Footfool’s Gold
She was one of public footslave no. 179888C’s regular customer-mistresses – slightly eccentric, but clearly quite sweet on him. He knew that because she always enquired after his health, and never beat him – even on those days when he was feeling a bit off-colour and his tongue was underperforming on his lady-customers’ boots and shoes.
Yes – customer-mistress Tania was always a joy to serve; blonde, early forties – but young-looking for her age. She dressed in a young-womanly manner – sometimes with short skirts and sexy, black calf-length, strap-laden, biker boots over black woolly tights; sometimes, as today, with pale grey, ankle-length cotton leggings and her green canvas, low-cut, lace-up sneakers with short, grey-blue sneaker socks.
Whatever her chosen footwear, public footslave no. 179888C always did his best to honour and admire it, for it was the chosen footwear of his regular customer-mistress, mistress Tania, and it was very much in his own interests to keep her sweet. She may be slow to whip, but the public-use whip was ever present, and he was always made nervous by her eccentricities – not just in enquiring after his health, but in her evident, unseemly attraction towards him – a mere, down-in-the-dirt, no-hope, aging footslave (he was some twenty years her senior!)
And so he indulged her in her cheap small-talk, and in her conversation of unequals with him, as he tongue-cleaned the dusty, green canvas of her low-cut sneakers whilst she sat imperiously above him, her forty-something feet resting on the two metal footrests directly in front of his humbly-kneeling face. He overtly flattered and fawned to her – lest she suddenly go off him, and decide to whip him.
For public footslave no. 179888C was cowardly, and very much feared the biting sting of the female whip!
‘How are you today, slave? Are you feeling good?’
‘Oh pray mistress-madam…lick…lick…if it pleases you mistress-madam Tania…lick…lick…this slave is indeed very well…lick…lick… if it is so pleasing to you most respected mistress-madam?…lick…lick… And how is the mistress today, if you would be so kind to this humble, public footslave mistress-madam Tania?... lick…lick…’
Normally, of course, the conventions of humble, male slavespeak would prohibit a slave from asking a question, even a polite one, of a mistress-madam. The mere intonation in a slave’s voice which is involved in asking a superior mistress a question would generally be considered impertinent, given that it is not a slave’s place to question a mistress, but to obey.
But mistress Tania, as we have already established, was different; eccentric. She liked to indulge her public footslaves – or, at least, public footslave no. 179888C!
‘Ha! Ha! I’m fine thank you, slave! And how do you like my shoes today? Are they pleasing enough for you?’
Yes – you heard right! A superior mistress, a citizen of the Gynarchy, actually asking a dirty, public footslave if he approves of her footwear! Extraordinary! Almost unbelievable! A sign of female, mental instability?
Who knows?
Public footslave no. 179888C just played along with her; and he was right to do so – for a mistress is always right; even if she’s as nutty as a fruitcake!
‘Oh pray mistress Tania…lick…lick…oh yes mistress-madam …lick…lick... this slave truly admires both the taste and the smell of the mistress’s wonderful, green sneakers…lick…lick… and is blessed by their presence…lick…lick…if you would be so kind mistress-madam Tania?…lick…lick…’
That much was true – he did truly appreciate the taste and smell of the female shoe-canvas he was so ardently tongue-polishing; and he was blessed by their presence.
‘Ha! Ha! Yes slave – that’s right! My shoes are wonderful, aren’t they? And I’m wonderful too, am I not? Ha! Ha! Am I not a wonderful mistress to you, slave? I mean – I’m beautiful; intelligent; wealthy; kind; generous, even though I’m better than you! Am I not all of those things, dirty footslave?’
As he humbly licked the ingrained street-dirt out of the grey-white, rubbery soles of her low-cut, canvas sneakers, how could public footslave no. 179888C possibly fail to agree with any of mistress-madam Tania’s statements? They were all statements of pure fact – so he simply had to agree!
