Black Female Sponsorship
The above artistic work (Spiral Goddess, by AnonMoos) is free of known copyright restrictions.
The mainland Gynarchy is, as you may know, not the only female-dominated State in existence. It has a few off-shoots – autonomous, or semi-autonomous, Island States with distinctive identities, although they still conform to the basic principles of Gynarchial rule – the power and authority of the dominant female over the submissive male.
One such satellite-Gynarchy is the ‘Black Gynarchy’ (or the ‘Blessèd Black Gynarchy’ as it is sometimes called) – just off the southern coast of the mainland. And there is a constant queue of male slaves waiting to go there – to serve at the feet of the many alluring and feisty black women who have settled there from Africa and the Caribbean.
Amongst them is slave Anthony. He happens to be a white slave, but adores serving black mistresses. He loves their innate, black beauty and haughtiness, and the many differing hues of brown in their soft, African-Caribbean feet. And he speaks from experience, for he already gets to see quite a lot of them, being a full-time, fully trained footslave – employed as a public foot-kisser at a major tourist attraction in the mainland Gynarchy’s capital, Barbaria.
Slave Anthony, pathetically, loves his job, as he gets to kiss female feet from all over the world, but it’s the black feet which always impress him the most; often slightly larger and broader than their white and Asian counterparts; often more wrinkled; deliciously brown on the tops, but oftentimes pink on the soles; and always powerful and dominant looking.
That was why he had made up his tiny, slave mind to apply for a footslave position in the Black Gynarchy. He had never been there, but it sounded like heaven to him – to be more or less permanently at the beck and call of superior, black women; to bow down to them; to kiss their haughty, black feet; to be whipped by them, and/or by their black, freemale partners. What self-disrespecting male footslave wouldn’t want to emigrate there in order to serve his African-Caribbean, female betters?
He had therefore submitted his application to the relevant consular authorities. They informed him, however, that he needed a ‘sponsor’ – a Black Gynarchy resident mistress who would agree to employ him as her personal footslave – before he could get his slave-visa and work permit. There were, it seemed, currently no vacancies for purely public footslaves or foot-kissers in the Black Gynarchy!
No problem, he thought! I am obliged to kiss the feet of black mistresses at my tourist attraction on a regular basis – at least some of whom must surely be overseas visitors from the Black Gynarchy. I’m sure I can sweet-talk at least one of those visiting mistresses into sponsoring me for my Black Gynarchy visa!
And with that the ambitious, white footslave – slave Anthony – began to make a special effort to ingratiate himself with all the black tourist-mistresses who stepped his way, humbly getting to know them and very deliberately enquiring as to their normal place of residence as he dutifully and respectfully kissed the toes of their dirty shoes, boots and sandals.
He was particularly gushing and servile towards any black mistress who was wearing socks on her black feet, as he liked socks, and his ultimate goal was to bag a black sockmistress!
As it turned out, however, the visiting Black Gynarchy mistress who eventually showed an interest in sponsoring him to be her personal footslave was not a sock-wearer.
Oh well, you can’t have everything in life! Not even in fantasy life!
It happened like this:
The day was actually drawing to a close, and it had been one of those days when precious few of his customers had been black. Today, for some reason, he had spent most of his time kissing the feet of female, Japanese tour groups. And very nice feet they were too – clad in a whole variety of young-womanly sneakers, flats and boots; nearly all of them also cutely besocked!
But the perennially giggling attitude of the Japanese tourist-mistresses, coupled by the relative daintiness of their oriental feet and ankles, did nothing to endear them to public foot-kisser Anthony. He liked more meaty feet – feet he could really let his lips and tongue go to town on, clad in slightly larger boots and shoes; feet which made his slave-mouth feel small; in other words, black female feet!
At long last he spotted his chance when he observed two, somewhat rotund, black, middle-aged ladies approaching his public-footkiss stand. They looked to be in their mid to late forties, and were definitely out-of-towners. One of them was even wearing a brightly-coloured, floral hat to complement her demure, below-the-knee dress; she looked like she might be off to church, though it was a Thursday, not a Sunday! Her bare, black feet were quite fat and misshapen inside her low-heeled, white leather, open-toed, strappy sandals – but her toenails, he noted even from a distance, were painted a fetching shade of bright pink!
Her companion, the slightly younger looking of the two fat, black ladies, was more sexily attired in a revealing, white blouse and smart, black, two-piece trouser suit. On her bare, black feet she was wearing a pair of shiny, black patent leather, high-heeled and spike-heeled pumps – high-heeled pumps which caused her bare, black footskin to wrinkle and crease around her shapely, black anklebones.
