Constructive Dismissal!

Here is yet another masterpiece (or should that be ‘slavepiece’) from the pen of regular reader and Gynarchy enthusiast, slave Paul. Enjoy!

Constructive Dismissal!

By Slave Paul

Paul’s life had certainly taken a turn for the worse over the last few months, but things were looking up. Initially he had been very apprehensive about coming to work in the Gynarchy, but his friends highly recommended it to him. The Gynarchy was enjoying a period of great prosperity and rapid expansion. Construction projects were popping up all over the land on a daily basis and skilled male labour was in short supply. Needless to say, the female population of the land would not soil their pretty little hands with such manual labour!

In the past the Gynarchy had been an isolated and private society with very closed borders. It was almost unheard of to allow males into the country even on temporary work visas when the existing male population were expected to cope with all of the manual tasks within the society. Paul’s close friend had just returned from a two month stint as a construction worker and welder. He had earned four times as much money in two months as Paul could earn in six!

Once his friend had sorted the references and relevant permits and travel documents, Paul was on his way to a new, albeit temporary, life! For the first month and a half he worked almost continually on the same building project. The luxury apartment block was completed ahead of schedule and the construction company were even paid a bonus which was divided fairly between all of the workers on site.

The moment the celebrations were over, Paul immediately applied for work on another much larger project in the next city. The project was not due to start for well over a week, so he decided to finally have a break! He returned to his small bedsit near the last construction project and washed and shaved in preparation for a night out in the town. Two of his workmates came along to meet up in a bar before driving into town and start the real celebrations. Paul volunteered to drive the hire car, as he was still very much the new boy in the construction company and he was keen to get on well with his new friends.

The night went well and the group had a really good time, unwinding and joking around in the many clubs and bars in the Gynarchy town centre! Eventually the crowd grew more and more drunk and incoherent, and Paul decided to call the night to an end and drive the group home. The Gynarchy have strict views on male drunkenness, have fixed penalty charges, and have even issued prison terms of one year for rowdy behaviour!

Once Paul’s last passenger was safely alighted, he just had the ten minute drive back to his bedsit to complete his travels for the night. It was now half past one in the morning! For one terrifying moment he dosed off and the car hit the curb of the long winding road! He thought he should pull over for some fresh air to recover, but suddenly noticed the flashing blue lights of the Gynarchy police force in his rear view mirror! He had no option but to pull over into a nearby drive and await the police.

It did not take long for the car to pull up alongside him. A very attractive, young police officer stepped out of the car and walked over to his vehicle. She was about five and a half feet tall, well built, with a rounded friendly face framed with a fiery red set of red curls down to her shoulders.

‘Please step out of the vehicle sir’ was her opening comment.

He did just that, slamming the door loudly with accidental nerves as he went. The young police officer began to question the nervous driver about why he was still out, and his driving into the curb. He responded by telling her that he was on the way home after an evening out in the nearby town. She asked to see his documents and work visa as a matter of routine examination. To his utter horror he had left them in his bedsit. The officer responded by saying ‘it is an offence to not produce when asked, all of the relevant documents pertaining to entry and work within the Gynarchy when ordered to do so!’

He felt sure that she would issue a heavy fine for this offence. The officer then went on to say ‘I see you are nervous, don’t worry, I am not a tyrant! Even men are allowed to enjoy themselves from time to time Ha!’

However she then went on to explain ‘as a matter of procedure I do have to inspect your vehicle by law’. She went about searching the car and moments later returned with an open bottle of vodka! ‘I found this under the passenger seat, do you realise that an open container of alcohol in a motor vehicle is a category one offence in the Gynarchy?’

It became obvious to Paul that the bottle belonged to one of his colleagues that he had just dropped off in the apartment block. ‘Please Miss, I can assure you that the bottle does not belong to me!’

She replied by saying ‘sorry, I have no choice; I am arresting you for the crime of driving while potentially under the influence, and not holding the correct documents when questioned by an officer of the female law! You have no rights and must remain silent until your case is heard in court! Hold out your hands so I can restrain you’.

Paul was thrown into the back of the car and driven back to the police headquarters. Once there he was locked into a small cell to await his solicitor.

In the morning he was awoken by the door creaking open and a pretty young girl in a pinstripe business suit clutching a brief case. ‘Hello, I am your state appointed solicitor and advisor; my name is Miss Penelope’. She came in and sat next to him on the metal bed to begin reading his file.

Paul looked down in shame at the floor. He noticed that Miss Penelope was quite short, as her feet were swaying backward and forward in the air. She was wearing smart, black court shoes with what looked like black nylons underneath. Miss Penelope went on to explain that Paul must plead guilty to both charges and take the consequences. ‘You have had a good report from the arresting officer and that will go in your favour when sentencing you! She must like you a lot judging by what she has written here Ha!’ She laughed a little as if she was some kind of dating service!

Miss Penelope continued to explain that, tomorrow morning, he would be brought up before a magistrate for a token sentence. The courts are very busy at the moment so they are looking to deal with each case in under five minutes, and would appreciate your help with this! He could not believe the fact that he was going to be dealt with in so casual a manner! Nevertheless he had no option but to agree with the solicitor and hope for a token fine or some kind of slap on the wrist.

As Miss Penelope was about to leave after obtaining his signature, she turned and said ‘I warn you now, do not anger the court, as they are looking to sentence as many male criminals as possible to hard labour to bring down the cost of construction in the Gynarchy!’.

At nine AM the next day, Paul was lead up with five other accused men to the magistrate court. He was number three in the queue. His time in the spotlight came round quickly and he found himself standing in front of the female magistrate pleading guilty to all charges. The magistrate glanced at his file and said ‘it is a pity that someone as skilled as you has to be punished, but this is a serious case and needs to be judged with a matching degree of severity! I sentence you to two years hard labour as a construction site prisoner! Take him down’.

He could not believe it! Two years as a slave on a construction site, and he was not even guilty of the second more serious charge of being drunk in charge of a car!

He was swiftly transported to the hastily extended prison camp on the outskirts of the building site he had applied to work on as a skilled man! Upon arrival, he was stripped naked and hosed down with strong smelling carbolic soap and cold water. This done he was issued with a coarse, brown shirt and shorts to form his new prison ensemble. He was not even given any boots!

