The Disobedient, Lazy, Male Mop-Head
I am a male mop in an office full of women. My job is to mop the floors with my tongue, under the direction of my three sweet and kind, Pakistani supervisor-mistresses - 50 year old mistress Parvin; 55 year old mistress Noor; and 21 year old mistress Sharnaz.
The reason why I have three supervisor-mistresses is that I must work two 10 hour shifts seven days a week, being an enslaved male, whereas my superior, female supervisors can only be required to work a maximum of 10 hours per day, 5 days a week under the Gynarchy’s female-labour laws.
The arrangement is, therefore, that mistress Parvin supervises my humble work during the daytime; mistress Noor takes over for the evening shifts; and miss Sharnaz – a full-time student of Female Law at the Gynarchy University and part-time worker only, supervises me during the weekends and covers for either of my other two supervisor-mistresses if they are on leave or ill.
I have to say, however, that mistresses Parvin and Noor are rarely off sick as they both love their jobs! And why wouldn’t they? After all, it’s easy and pleasant work for them – all they have to do is ensure the constant cleanliness of the female-office’s tiled and wooden floors by manipulating my head over them by means of a long, plastic mop handle which is secured around my throat with a thick, leather slave-collar; that, and to make sure I only stop my constant floor-licking when an office lady enters the room, so that I may pay my humble respects to said lady by kissing the toes of her superior, officewear shoes or boots – be they traditional, navy-blue leather, low-heeled office courts worn below knee-length, grey-pinstriped, pencil skirts and over tan or dark-coloured nylon stockings; or plain black, soft leather ballet-flats worn with black, denim jeans and dark socks (or possibly on sweaty, bare feet); or black leather, block-heeled, zip-up officewear ankleboots worn with matching black, bootcut, office trousers.
All the office ladies’ chosen footwear-styles are deemed to be equally deserving of my respect, and must be worshipfully kissed accordingly whenever they enter my dirty-floor-licking presence.
Of course, for the most part, my job entails licking clean the ground on which such dirty-soled, female office shoes and boots have just been walking – and I must say, all three of my Pakistani supervisor-mistresses enjoy a well-earned reputation for efficiency in their handling of the human slave-mop! Indeed, they each received a large bonus last year for their sterling efforts – and their pictures were taken for the company magazine posing in their smart, shiny blue, office-cleaning-lady tabards over their normal, everyday clothes, and with their pretty Pakistani feet resting triumphantly on my downtrodden mop-face.
Mistress Parvin, the 50 year old, favours a pair of soft, dark brown, lace-up, flat-heeled hush puppies on her Pakistani-supervisor feet, which she likes to wear with dark green, sneaker-style socks so that merely the elasticated tops of her green socks are visible along her still shapely, brown skinned, Pakistani insteps beneath the hems of her brown, corduroy trouser-hems. Mistress Noor, the 55 year old, is generally more traditionally dressed in a pure white dupatta-style headscarf and black salwar-kameez style trouser suit, with full length, white anklesocks and shiny, black plastic, low heeled, slip-on shoes on her pretty, middle-aged feet. Whereas the youngest, part-time cleaner-mistress, 21 year old miss Sharnaz – the fashion conscious, student girl – favours scuffmarked, brown leather, spike-heeled and pointy-toed, zip-up ankleboots tucked underneath the hems of her ubiquitous, blue denim, student girl jeans.
All three Pakistani ladies have a very simple modus operandi when it comes to mopping the floors with my miserable maleslave-face: I must constantly work, or be whipped! Said whip consists of a single-tailed, thick girthed, black leather, bulls-pizzle whip which can be brought bruisingly down upon my bare, white back and shoulders should I be deemed to be slacking, even for just one careless second.
Even if my tongue is bone dry, I am still required to summon up enough male saliva to lickshine the dirty, female floors – or to ‘lick off the ladydirt’ as my supervisor-mistress Parvin likes to put it in her cute, Pakistani-woman accent.
In fact, both she and mistress Noor speak with very strong Pakistani accents, and prefer to speak to one another in Urdu at handover times. Miss Sharnaz, on the other hand, is Gynarchy born and bred and, whilst she can speak Urdu, prefers to converse with her fellow females in English.
All three ladies must bark their orders down at me solely in English, of course, since I am not as clever as they are, and cannot speak any foreign languages at all!
Lucky then, that we all four – mistresses and slave – understand the language of the bulls-pizzle whip! And what a sharp-tongued mistress it can be!
Just the other day I was taking the opportunity for a rare, surreptitious break from my constant, jaw-breaking and tongue-lacerating, floorlicking work whilst my supervisor-mistress Parvin was answering a call of nature, when one of the young, office ladies – a miss Julie from Accounts – caught me off guard and entered the office kitchen behind me without me even noticing her.