‘Oh pray mistress-madam….lick…lick…oh yes mistress-madam Tania…lick…lick…truly you are my better, mistress….lick…lick….and are a wonderful customer-mistress to me…lick…lick…if it is so pleasing to you mistress-madam Tania…lick…lick…’
He had advertently tickled her ego, just as his tongue was inadvertently tickling her feet through the thin canvas and cotton materials of her sneakers and socks:
‘Ha! Ha! Yes it is pleasing to me, footslave! I am indeed wonderful! Ha! Ha! Tell me, humble slave, what is the most wonderful thing about me? What do you admire most about me?’
Public footslave no. 179888C is getting very nervous now. Part of him quite enjoys this unusual privilege of expressing his slave-opinion. Yet another part of him fears saying the wrong thing – for he is, after all, just a stupid, male slave whose opinions should count for nothing (they certainly count for nothing in Law!). And yet, another part of him, the most cowardly part, just wishes that bonkers-mad mistress Tania would simply leave him alone and allow him to concentrate on what he does best – licking clean female sneakers. His slave-tongue is, after all, dirt-coated rather than silver-coated!
But he must answer the customer-mistress’s questions. He is obliged to do so under the Female Laws of the Gynarchy, under pain of the female whip!
‘Oh pray mistress-madam…lick…lick… if it pleases you most sweet and kind mistress-madam Tania…lick…lick…this slave admires the whole of the mistress…lick…lick… if you would be so kind mistress-madam Tania… lick...lick…but is most enamoured by the mistress’s beautiful socks…if you would be so kind and understanding to a pathetic footslave, most respected mistress-madam?…lick…lick…’
It might seem like a stupid thing for a prone and vulnerable footslave to say; insulting almost – choosing a mistress’s humble socks as her best feature! But then you must remember that:
a) He is, by definition, stupid – being a male slave;
b) Mistress Tania’s grey-blue sneaker socks, short though they are, do loom large in his life right now as he tongue-licks the canvas material of her dirty, green sneakers. He can see the grey-blue cotton of her socks close up, and can even make out the individual stitches in the stretched elastic of the socks just below her prominent, blue-veined, pale-white-skinned anklebones – and so it is not, perhaps, so bizarre that his blonde-fruitcake, customer-mistress’s socks should make such a strong impression on him!
Customer-mistress Tania, for her part, certainly does not seem to be offended that the down-in-the-dirt slave has chosen her socks as her best feature – over, say, her breasts; or her face; or even her shapely anklebones!
‘Ha! Ha! Yes, my socks are nice, aren’t they slave? Don’t you think the grey-blue colour goes well with the green of my sneakers? Ha! Ha!’
‘Oh yes mistress Tania…lick...lick…if it pleases you mistress-Tania madam …lick…lick…this slave is truly enraptured by the mistress’s choice of sneakers and socks this morning…lick…lick…if it is so pleasing to you most beautiful and respected mistress Tania...lick…lick…oh pray, mistress, please don’t beat me mistress…lick…lick…’
He threw in that last line not because he really feared that customer-mistress Tania was about to beat him, but purely because, at the Footslave Training Academy, the female teachers had stressed how important it is for a footslave to remind a mistress every so often of her female power and authority over him, and of his being at her sweet, feminine mercy!
And, to be honest, he felt quite relaxed at this point, for the conversation seemed to be going rather well! All very amicable – since the mistress and slave were in complete agreement with one another that she was his better, and was a wonderful mistress, with wonderful shoes and socks on her pretty feet!
But then – suddenly – the conversation took an unexpected twist, just as customer-mistress Tania was coquettishly twisting her right, green-sneakered foot to one side in order to give the sneaker-licking footslave an even better view of the elasticated top of her short, blue-grey sneaker sock:
‘Ahem…er…tell me slave, since you like my socks so much, and since I am such a wonderful mistress, how would you like to come and work for me on a permanent basis?’