The new prisoners were then made to stand on the parade ground under the fluttering flag of the Gynarchy state and await the prison governor. Until now, all of the prison employees he had seen were female. This was the only prison in the Gynarchy to have a man at the top of the hierarchy!

The warden took up his place standing on an upturned box and began a well-rehearsed speech:

‘Welcome to the labour prison Femina one! You are all here for varying terms of imprisonment and for very different crimes! Make no mistake about it, you are here to be punished and kept away from decent society. My late wife donated all of her family’s wealth to the construction of this prison labour camp, and I see it as my personal mission to see that her dream of a fully male-oppressed state is realised!’

At this point a similarly dressed prisoner walked up and down the ranks clutching a wooden box full of shackles. As he reached each new man in turn he carelessly tossed a set of shackles to the dusty floor in front of the convict. The warden was still delivering his welcome speech:

‘You will shortly have leg irons riveted onto your ankles to deter any escape attempts when working on the many building sites around this prison. Additional punishments will be given for breaking the rules of this prison. These punishments range from a day in the stocks and ten lashes in full view of the workforce, to ten days and a hundred lashes! You will discover what the rules are when you break them! Now pick up your shackles and walk to hut seven to have them fitted!’

While Paul was having his shackles hammered onto his bare ankles, the terrible realisation finally hit him - he would now be working as a slave in front of his now ex workmates! In fact, they would technically be his boss when he was on site! His face turned bright red with the utter sense of humiliation!

Once his new irons were hammered on, he was roughly lead to his new home by one of the formidable looking female guards. The new residence was a cold wooden hut that had a row of bare wooden benches on each side of a wooden walkway. The benches were just wide enough to be described as beds. The only way the new prisoner could tell that they were actually beds, was the iron bar that traversed all ten structures at the foot of the sleeping bunk. The long iron bar had one iron hoop attached for each bed. The prisoners would have one ankle fixed through the restraint during night making escape impossible!

His new guard spoke for the first time:

‘My name is Guard Mistress Shelly, but you may call me Miss Shelly to save time’.

Miss Shelly was built quite heavily around the waist and had strong looking arms and a small tattoo running up the length of her forearm. She had long, reddish blonde hair tied back in a tight ponytail, and wore a very smart uniform consisting of a black shirt and tie and black trousers with a yellow stripe denoting her rank. All of the female prison guards had thick, black leather, utility belts with restraints and keys suspended from them. A small leather crop was also suspended from the rear of the rig and was referred to as the ‘slave motivator’ as a sick joke!

The guard Mistresses all wore the same chunky looking, lace up, black leather, marching boots polished to a blinding shine! Miss Shelly went on to say:

‘You are lucky, the work gang are still out on site so you have got the hut to yourself! Enjoy the rest, as you will need it; for tomorrow your new life starts properly! Lights out and shackles on at 18:00, Shackles off and breakfast at 06:00 get it?’

He had to respond to her question, but the words would not come out. He was literally speechless! Miss Shelly simply smiled and handed him a small nylon sash with his new number on it. She explained that he would be Number 17 for the next two years!

Eventually the work gang arrived back into the hut around 17:00 hrs. He had never seen a more worn out, beaten down group of men in his life! They all wore the same rough uniform with no shoes and identical leg shackles. The only distinguishing feature about them was the numeric sash all of the prisoners were made to wear.

Number 17 had expected to be fed around this time with the other prisoners. One of his new neighbours simply whispered to him ‘I hope that you are not hungry as we were given our rations on site today after the real workers and the Guard Mistresses ate in front of us!’

Number 17 shouted out in protest and was quickly jumped on by the other inmates! One of them whispered loudly into his ear ‘do you want to get whipped on your first day or something?’

Just then Miss Shelly stormed into the hut with her motivator in hand ‘who spoke then, you worthless prison scum? Who was it?’ Number 17 was about to step forward, when a smaller man, slightly older than him, stepped forward to attention. All fell silent in the hut.

Miss Shelly bent her crop in her pretty little hands and ordered the slave to remove his top for punishment to begin. The newly enslaved number 17 counted fifteen stinging cuts of the crop to the wrongly punished man’s back!

Once she had finished she simply said ‘you know what comes next, kneel down and open your mouth!’ The prisoner knelt down and obliged the cruel girl by gingerly opening his mouth. Just as soon as he did so Miss Shelly violently inserted a metal tongue plate with a set of sharp spikes attached. The whole apparatus was affixed to a metal face mask that closed around the prisoners head with a lock at the back! If he tried to speak again tonight it would lacerate his tongue. It looked like a hideous instrument of torture from the middle ages!

Miss Shelly then decided that the prisoners would be going to bed early tonight and ordered the metal bars at the bottom of the bunks to be slid open. ‘In you get, weakling scum; attend to your leg irons!’

Number 17 hastily climbed into his bunk and pulled the half loop of iron over his ankle just in time for the iron bar to come back the other way, trapping him for the night on his uncomfortable, wooden bunk. The other prisoners fell swiftly asleep, but he did not. He was filled with a sense of dread with the thought of seeing his old friends on the work site and being whipped by the female guards!

The only thing he could hear above the snoring was the muffled sounds coming from the masked man recovering from his sound cropping! Who was he, and why did he confess on my behalf, thought prisoner number 17?

Morning finally came, and the prisoners were released from their bunks at last! Following the unappetising breakfast gruel rations they were all lead under heavy escort to the work site. Once there, number 17 recognised his old company’s site work hut and offices! He could even see his old acquaintances. Even the one that had left the open bottle of alcohol in his car! The same bottle that had put him here in this humiliating degrading position!

Miss Shelly turned to face her section and chirped in a shrill voice ‘fall out and report to the site office for your assignments!’ Number17 went to the back of the queue deliberately! All of the other men had now been allotted a task but him. He was now standing in front of Miss Sally the office girl who used to give him his weekly pay packet!

‘Oh it’s you who got arrested then’ said Miss Sally in a very matter of fact way. He responded in the only way he could with a very coyly delivered ‘Yes Miss Sally’. Miss Sally simply handed him a job ticket and said to report to the underpinning section as a wheel-barrow transporter slave! He almost ran out of the office with embarrassment and immediately tripped on his shackles face first into the mud! He was still un-accustomed to walking in the heavy fetters.