That’s because she was wearing an ultra-soft pair of plain, black, office ballet-flats on her dainty, young-womanly feet! Had she been wearing a pair of high-heels, or even low-heeled courts, I might have heard the clip-clopping of her feminine footwear on the kitchen floor tiles behind me – at which point I would, of course, have shuffled round on my hands and knees, keeping my head humbly bowed to the floor I was supposed to have been licking, and awaited miss Julie’s outstretched, right foot for routine kissing.
But I’m afraid none of that happened because I was enjoying my unauthorised rest in a corner of the female kitchen with my back to the door – precisely where my supervisor-mistress Parvin had left me – and therefore had no knowledge of the superior, young, blonde, female, office worker’s entrance into my humble, slave presence!
She was, understandably, mightily upset and angered at my failure to turn round and pay my humble, slavish respects to her office, ballet-flated feet and instantly began kicking me in the flanks with the scrunched up toe of her black-ballet-flated, right foot.
Even when she had stopped kicking me, and I was able to finally apply my reprimanded lips to her black leather, ballet-flat toes, I could see the blue veins on the tops of her bare, white feet still twitching with rage!
My Pakistani supervisor-mistress was mortified upon her return to the kitchen to discover not only that her slave-mop had been ‘idling’ in her absence (as miss Julie reported it), but had failed to show all due respect to a superior, young female, office worker by not immediately applying his dirty, male lips to her soft, feminine, office footwear as soon as she entered the room!
Mistress Parvin assured miss Julie that she would properly discipline me, and apologised to the insulted, young, blonde woman on my behalf.
I braced myself for some serious pain as mistress Parvin then detached the long, plastic mop-handle from the black leather collar around my neck, and instructed me to follow her on my hands and knees behind her flat, brown, suede-leather, hush-puppy shoes down the corridor and the office stairwell towards the punishment basement which doubles up as the cleaners’ office.
This is where I am punished the harshest – out of sight of the other office women – as mistress Parvin, and her Pakistani cleaner-lady colleagues, don’t like my gasps and howls of pain to disturb the office ladies at their everyday work!
A slave’s pain should be seen, and not heard!
As I crawled forlornly behind mistress Parvin’s flat, hush-puppy heels I noticed how her short, green, sneaker-style socks had disappeared completely down the backs of her shoes, leaving her 50 year old, brown, wrinkled, Pakistani-woman heelskin fully exposed – the leathery-calloused heelskin of a hardworking, middle-aged cleaning-mistress whom I had not only flagrantly disobeyed, but had also let down in front of one of her junior, office employers.
I fully deserve what’s coming to me!
A soon as we have entered the cleaning ladies’ office-cum-punishment room, mistress Parvin closes the door and moves round to stand, hands on hips and disapprovingly in front of me. The dreaded bulls-pizzle whip is unhooked from the wall, and now dangles ominously beside her right, brown-corduroyed leg.
She begins by verbally rebuking me in her cute, but patently angry, Pakistani accent, making me feel my full, footslave shame:
‘Why you are being disobeying me, filthy slave? Why you are not working while I am being gone from you for just a few minutes, isn’t it?...’
And with that she suddenly brings the bulls-pizzle whip down as hard as a slightly built, 50 year old Pakistani cleaning-lady can muster upon my bare, kneeling back!
Swish…Crack!
The force of the stinging, feminine blow pushes my already bowed-with-shame head down onto her prudishly laced-up, hush-puppied feet in front of me, and I notice how her green socks are now wrinkled and creased beneath her shapely, middle-aged, Pakistani-lady anklebones.
The fact that my mouth has now been forced down onto the soft, brown suede of mistress Parvin’s hush-puppy leather means, of course, that I cannot speak; only groan with pain, and kiss. But that’s okay since her question was clearly a rhetorical question; I mean, what legitimate response can a full time cleaning-slave possibly give to a supervisor-mistress when she has caught him slacking red-handed? All he can do is grimace and bear it – bear the pain of the righteously punishing whip on his bare-faced, disobedient back!
The mustiness of mistress Parvin’s hush-puppy shoes somehow helps to anaesthetise me, at least to a small degree, against the biting pain, and to her evident chagrin I don’t even cry out at the pain and shock of the first blow; I just moan forlornly into her shoes!
Such inappropriate stoicism on my maleslavish part prompts her to beat me again with the frightening, black leather, bulls-pizzle whip; all the harder this time:
Swish…CRACK!