This younger and feistier-looking, black woman had more of the air of an executive, black businesswoman than a tourist, but the distinctive Caribbean twang of the two ladies’ voices as they approached his public foot-kissing stand betrayed the fact that they were most definitely foreign visitors to the mainland, and, for now at least, were clearly doing all the touristy things – such as seeing the sites of the capital and having their feet kissed by a pathetic, public foot-kisser.
Foot-kisser Anthony hoped against hope that the Caribbean twang he detected was actually a Black Gynarchy accent, for it was well known that Jamaican patois was the de facto national tongue of the Black Female State!
It was, unsurprisingly enough, the businesswoman-like, black mistress in high-heels who was first to, laughingly and condescendingly, teeter up to his public foot-kiss stand and position her outstretched, stylishly-clad, right foot onto the humble and well-used, wooden footblock beneath his obediently kneeling face:
‘Hja! Hja! Kiss I on de foot, slave-dawg!’ proclaimed the fat, black business-mistress, whose right trouser-hem had now ridden up to reveal even more of her still shapely, if slightly fleshy and veiny, forty-something, black female anklebone above her upper, black patent leather shoe-rim.
Nevertheless, despite the temptation to admire black female ankleflesh, footslave Anthony dutifully concentrated on the haughty, black mistress’s shoe as it was so black and shiny and elegant-looking he could even see a distorted reflection of his gormless footslave-face in it!
It really was a super-nice shoe, with lots of potential kissing and sucking material around the street-dusty, pointy toe area and the dry-mud encrusted high-heel at the back. He even noticed a loose, white stitch sticking up from the inner lining of the instep on the black mistress’s proffered shoe – a sure-fire indication that the shoes, for all their stylishness and shininess, were a well-worn pair of black lady business-shoes. He found himself wondering what they must smell like on the insides, given that there was definitely no indication of a protective, black lady, cotton sock or nylon stocking inside the hot, leather shoe.
He verbally acknowledged the mistress’s patois command, before getting down to his own humble business:
‘Yes black mistress. At once black mistress. God bless you black mistress!’
We should explain here that the term ‘black mistress’ is considered polite and respectful throughout the Gynarchy, as is ‘white mistress’; or ‘Indian mistress’; or ‘Latina mistress’; or even ‘fat mistress’! Any distinguishing moniker when addressing a superior customer-mistress is considered acceptable on the part of a public slave, providing, of course, it is accurate and apposite.
In fact, if he had wanted to be ultra-polite and ingratiating, footslave Anthony should really have addressed the visiting mistress as ‘fat, black mistress’! It’s something to do with a slave acknowledging and appreciating the individual traits and physical characteristics of a superior customer-mistress; that’s what makes such epithets socially acceptable in the Gynarchy, plus, of course, the servile and respectful tone in which they are delivered!
Slave Anthony wasted no further time in lowering his lips to the dusty, pointed toe of the solid, black-businesswoman’s spike-heeled, black patent leather shoe, and audibly kissed it. She had, of course, ordered him to kiss her ‘foot’, but we all know that kissing a customer-mistress’s bare footflesh on first contact is socially, and morally, unacceptable in a slave. Indeed, even kissing her on the sock or nylons, had she been wearing any, would have been a no-no! By ‘foot’ she meant ‘shoe’; it goes without saying.
Having kissed her shoe-toe just the once, and made an indelible impression with his wet lips on the dry shoe-dust, he respectfully raised his head an inch or so above the black, female shoeleather to see whether the somewhat chubby foot would be withdrawn or not, as befits an experienced and professional foot-kisser. If it was not, it was a clear and unambiguous signal that he was required to repeatedly kiss the same black shoe over and over again until such time as the mistress tired of it and presented her left shoe for kissing.
Sure enough, the shoe didn’t move from the footblock – other than a slight wobbling on its spiked heel by way of a clearly delighted reaction to his footslavish submissiveness on the part of the superior, middle-aged, black woman who was towering above him in the late afternoon sunshine, casting a black shadow over him.
And so he lowered his lips again to the pointy shoe – and again; and again; He even made so bold as to start lapping at the dusty shoeleather with his footslave-tongue, revelling in the black-female laughter and mockery directed down at him by both the wearer of the shoe and her demurely-dressed, hat-wearing companion.
The latter, in particular found the whole public, male-demeaning business quite amusing:
‘Hee! Hee! He’s a downright, dirty dawg, Cleo! Hee! Hee! Look at he – kissin’ and a lickin’ yoh dirty shoe, man! Hee! Hee! What a dork! What a batty-bwoy! Hee! Hee!’