His unexpected trip to the ground had caused a lot of unwanted attention from the workers and guards alike! All of them were in hysterics as a result of his clumsy blunder! He quickly got to his feet and hobbled to the underpinning section to begin transporting sand and cement to the machinery. It did not take long for him to tire of the heavy workload. As a free man he could take frequent breaks to recover, but with a Taskmistress ‘encouraging’ you on every step of the way you cannot!

Eventually he was recognised by his ex-colleagues hobbling to and from the cement compound. To his utter astonishment they simply ignored him and continued on their way to the works canteen to have a hot lunch and a well-deserved rest, while the slaves continued to toil! Number 17 was so relieved that the old crew had not ganged up on him, as he was so used to them joking around in the past. He was, however, quite hurt that they did not even acknowledge him!

………………………………………………………………………………………..

The routine never changed, the same backbreaking labour followed by a few hours laying on a wooden plank with one ankle stapled to the foot of the bunk. He had been a prisoner/slave for four months now!

The only minor change to the routine was a call to witness punishment when an unfortunate slave (normally from another hut) was dragged kicking and screaming from the stocks to the whipping post! A masked woman would then set about the dirty business of colouring in his back with a ten foot long leather whip, to the agonised screams of the defenceless male prisoner.

One depressingly dull evening, however, whilst sitting in silence in the prison hut awaiting Miss Shelly, the short man who had saved the back of number 17 all those weeks ago collapsed! The other prisoners crowded round to revive him! When he recovered he sat up and immediately vomited onto the wooden bunks and flooring. The other prisoners helped him to his bunk just in time for Miss Shelly to walk in and step right in it, so to speak!

‘WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS MESS ON MY BOOTS?’

A deafening silence fell over the hut. Number 17 looked at the poor man shivering with exhaustion, and decided that this was the moment to return the favour! ‘Begging your pardon Prison Guard Mistress Shelly, but this wretched slave filth must confess that it is responsible for the mess on your boots, Mistress!’

She moved to stand so close to him that he could feel her breath on his lips! ‘Well then, Mr Slave man, please tell me why you aren’t currently locked in the stocks, if you would be so kind BEGGING YOUR PARDON?!’

He hastily drew breath to reply, but was slapped harshly across the face with a blinding rage! He was dragged away by two other guards from another hut and pulled towards the confinement stocks in the parade ground beneath the fluttering flag of the Femina One prison. He thought that one day in the stocks, and ten lashes, would be a small price to pay to his fellow prisoner in the hut. And now they would be even!

The stocks had a heavy, wooden section that the feet stuck through, and locked in position with a heavy lock. The top section contained two half round cut-outs for the hands that were held captive by a rusty iron bar that slammed shut with another padlock. His ankles and wrists were in line with each other causing great pain and discomfort.

Miss Shelly then came marching over and told number 17 that she had sentenced him to two days confinement and twenty lashes! Oh no, I don’t think I will take two days and twenty lashes, he thought to himself!

The next day, following a sleepless night, no 17 saw his fellow prisoners being lead off to work again. He sat alone in the courtyard in the stocks. A while later he could just make out the prison Warden, and a young girl in her mid to late twenties, walking from his office to the officers’ mess area. After another hour or so, the couple emerged from the mess and went their separate ways after a loving embrace!

The girl was about to leave when she noticed number 17 in the stocks. She walked over to visit the suffering prisoner. ‘Hello there! What did you do to get locked in the planks then?’ she asked casually.

‘Begging your pardon Miss, but this slave was found guilty of vomiting on Miss Shelly’ shoes!’

The young girl could not contain her laughter! ‘Oh you are so funny boy! I bet she was furious at that little hiccup of yours then?’

The young girl continued to laugh. He noticed her very pale complexion, and contrasting dark black glossy hair and black dress. She was also wearing chunky, leather ankle boots and thick, woolly tights. It struck the hapless prisoner that she could even be a Goth!

The girl eventually calmed down enough to say ‘my name is Nikki, and this is my dad’s prison! What’s your name?’

He had to pause to let the words settle in; he was a guest of this girl’s father! He had to answer the young captor:

‘Begging your pardon Miss, this humble slave is number 17.’

‘No, what was your real name before you became a prisoner?’

‘My name was Paul, if it so pleases you Miss Nikki?’

The couple went on talking in an unusually casual and friendly manner, not as prisoner and captor but almost as friends! Nikki went on to explain that she lead a boring life as her father devoted all of his time to the running of the prison and bringing the operating costs down. She had a foot slave that he had purchased for her to occupy her time, but he got ill and had to go back to the slave agency. ‘You really make me laugh and I don’t normally enjoy male company, how long is your sentence?’

‘Two years Miss Nikki,’ was the reply.

‘Well, Paul, would you consider becoming my foot slave for the rest of your sentence? It would be a lot more comfortable than sitting in the stocks and waiting to be whipped, you know! I can get it organised if you want?’

He could not believe his ears! He was being offered a way out of this hell! Nikki went on to explain that she was not a hard task mistress, and would only want him to look after her shoes and boots. The rest of the time he would be well treated and well fed! She looked back at him and said ‘I must go now, but think about it; if you survive your whipping, I will be happy to have you as my own for the next twenty months!’

The next day passed agonisingly slowly. He had no choice but to endure the pain of being so strictly confined in the stocks, and the torture of knowing what was to come - twenty hard lashes!

It must have been the Saturday morning, as all of the prisoners and staff were called into the parade ground to witness the punishment. He was dragged by two female guards to the whipping post and secured hand and foot in an upright position. He could see the masked woman with the ten foot long whip approaching him from a long way off in the distance. He still thought that he would be able to endure this awful trial without too much pain!

Eventually the head guard called for silence and the masked punisher stepped forward. The first lash was delivered with such brutality that the leather retraining straps almost broke! Number 17 even looked round to see if someone had hit him with a club as the force was so great! Moments later the searing, stinging pain set in. That last blow was indeed the whip! Nineteen more to go!

…………………………………………………………………………………….

The next day he lay on his front, to spare the agony of his back and try to heal the deep wounds!

