Shocking!
He was about to get the shock of his life – another one! For slave Simon was subject to many such short, sharp shocks throughout the course of his miserable existence.
She caught him on the left shoulder blade with it this time, causing him to twitch and gasp involuntarily with the sudden pain. ‘She’ was his supervisor-mistress, mistress Alenka; ‘it’ was the electric slave-prod, designed to remind a male slave who is the female boss, and the one with all the power; the electrifying power!
Pakistan
How the somewhat podgy, middle-aged, Pakistani customer-mistress, who had initiated the punishment, laughed to see such pain etched on the miserable slave’s face, as did everyone else around the busy and bustling, airport departure lounge where he worked as a complementary, public footslave!
Even his pointy-nosed, prod carrying, hardworking, Polish supervisor-mistress – 25 year old miss Alenka – was laughing heartily at him, despite witnessing such painful grimaces on his part literally dozens of times a day. Such gasps of shock never failed to amuse her – as did her verbal counselling to the slave afterwards, outlining where he had gone wrong, thus meriting the sharp pain of the electric slave-prod in the first place:
‘Oh dear, you the poor slave! Ha! Ha! Well and, you were warned not to touch Pakistani lady’s nice, black sock with the side of the ugly, slave face, weren’t you, the dirty foot-faggot?’ (‘The Dirty Foot-Faggot’ was her none-too-flattering nickname for her regular footslave-charge).
The pain had subsided enough now for him to regather his senses and respond to his snooty, aquiline-nosed, Polish supervisor-mistress:
‘Yes mistress Alenka; if it pleases you mistress Alenka; please forgive me mistress Alenka. Mercy mistress! Oh pray mistress! The shock, mistress! The pain!’
He stared humbly and contritely at his tall and slim, redheaded supervisor-mistress’s stylish, and suitably pointy-toed, high-heeled, black leather, zip-up ankleboots beneath the hems of her slightly flared, bootcut, black cotton trouser legs. That was because he was never allowed to look his supervisory-mistress, or any superior female for that matter, in the eye (or the nose) – being but a humble, down-at-heel footslave.
He therefore knew every nook and cranny of mistress Alenka’s black leather ankleboots, since he spent so much of his working life with them, and even recognised from the creasing and folding in her bootleather when a corrective shock was imminent. So a shock never caught him completely by surprise!
And they were, invariably, corrective shocks – rather than gratuitous. His supervisor-mistress was nothing if not fair (or ginger), and only ever shocked him to ram home the message that he had been, at best, incompetent; or, at worst, disobedient.
In this most recent example it had been his incompetence or carelessness which had led to his mistress having no choice but to shock him. The forty-something, traditionally dressed, pink headscarfed, Pakistani customer-mistress who had been seated in the departure lounge awaiting her flight back to Islamabad with her family, had issued specific instructions that the complementary, public footslave was to lickshine the sides of her black leather, open-backed clogs beneath the hems of her pink silken, salwar-kameez trouserlegs, without his face or forehead brushing against the sides, or the exposed backs, of her plain, black cotton anklesocks.
It was her perfect right to do so – some women, particularly Muslim women of a certain age, are outraged by the feel of a dirty footslave’s ugly, male, facial features on their hosiery, and this particular, portly and somewhat prudish, forty-something Pakistani mistress was clearly one of them!
Portly and prudish she may have been, but the traditionally dressed Pakistani lady had actually only had slave Simon’s best interests at heart, since she had informed his young, Polish supervisor-mistress right from the start that she specifically didn’t want the slave touching her black socks because she was embarrassed to say they were ‘dirty, and full of germs’; obviously a very considerate and foot-fastidious, Pakistani mistress, concerned about her unwashed, two day old socks, and the adverse effects they may have on the unfortunate, public foot-servant!
Slave Simon, meanwhile, had been wondering whether his Polish supervisor-mistress Alenka’s black socks, hidden deep inside her black leather, pointy-steel toecapped, spike-heeled ankleboots, were equally saturated in her East-European foot-germs? He assumed they were black socks, to match her black boots; and that, like most younger women, she would not have any such middle-aged compunctions about imposing her dirty sock germs on his nose and face, given half the chance. The kind and considerate Pakistani mistress was most assuredly the exception to the rule!