She also raises her middle-aged voice:
‘IS IT THAT YOU ARE THINKING THAT YOU ARE BEING TOO GOOD TO BE LICKING CLEAN LADY, DIRTY FLOOR? TO BE SWALLOWING LADYDIRT FROM BOTTOM OF LADYSHOE, ISN’T IT?...’
Swish…CRACK!
Again, it’s another rhetorical question, and my answer this time is to both gasp and kiss the rounded toe of mistress Parvin’s brown suede, hush-puppy shoe as the sting of the bulls-pizzle whip really starts to bite in, that third stroke being a partial overlay of the first two strokes!
Swish…CRACK!
At the fourth stroke I even endeavour to ingratiate myself to my 50 year old, Pakistani supervisor-mistress by kissing the creased and folded top of her short, right sock – but she’s having none of it:
‘AND WHY YOU ARE NOT KISSING MADAM JULIE FEET WHEN SHE IS ENTERING THE ROOM, DIRTY SLAVE?... YOU ARE THINKING THAT YOU ARE BEING A FREE MAN?... YOU ARE THINKING THAT YOU ARE BEING BIG AND STRONG, IS IT?... HA! HA!... BUT YOU ARE BEING NOTHING BUT A DIRTY SLAVE, ISN’T IT?... YOU MUST BE KISSING AND GREETING SUPERIOR YOUNG LADY FEET WHENEVER SHE IS COMING NEAR YOU, ISN’T IT?... YOU ARE BEING NOTHING BUT DIRT; YOU ARE BEING NOTHING BUT FILTH, ISN’T IT?...’
With each emphasised word comes another stinging, red blow of the Pakistani supervisor-mistress’s bulls-pizzle whip – knocking the wind out of my sails and my penitent breath onto her brown hush-puppy shoes and dark green sneaker-socks; reinforcing the message that I have done wrong against the female, and must be punished.
She then gathers up some dark green phlegm in her middle-aged, Pakistani-woman mouth, to match her dark green socks; crouches down on her haunches; and cough-spits in a very unladylike manner into my face and on top of my bald head.
If I thought it would do any good I would beg supervisor-mistress Parvin to beat me even more – for I am so ashamed of myself! But I know that the best thing I can do right now is to shower her brown-hush-puppied and green-socked feet with truly penitent kisses, whilst she showers me in her contemptuous, Pakistani-female spit!
My chastisement and humiliation lasts for a full half-hour before I re-emerge from my supervisor’s office a much older, wiser, wetter, and sorer slave – determined to lick female floors properly and swallow not only any remaining pride I may have once held as a man, but also any remaining ‘ladydirt’ from the neglected, office kitchen floor. I am also, later on, dragged by my supervisor-mistress unceremoniously into blonde mistress Julie’s office where I must apologise to her profusely in front of her equally outraged, female, office colleagues by kissing her black ballet-flated feet again – a full one hundred times!
How the office women laugh at my female-phlegm-and-mucous-covered, baldy head!
Later, at her handover to 55 year old supervisor-mistress Noor, mistress Parvin informs her night-time colleague of my lackadaisical attitude to my work earlier in the day, and of my manifest lack of respect for my office-female betters. At least, I’m assuming that’s what she’s saying to mistress Noor, for it is all in Urdu – though mistress Noor’s evident shock and horror is a clear indication that my shameful behaviour is indeed being passed on to my evening supervisor.
The latter is certainly much more liberal than usual in her application of the bulls-pizzle whip, prompting me to keep my mind on the job and my eyes on her pure white anklesocks beneath the elasticated hems of her black salwar-kameez trouser legs as I lick the abandoned, night-time office floors around her 55 year-old, shiny-black-plastic, office-cleaning-lady shoes.
In her mid-fifties she might be, with partially greying hair beneath her demurely dupatta-headscarf-covered head; but supervisor-mistress Noor is even more stockily and powerfully built than her daytime colleague, miss Parvin, and consequently has a much stronger, right whipping arm! I therefore work extra hard tonight, and show extra respect for the female in charge of me – by kissing her black, plastic, flat-heeled shoes and snowy-white anklesocks at every available opportunity, in between diligently lickshining the wooden floors beneath her feet, of course; tasting where the office ladies, including, no doubt, my nemesis – blonde-ponytailed mistress Julie – have been walking during the day, and mopping up their residual, office shoesole-dirt!
Well, there’s no point in just moping around! And it’s the least I can do, as I literally have a lot of ground to lick up before I can once again be trusted by my Pakistani supervisor-mistresses not to slack.
Oh the shame of it! How will I even begin to explain the extra stripes on my back to student-mistress miss Sharnaz, come the weekend?