The smaller prisoner, that number 17 had stood up for, walked over to thank him for most likely saving his life! The pair whispered to each other for some time about what had happened. Number 17 told his acquaintance about his visitor while he was in the stocks. He even went so far as to tell him about the proposition she had for him to escape prison life and become her foot slave for the rest of his sentence.

To his utter surprise, the other prisoner laughed and said ‘that’s the black widow, you fool! She is insane! I have been here a lot longer than you; believe me, I know! She has managed to kill off another slave, then? That’s four to my knowledge!’

Number 17 had the rest of the day to recuperate and allow these damming words to set in. He had finally made up his mind that the other prisoners were jealous of his offer, and did not want him to have something they did not. One thing was definite, however: number 17 could not take another whipping!

‘GUARD, I WANT TO SEE THE GOVERNOR!’

It was barely two days later and, true to her word, Miss Nikki had secured his release from prison, and had his ‘nasty old shackles’ taken off. He was even given a new set of clothes, albeit a pair of white cotton slave shorts. Miss Nikki sat in front of him on the sofa and began to inform him of what is now expected in her usual friendly way:

‘Welcome to my home, Paul. I must point out to you, that you are required by law to call me ‘Mistress’ now. Sorry about that! And that you must not stand upright while you are my slave. But that’s about it. All I want from you is to keep my boots clean, and my socks organised in their drawers. I just need you to sign over your life to me for the remainder of your sentence, and we can get started!’

He signed on the dotted line immediately and could not be happier. For the rest of the day the pair relaxed in the living room watching television, with him occasionally kissing her resting, black boots and watching her woolly tights flexing as she moved. He was quite content at last! The new foot slave was shown to the spare room in the house. He had a pile of old blankets to sleep on and half a loaf of real bread and soup for his meal!

The next morning he was summoned by Mistress Nikki to the living room of the large opulent house to await the arrival of her girlfriends from university! He felt quite nervous as this was still quite a humiliating position to be in.

Minutes later three girls arrived at the front door of the house. They were all in their late twenties to early thirties and very attractive! They all crowded around the new slave to have a good look. He was ordered to kiss their feet in turn as they stepped forward.

The first girl was quite tall and thin. She had long, brown hair and wore blue leggings with pink ballet flats and thin popsocks. He noticed the traces of dirt around the seams of her shoes that had looked so clean from a distance.

The second girl appeared to be of Indian origins and wore heavy looking riding boots running up to the tops of her knees. She was very attractive, and looked ever such a lady in her horse-riding gear! The new slave even felt slightly aroused by the humble act of kissing her riding boots as she looked down at him!

The third girl was quite the opposite of the last Indian lady. She was barely five feet tall, with dirty looking, dark blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing a tatty tracksuit with equally tatty-looking running shoes! He could now see that she was wearing no socks, and to his horror, as she grew closer, he could detect the strong smell of foot odour!

Luckily for the new slave, the girls paid him little attention after the initial introduction. They were more interested in catching up on important news and gossip from university.

Eventually the dirty-looking blonde girl drew attention back to the kneeling foot slave and asked Miss Nikki what her plans were for him. ‘Well Nikki, what do ya fink about this one then? Is he gonna be a keeper, or a ditcher like the last one ya had?’

Miss Nikki calmly explained that she had got her new slave from her father’s prison and owned him for the rest of his sentence. Nikki then grinned slightly, and went on to say ‘I have got big plans for this one though! I think I’ve been too lax with my slaves, and it’s time for a good harsh regime!...’

This sounded odd to the slave, as she was the ideal Mistress only a few hours ago! Maybe she was showing off in front of her friends?

‘…I think he should be gagged, masked, cangued, and have his ears blocked!’ continued miss Nikki.

All of the girls erupted into laughter over this last comment!

Surely this was a joke?

Miss Nikki then went on to say that all of her new ‘toys’ were on order from a slave magazine, and should arrive tomorrow! ‘You should all come back next week and see what a fool he looks then!’

The girls all agreed that they would return to revel in his humiliation!

The visitors stayed for another hour, and eventually parted company. The evening passed more slowly than it had the previous night, and the slave had an uneasy feeling about what had transpired.

The morning finally came and all seemed normal. The new slave was busy organising his mistress’s sock drawer as ordered, when a loud cheer went out from the hall. ‘Oh slave, come see what I’ve got!’

He gingerly crawled into the hall just in time to see his beloved mistress ripping open a large box that had just been delivered. To his horror, she produced the items she had spoken about in the magazine! Oh no! She was serious about that ‘harsh regime’ change then?

‘In to the living room slave!’

Once there, Miss Nikki began fumbling with the items she had ordered. Her hands were shaking with excitement! ‘Well, let’s get started!’

She first produced the mask she had specially commissioned for him. It was not the standard foot- fool mask that he had seen in the streets of the Gynarchy, but something very similar. She pointed out some of the particulars of the devilish creation to him. ‘It’s made of quality leather in two halves. The left side has the garish miss-matched colours and words sewn in like a patchwork quilt to show the foot obsessed fool in you. The words read FOOT FOOL; SOCKS; TOEJAM; SNIFF; LICK; BOOT SUCKER; SOCK WASHER. The right hand side of the mask is a bland, black colour to represent the dull, oppressed prisoner in you! Isn’t that fantastic?...’

He was not so sure that this was so fantastic having seen the hideous creation!

‘…The only two things that the two sides have in common is the downturned mouth in a bold pink colour, and your stupid face which the mask covers anyway, fortunately for us, Ha!’

Before he had time to further examine the details of the mask, it was quickly thrust over his head and secured in position with something that clicked and made it tighter! His vision was obscured by two objects he could not quite focus on. The left eye had a miniature set of replica boots attached to a small chain. These were an exact copy of the ones that the mistress was wearing when they first met. The right eye had a miniature set of handcuffs and a chain hanging from above his eyelid.

‘This will help to remind you of who you are now - a foot fool and a prisoner!’

As he moved his head, the mini replicas would bash against his eyes causing discomfort!

The mask had an elongated, snout-shaped nose that also housed a clip of some kind. This rubbed against his own nose and caused an itch! ‘The peg is so I can hang my socks from your snout once you’ve mouth-washed them!’