It takes a lot to shock public footslave no. 179888C where customer-mistress Tania is concerned, but her last utterance stopped his tongue on her rubbery, sneaker-sole tracks! What was this? Some sort of proposition? Was customer-mistress Tania really suggesting that he leave his public shoelick-stand and become her personal, private footslave?!
For once, he was lost for weaselly footslave-words!
Mistress Tania’s normally jolly tone of voice changed to one of mild impatience and irritation at his seeming hesitation:
‘Come on, stupid slave! Answer me! I asked you a question – how would you like to come and work for me? What’s wrong – don’t you like the idea of being my personal footslave?’
Jolted out of his stupefaction by the uncharacteristically threatening tone of his blonde customer-mistress’s voice, public footslave no. 179888C immediately lowers his gaping mouth once again to the superior young woman’s green canvas sneakers (for from his elderly perspective she is still young), and kisses them – repeatedly, and fervently:
‘Oh pray mistress Tania, madam…kiss...kiss…if it pleases you goddess-mistress madam Tania… kiss…kiss... truly this slave would be honoured to work exclusively for the mistress…kiss…kiss... and to be the humble servant of her glorious feet and footwear… kiss…kiss… if it would be so pleasing to you, most respected and all-powerful mistress?...kiss…kiss…’
Now he is lying – for public footslave no. 179888C has no real desire to leave his familiar public shoelick stand to which he has been, literally, attached all his adult slave-life – some forty years! He likes the variety of female feet and footwear that comes his way, each and every day, in his capacity as a well-established, local, public footslave. He is in his forty-year-old comfort zone – and doesn’t really want a mistress of the same age as his working-life to be tearing him away from it!
But will he have any choice in the matter?
Seemingly not, judging by mistress Tania’s response to his reluctant ‘acceptance’ of her kind offer. She claps her hands above him and squeals girlishly in delight:
‘Ha! Ha! I’m so glad you said yes, slave – for I’ve already bought you from the public authorities! Ha! Ha! Look- here’s the deed, and the key to your shackles! Ha! Ha!’
Public footslave no. 179888C sees first the piece of paper transferring ownership of him, and then the rusty, old key he has not seen in over forty years – the key which locked him to his public shoelick-stand, here on the corner of Georgina Street, all those many years ago!
And this barking mad, psychopathic, blonde now holds the key to his future in her hands – quite literally!
He is now completely speechless – unable even to continue kissing green-canvas girlshoe.
Mistress Tania revels in his awe and wonderment at her exciting news:
‘Ha! Ha! Yes, slave, that’s right! You’re now all mine! Ha! Ha! I purchased you last night! Ha! Ha! Except that you won’t just be mine – I’ve purchased you along with some of my female friends, and we’re going to set up a new business using you as a novelty-footslave. Ha! Ha! Here’s the plan – we’re going to parade you all around the country as a stupid foot-fool! Ha! Ha! You’ll have to wear one of those ridiculous-looking foot-fool masks – oh, and a heavy cangue, to keep your neck bowed and low all the time! And then we’ll take you to various funfairs, and tourist attractions, and exhibitions and so on where we’ll hire you out as a public footslave! But you will belong to us – and all the proceeds from your footlicking work will come to me and my friends! Ha! Ha! Won’t that be brilliant, slave?!’
The stunned footslave no. 179888C was functioning on polite auto-pilot now:
‘Y…yes…m…mistress Tania….w…whatever you say m…mistress m… madam Tania…’
She claps her pretty hands again, beams broadly, jumps down off the shoelick-stand and hastily unlocks the public slave from his creaking, forty-year-old shackles.
It should be a moment of liberation for him – but somehow it feels more like a case of ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire!’
…………………………………………………………………………..
Later that evening mistress Tania had him washed and scrubbed and ready to meet the rest of his new owners – her friends and new business-venture colleagues, mistresses Michelle, Rebecca and Joanna. Tania had also fitted him with his custom-made, green rubber, footfool mask, and heavy, wooden cangue-collar.
For the first time in many years he was in constant pain, courtesy of the heavy cangue around his scrawny neck!
