Happy Slappy Xmas!

The good-looking – indeed, some would say godlike-looking – Mondieu family, who originally hailed from Haiti but had emigrated some 3 years ago from Port au Prince to, appropriately enough, Port à la Princesse, a small town on the Gynarchy’s north-eastern seaboard, are gathered in the living-room of their modest, terraced house on Xmas day, enjoying their sumptuous, family-Xmas meal.

They are:

Monsieur Mondieu – the 53 year old head of the family (even though they are now living in the Gynarchy, old habits die hard; and the traditionally-reared, Haitian women of the family find it hard not to regard the man of the house as the continuing head of the family!)

Madame Mondieu – his still stunningly-beautiful, 45 year old wife (the woman from whom Monsieur Mondieu’s two daughters get their extreme good looks!)

Mademoiselle Simone Mondieu – their eldest daughter, 23, who has just started work as a journalist on a glossy, Gynarchy fashion magazine (she could equally be on the front cover!)

And semi-last, but not least, 

Mademoiselle Natalie Mondieu - the 21 year old student of the family (studying catering at Female Catering College; she is, perhaps not unsurprisingly, the fattest of the otherwise lean and fit-looking family, given the amount of food-tasting she must indulge in during her cookery lessons; but she still looks good on it!)

Last – and most definitely least – is their family slave, the inaptly named ‘Pwisannier’ (a corruption of the Haitian-Creole for ‘Powerful One’), an outsider whom they picked up at a second-hand slave auction shortly after their clandestine arrival in the Gynarchy. As the family had entered the Gynarchy illegally they weren’t entitled to a free, male slave courtesy of the Female State – but through sheer hard graft Monsieur Mondieu had managed to scrape together enough money to buy his women a cheap, second-hand, adult-restavec slave – the aforementioned slave ‘Pwisannier’.

They deliberately named him that through their wicked sense of Haitian irony – for not only does it sound a bit like the French for ‘prisoner’ (prisonnier), and he is very much a prisoner in their home; in addition, slave ‘Pwisannier’ is anything but powerful! Indeed, he is, unlike his Haitian masters, completely powerless, being white; subjugated; whip-marked; unhealthily gaunt; ugly; old and wizened (he’s actually a few years younger than Monsieur Mondieu, his master-sir – but he has, of course, had a much harder life, being a male slave in the Gynarchy, and consequently he looks much older); and, to top it all, he is incredibly stupid!

That’s why his Haitian masters and betters have to treat him like dirt, and boss him about all the time – because he is so thick he needs to be told what to do! And the whip-marks on his wizened and wrinkly old back are further evidence of his inability to perform even the simplest tasks for his Haitian-immigrant superiors to their complete satisfaction – no wonder his previous owners had to get rid of him on the black market to a family of illegal entrants at a knock-down price!

Incidentally, after 3 years living illegally in the Gynarchy, the Mondieu family have now been naturalised thanks to the Gynarchy’s ‘3 year Amnesty’ rule for families who enter the country illegally, but which contain at least one female! So they have a lot to celebrate this Xmas!

Even slave Pwisannier has been permitted to participate in his Haitian masters’ celebration of their legalisation, by being a part of their Xmas festivities – though not, perhaps, in ways he would have wished!

Right now, for example, he is lying prostrate beneath the Xmas dinner table, his upturned left cheek acting as a footrest for the right, fluffy-beige-slippered foot of the youngest family member – goddess-mistress Natalie – as she noisily gobbles up her traditional, slap up, Haitian-Xmas meal of fried goat and pikliz (spicy, pickled carrots and cabbage) above him.

Meanwhile, a festive reindeer, with a bright, red nose, is smilingly staring back at him – this being a cartoon-reindeer on the side of the Xmas-themed anklesock on miss Natalie’s fleshy, left, brown-skinned anklebone. Slave Pwisannier is aware that the reindeer is mocking him and laughing at him, and has already had the indignity of having to kiss the reindeer’s bright red nose several times in order to make it play a tinny version of ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’, to the delight and merriment of the magnificent Mondieu family members.

However, the novelty in miss Natalie’s novelty socks had soon worn off, and slave Pwisannier was now merely being used as a common or garden, everyday, slippered- foot rest whilst the already fat to overflowing, female wearer of the slipper stuffed her pretty, Haitian-girl face with superfluous Xmas fare!

Slave Pwisannier could smell the delicious food even above the acrid smell of miss Natalie’s musty, well-worn house-slippers – and was, as per usual, incredibly hungry. But he would, of course, continue to go hungry – since no Gynarchy family worth their table salt would ever dream of serving up proper, human food to the family footslave! Not even their scraps and leftovers; not even at Xmas; indeed – especially not at Xmas! They would much rather their superior leftovers go to waste, than down the scrawny neck of their undeserving slave. He shall only eat cheap, vile, tasteless slave-mush at Xmas – like he does the rest of the year round – for, although he is permitted in this particular, happy household to ‘partake’ in the seasonal festivities of his masters and betters, including their parlour games, it is only in certain very specific and demeaning ways:

· For example, after the Mondieu family have finished their sumptuous meal, and are sitting in their lounge with their bellies full to bursting point with succulent Xmas goat (so much so that a number of them are forced to break wind), slave Pwisannier is obliged to play ‘sniff the holiday hosiery’ – only with the female members of the family, thank God! But he is nevertheless ignominiously blindfolded with a pair of miss Simone’s black, woolly tights, hastily retrieved from her dirty laundry-basket, and forced to crawl around the front room on his hands and knees sniffing the wriggling, stockinged or socked toes of the three ladies of the house – without touching them – after which he is required to verbally identify whose sweet feminine hose-stink he has just sniffed, under pain of the whip from Master-sir Mondieu if he guesses wrongly!