The shock was still sinking in when she produced another item from the box on the floor! A metal gag! ‘This is a tongue tube gag. I don’t want to hear your moaning complaints in the future, so this thing will keep your tongue still, but still allow you to use it for slave purposes! Open up boy!’

The gag was roughly inserted, and a thin, metal strap was quickly locked around the base of his masked skull, making his tongue a prisoner in his own head!

‘Say yes Mistress, slave!’

‘Yaw miwess,’ was all that came out!

‘Brilliant, it works!’ chirped Miss Nikki. ‘Now the cangue comes next!’

A heavy, wooden collar was produced with a message engraved on it saying Prison foot-fool property of Miss Nikki Smith! The weighty device was then locked around his neck with a heavy lock! It immediately caused his shoulders to move closer to her feet and generated a throbbing pain in his back and neck!

Miss Nikki had not yet finished. Next was the device that would cut him off from the rest of the world! The ear gags! ‘OOH look at these slave! They are made to look like fox ears ha!’

The devices she was referring to were thick, plastic ears with a hinge at the bottom. On the opposite side to the ear was a round, jagged hole that the slave’s ear would be encircled by when the fake ear was closed and locked. Inside the plastic ear-gags was a speaker that was linked wirelessly to a necklace that Miss Nikki was now putting around her pretty neck! When she decided that he needed to hear her orders, she would simply press a button and speak into the necklace and her voice would travel to his captive ears! She explained that this was for his own good, as he could concentrate on her voice alone from now on!

As if this was not humiliating enough, she had ordered one pink ear and one orange one! She bent down and roughly snapped one of the devices shut around his left ear. A lock was applied to secure it. The same process was applied for the second ear. Now all he could hear was his own breathing and pulse (which was racing with anger and rage at being treated this way!) Miss Nikki tested the communications link by saying ‘well, are you ready for some serious foot worship now, then?’ The words were at a DEAFENING volume, and their meaning cut though him like a knife! It was all too late; he had willingly signed over his own life to her to get out of prison!

The next earth-shattering address to be issued to him was ‘in to the living room, prison footfool, and get ready to suffer HA!’

He found that moving around was now harder than usual because of the heavy cangue around his neck, and the impaired vision caused by the mask and its hanging adornments. It seemed that the mistress was indeed kicking him in the left eye every time he moved, and the model handcuffs made a loud, jingling sound (not that he could hear it). How very humiliating!

Once in the living room, Mistress Nikki seated herself on a comfy looking armchair and opened the communications link once again to say ‘kiss my boots ten times each, then remove them’. A loud click was then heard, and all was silent again. The ear speakers made a click before and after she spoke to him!

He had no choice but to lower his lips to her boots and begin to kiss. To his surprise, he had no difficulty in kissing, as the gag had a very thin, metal strap that allowed him to fully close his lips. He assumed, correctly, that the Mistress would not want him drooling over her boots! He did however find it hard to get close enough to her boot due to the exaggerated snout that formed part of his now hideously comical features!

Once the ten kisses were delivered to her satisfaction, he heard the shockingly loud CLICK ‘remove my boots’ CLICK!

She was still wearing her chunky-heeled, Goth, knee-length, leather boots from when they first met in prison. The laces ran all the way up to the top of her knee. This would take some time to achieve and, to make things crueller, she deliberately raised her legs slightly, causing him more pain as he had to lift the terrible weight of the cangue ever higher!

Once the laces on both boots were sufficiently loose, the final effort of removing them from her feet could be done. As he struggled pulling at them he could hear his own laboured breaths growing ever deeper! The sweat was building up inside his tight fitting mask and running down his eyes! The boots came off with a satisfying whoosh! Not that prisoner footfool could hear it! However thanks to the elongated snout of his mask, he could certainly smell the removal of her outer footwear!

Her black, woolly tights were worn down at the toe area, and very moist from perspiration as the boots had kept the warm foot air safely locked inside! CLICK ‘Sniff them deeply until I say stop!’ CLICK.

He sniffed away for what must have been an hour! The stench was truly overwhelming and assaulted his very soul! His new mistress then suddenly jumped to her feet and left him kneeling there in front of her discarded boots! Moments later she returned with a set of scissors from the kitchen and proceeded to cut the lower section of her woolly tights off of her own feet! CLICK ‘Now you can start licking and sucking on my feet, prisoner footfool!’ CLICK

He now knelt in front of her bare feet for the first time. She had a very pale complexion, as with most Goth women, but her dainty little feet were almost pure white. She had sharply contrasting, black-shiny-lacquered toenails neatly filed flat, and her feet seemed to look quite soft and well kept.

Mistress Nikki, rather helpfully, lifted her left foot and placed it into his hands for him to begin.

Already she was getting fed up with having to remember to push the little button on the necklace every time she wanted to give an order to the slave!

He slowly inserted her first and second toes into his mouth to begin his humble worship. Mistress Nikki forgot about the metal gag in the slave’s mouth and jabbed her toe on the way in! This made her laugh, as it was her that had put it there and locked it into place! CLICK ‘Now, I want you to remove all of the nail varnish with your teeth, and clean out the muck from under the nails! We will stay here for as long as it takes, get it?’ CLICK

This humiliating process took a further two hours to complete. The new mistress got up, and said to the slave that he may go to his box room for the night now, as she has not prepared her bedroom for the slave to sit at the bottom of her bed yet. Unfortunately for the slave, she forgot to push the communications button and he heard nothing! He simply knelt there all night awaiting her return. It was clear that they both had lots still to learn!

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

The days rolled past, and Mistress Nikki did eventually get the hang of pressing the communication button whenever she deigned to address her new slave. She finally cleared a space at the bottom of her bed for the slave to sit at night, and keep her precious feet warm with his masked face acting as a hot water bottle.

One afternoon, Mistress Nikki suddenly sat to attention in her armchair above the slave and reached for her necklace, CLICK ‘I almost forgot, one of my girlfriends is coming round to see you, prison footfool! I had better get ready’ CLICK

With that, she leapt to her feet to go and change out of her more casual clothes to receive her friend. The prison footfool simply knelt, still hoping that it would be the young, Indian girl in the horse-riding boots! That would make the afternoon pass more quickly!

A small time passed by, and the prison footfool was to be disappointed at the arrival of the ‘special’ guest. It was the dirty-looking, blonde girl wearing the same filthy, hole-ridden tracksuit and manky trainers that she wore the first time they had been introduced.

