Pafeticus, the Romany Girl’s Slave
‘Pafeticus!... Pafeticus!... Get your f***ing ugly slave-face out of there and over towards my cousin Violca’s feet, and like, kiss them, and that, yeah?’
My beloved mistress Stanka (short for ‘mistress Stanislava’, but she graciously permits me to call her mistress Stanka on account of her often stinky feet) may sound like any other, foul-mouthed, mixed race Gynarchy girl from the local sink-estate, but she is, in fact, pure Romany – a beautiful, swarthy-skinned, jet black haired, 22 year old Romany girl who actually grew up on the gypsy encampment next to the sink estate (hence the reason for her sink-estate English accent, I assume!).
She dresses like a pure Romany girl too – with long, flowing, multicoloured and flowery-patterned, anklelength dresses, and modest, navy-blue, woolly tights with black leather, chunky-heeled, round-toed, lace-up ankleboots underneath. That’s what I love about her so much – her Romany-girl modesty, combined with her gypsy-girl gobbiness!
And that’s what I am being so rudely summoned away from right now – from beneath the comforting and protective hem of my mistress Stanka’s modesty-preserving, anklelength, gypsy dress. I actually feel much more comfortable kneeling beneath my young Romany mistress’s long, traditional, gypsy-dress hem – and staring at the backs of her black leather ankleboots and thick, blue, woollen tights – than I do kissing the pink-stiletto-heeled, designer pumps of her pink-leather-miniskirted, Romany cousin, 23 year old miss Violca, who grew up with my mistress Stanka on the same gypsy encampment, but has turned out to be an altogether much more morally loose and flighty young woman! My God, does she dress to impress! To impress the free men, that is!
In fact, they do say she that miss Violca has a free man in every town of the Gynarchy – many of them much older than her, hence her ability to buy such expensive, designer-pink shoes! (Neither my mistress Stanka nor miss Violca actually work – they live off Female State benefits, as is their perfect young-womanly right here in the Gynarchy; and, of course, in the case of miss Violca, on the supplementary hand-outs from her freemale admirers – again, her perfect right!)
Miss Violca kindly stretches forth her right, stiletto-heeled foot beneath me on the floor of her cousin’s gypsy caravan to better facilitate my welcoming kiss to her pointy, pink shoe-toe, all whilst checking her pretty, blonde hair in her compact mirror – for she, and my mistress Stanka, are getting ready to go out for the evening. I don’t think they have any definite plans – just to get out and about so that miss Violca can ‘pull’ a free man, as I overheard her telling her straitlaced cousin-sister earlier on just how terribly ‘horny’ she was feeling tonight!
My own mistress Stanka may well be comparatively straitlaced on the outside, but I expect that she is feeling horny too, since her ‘fiancé’, master sir Djordji, is currently banged up at her Supreme Majesty’s pleasure in one of the Gynarchy’s freemale jails (he had been caught nicking lead slates off a roof!) But, be that as it may, I can tell you now, unequivocally, that there is no way my puritanical, gypsy-mistress Stanka will be seeking to pull a free man tonight; my mistress Stanka is totally loyal to master Djordji sir, and relieves any unfortunate sexual frustrations she may have pent up inside her beautiful, gypsy body on me – her personal footslave – by whipping me; or kicking me; or by just generally beating me up and abusing me. And that’s exactly how it should be! (In any case, I couldn’t relieve my mistress Stanka’s sexual tensions in any other way, even if I wanted to, since I’m just an impotent, limp-membered footslave.)
‘Are we bringin’ this f***wit-slave Pafeticus wiv us tonight, and that, Stanka babe?’ I hear the blonde-haired (dyed blonde, that is) Romany girl asking her naturally dark-haired cousin, whilst she deftly switches her artificially pink-pumped feet beneath my footkissing face.
‘Hell yeah!’ exclaims my own personal gypsy-footmistress, who wouldn’t be seen dead out and about on the town without her woolly tights and black leather granny boots on – or, indeed, without her personal footslave in tow! I think I’m a kind of status symbol for her, for I sense that my mistress Stanka is actually quite proud to have a personal footslave at her public beck and call. I mean, not every unmarried gypsy-girl has one – not even the avaricious miss Violca – and, furthermore, I was a gift from master Djordji sir to his gypsy-betrothed, and so miss Stanka likes to ‘wear’ me like she wears her engagement ring (also nicked by master Djordji sir before he went inside!).
