my work so that the customer’s footwear is cleaned properly to high female standards. She therefore barks down some supplementary instructions to me in her cute, Laotian accent:
‘Slave lick harder! Get off all dirt from side of young woman sneaker! You obey – or feel whip!’
The whip is now ominously unhooked from my own mistress’s jean belt, it’s somewhat frayed, single-tailed tip now dangling threateningly in the air beside my kneeling face.
I hear the young blonde woman laughing over me:
‘Ha! Ha! Do you have to whip him often? I mean, you did say earlier that he was a good slave?’
‘Ha! Ha! Slave very good – madam. But all slave need whip. Whip keep slave down. Make slave work hard. He a lazy dumb-ass if not for whip. Power of whip make him work!’
‘Ha! Ha! Cool! If I had my own slave I’d whip him too – just for the hell of it, you know?’ mistress Blondie informs my dark-haired mistress Annapoorna, and the two female law-breakers laugh together.
‘Ha! Ha! Madam want try whip on slave? I make him beg madam for whip, if madam like. You hurt slave if want to. It not matter. He a nothing. He just a slave!’
The young, blonde Scandinavian smoker takes a final drag on her illicit cigarette before throwing it carelessly down on the ground, and looks as though she may be about to take up my mistress on her kind offer, when I am saved by the bell!
The bell of the approaching tram!
Mistress Blondie’s tram has arrived! Suddenly the side of her filthy, right sneaker is unceremoniously withdrawn from my mouth - shining all along its side under the tram-shelter light not so much due to the successful removal of any ingrained dirt, but more due to the fact that my impure, footslave-saliva is glistening all along her shapely, sneakered instep!
I am, of course, devastated to know that I shall not even get a chance to lick the side of the young, Scandinavian woman’s, grubby, Velcro-fastened left sneaker. Damn you, tram! You may have saved me from a gratuitous whipping, but you have equally denied me a taste of nordic-girl left sneaker!
At least my mistress Annapoorna still gets her gratuitous payment, for the generous young blonde woman tosses her a 1 Fem coin as she boards the tram.
I can relax, therefore. My mistress has been paid and I won’t be whipped!
But a footslave-beggar’s work is never done, and my mistress Annapoorna has already spotted our next customer.
Caribbean Spice
Just as the tram is pulling away from the tram stop my mistress and I hear a young black woman shouting in vain at the tram to stop. She is running, and out of breath by the time she reaches the tram-shelter.
But the tram has well and truly gone.
The young, twenty-something, black woman unabashedly utters a tirade of angry expletives.
Despite being so angry and flustered, however, I must say she looks ultra-cool. She is wearing dark sunglasses (even though it is still dark); a loose, green cotton jacket over a white blouse; green shorts; and black, high-top, converse-style sneakers with thick, black laces; and calf-length socks which are a mixture of red, green, yellow and black.
Her socks particularly catch my eye. The coloured elements of the socks comprise a thin red rim at the top of the socks, and the Jamaican national flag on the outer side of each sock - consisting of a yellow St Andrew’s cross over a green and black background – directly above the Caribbean girl’s shapely, canvas-covered anklebones. The rest of the socks are pure black.
Obviously, the design of such unique socks is of enormous interest to me as I must spend so much of my life studying and admiring young women’s socks.
But of even more significance is the way the black girl is wearing her socks inside her black, canvas high-top sneakers. Her socks are fully pulled up. If she were to turn them over at the cuffs they would be purely ankle-length socks. But she chooses not to – she proudly wears her Jamaican socks at full stretch, thereby enhancing the natural beauty of her shapely, black shin and calf muscles as she shows off her patriotism and national flag.
No need to exhort this particular, breathless and sweating young black woman to pull her socks up. She already has!
My mistress Annapoorna sees her chance – the next tram won’t be along for at least another 15 minutes.
‘I sorry you miss tram, madam! You want slave clean sneakers while wait for next tram come along?’
The young black woman appears to notice me for the first time as she slumps down onto the plastic seating-bench in the tram-shelter.
She takes a few seconds to catch her breath before replying to my mistress:
‘No thanks, sister. My sneakers don’t need cleaning, innit?’
