The Handyman-Footslave

I am very grateful to a regular reader for sending me in this truly excellent story! Enjoy!

The Handyman-Footslave

By Slave Paul

Paul had been working as a maintenance handyman in the office block for some three years now.

The offices looked after the housing needs of the new female immigrants to the Gynarchy. Paul’s work was never routine and he liked the variety of jobs that he had to undertake as part of his employment. In particular he liked the fact that nearly all of the company employees were young women.

Out of all the female workforce however, he favoured one young and attractive girl called Jo. She was about 25 with long blonde hair and a slim figure. She was also very well educated and well-spoken as she undertook most of the senior secretarial duties that included telephone calls to important influential people within the Gynarchy. Jo would happily talk to anyone that passed by her office and was very gentle and mild mannered. Paul found this to be a very attractive trait in a young woman as he did not care too much for some of the more brash, bossy young women that worked in the organisation. Jo was most certainly in the minority!

One of Paul’s least favourite customers and regular thorn in his side was Maxine. She was the office security guard. Paul knew little about Maxine other than she lived with Jo in a small house to keep costs down, and she had been promoted sideways from the Female Police force due to her failing part of the entrance exam. She was not unattractive, built quite heavily with long mousey hair tied back in a ponytail, and she was very tall.

One of her most striking qualities was her deep, booming voice that would resonate throughout the halls and corridors of the office block. She was easy enough to talk to but, she had a one track mind and limited conversation skills. Nearly everything she talked about was somehow connected to some aspect of Gynarchy superiority and female dominance over men.

It was also quite widely known throughout the workforce that she quite fancied Paul! This was never shown in any form of affection; quite the opposite as she was constantly mocking him in public and making his job harder by continually complaining about his work as a handyman. Maxine would constantly over-exaggerate his size (he was slightly overweight) and call him ugly! She had finally asked Paul out to lunch some two months ago, but he respectfully declined. He was nervous about his act of defiance to Maxine’s will, but nothing seemed to come of it!

Paul much preferred Jo.

As time went by Paul eventually forgot about Maxine and her invitation. He was far more interested in talking to Jo and earning his wages. Maxine however was deep into planning her revenge! She was furious that she should be made to look such a fool by this inferior man! Her revenge was to be his utter downfall.

As the head security guard, Maxine looked after the master key bunch. This included the personal locker keys. All male employees of the company were subject to random searches from time to time. Maxine had acquired some anti-feminine literature from one of her friends in the Female Police force taken from the evidence safe, and planted it in Paul’s locker.

Eventually Paul’s name was pulled at random for locker and tool inspection. He was summoned by the tannoy system to the locker room. Maxine and the Head of Department, Mrs Stevens, were already there waiting. Paul opened the locker and turned its contents out onto the bench. He then began filling in work orders as this inspection was a regular occurrence.

Today however was anything other than regular! ‘What it this?’ shouted Mrs Stevens. Paul couldn’t quite see what was occurring but tried to get closer. When he could see the leaflets and male rights magazine his heart sank! This was a serious crime in the Gynarchy. It could mean life in the foothole!

Maxine turned to him and said calmly and simply ‘you were running an enormous risk; now hold out your hands’. She handcuffed him and marched him to reception. Mrs Stevens immediately fired him and called the Female Police.

Before he knew what had happened, Paul was locked into what seemed to be a medieval dungeon with all of the antique restraints and torture devices that one might have found in a museum. He had been processed by the guards in what seemed like a few seconds. His clothes were removed and bagged up for evidence, and he was given a rough hessian shirt and shorts as a basic prison uniform. It was itchy, cold and uncomfortable.

The most humiliating thing for him, however, was the big, redheaded-girl, prison officer who had searched him and then ordered him to remove his shoes and socks. She told him you will never need to wear shoes again. This was terrible for Paul as he was so shy! The redheaded girl then frog marched him into the cell and attached a heavy iron collar to his neck that was anchored to the wall by means of a heavy, rusty chain.