Slave Anthony was actually glad of the slightly older black woman’s disparaging interjection, since she had unwittingly revealed the name of the superior, black, business-type woman whose dusty, dirty, business-like shoe he was now kissing and licking – mistress Cleo; short for Cleopatra, perhaps? He fervently hoped so, for he would like nothing more than to treat her like a queen. Oh please let her be from the Black Gynarchy! Even though she’s a bit older than I was thinking of; and even though she is not wearing any socks inside her black-businesswoman shoes, I would dearly love to be her sponsored footslave in the Black Gynarchy. She has such nice, fat feet. And besides, she might have a beautiful and slim, grown-up daughter, whose sneakers and socks also need to be cleaned and cared for!
Slave Anthony knew the only way he would ever find out the answers to these pertinent questions was to engage the black mistress, whose dusty, high-heeled shoe he was now entertaining in his mouth, in polite conversation. Now that he had her name, that should be all the easier.
She managed to get some more words of her own in first, though:
‘Yip, he’s a dirty dawg, alright! Ain’t you, slave-bwoy? A dirty dawg lickin’ mah shoedirt! Hja! Hja! You is where you belongs, innit bwoy? Hja! Hja! Hja! Hja!’
The two middle-aged, fat black women – who from a distance had looked like butter wouldn’t melt in their pretty mouths – were in near hysterics now, revelling in their cruelty and power over the humble man on his hands and knees at their feet, and so footslave Anthony decided to seize the moment:
‘Oh pray black mistress…kiss…kiss… if it pleases you fat, black mistress Cleo…kiss…kiss…truly this dirty slave is not worthy…kiss…kiss…to kiss the dirt and filth…kiss…kiss…on the superior mistress’s black shoe, mistress Cleo …kiss ...kiss…and to suck on her pointy, shoe-toes… suck… suck…most respected mistress Cleo…suck…suck… Oh pray, black mistress… lick…lick… pray tell, black mistress Cleo... lick… lick… the dirt on your shoe tastes nice, mistress… lick…lick... Would it be street dirt and grime from the Blessèd Black Gynarchy by any chance, most beautiful and fat, black mistress?…kiss…kiss… For, if so …kiss…kiss…this slave is truly honoured to be kissing such hallowed, female earth, black mistress…lick…lick…God bless you both, black mistresses… kiss... kiss…’
He continued to kiss, and lick, and suck on the black shoe whilst he awaited the black wearer’s verdict on his, somewhat arrogant, soliloquy!
Fortunately for him, the gamble paid off, as the black mistress Cleo was in a good and indulgent mood:
‘Hja! Hja! Well I’ll be damned, Mabel! Did you hear that? The dirty dawg cain actually talk, well as lick! Hja! Hja!’
‘Hee! Hee! Reckon he can, Cleo! An’ reckon he’s sussed we out! The slave-dawg has gone tasted we homeland on yoh shoe, man! Hee! Hee! Good bwoy! Give the dawg a bone! Hee! Hee!’
Slave Anthony doesn’t want a bone – he wants sponsorship; sponsorship from a black mistress to get him into the Black Gynarchy. And mistress Cleo will more than do, if she would be kind and gracious enough to help him in his humble quest!
He again strikes while the metaphorical branding iron is hot:
‘Oh pray mistress Cleo…kiss...kiss…if it pleases you, black mistress Cleo... kiss…kiss…truly this slave yearns to serve in the beautiful Black Gynarchy mistress...kiss…kiss…and to serve at the feet of his black mistresses and betters, mistress Cleo…suck…suck… Oh pray, mistress! Oh pray!...lick… lick…Pray will you sponsor me to be your lawfully-imported footslave in the Blessèd Black Gynarchy, mistress?.... suck…suck… Oh pray, black mistress!... lick… lick…Oh pray!...kiss…kiss…kiss…kiss…’
He was, actually, kissing her along the shiny, slightly misshapen instep of her footflesh-stretched shoe now, for added effect, as he knew ladies of all colours and creeds like the feel of a submissive footslave’s mouth on their sensitive and ticklish insteps – even through their shiny, polished shoeleather!
It seemed to be working, as mistress Cleo turned to her friend Mabel, whilst still keeping her outstretched, right foot on the footslave’s footblock:
‘Hja! Hja! You, um, hear that, Mabel? He’s a prayin’ to me now! Hja! Hja! Praise the Lord, this slave-dawg wants me to sponsor he to be mah personal footslave back in good ol’ BG! Hja! Hja! What d’ ya think? Should I sponsor he? Does they let dirty dawgs like he into we nice, clean Black Gynarchy?’