I know my mistress Annapoorna well by now – well enough to know that she won’t be put off so easily. Besides, she is a Laotian woman of her word – and she has promised me sock, so sock I shall have, and before the sun is up! I know I can rely on my sweet and kind oriental mistress to get me up close and personal to her Afro-Caribbean sister’s beautiful, Jamaican-themed socks – for I truly belong with them!
I’m guessing that this young black woman is actually on her way home this early in the morning. She looks as though she may have been out clubbing all night – hence the sunglasses. She’s probably feeling a bit the worse for wear. Poor thing!
The Jamaican girl is flagging! Oh if only I could revive her, and recompense her for missing her tram by respectfully nosing her flag-print socks?
My mistress Annapoorna appears to be thinking that selfsame thing:
‘Madam like slave worship madam socks? Kiss and nuzzle top of socks while madam catch her breath and wait for next tram?’
We have already established that this young, black woman is proud of her socks – as well she might be. She has pulled them fully up so that everyone may clearly see her national flag on the sides of her socks. These socks are not just something she threw on willy-nilly lat night. They are a fashion statement. They declare to the world not only her Caribbean ethnicity, but also that she is a fun-loving girl, and they are an integral part of her clubbing outfit, collecting her foot-perspiration whilst she dances the night away on the sweaty dance-floor.
I must confess the thought that these spectacular calf-length socks have been on her Jamaican dancing feet and legs all night thrills me to the very fundament of my humble footslave-being!
I must get my mouth and nose onto those ethnic socks. Oh pray mistress Annapoorna. Please work your oriental magic. Please get me those spicy, Caribbean socks!
As the young, black woman does not immediately reject my mistress’s sock-servicing advances, my clever Laotian owner moves in for the kill:
‘I make slave kiss Jamaican flag on side of madam pretty sock 100 times. Then I make him nuzzle side of sock. He worship madam sock and make madam feel strong. He be at your mercy and in your power!’
Brilliant! I just know that my mistress Annapoorna is pressing all the right buttons with this proud, young black woman. Like any superior young woman she wants to have a humble male slave in her sweet feminine power – a humble, white man paying slavish homage to her black ethnicity and her ethnic socks, and all whilst she is still wearing them inside her thick-laced, high-top sneakers.
She is hooked!
‘Erm…yeah, okay then. But make sure he only kisses and nuzzles the flag, innit? I don’t want him sniffin’ and slobberin’ all over my socks like some dirty dog, yeah?’
My mistress assures the black girl, on my behalf, that I will not misbehave over her socks:
‘Ha! Ha! Madam not worry. Slave will obey superior mistress. He respect madam socks. I have whip!’
Duly reassured, the fit - but still somewhat out of breath - young black woman rests her sneakered and socked feet side by side on the ground as she rests her substantial behind on the plastic bench of the tram-shelter, and having regained her composure and her breath a little bit, she proceeds to grant me her female permission to begin worshipping her spicy, Caribbean socks:
‘OK slave, start kissing the flags on the sides of my socks, yeah? Kiss both of them 100 times, and don’t kiss any other part of my socks, yeah? Then start to nuzzle my socks, but I only wanna feel your lips and nose on the flags, man, yeah? Don’t touch the rest of my socks, or I’ll have you whipped, yeah?’
The two green, black and yellow Jamaican flag motifs cover her shapely, outer calf muscles, giving the flags a somewhat stretched appearance. This small fact only serves to enhance my sock-kissing and sock-nuzzling pleasure, as I get to kiss and nose the most dynamic and striking parts of the young black woman’s socks. I am content with that.
I assure the black mistress that the rest of her socks are safe from my lips and face:
‘Yes mistress. At once mistress. This slave obeys the pretty mistress, and respects her socks.’
As I begin by kissing the upper sides of her socks, however, I cannot help but inhale the aroma emanating from the lower parts of her socks, deep inside her black, canvas, high-top sneakers. I was right! She has been dancing in these socks all night. I can smell the warm, moist perspiration emanating from her lower sock area! The smell is funky and spicy – spicy Caribbean sock!