The mask, however, was now the most striking thing about him. He now had a sickly-green, rubbery face with bright red lip and eye slits and pink, stubbly, rubber hair. Moreover his ears were now bright yellow, rubbery, donkey-shaped ears – and just to make sure no woman was left in any doubt as to his lowly status, the rubber mask was emblazoned with the following words in big, black rubbery letters:
‘Fool; Female Socks; Stink; Dirt; Male Slavey; Boots; Shoes; Toejam.’
A series of little pink, rubbery, high-heeled shoes, boots and socks, plus a black-rubbery, little single-tailed whip, hanging from his cheeks and forehead, completed the humiliating, rubbery-mask ensemble. He truly looked ridiculous and helpless – a thing to be, quite rightly, despised – forced to bow the neck over the feet and footwear of his female betters by the strength and power of the heavy, wooden cangue!
That certainly seemed to be the effect of the mask and the cangue on his new co-owners when mistress Tania introduced him to them for the first time.
First to put her foot up to his kneeling and surrounded-by-rubber mouth was mistress Joanne – a short, dark-haired young woman of about 25 or 26 who smelt strongly of booze and fags. Mistress Joanne was wearing black, polyester trousers with black, block-heeled, round-toed, scuffmarked, zip-up ankleboots – well-worn boots she was seemingly more than happy to impose on the hapless footfool’s green, rubbery face:
‘Ha! Ha! What a dork! What a rubbery-knucklehead! Ha! Ha! You’ve done well, Tania! We’ll make a small fortune out of him! Ha! Ha!... You, the footfool! Lick the side of my boot. Run your tongue up and down the zipper. I wanna feel how your tongue feels on a girl’s boot!’
‘Do as miss Joanna says, slave!’ adds mistress Tania, threateningly. Public footslave (or should that now be ‘public footfool’) no. 179888C could not have failed to notice, through his bright red rubbery eye-slits, that mistress Tania was fingering a vicious-looking, black leather, single-tailed punishment whip as she stood over him, especially since she had already used it to stripe his back red – for purely decorative reasons in order to impress their future, female customers, as she had earlier explained to him!
But the sting in his back was far from purely decorative – and so he obeyed the blonde mistress with the whip-hand, and her new, chain-smoking business partner, and dutifully tongued mistress Joanna’s proffered boot-zipper.
As he did so, he wondered whether or not miss Joanna was wearing any socks inside her black leather ankleboots. All was soon revealed as she helpfully pulled up the hem of her black, bootcut trouser leg to reveal the elasticated top of a brown, stripy sock:
‘Ha! Ha! Now kiss the top of my sock, slave. And kiss it hard! I wanna feel those lips on my sock!’
‘Ha! Ha! Don’t worry, Jo – he really likes girls’ socks; that’s why I put the words ‘female socks’ on his mask! Ha! Ha! What a simpleton! What a lamebrain! Ha! Ha!’
All the young women present laugh at the sickly-green, rubbery-faced footslave as he kisses the top of mistress Joanne’s brown-striped, ankle-length bootsock, whilst she is still wearing it inside her dirty and unkempt, scuffmarked ankleboot.
‘Ha! Ha! Move over, Jo! I want a go!’ exclaims another of his three, new co-owner mistresses, miss Michelle – another blonde (like mistress Tania), but much younger; in her early twenties.
She is also, footfool no. 179888C notices, rather portly – but he can forgive her that in view of her outstandingly beautiful and sexy choice of footwear! Miss Michelle is wearing blue denim jeans with black, argyle-patterned, woolly socks and matt black leather, kitten-heeled, mary-jane style, round-toed and single-strapped shoes. The dark-patterned socks are clearly visible beneath the lower hems of her denim jeans – especially when the young woman stretches forth her right foot onto the floor beneath his kneeling face, just where mistress Joanna’s scuffmarked ankleboot had recently been:
‘Kiss my sock too, foot-slavey. Kiss the grey patterned bit just between the strap and toe area of my shoe – and make sure your cheap, rubber lips don’t touch my expensive shoeleather!’