Kind and considerate she may have been, but having taken the trouble to issue him with her toxic-sock warning, via his supervisor-mistress, the middle-aged Pakistani lady was clearly not amused when slave Simon’s forehead inadvertently did just what she had ordered it not to do, and brushed against the ropey-looking material of her well-worn and bobbled, unwashed, black cotton anklesock on her equally worn-looking and somewhat wrinkly, brown-skinned, Pakistani foot. But at least the bemused lady-passenger found the electric shock delivered to the ‘disobedient’ slave’s bare, left shoulder blade highly amusing – as did her accompanying family members!
Having literally shocked him, verbally admonished him, and verbally apologised to the Pakistani customer-mistress on behalf of her dirty and incompetent footslave, the snooty-nosed mistress Alenka decided it was time to move on. For he was not a static slave – subject to static electricity; he was kept very much on the move by his supervisor-mistress – round and round the airport departure lounge seeking out new female feet, and new female shoes and boots to kiss and lickshine.
There was no need for supervisor-mistress Alenka to offer a refund to the insulted Pakistani customer-mistress, as the footslave’s service was offered free of charge (i.e. free of any financial charge; the transaction had clearly involved a small electrical charge!). However mistress Alenka did offer the dissatisfied customer a claims form for compensation – compensation for the emotional stress of having her exposed sock touched inside her clog when she didn’t want it to be!
The Pakistani customer-mistress smiled, readjusted her silken, dupatta-style, diaphanous-pink headscarf over her jet-black, but greying at the temples, hair, and promised to fill out the form. Mistress Alenka thanked her. Well, it would be no skin off her nose – only off slave Simon’s back, if the Pakistani-mistress did indeed press ahead with her complaint. For he would receive one stinging cut of the female whip for every Fem in compensation the jubilant, Pakistani mistress received out in Islamabad!
Latin America
And so the Polish mistress and her complementary slave – she walking tall and proud, he crawling low and shame-facedly on his hands and knees behind her spiked, leather bootheels – approached their next potential customers, a boisterous group of young, Argentinean women awaiting their flight back to sunny Buenos Aries.
Slave Simon loved the way the whole female world seemed to come to him here at the airport, even though he himself never flew off anywhere! He was well and truly grounded, with his head close to the ground – staring at feet. Only the lady passengers were high-fliers; and that was how it jolly well should be!
He therefore focussed in on the noisy, South American threesome’s feet and footwear, since it was these he would next be required to attend to. One of the young, Latina women – the loudest – whose hair had been dyed blonde but whose dark roots were still clearly visible, was wearing slutty, white shorts and equally slutty, white, calf-length tube socks with three red hoops at the tops on her white-sneakered feet. The sneakers, too, looked nice and slutty; lace-up low tops, but with the laces sloppily undone; not too clean, but not too grubby either. The shape of the socks indicated rather skinny anklebones and calve muscles, however.
The second member of the Latina, female trio – a brunette who was wearing a bright yellow mini-skirt on her brown, South American legs – had on her exotic, Latina feet a delightful pair of flowery-patterned, high-top canvas sneakers with white laces (fully done up) and black anklesocks – the elasticated tops of which were just visible inside the calve-hugging, upper rims of her flowery, Latina sneakers.
The third South American mistress, another brunette, but with distinctively frizzy and curly, shoulder-length hair, was clad in a loose-fitting, pale grey trouser-suit with cream-coloured, slingback, peep-toe, high-heeled, leather, strappy sandals on her pretty, Hispanic feet. Her pretty toenails were painted dark purple, and looked good enough to suck on!
But slave Simon knew he must control himself – for he was not here to feast on Latina-girl juicy toes; he was here to serve Latina-mistress feet, under the auspices of Polish-girl supervision, in whatever way his boisterous, Latina customer-mistresses required him to.
The three girls did not appear to speak English, but, fortunately his clever supervisor-mistress spoke Spanish, albeit slightly broken Spanish with a Polish accent:
“Buenas tardes, señoras! ¿Te gusta mi esclavo al servicio de suspies de forma gratuita?”