My God, I am a lucky slave this morning! First licking the dirty, grey-white sneaker of a beautiful, young blonde woman, and now kissing and nuzzling the proud, ethnic socks of an equally pretty young, black Jamaican woman – all whilst being closely supervised by my oriental mistress in her ropey, navy blue socks and cheap, flat, black plastic, slip-on shoes. Truly my cup of female shoes and socks runneth over!
I take my time – out of respect for that which I am kissing and nuzzling. But also because I know I have fifteen minutes in which to fill my lips and nose with sweet, feminine, black-girl sock!
My mistress gets a generous tip from the proud and outgoing Caribbean girl.
Celtic Spice
My mistress Annapoorna and I eventually move on to the nearby overground railway station where we soon spot our next customer.
She is one of those office girls who likes to commute into work in her sneakers, and then change into a smart pair of black, office courts once she is in her place of work. The red-head is wearing thick, black, opaque woollen tights beneath her smart, grey pinstriped, knee-length skirt, meaning that the whole of her shapely calves are exposed – albeit beneath her woolly tights.
Her low-top, lace-up, leather sneakers, by way of contrast to the black, woolly tights, are almost pure white – almost pure, for give me any pair of sweet, white, feminine sneakers and I guarantee you I shall find dirt on them; as I did with mistress Blondie earlier.
Mistress Ginger is standing in front of the departure board at the train station, waiting for her train to be called.
My mistress Annapoorna, with her astute entrepreneurial business brain, sees an opportunity and moves in with me, quite literally, in tow behind her own, flat black plastic heels:
‘Good morning, madam. Madam like slave clean sneakers while madam wait for train?’
The young red-headed office manageress, whom I would estimate to be in her early thirties, looks down at me with utter disdain and contempt written all over her pretty, pale-skinned and freckled features. She clearly is the sort of young woman who accepts that my ugly maleslave-face is indeed a fitting place for her sneakers to be on:
She looks at her watch, presumably not prepared to trust the station clock!
‘Erm…yeah, okay. They could do with a quick lick and a shine, to be sure. Oh, and would you mind also making him take off my sneakers and freshening up my tights, please? I think they may be quite stinky and sweaty since I’ve been wearing them for two days in a row!’
My mistress laughs gleefully – this special request can only mean more money for her:
‘Ha! Ha! Yes certainly madam! Please to be seated on this wall over here!’
My mistress then guides the red-headed office girl, who had spoken with a distinctive Irish lilt, over to a nearby wall on the station concourse where the customer can take an artificial seat whilst I humbly attend to both her outer and inner footwear.
As usual, I politely await my detailed instructions from mistress Annapoorna:
‘Slave – you heard madam. You start by lick sneakers. Lick off all madam sneaker-dirt. Then you untie sneakers and suck sweat out of madam dirty tights. You not touch madam tights above ankles – only sweaty parts on toes and heels. You obey now or feel whip!’
‘Yes mistress Annapoorna. At once mistress Annapoorna.’
I would prefer to have to suck the sweat out of sweet, feminine socks – rather than tights. But tights will do for now. The day is still young!
But first, of course, I must taste the dirt on the red-head’s Irish sneakers. As I said before, they don’t look too bad – just one or two black stains around the rounded toe areas and a greeny-grasslike stain on the back of the left heel. As my mistress has already confirmed, I am a good slave and I always eat up my greens, so the grass stain is soon transferred into my slave mouth and down my slave throat.
I can then get on to the more interesting and exotic part of my humble foot-service towards the redheaded and freckle-faced Irish mistress – sucking the foot-perspiration out of her spicy, two day old, black woolly tights.
As soon as the Irish girl’s sneakers come off my nostrils are assailed by the funky aroma of sweaty, black tights. The wryly smiling redheaded mistress even wriggles her toes underneath my nose in order to deliberately release yet more of the aromatic fragrance up my waiting nostrils.
One thing I do like about opaque, woolly, black tights is how they become progressively darker in hue the lower down the female leg one goes. This is caused, of course, by the fact that the stitching in the woollen material of the tights is less stretched around a lady’s feet and ankles, than it is over her shapely calf and thigh muscles.
These darker parts of the tights – below the ankle – are my only legitimate areas of interest – seeing as how I am a lowly footslave and not a legslave!