Two days passed, and boredom was setting in on the third day when a key was heard in the cell door. The guard left it open and in walked a young woman in her early thirties. She introduced herself as Miss Sasha, the court appointed defence lawyer. She sat on a chair that she carried in along with her case notes. She was quite plump with shoulder length golden hair. She was wearing high heels on bare feet and a short pencil skirt. She pulled down her glasses and said ‘so, you’re the one that believes in male rights then?’

‘No’, he cried out, ‘this is all wrong!’

‘Silence!’ she shouted back. ‘This is what I have prepared for your trial tomorrow. Read it and sign the bottom. You will not be allowed to speak; I shall read it to court for you. You may enter a final plea for clemency at the end.’

Paul picked up the paper sheet she had tossed carelessly on the cobblestone floor. It read,

‘I (then his full name), regretfully and shamefully plead guilty to the heinous crime of male pride, and illegally holding forbidden materials banned by the Gynarchy.’

He couldn’t believe this was happening! She then said simply

‘I will try my best for you as it is my job, but you had better prepare for the worst, prisoner!’

She gaily clicked her heels and left the cell with the signed papers. Now the trial can begin!

Paul was lead out of his cell to the shackling room where he was fitted with heavy, iron fetters - wrist, to ankle, to neck - and a heavy, iron belt. He was being treated like some kind of psychopath!

He was brought up before the courtroom filled with jeering women. Out the corner of his eye he saw Maxine! She had come to give evidence against him!

The trial did not last long, it did not need to. As Miss Sasha said before, this was now damage limitation. Maxine was most eloquent in her evidence against Paul as she had plenty of time to rehearse it. The time came for Paul to make his plea for clemency; needless to say this fell on deaf ears!

Sentence was then pronounced by the presiding lady judge:

‘Prisoner in the dock, it was my intention to sentence you to life in the foothole dungeons beneath this court!...’

A loud cheer went out from the crowds of women in the court.

‘…However’, continued the lady judge, ‘I must choose a sentence other than custody due to your previous good service within this great nation! I therefore sentence you to life as a footslave, to be served along with the following conditions:

· You shall be given mandatory training at a footslave training institution;

· Upon your passing the exams laid out in law, you be sold to a private mistress, whereupon you will be punished as seen fit by your new owner and undergo regular confinement in the public kneeling stocks!

Take him down!’

Two months later Paul was lying on his stomach in his cell wearing his ubiquitous, white, slave shorts and heavy, permanent, iron, slave collar. He bore many heavy whip marks from his training, but was progressing well.

One day following his meagre ration of gruel, he heard what he was sure was Maxine’s voice in the corridor outside the cell! She had such a distinctive voice it couldn’t be anyone else.

The key jangled in the lock and a man’s voice could be heard. In walked a solitary, scrawny looking man in a business suit. He had a clip board and tape measure in hand. Next to him stood the dreaded, redhead prison guard. Paul was terrified of her as she was very cruel and delighted in punishing and humiliating her prisoners. He dutifully kissed at her boots. She enjoyed locking him in the stocks for days on end, just because she could!

The man never said anything. He knelt down and started to measure Paul’s head. He began writing measurements down and then he left as quickly as he came. What was this?

The door locked again and Paul heard the familiar female voice again, Maxine. All was now quiet.

Another month passed, and Paul was given a certificate of completion of the basic footslave course. He expected to be put up for sale but this did not happen as planned. Instead, he found himself being lead down a passage that lead to the back door of the prison! The large, steel door opened and the daylight streamed in. Paul could just make out the outline of his now most hated adversary, Miss Maxine! Through her contacts in the Female Police she had purchased him via clandestine methods!

So this was her revenge, he thought. Her cunning ingenuity had to be praised, he thought. He also thought he should try and throttle her for ruining his life! But these rebellious feelings were now worn down by his oppressive training in prison. She simply placed forward her right anklebooted foot and smiled. So this was it, the pivotal moment for her feminine ego! Her toes wriggled with ecstasy as Paul proceeded to kiss her uniform, black leather ankleboot.

After some ten minutes of this humiliation her only words were ‘in to the car slave’. She drove him back to the house she shared with Jo! He was so embarrassed; Jo was going to see him as a semi-naked slave covered in whip marks, being humiliated by Maxine’s feet! The shame would be too much to bear! The car arrived and Paul was unceremoniously lead into the house by his new mistress.