Slave Simon couldn’t understand a word of Spanish – being a stupid, ignorant male slave – but he knew his supervisor-mistress must be offering his foot and shoe-licking services to the three young women for free.
“¡Ja! ¡Ja! ¡Dios mÃo! ¡Ja! ¡Ja! ¿Acaso la suciedad lamer las zapatillas de deporte?” asked the girl with the bleached-blonde hair.
“SÃ, sinduda, señora! Porfavor extienda su zapatilla derecha ytendré mi lengua se limpia con la lengua para usted.”
The next thing slave Simon knew the bleached-blonde girl’s right, Latina leg was stretched out on the floor beneath his face and his mistress Alenka was directing his head, by means of the slave-prod sticking into the back of his neck – but mercifully with the electrical current switched off – down onto the rubbery toe-area of the blonde girl’s nominally white, sloppily-unlaced, low-top sneaker.
He guessed he had to lick it, and spruce it up with his tongue, without falling into the trap again of brushing his forehead against the thick cotton material of the Argentinean girl’s red and white, stripy tube sock. He had already had one shock due to unauthorized sock today – he didn’t want another one!
Not that he wasn’t tempted – the sock was deliciously creamy-white and creased on the blonde girl’s lower leg, around her skinny ankle-area, and the long kneesock seemed to tower above him as his mouth attended to Latina-girl, scruffy white sneaker. Curiously, she was keeping her boarding-card tucked inside the upper folds of her red and white kneesock! As good a place as any, he supposed!
The Latina sneaker itself tasted rough – a bit like the girl herself; she didn’t look like a particularly refined or sophisticated young woman; none of the girls did. And her reaction to having her sneaker licked was most unladylike; she laughed out loud until she audibly belched, and just couldn’t keep her Latina, sneakered foot still throughout the process, so vehemently was she laughing at the humble slave at her feet!
The unfortunate result was that slave Simon’s tongue could not gain good purchase on the young woman’s scuffmarked sneaker-toe, and this time his tongue (as opposed to his forehead) inadvertently slipped onto forbidden girlsock.
This was, potentially, an even greater sock-disaster than the one before, for the germs from his dirty, slave mouth were now sullying the pure Latina girl’s sock!
Unlike the previous, Pakistani customer-mistress, however, the Argentinean customer-mistress didn’t seem to mind, or even notice, the unauthorized intrusion of his wet and moist, slave body-part onto the outer surface of her superior, cotton sock, as she and her friends just continually giggled and laughed at him. And all the movement in the blonde girl’s hysterical feet was giving him a truly wonderful display of blonde-girl, unintentional tube-sock creasing and folding – right in front of his mesmerized, footslave eyes!
It was inevitable. After all, if the bleached-blonde, Latina girl couldn’t keep her sneakered foot still, her sock could hardly be expected to remain still either!
Still, his ever-pernickety, pointy-nosed, Polish supervisor-mistress, mistress Alenka, who found the whole business much less amusing, repeatedly ensured that slave Simon’s mouth reestablished contact with the dirty, blonde Latina-girl sneaker surface as there was dirt to be extracted, and customer-mistress sneaker to be shined.
Exciting!
The girl with the flowery-patterned, canvas high-tops appeared less ‘ticklish’ as her feet remained firmly on the ground whilst the slave’s mouth attended to them. Conversely, however, the downside of that was that her black sock-tops inside the sneakers remained stationary also – with not a fold or a twist in sight.
Boring!
The final insult was when he was denied a suck of the final, much classier-looking, grey trouser-suited and strappy peep-toe-sandaled, Latina girl’s purple-painted toenails. She had merely required her smart sandal-leather to be buffed up with his tongue, and had specifically given orders that the dirty slave’s tongue was not to touch her bare footflesh in between the cream-coloured leather straps crisscrossing her pretty, brown-skinned, Latina-girl foot (as translated by his polyglot, Polish supervisor-mistress, mistress Alenka!)
So he tasted Latina, creamy sandal – but not Latina, purple toenail-polish.
Frustrating!
Shockingly, his ever alert supervisor-mistress Alenka had earlier noticed the unauthorized straying of slave Simon’s tongue onto Latina-girl red and white sock (even if the wearer of the sock had failed to notice it), and so another painful jolt of electricity was punishingly applied to his left shoulder blade shortly after the three, young Latina women had left the Departure Lounge for boarding.