And yet a well worn pair of tights such as these also contain little patches around the foot area where the stitching will inevitably have thinned and worn away – thereby affording me an exciting, if veiled, glimpse of the mistress’s bare, white footflesh underneath.
As I lower my expectant mouth to the stinkiest part of mistress Ginger’s right, woolly-tight-covered foot – her toes – I am therefore compensated for the stink by the fetching sight of the superior mistress’s red-painted toenails beneath a worn and thinning area of woollen tight directly over her big toe. I can thus see the very source of the stink – her sweaty toes – beneath the thick, black wool!
I respectfully kiss the woollen-covered big toenail out of complete and utter slavish respect for its funky aroma. Oh if only I could get my mouth onto its sticky, two day old toejam underneath the tights!
But there is no way this young Irish woman – a good Catholic girl – is going to remove her tights in public just in order to feed me her spicy toejam! I would, of course, happily accompany her to a nearby toilet cubicle if she wanted to divest herself of her tights in there – but I know that this is just a flight of footslave fancy on my part. The red-headed office girl is expecting her train to be announced at any minute, and she specifically requested that her tights be freshened up, not her sweaty, bare toes!
An ever vigilant miss Annapoorna, keen to ensure that my slave-mind is concentrating on the woolly subject matter in mouth, abruptly reminds me with a verbal rebuke and a stinging application of her ubiquitous single-tailed, brown leather slave-whip, that I am there purely to do the young, Irish office-manageress’s bidding:
Swish – Crack!
‘Slave concentrate on madam woolly tights! Suck sweat and dirt out of tights. Not look at toes underneath – only tights!’
‘Aaow! Yes mistress. At once mistress!’
I now have a nice, red stripe across my back to match the red-toenail paint of the red-headed, office-girl mistress, as my mouth fills with the spicy taste of her funky-smelling, black woollen, Irish tights.
The tights do look fresher around the toe and heel areas of mistress Ginger’s feet after I have finished sucking on them – even if I do say so myself! I am particularly gratified to note that all of the little pubic hairs and other pieces of detritus which had been soiling the mistress’s tights before have now disappeared – inside my mouth, presumably.
I like the thought that I have been of some service to this superior young woman in being able to freshen and clean up her dirty, sweaty tights. My mistress Annapoorna is equally gratified to receive a large tip from her (5 full Fems I believe!)
Indian Spice.
It is then that my ever alert mistress Annapoorna comes up trumps – for she spots a young Indian woman hobbling over on the far side of the station.
The Indian girl – who looks to be in her mid to late twenties – is hobbling because she is on crutches. She is wearing a semi-diaphanous, pink sari, and pale green headscarf and on her right foot she is wearing a matching, pink and green sneaker and pale pink ankle sock.
Her left leg, however, is in plaster – a plaster cast covered by her other, fully-stretched, pink cotton ankle sock, presumably in an effort to protect her Indian tootsies from the elements.
The stretched toe area of her left sock, however – being fully exposed to the elements as it is – is showing considerable signs of dirt and dust. In short, it needs cleaning – and mistress Annapoorna knows just the sockslave-coolie for the job!
She drags me over behind her own, Laotian heels on my hands and knees towards the young, traditionally dressed Indian woman who has broken her delicate anklebone:
‘Madam want slave clean madam pink sock? Suck dirt off sock? Make sock look fresh on madam sore foot?’
The young, sari-clad Indian woman appears relieved that my humble, unsolicited sock-cleaning services are being offered to her in such a timely manner:
‘Ha! Ha! Oh yes please miss. My sock is being getting wery dirty in this railway station. I am thinking that I must be finding a slave to be cleaning it up for me!’
Still balancing on her crutches, she then stretches forward her broken foot into the air directly beneath my kneeling nose. I can smell ointment as well as pink sock.
Once again I await my mistress Annapoorna’s specific instructions:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave obey Indian madam. Clean madam pink sock. Suck dirt out of sock. Make sock nice and pink on young madam sore foot. No dirt! No black!’