‘Hee! Hee! Reckon they does, Cleo! Reckon they does – ‘specially since he sucks; sucks the dirt off of yoh shoe, that is honey! Hee! Hee! Though I reckon he mights have to go into quarantine, an’ that! Hee! Hee!’
Slave Anthony already knew he would be in slave-quarantine for six months if successful in getting his visa – but, even then, he would be permitted, indeed required, to tongueshine dirty, discarded, female shoes and mouthwash dirty, discarded, female hosiery whilst he awaited clearance to join his mistress Cleo.
The two fat ladies then came to a joint decision as to the public footslave’s future, whilst he, powerlessly, continued to kiss, lick, and even suck on the toes, sides and heels of black mistress Cleo’s patent, black leather, high-heeled pumps – both of them, as she repeatedly switched her black feet on the footblock beneath his face in order to get the feel of her potential new foot-servant’s mouth on her shiny, outer footwear.
She even slipped her podgy, middle-aged, red-varnished toenails out of her high-heeled pumps and inserted them into her would-be foot-servant’s mouth – just to see what her toes felt like inside his warm mouth, and to make sure he knew how to extract black female, sweaty toejam with his footslave-tongue. Slave Anthony revelled in the feel of a particularly prominent and rough-skinned bunion on the roof of his mouth courtesy of the big toe on her left foot – the result, no doubt, of years of unwise high-heel wearing on the part of the fashion-conscious mistress Cleo!
He must have passed the impromptu toe-sucking test on mistress Cleo’s fat feet, for the two black ladies reached a collective decision that the black feet would indeed sponsor him for a Black Gynarchy visa! Mistress Cleo would sort out the paperwork at her Embassy first thing the following morning – before it closed for the weekend.
Footslave Anthony made sure to kiss and lick black mistress Mabel’s summery, white-leather sandals, and suck on her pink-painted toenails, equally as fervently when it came to her turn to use him, since she had not only been so patient, but also instrumental in persuading her friend to sponsor him with her positive, derisory attitude. He was glad, however, that it would be mistress Cleo whose feet he would be in bondage to in the Black Gynarchy – largely due to that disfiguring bunion on the big toe of her left foot. It would be so demeaning and degrading to have to serve and glorify such an imperfect pair of middle-aged, black-womanly feet!
He just hoped and prayed that his new, black mistress would occasionally cover her partially disfigured and crooked toes in nylons, or even in woollen socks during the winter months, so that he could discover what a fat, black lady’s bunion feels like on the lips beneath a thin covering of sheer, nylon stocking or a thick bandage of soft, woollen sock!
………………………………………………………………………
Everything happened so quickly after that. Just one week later he was in the cargo hold of an aircraft, heading towards his new life as mistress Cleo’s personal footservant in the Blessèd Black Gynarchy.
As it turned out, she was only rarely inclined to wear nylons on her black, middle-aged legs – and she never wore socks to protect her raw bunion. The relatively warm climate of the Black Gynarchy didn’t really lend itself to nylons, or to woolly socks!
But she did, fortunately, have not one, but two, stunningly beautiful, grown-up daughters in their twenties still living at home with her – mistresses Chantrelle and Seanna – both of whom were only slightly overweight, and who attended fashion-college along with mistress Mabel’s similarly-aged, extremely slim and svelte daughter, miss Keandra, who, as it turned out, lived next door with her mother. He was expected, nay required, to fawn and kow-tow to all three young, black ladies on a regular basis by their respective mothers, who happily gave their beloved daughters carte blanche in the use of the dreaded, female whip!
With or without the stinging stimulus of said whip, slave Anthony served his three younger black mistresses with true footslavish relish, for they were all totally spoilt, and more than happy to impose their scruffy, black-student-girl sneakers and ballet flats on his mouth and in his face; and, to cap it all, mistress Mabel’s daughter, who had unusually large feet for such a skinny girl, had a particular fondness, despite the warm climate – or perhaps even because of it – for wearing short, black sneaker-socks with her ubiquitous, musty-smelling, black leather ballet flats!
Short, black anklesocks; on soft, black, arrogant, student-girl feet; inside equally soft, but scuffmarked and misshapen, black leather ballet flats – footslave heaven, if ever there was one!
So, you could say that all of slave Anthony’s dreams had come true. So nice to have a story with a happy ending for a change, don’t you think?
And it just goes to prove – where there’s a slave-will, there’s a slave-way!
The Beginning (of a new life)