Once inside she sat down on the couch in front of him. She then proceeded to relay her well planned rhetoric to him:

‘Slave, I now own you body and soul. You had the chance to be more than a mere slave, and chose this path instead! I shall make you suffer publically and privately for this. And I will enjoy watching you serve me in front of Miss Jo, too!’

She then did something quite unexpected, and said, ‘Slave look upon my face this last time. I want you to know who did this to you! You will be my 24/7 footslave and think only of my feet. You will also tend Miss Jo’s feet, but never remove her socks! You will only ever see my bare feet from now on, and they will be your constant companion! I know of your feelings for Miss Jo and I don’t want her to know it’s you who are now my personal slave. I also know that she had feelings for you once! Ha, that’s all over now! I shall therefore be fitting you with a permanent, rubber slave hood/mask. I have personally designed it for you to humiliate and degrade you, and hide your identity!’

So, he thought, that is what the man and the tape measure was for!

Oh no, not the mask he said to himself; anything but that!

She then bent down and produced the dreaded mask that was currently fitted over a plastic mannequin head. It was mainly black, with long yellow ears and a blue pig-shaped snout. The eye slits were red and had zipper fastenings over them, and the mouth was downturned and luminous green. This had a special flap that could be sealed with a small suitcase lock. The mask had large words in white, latex rubber emblazoned on it. They read:

Male slave-socks-toejam-fear-sniff-torture-stocks-nail clippings.

Maxine then pointed out that she had a liking for long toenails, and that it would be Paul’s job to maintain them at all times they were not in her boots! She then asked if slave Paul liked the mask.

He was about to answer ‘yes Mistress’, when she said, ‘tough if you don’t, as I am going to fit it to you permanently now anyway!’

The mask was then pulled roughly over his head and a small lock was then fastened at the base of his skull. A strong smell of latex rubber filled his senses along with a feeling of claustrophobia! She then sat back to examine the mask and burst out laughing:

‘What a fool you look!’ she said.

Once she had finished laughing at him she continued her rehearsed script:

‘Slave you will address me as Master at all times, or Master Maxine; never Mistress! Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Master Maxine,’ he replied.

‘You may refer to Miss Jo as Mistress Jo from now on. And I shall be calling you ‘Prisoner slave pig’. I reserve the right to punish and torture you whenever I feel like it. This was the main reason I did not make the entrance grade of the Female Police, I don’t know when to stop punishing or correcting poor helpless male individuals like you. But now I own you that is not a problem is it?’

‘No, Master,’ was his only reply. Paul felt like crying. Maxine then went on to say that her new slave will also be ‘getting to grips’ with some of her antique restraint collection as part of his new routine. He did not quite know what to make of this comment, so simply retorted ‘Yes, Master’.

Maxine then jumped to her feet and walked swiftly to the reclining arm chair and collapsed into it. At the base of the arm chair was a lever that caused the recliner to drop backwards and elevate her booted feet. She then clicked her fingers and said ‘what are you waiting for, Prisoner Slave Pig?’

Paul took this as the signal to begin his humble servitude. He crawled over to her feet and quickly began showering her feet with fevered kisses. He noticed the heavy caulking around the seams of the boots caused by years of applying polish; these uniform boots have obviously seen lots of wear he thought! Then came the order he had been dreading:

‘Slave remove my boots and sniff!’

She further commented, ‘I have been wearing these socks for five days now and I know that you are going to love this!’

Paul was not so convinced however. He used his teeth to slowly draw the zip on her ankleboots down, and then worked them off with his masked face. Once the boots were off the stench was overpowering! Worse still was the visual condition of her socks. They were blackish and had signs of heavy wear and numerous tears. Specifically around the toe areas of the socks, as her longish nails were beginning to protrude through the towelling material.

He began audibly sniffing, as ordered by his new master and tormentress. After a few minutes he felt physically sick. This was not the affect that Miss Maxine was experiencing; she was in a state of deep ecstasy!