The girls stood in front of the kneeling prisoner, mocking him and laughing at his new comical features. Fortunately for him, he was unaware of the unflattering comments that the friends were passing over him, as the ear gags were doing their job extremely well!

Eventually, Mistress Nikki did press the button to issue a comment to her newly enslaved property CLICK ‘Guess what, prison footfool? Miss Janey thinks you look like a pig, crossed with a donkey, who is in to bondage for a hobby HA!’ CLICK.

Before the communicator shut off, he heard both of the girls laughing together at his expense!

He knelt there, perfectly still, watching the twitching feet of his female captors as they jubilantly mocked him, knowing full well that he was not part of their conversation. He simply theorised as to what evil deeds his new Mistress had in mind for him this afternoon! Surely she would only make him kiss or lick Miss Janey’s trainer-shoes, and no more? Mistress Nikki would doubtless be jealous of any further attention to her friend’s feet! That very much suited him as he could smell her festering footwear from three feet away!

Yet again for the newly enslaved male property, he was very much wrong! Mistress Nikki was once again reaching for the communicator button around her slender neck. CLICK ‘Slave, my friend says that her feet are hot and smelly because she has not been wearing any socks! Why don’t you remove her shoes, and lick and suck her pretty feet clean?’ CLICK

She had asked this as a question, as if he had a choice to refuse her. Frankly he would rather be back in prison than submit to such a humiliating and degrading spectacle in front of the very eyes of his new Mistress! But one thing was very clear now - she truly owned him, and controlled every aspect of his life now, including at least one of his senses; two, if you count his sense of smell!

The latter of his two senses was about to be assaulted in the most violent way imaginable. This tramp-like girl was about to have her feet licked clean by his imprisoned face, and the hideous snout attachment would no doubt catch more of the stench and channel it directly to his nose!

The time had come. Miss Janey was seated in front of the footfool awaiting his next move. He had no choice but to obey, and begin removing her dirt encrusted shoes from her bare feet! He paused and stared at them for a moment remembering his Mistresses words ‘why don’t you remove her shoes, and lick and suck her pretty feet clean?’ Miss Janey’s feet were anything but pretty! They were covered in dirt and had big black lines of toe jam under her jagged toenails. This was going to be bad! The stench had already made his eyes water and he was still some distance away from her!

CLICK ‘Better get on with it, prison footfool; the smell is making us both sick!’ CLICK

Even Mistress Nikki was complaining about the noxious odour coming from her friend’s feet! He wasted no more time and took the plunge! He managed to get all of her toes into his mouth, in a desperate effort to get as much of the smell off in one go! Her jagged nails ripped into the side of his cheek, causing great pain and the model boots hanging from his left temple to kick him in the eye, further mocking him! This was pure hell!

The torture of Miss Janey’s feet finally ended after two whole hours of sucking and licking! He felt exhausted, and was covered in a cold sweat. He was certainly ready for a good night’s sleep!

Mistress Nikki was actually impressed with the efforts of her new slave, and did register her satisfaction with him. However, she deliberately chose not to open the communications link first! Needless to say her praise fell on deaf, mismatched, coloured, pointy ears!

………………………………………………………………………………………….

The next day started well. Both slave and Mistress were in the living room following a good night’s sleep. The smell of Miss Janey’s feet still lingered in the room!

Unbeknownst to the deaf mute slave, the doorbell rang to alert the Mistress to yet more house guests. This time, however, two burly-looking men entered wearing identical tee shirts and jeans. They looked like removal men or odd job men! The slave briefly looked up catching the eye of one of the men, who burst out laughing at the slave’s ridiculous, masked features and heavy, wooden cangue!

The men were obviously known to Miss Nikki as they were holding a long conversation together over a cup of coffee. Once the men had finished their refreshments, they proceeded to carry several heavy, wooden crates down to the basement! The men stayed down below for some time, and the lights in the house would occasionally flicker as if they were using power tools (the slave could not hear the drills and saws being used).

Eventually one of the men came back up the stairs with Mistress Nikki. Some money changed hands, and then the larger of the two men bent down right in front of the slave and took him by the cangue to raise his head. Once this was done, he proceeded to take a photograph on his phone of the slave’s masked face! Mistress Nikki could be seen in the background laughing again!

In the afternoon one of the men returned to the house. The slave was busy licking the Mistress’s, currently vacant, boots clean. CLICK ‘Oh slave, get over here, and keep still; otherwise your right eye will be permanently glued shut!’ CLICK

What cruelty was this? Did she intend for him to be blinded in one eye?

All soon became clear, as the prison footfool grew closer to the workman, and his mistress Nikki, now both kneeling directly in front of the slave. This was unusual - to have the Mistress on the same level as the slave! She simply wanted a good view of what was about to happen!

The workman produced from his pocket a large cylinder of epoxy resin glue and a set of miniature steel prison bars! These were exactly the right size and shape to fit over his right masked eye! CLICK ‘Miss Janey pointed out yesterday that, although your mask does make you look like a footfool, it does not fully show the prisoner side of you to the full extent. I have therefore had these mini prison bars made up, and they will be permanently glued onto your right eye so you shall always be looking out of a barred window! NOW HOLD STILL!’ CLICK

Yet more freedom and the gift of sight was now removed, and under the control of the Mistress! The workman simply collected his tools and left, with the resin glue setting around the masked eye socket of the prisoner footfool. The slave simply crawled after his tormentress Mistress and sobbed, partly due to the noxious, toxic fumes around his eyes; and partly due to this harsh, oppressive regime!

It must have been a Saturday, as Mistress Nikki was drinking wine by the glassful during her favourite television programme. CLICK ‘Hey, prison footfool, I bet you’re curious to see what was going on in the basement, aren’t you?’ CLICK

He was so depressed at the latest act of oppression inflicted upon him, that he forgot about the gag clamped into his mouth, and said ‘yaw miweth. I wuly am coorious a oo wat is im da basemenp!’

CLICK ‘I’ll take that for a ‘yes’, then, slave? Come on, I can’t wait to show you; MOVE!’ CLICK

He quickly followed his Mistress to foot, and down the rough, stone staircase into the basement! Once there, the lights flickered on to reveal a collection of what could only be described as torture devices! Stocks and pillories; whipping trestles; and manacles anchored deep into the ground!