After I have finished paying my respects to the pink, high-heeled shoes of the unashamedly bare-legged, pink-leather-miniskirted and bleached-blonde miss Violca, I am ordered back under the safety of my own mistress Stanka’s modest, flowery-patterned, anklelength dress-hem, and to the familiar, musty smell of her well-worn and scuffmarked, black leather ankleboots and thick, woolly tights!
My black-haired mistress Stanka, unlike her bleached-blonde cousin, won’t need to bother checking her make-up in the mirror; she never wears any! She’s a natural, Romany beauty!
The three of us head out towards the nearby city centre ( my own footslave-head staying diligently beneath my gypsy-mistress’s dress hem as I crawl submissively to heel behind her black leather ankleboots) and to the local cinema, as the girls want to see what’s on tonight.
‘Do you fancy it, Violca, and that?’ asks my mistress Stanka of her cousin-sister about the main feature film on offer.
‘Yeah, it’s got, like, Richard Farsythe in it, and that? He’s real hot, innit though? Ha! Ha!...’
Mr Farsythe is, I presume, a freemale movie star – and miss Violca, for one, is clearly a big fan and admirer.
‘…Oh, but I ain’t got no money, though?’ continues the star-struck, bleached-blonde, pink-stilettoed gypsy-girl.
‘Ha! Ha! Nor have I, though?’ replies my own mistress Stanka from high above me (and from outside her dress!)
‘Ha! Ha! Not a problem babe! Let’s find some mug to, like, mug, and that? Ha! Ha!’
‘Ha! Ha! Like yeah – let’s go for it, girl!’
Miss Violca is such a bad influence on the normally sweet and demure miss Stanka (well, relatively sweet and demure!).
They evidently spot a suitable, freemale victim standing innocently nearby eating a bag of chips, as both my mistress and miss Violca sidle up to him, miss Violca no doubt flashing her boobs at the normal man as she does so.
But it is actually my own wicked mistress Stanka who takes the lead and makes the approach to the unsuspecting, free man for some money (making me a foot-accessory to the crime, I suppose, since I’m still kneeling with my face behind her black leather ankleboots beneath her long, gypsy-girl dress!):
‘Yo bro…give us 20 Fems, and that, or we’ll, like, f**king do you, and that!’
By ‘doing’ him, my mistress Stanka means they’ll knife him, not that they’ll make love to him (though my suspicions are that miss Violca would be quite happy to sleep with a stranger for money – my mistress Stanka certainly wouldn’t!). My mistress always carries a knife with her – supposedly for protection, but, in fact, for extortion – like now, when she needs to get hold of the cinema entrance fee; the ‘Stank with a shank’ they sometimes refer to her affectionately around these parts!
The free man is clearly unaware of my Romany mistress’s violent reputation, however, and I cringe internally as I hear the naïve, male disbelief in his ignorant voice:
‘Do what, love?’
He’s being reasonably polite, I suppose – as he is obliged to be by law, for even well-endowed, free males are subordinate to pretty, young women on the Gynarchy’s social scale – but he clearly has an attitude problem in not immediately being prepared to hand over some of his hard-earned cash to the two impatient and superior girls.
I can sense my mistress Stanka getting frustrated and angry with him as he hesitates, even for just one second, to ‘obey’ her – something I have learnt never to do, not due to the sharp blade of her shank, but thanks to the sharp cut of her whip! I watch as the backs of her navy-blue, woolly tights crease and fold above the scuffmarked backs of her black leather ankleboots as she reaches up to grab hold of the free man by the throat, whilst her companion-in-crime, miss Violca, deftly picks his wallet out of his trouser pocket:
‘Don’t mess with us, bro – I said, give us 20 Fems, yeah? Like, are you deaf as well as stupid, or somefing?’ enquires my ‘sweet and demure’ gypsy-mistress Stanka, sounding increasingly street-toughened (like her bad-influence cousin, miss Violca!)
The free man starts to panic, as well he might! He knows he is male, and therefore extremely vulnerable, out here on the Gynarchy’s streets. The Female Police certainly won’t lift a finger to help him, and, indeed, could probably charge him with the offence of resisting a female mugging!
‘A…Alright, love…I’m s…sorry! Just take whatever you need, yeah? Just, please don’t hurt me, love!’