After more time had elapsed, she ordered her socks to be removed and her feet to be freshened up. This was his most feared chore; he would now be fully degraded in full view of his new owner. As the socks came off he could see the black lines of toejam under her nails that protruded at least a ¼” past the tops of her toes. He paused momentarily to gather strength but Maxine simply shoved her right foot unceremoniously into his mouth, grazing his lips as she did so.

He was forced to spend the afternoon cleaning her feet with his mouth and using his teeth to clean under her nails. She finally ordered him to stop at around 5pm.

Miss Maxine then ordered her new slave to get the black nail polish out from under the chair and begin painting her nails. Once this latest task was completed to her satisfaction she merely got up and said ‘follow me to the kitchen, as I have to prepare dinner for myself and Miss Jo as she will be home in half an hour!’ This filled him with utter despair! What if Miss Jo recognised him? Would she taunt and deride him as Master Maxine does? He couldn’t stop thinking these terrible thoughts.

A small time passed, and the front door opened and in walked Miss Jo.

Master Maxine was still preparing their meal. She clicked her fingers to the new slave signalling for him to follow her out of the kitchen. Moments later Miss Jo was introduced to the new guest, ‘Prisoner Slave Pig’. She recoiled in shock and temporary disgust at the hideous mask!

I must look ridiculous, thought Paul!

After Jo calmed down she too began to laugh at the slave’s silly features. She turned to Miss Maxine and said:

‘I see all of that money you spent on his mask was worth it, then?’

Both girls resumed their laughter and mocking of the new slave.

Paul was then ordered into the living room to remove Miss Jo’s shoes and kiss her feet. He felt fearful, yet slightly excited, as he had never been this close to her before! Jo was wearing black leather ballet flats with grey cotton ankle socks under her business trouser suit. Paul lifted her foot slightly and made several slow kisses to the toe area of each shoe. Miss Jo then said:

‘You may take them off now, Mr Slave.’

He couldn’t believe his luck! She was still the kind, caring girl he knew all those months ago!

He removed her shoes and began kissing her socks as ordered until dinner was served by Master Maxine. Her feet smelled very slightly of perspiration, but nothing like Maxine’s feet! Jo simply leant over and calmly said:

‘Remove my socks now as my feet are hot and sticky please.’

Paul began complying with her kind request, and then remembered Master Maxine’s words ‘You will also tend Miss Jo’s feet but never remove her socks! You will only ever see my bare feet from now on and they will be your constant companion!’

He felt he must kindly deny the young lady’s request:

‘Please, Mistress Jo, this humble slave is not permitted to remove your socks, sweet and merciful Mistress Jo.’

She sat back in the chair and span round to slap him hard across the face:

SLAP!

‘That will teach you to do as you are told, slave filth!’

She then left to enjoy her meal with Master Maxine.

What an utter fool he felt and now he had upset Miss Jo too! He began sobbing softly into the now vacant shoes of Miss Jo. When the two girls returned some time later, Master Maxine climbed into the recliner once again. Her feet were thrust up into the air and her soles were now facing Paul again. She examined the dirt on her bare, formerly white, soles and barked down to him:

‘Clean them, Prisoner Slave Pig!’

Miss Maxine eventually tired of this attention, and turned to Mistress Jo who was curled up on the sofa and said softly:

‘I’m going to bed now; see you in the morning’.

Paul thought that this would be a good time to get to know Mistress Jo and make up for his bad manners earlier. Maxine, however, simply grabbed at his slave collar and dragged him to her bedroom.

Once inside the lights were put on over her bed. At the foot of her bed the blankets were neatly stacked up. She threw them to the floor by the slave and remarked:

‘Well, what are you waiting for, pig?’

He did not understand; surely the blankets were not for his benefit?

She pointed her long slender fingers at the foot of the bed. When he looked closer he could see what she meant. An ingenious set of stocks were fitted as part of the foot of the bed. He would be forced to sit up in the stocks with his feet pointing to the head of the bed. Master Maxine would then be able to shove her feet into his face all night if she wished! This girl had gone to so much effort, it was astonishing!