The Mistress looked very proud of her intimidating collection! CLICK ‘This is the Scavenger’s daughter, or ‘cravat’, that slowly crushes its victims in its iron grip! My last slave could only manage six hours before passing out! I bet you could last at least twelve?... This is a heavy kneeling pillory’….the descriptions went on for some time until… ‘And this is my new toy!’ CLICK

The Mistress roughly pulled back a sheet to reveal a heavy-looking, torture rack! The shock of what stood before him had not yet set in, when the Mistress frantically fumbled for the communicator button, with her hands shaking with excitement! CLICK ‘ Well, look on the bright side slave; I will have to remove your cangue, and I am also going to remove your gag temporarily, as I want you to describe the pain to me in great detail! Now…’ (fumbling with the locks on the gag and the cangue) ‘…it’s time for you to grow a few inches!’ CLICK.

The prisoner was roughly secured in a heavy set of leg stocks, and a set of steel wrist manacles. He truly was relieved to be free of his gag and heavy cangue, but this relief was to be short lived!

The Mistress was gathering some items together in a hurry to get on with the experiment. She had also removed her boots and collected a yellow wax crayon for some reason? Mistress Nikki then produced a stool that slotted into a set of holes in the plank below the prisoners neck. She then mounted the stool and shoved her dirty, white, anklesock-clad feet into his face! She would be able to cover his face for the whole of the torture session, as the stool moved in tandem with the rack!

How ingenious, he thought through the fear!

He could just make out her pretty features through the barred window covering his right eye (the left eye was now shut, as the model of the mistress’s boots was sitting on top of his eyelid). CLICK ‘The wax crayon is to mark the positions at which you scream the loudest, so I know how harshly to punish you in the future! I am sorry that you are going to be punished now for no fault of your own, but I need to assess the different levels of intensity caused by my new rack!

The next sound to be heard by the prisoner was a click, not caused by the audio loop being cut off, but buy the rack mechanism taking up the slack on his confined limbs!

Some little time later the Mistress had placed her first of many yellow lines on the rack lever! The prisoner yelled in agony as the tendons in his lower legs and back grew ever tighter! He could just see her pretty little face through the model handcuffs and bars that she had placed on his face, and noted that she was smiling at his pain and suffering!

This ordeal lasted for what felt like an eternity! The act of screaming in pain caused him to breathe in the heavy aroma of her foot sweat all the more.

Eventually, the Mistress announced that the experiment was completed and that he was to be released! ‘What do you think, prisoner footslave? Pretty intense, isn’t it?’

He stammered an answer saying ‘yes, oh merciful Mistress, the rack is a terrible ordeal!’

The Mistress quickly jumped up to get the gag back into his mouth saying ‘I forgot how annoying your voice was! Let’s get this back in, and your cangue back on, as I don’t want you too relaxed!’

The terrible cruelty of this young woman was truly amazing! He was set firmly on the path of pain and suffering at her feet!

Before the evening was over, and following two more bottles of wine consumed by the young tormentress, the prisoner footfool was confined in several other toys of the Mistress’s choosing. It was now approaching midnight, and he found himself languishing in the dimly-lit, basement dungeon/play area confined in the cravat device. He had been locked into the evil device before his mistress kindly jammed one of her white, cotton socks into his mouth, taping it shut and clamping the other swiftly divested sock into the peg attachment of his masked nose! The pain was truly intense and he was struggling to breathe through the smelly, dirty-sock-covered nose!

The mistress had passed out laying on her own torture rack, drunk on pleasure and alcohol! A drunken mistress is a truly dangerous thing to be dominated by! He did also break the record of six hours confinement, and passed out in writhing agony after eight hours held rigidly in the vicelike grip of the metal, torture frame!

When the mistress awoke at six o’clock in the morning with a hangover, she was most amused! She grinned and left him to suffer for a few more hours!

……………………………………………………………………………………

The months flew past quicker than the prisoner footfool thought they would. Mistress Nikki did not relent from her harsh regime of torture and oppression.

One afternoon, on a sunny day, she bent down and pressed the communicator button to issue a statement to the slave, CLICK ‘Prisoner footfool, I do not think that you have been publicly humiliated enough! But don’t worry, I have had a great idea to do just that!’ CLICK.

One thing was for sure - prisoner footslave was not at all worried that he had not been made to publicly humiliate himself for his Mistress’s pleasure!

Mistress Nikki swiftly put on some ankle boots and left the house! The slave kept perfectly still, left alone to contemplate his latest ordeal! A short time later, Mistress Nikki returned to the house and once again took up her seated position in front of the dominated and oppressed, male slave. CLICK ‘Take off my boots and see what you think!’ CLICK

The humble slave did just that. Once the leather boots were off, his mistress’s feet were exposed to the kneeling slave in all their glory. She was not wearing any socks in her boots; she had been out to get a professional pedicure!

What is the point of having your own footslave, if you go and spend good money on a salon or beauty parlour? But her feet were looking amazing! Her nails were neatly filed square and had a deep, glossy coat of dark purple nail varnish applied.

The Mistress then bent down and produced an expensive looking nail file, and handed it to the slave. CLICK ‘I want you to scrape the polish off every second toe, and when you have done that, I want you to file deep cuts and ridges into my nails to make them look badly neglected Ha!’ CLICK

He could not believe his captive ears! He just knelt there, shaking with nerves and thinking what if he had misheard her? That expensive pedicure would be ruined by her own slave!

One thing was sure - he could not question her, even if he wanted to, thanks to the cruel gag fitted to his mouth!

He was still motionless, awaiting some kind of correction to her last order, when she kicked his right arm violently! He had no choice but to begin vandalizing her beautiful feet!

He slowly scraped away some of the lavish polish on her big toe. The centre of the nail was now bare and looked awfully un-kept and untidy! He was about to remove the rest of the polish when his Mistress’s hand interjected and moved him on to the next nail!