Miss Violca laughs at him, and mocks him, as she rifles through his wallet whilst he turns to jelly before her gypsy cousin-sister’s female dominance:
‘Why, fank you, kind sir, and that! Ha! Ha! Look Stanka – 40 Fems! Ha! Ha!’
The girls triumphantly throw the empty, male wallet down onto the Female ground, bringing the anonymous, free male’s big night out to an abrupt end; whilst the two young gypsy-women’s night out is just beginning, of course – courtesy of the male mug’s cash!
You’ve got to admire young women – so resourceful when it comes to spending men’s money!
I continue to crawl behind my mistress Stanka’s sheltered, flowery-dress-covered, black leather bootheels as she makes her way with her cousin-sister into the cinema auditorium – now laden with cheesy popcorn and fizzy drinks, thanks to the ‘generosity’ of the freemale mug (the cinema tickets themselves only cost the girls 5 Fems each; being a young woman’s personal footslave, I get in for free, since I am forbidden to watch the film, and must, by law, focus in on my Romany mistress’s black leather ankleboots as I kneel by her feet with my head beneath her gypsy-length dress-hem whilst she enjoys the movie above me with her pink-stilettoed cousin seated cosily beside her).
I don’t mind not being able to watch the film, for the queen-sized bucket of cheesy popcorn, thankfully, fails to overpower the musty smell of my mistress Stanka’s well-worn, black leather ankleboots, and there is much for me to admire in the subconscious creasing and wrinkling of her black bootleather as she enjoys the romantic movie for normal people above me. My only regret is that she doesn’t, like miss Violca beside her, kick off her footwear, and order me lie beneath her woolly-tighted feet on my back so that she can use my upturned face as an arrogant gypsy-girl’s sweaty-wool footrest.
Miss Stanka does, sometimes, use me as a human footrest in the privacy of her family caravan, but she is much too modest a young woman to take off her boots in public – even in the darkness of the cinema. She’s probably worried that her navy-blue, woolly-tighted feet might stink a bit after being trapped inside her fully laced-up boots all day; which they would, of course, but, for my part, I would make damn sure to sniff up any such sweaty foot-odour well before it reached the nostrils of her fellow cinemagoers!
Miss Violca, on the other hand, has no such compunctions about her sweaty, bare feet – and her ulterior motive in kicking off her pink-stiletto shoes (apart from giving her tired and delicate, dusky bare feet a well-earned rest) appears to be to play footsie with the face of the free man seated in the cinema row in front of her. I hope he likes cheesy-popcorn smelling feet, for miss Violca is quite outrageously foot-flirting with the back of his head and the front of his face, and her bare feet must surely be sweaty having been inside her warm, pink stilettos all day! I can’t actually see what’s going on, of course, but I can hear my embarrassed mistress Stanka telling her to behave, and to stop it!
‘Ha! Ha! Lighten up, Stanka babe – he luvs it, innit sweetheart?’
The new freeman ‘sweetheart’ in her life appears to confirm that he does indeed ‘love’ having miss Violca’s stinky, cheesy, bare, brown feet playing with his face, as he promptly moves back a row to sit beside her on the other side of my faithful mistress, and snog her!
He must be one of those foot-fetishists, or something?
I meanwhile, like my mistress Stanka, continue to conduct myself with proper decorum in the public cinema, kneeling unobtrusively beneath my Romany mistress’s seat and admiring the backs and sides of her prim and proper, soberly laced-up, anklebooted feet whilst she concentrates on the movie – and on eating the rest of the popcorn.
I suppose the evening has been a great success, really – since its ultimate goal had been for mistress Violca to ‘pull’, which she clearly has done. And at least I now know that, when we eventually go back to my mistress Stanka’s caravan, I shall be left alone with her, and her stinky, blue-woollen tights, as she relaxes, prudishly, with her feet up in front of the television whilst her lecherous cousin-sister shags the living daylights out of her latest beau on the nearby, gypsy-encampment rubbish heap outside!
And I shall doubtless also be sorely whipped tonight by my mistress Stanka – as a stress-relieving punishment for not being able to relieve her own sexual frustrations in the absence of her banged-up boyfriend!
Yes, Pafeticus the Romany girl’s impotent, pussy-whipped footslave will be sniffing stinky, blue tights tonight, and then lickshining his mistress’s discarded, black ankleboots, ready for another day of vicarious crime and punishment tomorrow!
I might even be commanded to lickshine miss Violca’s cheesy-smelling, discarded, pink stiletto shoes later on… if we can find them amongst all the trash!