The toe area of the sock is indeed turning black – black with the inevitable dirt and grime from the city streets. I cannot have it soiling this superior, young Indian woman’s protective, pink sock, and so I dive in with my footslave mouth immediately after I utter a quick:
‘Yes mistress Annapoorna. At once mistress Annapoorna.’
I have to soak the toe-end of the Indian girl’s pink sock in my mouth for several minutes before the dirt and grime begins to show signs of coming off. It feels odd to have the hard plaster underneath the sock as opposed to soft, feminine footflesh, although I can also feel the young Indian woman’s toenails scraping the roof of my mouth through her pink, cotton sock.
Meanwhile, my customer is explaining to my mistress Annapoorna how her unfortunate ankle-injury came about:
‘Wery bad thing happen. I am tripping and falling down an escalator at the airport. I am not being used to such things as I am being from a small village in Gujarat. But everyone is being so kind to me, even your slave. Ha! Ha!’
Mistress Annapoorna begs to differ:
‘Ha! Ha! He not being kind, madam. He just like suck dirty sock! He a whore! He a animal!’
Both Asian women laugh at me as I continue to suck dirt out of Indian girl exposed sock.
Oriental Spice
As I have only one Indian sock to service, and one Indian sneaker to then respectfully kiss on departure, my mistress and I are soon ready for our next customer. I am dragged over - crawling and eager - to serve what appears to be a Japanese student-girl accompanied by her Japanese student-boyfriend.
I suspect the young, dark-haired Japanese woman may be studying fashion design, judging by the rather eccentric way she is dressed. She is wearing a bright pink leather jacket, over a bright red T shirt; a frilly pink, puff-ball miniskirt; stripy red and black thigh-high socks; and plain, white high-top, lace-up converse sneakers.
God she looks hot!
Her thigh-high socks, in particular catch my eye. I can only detect that they are socks – and not tights – by the finest slither of bare, soft, Japanese-girl thigh flesh peeping out from beneath the hem of her ultra-short, pink, puff-ball miniskirt.
I quickly lower my gaze for, as I have already indicated, my jurisdiction is the young woman’s feet and ankles – not her calves or thighs – and certainly not the area above her thigh-length socks! That area is exclusively for her manly, Japanese boyfriend to admire. I am fit only to look the Japanese girl in the sock – and the lower sock at that, for I am a slave - not a man!
You can tell a lot about a girl from her choice of sockwear. Short white socks would indicate that she is modest and pure, like mistress Blonde-spice earlier in the day. Stripy, red and black thigh-high socks are much more menacing, and indicate that this young woman is a bit of a minx. She is a young woman of the world. This young, twenty-something, Japanese woman knows the power of her legs and socks.
And my mistress Annapoorna also knows that there is much potential for footslave-humiliation, and therefore money, in those long, stripy socks, and so she quickly leads me on my hands and knees over towards the exotically dressed Japanese girl, who is passionately embracing her much more conventionally dressed Japanese boyfriend.
Well, they do say that opposites attract!
As we approach the happy couple, the girl is actually standing on tip-toe, giggling and kissing her Japanese boyfriend on the lips. I notice that her right, sneakered foot is also coquettishly twisted behind her as she kisses him, causing the area of her red and black sock just above the ankle to crease and fold in front of my mesmerized eyes.
I like those sock-creases around the back of her right anklebone just above the upper rim of her high-top, white canvas sneaker, and therefore I focus in on them, whilst my mistress Annapoorna politely interrupts the happy, courting, oriental couple:
‘Excuse me madam; sir... You like slave clean madam dirty sneakers? Nose madam stripy socks? Slave very good sock-boy; like socks; know how to nose women socks very well!’
Nobody can see it, but I am blushing with slavish pride as I hear these words of recommendation from my mistress Annapoorna. I am indeed a good sock-boy! I am an expert noser and nuzzler of girlsocks – but then I do owe it all to my mistress Annapoorna’s excellent training methods. She should really be the one to receive all the glory!
Which, of course she will be – since she will be the one getting paid for my efforts.
The young, worldly-wise, Japanese woman stops kissing her manly Japanese boyfriend high above me, looks down at me, and giggles behind her delicate, oriental hand.