Fortunately for slave Pwisannier, he is, after 3 long years of foot-servitude to the various women of this Haitian household, by now well used – and consequently well used to the individual stocking and sock odours of his three, beautiful and intelligent, mistresses and betters; the dry, subtle foot-odour of Madame Mondieu’s finest-denier, tan-nyloned, Caribbean feet; the deliberately perfumed feet and plain, black, understated cotton socks of her eldest daughter – fashion-and-foot-conscious miss Simone; and the tart and vinegary, multicoloured socks of the youngest daughter, 21 year old miss Natalie (even her day-old, Xmas novelty socks are tart and vinegary, as, unlike her big sister, she is much less fastidious about the cleanliness of her young-womanly feet, and has absolutely no compunctions whatsoever about imposing her stinky foot and sock smell on the family’s pathetic footslave! Plus, of course, being a fat girl, her feet sweat a lot, even inside her fluffy, beige house-slippers!)

The blindfolded, sock-stocking-and-tights-surrounded, Xmas footslave guessed each and every one of his stinky-hosed, female owners correctly, thanks to the subtleties in their differing, feminine foot-smells; but masculine master-sir Mondieu still whipped him anyway, because it’s Xmas, and he can!

· Then, on the suggestion of Madame Mondieu, they all continued to take the ‘pwis’ out of him by playing ‘pin the tail on the stupid donkey-slave’, whereby the masters were, unusually for them, the ones who were temporarily blindfolded, and had to pin a degrading tail onto the footslave’s humiliatingly-bared asshole, as accurately as they could in their semi-inebriated state! Because he is their family footwear-slave, Madame Mondieu had kindly supplied one of her old, disused, spike-heeled, pointy-toed stilettos as the makeshift ‘tail’, and had cleverly glued a sharp, elongated drawing-pin onto the base of the heel so that it could be inserted into the slave’s bare buttock-flesh as accurately as the various players could drunkenly muster. It was a shiny, bright red, patent leather – albeit heavily scuffmarked – stiletto, so everyone laughed and agreed it looked devilish as it stuck out from slave Pwisannier’s voodoo-pinpricked behind – the feminine shoe-tail of a male, asinine, family footslave! Ha! Ha! Miss Simone was adjudged to have won the contest – based on the sore-looking, bright red, pinprick mark left by her efforts with the tail, nearest to the centre of the hapless slave’s buttocks!

· Needless to say, the ‘tail’ soon fell off during the next happy parlour game – riding the footslave-donkey! The three females took it in turn to sit on his masterfully whipped back, with their recently sniffed, socked or stockinged feet (or in the case of miss Natalie, furry-slippered and socked feet) tucked in beneath his asinine chin, and rode him round and round their Xmas tree, like a teddy bear (or, more accurately, like a bare-backed donkey!) Miss Natalie even, amusingly, ‘played’ her reindeer socks on his face whilst she rode him, by squeezing Rudolph’s nose against the sides of the Xmas donkey-slave’s face! Oh how they all laughed when he, eventually, collapsed under her substantial, Haitian-girl weight – laughed, and then whipped him, for being so disrespectful towards their youngest.

· Next miss Simone, festively clad in her red and white, furry, Papa Nwèl (Santa Claus) hat, instigated a game of ‘La Maîtresse Simone dit’ – a version of ‘Simon says’, but with the slave having to remember only to obey his pretty, 23 year-old, fashion-journalist mistress’s orders when she preambled them with the French words ‘La Maîtresse Simone dit …’

‘La Maîtresse Simone dit, slave kiss my feet!’

‘La Maîtresse Simone dit, slave smell my socks!’

‘La Maîtresse Simone dit, slave be my footrest!’

‘Slave, fetch my boots!’

Oh Mon Dieu! Needless to say, slave Pwisannier, the traditional Xmas turkey, soon fell victim to forgetting the game’s cruel stipulation, since he is so used to obeying miss Simone’s curtly snapped orders, and he scurried off to fetch her black leather, chunky-heeled, round-toed, mud-stained, zip-up ankleboots from the kitchen – only to return to a severe whipping at the gleeful whip-hand of his female bidder, since he had stuffed up!

Mind you, if he had played the game by the rules, and ignored the order to fetch his mistress Simone’s boots, he’d have been whipped for that also. Either way, he was bound to lose. Ha! Ha! What a Xmas cluck!

· The rest of the family then played ‘happy slappy’ on his stupid, slave face, taking it in turns to slap him hard across both cheeks in fake anger at his sheer ineptitude when it came to playing the game ‘La Maîtresse Simone dit…’. Whilst miss Natalie was taking her turn to face-slap him, she hit upon the great idea of removing her tart-smelling (and now tart-tasting) reindeer socks from her fat feet and stuffing them inside slave Pwisannier’s gaunt mouth as a makeshift gag! Amusingly, her socks played a tinny tune every time she slapped him across the side of his rapidly reddening face, so it was probably a moment of footslave-history – the first time ever a slave has been face-slapped to the accompaniment of ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer!’

The Mondieu family were quite worn out by all this Haitian horseplay and festive frolicking with their unfortunate footslave, and so they finally banished slave Pwisannier from the cosy warmth of their living room out into the concrete cold of their back yard (his normal place of abode) where miss Simone – her black-socked feet now duly booted by the disobedient and chastened slave – tied him to his stake in the ground, and left him alone and sobbing with the outsides of his slapped cheekbones still stinging away, and her sister’s red-nosed, novelty socks still singing away, merrily inside his musical, yuletide mouth!

Ha! Ha! Ha…ppy, slappy Xmas, slave Pwisannier!