Once again his only warning of the impending pain and shock were the tell-tale signs of creasing in her Polish-girl bootleather as she positioned herself behind him with the cruel, electric probe.
Slave Simon was in awe of his Polish supervisor-mistress’s powers of observation; nothing got passed her, and so she punished him judiciously and appropriately. She was just so good at her job – a born taskmistress, and polished perfectionist!
Shock and awe!
Arabia
Having punished him, and admonished him, mistress Alenka next escorted slave Simon over towards the Information Desk where she knew one of his regulars, the partially westernized (when it came to her dress-sense) Arab girl miss Zaynah – who worked as a passenger-assistant on the Information desk – would be patiently awaiting the complementary services of his bootshining-tongue.
Slave Simon always got excited at the prospect of tongueshining the black headscarfed, but otherwise blue uniformed, miss Zaynah’s boots. She was beautiful; her boots were beautiful; and he was in love with her – or, at least, with her boots.
She always wore shiny, smooth, black leather, flat-heeled, round-toed, calf-length, pull-on, boots beneath her navy-blue, passenger-assistant’s uniform trousers – and because she was permanently seated on a swivel chair behind her information kiosk, her booted, Arab-girl feet resting on a circular, metal rim near the base of her chair, slave Simon got to admire her shiny, black boots in all their creased-leather glory as her trouser hems would ride up almost to the very tops of her boots.
Such shiny boots; and so smooth – almost like shiny, black rubber, riding boots. He could even see his gormless slave-reflection in them! What particularly enamoured him to miss Zaynah, however, was the way she would occasionally tease him by, seemingly subconsciously, reaching down to adjust the hems of her navy-blue trousers over the tops of her boots, whilst he was licking them, and in so doing giving him the briefest glimpse of her calf-length, cream-coloured bootsocks inside the tops of her shiny calf-boots.
Today, as he licked Arab-girl smooth, black boot and glimpsed Arab-girl creamy bootsock, however, she had some devastating news for him, delivered to his supervisor-mistress rather than to slave Simon directly, of course, since goddess-mistress Zaynah considered him much too far beneath her on the social scale to ever actually speak to the slave directly herself.
It seemed that she was, righteously, being promoted, and would soon be leaving her regular job in the departure lounge, information booth!
Slave Simon then had the indignity of having to listen to his supervisor-mistress Alenka convey his disappointment at the news to the Arab, information-assistant mistress Zaynah in mock-sympathetic tones, which clearly displayed her polished insincerity:
‘Oh…the slave will be upset that you are leaving, Zaynah. The dirty foot-faggot lives for your boots! Look at how he is lapping them up, the fool! Ha! Ha!’
Mistress Zaynah laughs also:
‘Ha! Ha! Too bad! Why I am giving a damn what the slave is feeling? Ha! Ha! Why I am caring that he is missing my boots? Ha! Ha! He is just a piece of filth! Ha! Ha! I spit on him, the faggot of feet! I crush him beneath the beautiful, young Arab woman feet!’
She did not actually spit on him, however, or crush him beneath her booted feet, despite her colourful, Arabic-flavoured language. It just wasn’t the right time or the place for such histrionics, in the middle of an airport departure lounge – more’s the pity!
But the unsympathetic, black-headscarfed, Arab girl did afford him one tantalizing, last glimpse of her cream-coloured bootsock inside her right boot – teasingly even reaching down to ostentatiously pull her sock up inside her boot, in order to straighten it. The sound of her sock rubbing against her soft, Arabian skin against the background noise of the airport departure lounge sent slave Simon wild, for it was truly an exquisite privilege to be a party to such an intimate, girlsock sound!
He would have dearly loved to straighten miss Zaynah’s creamy bootsock for her – by way of a parting gesture to his beautiful, booted and besocked airport-worker customer-mistress who was leaving him behind and moving onwards and upwards in the world!
And taking her precious boots and socks with her!
Mistress Alenka decided her slave was shocked enough at the sad news, without the need for her to apply electricity to his bare back or shoulders this time.