She then whispers something demurely into her boyfriend’s ear, and he kindly translates for her:
‘Ha! Ha! My girlfriend Kuki say she want slave nose red stripes on socks up as far as thighs – but only red stripes! Ha! Ha! She not want slave nose black stripes. Ha! Ha! He not worthy nose black stripes. Ha! Ha!’
I am somewhat puzzled, as indeed you probably are, as to why the young Japanese student-woman regards me as worthy only to nose the red stripes on her red and black striped socks. I can only think it may be because the very top stripe in her socks is black, and that she regards that as being much too close to her intimate areas for a slave to be nuzzling!
If so, she has a point! For a slave like me to even be given permission to nose a lady’s legwear above the level of her knees is a rare privilege indeed!
Also, it would appear that I am to go straight to nosing the young oriental woman’s spicy socks without the aperitif of tasting her tatty, white, high-top, canvas sneakers.
Pity!
But mine is not to reason why. Mine is to obey, as my mistress Annapoorna now reminds me:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave obey Japanese master and mistress. They your master. You nose only red stripes on young woman stripy sock. Start above sneaker. Then work way up to top of sock. You not touch black stripes. You obey your master. He better than you. Madam Kuki better than you. We all better than you!’
‘Yes mistress Annapoorna. Yes mistress Kuki. Yes Japanese master!
I am surrounded by my oriental betters as I lower my head to the first red stripe I can see above the upper rim of mistress Kuki’s right, high-top sneaker.
The young Japanese woman, still pretending that she has never had her socks nosed before in public (yeah – right!) demurely puts her Japanese hand up to her red lipstick-painted mouth and giggles again, before helpfully stretching forward her right leg for me to start nosing the red stripe immediately above her white sneaker-rim.
I’m afraid I can’t resist surreptitiously sniffing the inside of her canvas sneaker as I nose the red, cotton stripe above her shapely, oriental anklebone. It smells nice down inside her sneaker – a heady mixture of sweet, canvas sneaker and spicy, oriental foot aroma. Sugar and spice!
Fortunately also each red stripe is thick enough to accommodate the entire tip of my nose – so there is little or no danger of my stupid slave-nose inadvertently straying onto the black stripe above or below each red stripe, thereby earning me my own, thick red stripes across my bare back, courtesy of my mistress Annapoorna’s rummaged whip!
You might be wondering what exactly is the point of nosing a young woman’s socks in such a regimented way? The point is humiliation of the slave - pure and simple. The young woman wearer of the sock has the pleasure of observing and feeling the male slave paying homage to her sock by gently rubbing his nose along a particular area or areas that she has designated. It represents controlled respect on the part of the slave for her sockwear – and is a humiliating and degrading thing for a slave to have to do, especially in public; and especially in front of, and on the gleeful instructions of, her boyfriend!
What I get out of it, of course, is the delicate feel of the superior, young woman’s soft cotton sock material on the sensitive tip of my nose, accompanied by the equally delicate aroma of her ankle, calf, knee, and in this case even thigh skin – although any sweaty aroma obviously diminishes the higher up the young woman’s soft leg I go.
In fact, her upper calves, knees and thighs don’t smell at all – all my nose can detect is the aroma of fresh, red cotton, and this, presumably, smells exactly the same as the black cotton in the forbidden stripes, although I shall never know for sure!
Meanwhile the young, stripy-socked Japanese woman resumes kissing her boyfriend, just as I begin nosing (and sniffing) the highest red stripe which my slave-nose is permitted to reach on her spicy, right leg.
She must be in seventh heaven. Her beloved boyfriend on her lips and a dirty, public footslave on her socks. She is being worshipped by two representatives of the male species – one high and one low.
Small wonder, then, that my mistress Annapoorna receives yet another large tip when I finish nosing stripes!
………………………………………………………………………………………
And so we move on with our quest – my mistress Annapoorna and I – ignoring the many delicious and inviting pairs of smart, brown ankle boots; black, court leather shoes; beige-coloured Ugg boots; and black, silver or gold ballet flats that surround us. For today we are on a mission. We are on the hunt for yet more funky sneakers and socks – sneakers and socks from exotic locations all over the world.
Sneakers and spice and all things nice!
The End