Once he had finished desecrating her pretty feet, Mistress Nikki jumped up and pressed the button on her necklace CLICK ‘Well done you dirty prisoner footfool, they look awful now! I am going out for a while, but when I come back we will be going for a walk into town!’ CLICK

With that last announcement, she left the house in such a hurry she forgot her shoes! She was walking the streets of the Gynarchy barefoot! I hope that she does not injure herself for my sake, was the prisoner’s only, somewhat selfish, thought!

Mistress Nikki finally returned with a shopping bag full of bits that she had purchased from a local hardware store. She produced a small chain, and a wooden plank about ten inches long by eight inches wide. The chain was hastily secured at both ends of the rough-looking plank with small screws. She then produced a small tin of paint and began to paint a message onto the board!

Once Mistress Nikki had finished her arts and crafts exercise, she proudly bent down to show her handy-work off to the slave. It said, in dripping green letters, THIS IS THE BEST I CAN DO, and then a bold arrow pointing down towards his Mistress’s feet!

The Mistress then produced the sole of her foot that was jet black from her barefoot excursion to the shops. CLICK ‘Won’t this be great fun? You will have to confess, to all of the people we meet tonight, that you are a terrible footslave and do not deserve any mercy! What a fool! And only we know the truth, and you cannot talk HA!’ CLICK.

How truly cold, calculating and cruel you are, Mistress! At this point the delightfully cruel young woman simply hung the sign around his neck, and put on a pair of tatty flip flops to show off her dirty, un-kept feet - the same feet that had been charged to his care!

That was one of the worst, and most humiliating, nights of his life! Free men and women queued up in droves to deride him, and slap him in the face for neglecting his beautiful Mistress. The Mistress that had spent so much of her own money on his slave adornments and accessories! As the night grew to a close he was even spat on, and whipped with canes and lashes usually reserved for use on public footslaves and shoe lickers! His photograph was even published in the Gynarchy Times, much to the amusement of Mistress Nikki!

………………………………………………………………………………………..

The months continued to roll by, and the Mistress continued to think of nasty, humiliating and unusual things for her slave to endure!

Little did the prisoner footfool know that the two year prison sentence imposed on him had actually expired some six months ago now! He was, technically, being falsely detained in the Gynarchy, and should be a free man! Fortunately for him, he was so preoccupied with keeping his mistress happy, and so cut off from the outside world, that he was unaware of this injustice!

One morning, however, Mistress Nikki produced a writing pad and pen, and opened the communications link CLICK ‘I was curious to see if you had anything to write regarding your enslavement to me, seeing as I have forbidden you to speak ever again that is!’ CLICK

It took him ten minutes to formulate some kind of semi-coherent sentence, with very shaky handwriting and sweat dripping from his masked face. He finally passed the pad to the Mistress and waited for her to study it. The note read

Oh great and merciful Mistress Nikki, this humble and feeble prisoner footfool begs for your pardon in asking this question in such a forceful manner, but, when does my prison sentence come to an end, and when will you be setting me, free most powerful and respected Mistress?

He was truly terrified that she would interpret this as an act of disobedience, and sentence him to the rack, or something!

She pondered for quite some time on his feeble scribbles. Eventually came the now all-too-familiar CLICK, ‘You are correct, slave. You should have been set free six months ago! I have enjoyed your pathetic company so much, I did not want you to go! Oh well, now you know, I have no choice but to release you from my custody!’ CLICK.

He simply could not believe that it was that easy to win his freedom back after so long! He was literally kicking himself for not asking sooner! In fairness to his Mistress, she had indeed been fair but firm with him. She promised that he would be removed from prison, and he was. She promised that he would be her footslave, and he was. She promised that he would serve his sentence and be freed, and now he was (finally!).

She jumped up to make some telephone calls and get dressed.

A short while later, the Mistress had brought the car round to the front of the house. CLICK ‘Come on then, slavey! Let’s get you back to the prison, so you can get your old clothes and belongings back, and then I will drive you to the train station as an apology for extending your stay!’ CLICK.

At last, freedom was in sight!

As the journey down the winding streets of the Gynarchy progressed, the prisoner could see the labour prison, that was to have been his home for two years, come in to view! However, the car did not stop! The couple drove on to the old gravel pits near to the prison for some reason.

Eventually the car stopped, and Mistress Nikki got out and walked to the barred entry to a cave-mouth of what appeared to be a working, underground quarry! Some paperwork was produced by Mistress Nikki and handed to an administrator. Money changed hands and the Mistress walked back to the car with a wide grin on her pretty face! CLICK ‘Well, that was quick, slave! I no longer own you. I have sold you to the mining corporation of the Gynarchy Rock Salt Company for life! I suppose I should remove your cangue and keep that for my next slave? Come here so I can unlock it!

The cangue was hastily removed and dropped on the back car seat! CLICK ‘Well, I was going to remove your mask and mouth/ear gags, but I have lost the keys, so I suppose you can keep them as a leaving present! I had better give the necklace over to your new Taskmistress before I go! Goodbye prisoner footslave!’ CLICK

That was it; the last time she would ever speak to him was to issue her cruellest announcement!

She quickly sped away in her car, never to be seen again. The black widow had claimed another victim!

He knelt there as confined and as enslaved as if he had remained in her charge! He could see a shadow approaching from behind, to drag him into the underground mines for ever more!

Once he had been carelessly tossed to the ground in front of the guards, he looked up at their laughing, female faces. They were all coming over to see his ridiculous, masked face and gagged ears and tongue!

As he surveyed the hysterical crowd of women, he noticed a familiar face! Taskmistress Shelly from the hut he was imprisoned in in the Femina One prison! She had obviously been transferred to the mines!

Unfortunately for the slave formerly known as Paul, she did not recognise him, because of the mask! He was just a hideous, male slave, to be dominated and whipped into shape breaking rocks underground for evermore!

The women then began fighting over the communicator necklace in front of the slave! Miss Shelly was the victor! CLICK ‘Hi Slave! I am your new Taskmistress, Shelly. Normally I would tell you to call me Miss Shelly, but as you can’t speak I won’t bother! Let’s have a read of your mask then, FOOT FOOL; SOCKS; TOEJAM; SNIFF; LICK; BOOT SUCKER; SOCK WASHER. So, you like toejam do you? Well I have got a treat for you. HA!’ CLICK

With that she removed her black, leather boot to reveal a pale, white, petite, bare foot with un-manicured nails.

Oh well, once more into the breach!