West Africa
The next customer-mistress, however – one of the airport cleaners – specifically wanted him shocked! So much so that she was happy to do it herself! It was, unbeknown to slave Simon, to be the electrifying highlight of her otherwise rather dull and monotonous, airport-cleaning day!
Mistress Boniface was a Nigerian mistress, who still spoke with a thick, Nigerian accent – despite having lived and worked in the Gynarchy for several years. Appropriately enough she did have a very bonny, West-African-girl face.
Like most of the Gynarchy’s airport workers she was dressed in her ubiquitous, navy-blue airport uniform, but consisting in her case of highly practical, navy blue jogging pants and a shiny, sky-blue tabard. On her somewhat podgy and broad, Nigerian-girl feet she was wearing a delightful pair of cheap, shiny black plastic, block-heeled, slip-on shoes, and short, black sneaker socks.
She was good friends with miss Zaynah – the black-headscarfed Arab girl on the information desk – despite coming from a very different culture, and had waddled over to have a chat just as slave Simon had arrived to lickshine the Arab girl’s beloved boots (miss Boniface ‘waddled’ everywhere – she was rather on the plump side!)
She deferred, of course, to her Arab friend, allowing the latter to have her boots licked clean and shiny first, and to sock-tease the pathetic, public footslave with her creamy, calf-length bootsocks! But no sooner had the Arab girl taken her leave of the footslave, and turned her attention to an enquiry from one of the airport’s more anxious, female passengers, than the Nigerian girl stretched forwards her cleaning-girl, plastic-shoed, right foot underneath the kneeling slave’s nose in order for him to lickshine her dirty, working shoe also.
Slave Simon dutifully did so, fully cognizant of the fact that the Nigerian mistress’s short, black, sneaker-sock top was just inches away from his face, for, short and discreet though it may be, it loomed large in his footslave-consciousness, being the short, black sock of a short and stocky, black African goddess – a cleaning goddess who herself now needed her dirty shoes to be cleaned.
And this was where he came unstuck – for African goddess-mistress Boniface had inadvertently walked through some sticky, female chewing gum, and required the slave to remove it from the sole of her cheap plastic, cleaning-girl shoe with his mouth and teeth.
But, try as he might, he could not get it to come off! He was an old and wizened slave, in his fifties, and his teeth just weren’t as strong and efficient as they used to be!
The young, West African woman – who was only in her early twenties – did not understand, however, and took his inability to remove the dirty gum from her greasy, plastic shoesole as impertinence. She ‘demanded’ the electric slave-prod from his supervisor-mistress, miss Alenka (another of her fellow airport-worker friends), and made ready to shock slave Simon on his bare ribs – always a particularly tender and sensitive area for the electric prod.
Simple slave Simon braced himself and looked contritely at the slighted, African mistress’s shoes and socks as the clever, Nigerian cleaning-girl seemed to first comfort him by gently rubbing an area of his ribs on his left flank with her soft, brown, West-African fingers. But, thick as he was – with an inferior, maleslave brain – he only slowly realized that she wasn’t, in fact, doing it to comfort him ahead of his shocking pain; she was doing it simply in order to stimulate the nerve endings in his skin, thereby making the forthcoming pain of the electric slave-prod all the more acute.
Cute, but cruel!
Sure enough it came; the ominous prod of cold steel; followed by the sharp buzzing sound; and then the sudden pain…followed by the gasp!
Hardly anyone even turned their heads – a slave being shocked in an airport departure lounge was nothing particularly shocking in the Gynarchy! Just as cleaning goddess-mistress Boniface’s common-or-garden, chewing-gum-stained, shiny black plastic shoes and plain, black sneaker-socks were nothing particularly startling!
But slave Simon was still shocked, nevertheless!
And he went on being shocked; in fact, he was in a more or less permanent state of shock and awe, as he continued to lick both female-passenger, and female airport-worker, shoes and boots, whilst admiring accompanying female socks, in and around the airport departure lounge; all under the nosey supervision of his shockingly efficient, redheaded, Polish mistress, miss Alenka – his current supervisor, who was repeatedly getting on his nerves.
There certainly was a spark between them!
The End
The Airport Cleaning Girl & The Slave
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