‘Ha! Ha! That’s right, Michelle!’ shouts a delighted mistress Tania encouragingly to her much younger business-partner. ‘Make him obey your specific orders! Ha! Ha! He’s gonna have to get used to doing exactly what our female customers tell him to do. Otherwise he’ll get the whip!’
‘Ha! Ha! Whip him now, Tania! Whip him while he’s kissing my sock. Go on, whip him anyway! Ha! Ha!’
Tania obliges her young, female partner-in-crime and whips the sixty year old footfool hard across the bare back as he kisses twenty-year-old, argyle-patterned girlsock inside mary-jane style shoe.
How the assembled company of young women laugh at him and exult over him – as well they might!
Last to be introduced to him is the redhead, mistress Rebecca - the tall quiet one of the group. Like mistress Joanna before her, mistress Rebecca is wearing black leather boots – only these are knee-length, flat-heeled, lace-up, heavy looking, combat-style boots worn over flesh-coloured nylons beneath a short, black skirt.
Mistress Rebecca by way of introducing herself to her new joint-property, orders him to lickshine her dirty, mud-encrusted, combat boots from top to bottom – making sure he licks all the various eyelets underneath the muddy, black laces. She also stresses to the slave that he must not brush his rubbery-masked face against her nylon stockings when he is licking clean the very top rims of her boots.
Actually, the ginger-haired and ponytailed mistress Rebecca needn’t have worried, for footfool no. 179888C, unused to having such a heavy, wooden cangue around his neck, was quite unable to reach up with his green-rubber face to the top of mistress Rebecca’s knee-length, leather boots – not even after mistress Tania had given him two dozen cuts of her black leather, single-tailed whip!
The four girls decided they would have to work on this – as no slave of theirs would be allowed to neglect the tops of a customer-mistress’s knee-high boots!
‘What shall we call him?’ asked miss Michelle, the sweet-socked blonde.
‘Ha! Ha! How about “Sockface” – on account of his hankering for women’s socks?’ suggested the brown-stripy-bootsocked miss Joanna.
‘Ha! Ha! I like it!’ responded mistress Michelle. ‘Only, I think “Sockface” should be his surname, and his first name should be “Stinky” – because he smells! Ha! Ha!’
The rest of the young women all fell about laughing:
‘Ha! Ha! “Stinky Sockface” it is, then!’ declared mistress Tania, and a few minutes later she had ingloriously hung a cheap, cardboard sign over his heavy, wooden cangue and around his neck, with his new, ignominious slave-name hastily written upon it in black, felt-tip pen in her best, feminine handwriting:
‘Slave Stinky Sockface.’
‘Ha! Ha! Let’s go over to the fair and put slave Stinky Sockface to work right away, girls!’ she then cruelly suggested. ‘I think you’ll all agree we’ve got a potential goldmine here – footfool’s gold! Ha! Ha!’
The other girls did all agree.
So there you have it – mistress Tania had never really been sweet on him at all, or interested in him for his body. Ha! Ha! The poor, deluded footslave! Her only female interest in him was how much money she and her mates could make out of him and his hard, footlicking labour!
And so began public footfool no. 179888C’s new working life as ‘Stinky Sockface’. At the age of 60 he was having to begin his slave-life all over again, as an object of derision and mockery – the sickly-green, rubbery-masked footslave of disparaging, young women’s dirty shoes and boots, and stinky, patterned socks.
As he crawled awkwardly behind his four, arrogant female owners’ feet and footwear (for he was quite unused to crawling on his hands and knees after forty years of being stationary on his erstwhile, public shoelick-stand) he was, despite or perhaps even because of the stinging whip-marks in his bare back, absolutely determined to live down to his humiliating new nickname of ‘Stinky Sockface’, and to make his new owners, who had christened him thus, lots of ‘footfool’s gold!’
The End