Once his neck and arms were secured in the heavy, wooden contraption she placed her feet inches away from his face so he could see the undersides of her black, lacquered nails, and catch the smell from her foot bacteria that was still overpowering even after his earlier freshening attempts. The night passed slowly for Paul, and it was very uncomfortable being locked in the stocks. He hated the stocks when he was in prison, and the guards knew that!

The next day Maxine finally awoke. It must have been Saturday, as she slept in and had no work. She finally liberated her slave from the stocks and ordered him to crawl to the living room.

Mistress Jo was already there with her socked feet up on the couch wearing her pyjamas. Master Maxine was still barefoot and drinking coffee from her favourite mug.

The girls sat for a while discussing what they were going to do today. It was very warm, as Master Maxine was sweating already. Paul too was sweating, but mainly from the uncomfortable mask he had permanently fitted to his face. He wondered if he would ever get used to it. One thing was for sure, he would have plenty of time to try and grow accustomed to the smell and heat of the rubber mask!

Eventually both girls went their separate ways to go shopping and do their chores etc, but not before giving Prisoner Slave Pig his orders. He had to mouth wash two dozen pairs of old, manky socks from both girls before they returned or he would be severely whipped!

When the girls finally returned, when the sun had gone down, they were pleased with the slave’s sock-cleaning efforts. Nonetheless, Master Maxine gave him the harshest whipping he had ever received!

Later that evening both of the girls were having their feet sniffed and worshipped by Paul (Jo still wearing her socks of course) when Master Maxine suddenly exclaimed:

‘Slave, whose feet are more enjoyable to worship? Mine, or Mistress Jo’s?’

Oh no, he thought; either way he loses!

He knew what to expect, but decided to say Mistress Jo, because firstly he still had a soft spot for her, and secondly Master Maxine would be insulted in front of her friend! This would be a mini victory for him!

‘Begging your pardon Master, but this slave is drawn more towards the beautiful feet of Mistress Jo, if it so pleases you Master’.

WHACK!

Master Maxine was swift; he did not see her move!

However it had the desired effect. Miss Jo was giggling to herself at Paul’s humble and feeble response! Maxine however simply bent down so close he could smell her breath, and not her feet, for a change and said:

‘Well, you won’t be sleeping in the stocks tonight slave!’

Was this some kind of reward for being honest, he thought naively?

As soon as bed time came around, however, all was made clear. He was dragged into Maxine’s room again and told what to expect in great detail. How she loved her work!

‘Slave, I am going to lock you into the cravat tonight! You will soon know what true agony is, boy!’

She produced a set of steel bars and dropped them to the floor saying:

‘One cravat for Sir’.

A ‘cravat’ is another name for the ‘Scavenger’s daughter’ torture device used in the middle ages. It consists of a collar attached to metal bars that hold loops for the hands to be clamped 12” below the chin. From here the bars extend down to the prisoner’s ankles, that are held captive in half loops of steel. The whole apparatus is secured by a solitary, chunky padlock. This is what she meant about the antique restraints!

Once Paul was secured she went on to describe the process to him:

‘You will become your own torturer, as your body weight slowly presses down on your inferior, male sensitive area! You will be screaming after the first two hours or so, and I will not let you out until the morning. As I want to get some sleep, I will be gagging you with my old gym socks and zipping your mouth shut for the night, slave!’

This done, she then sat on the bed and rubbed her feet into the hapless prisoner’s face. Sweat was already forming on his aching back from the cruel and unusual confinement.

Eventually Master Maxine got up and put on a pair of ballet flats over her bare feet and turned to the prisoner to say:

‘I’m going out to buy some wine so I can get drunk and watch you suffer! HA!’

As she left the room Mistress Jo crept in to see what became of Prisoner Slave Pig. She let out a girlish laugh and said:

‘Oh you poor thing, I would let you out if I knew where the key was!’

How kind can one girl be?

She bent down to unzip the gag section of the footfool mask and took out the now very damp socks. She sat on the bed and said:

‘Would you like to suck my socks for a while, slave, to relieve some of the pain?’

‘Yes please, Mistress,’ was the response.

She allowed him to do just that, while still wearing her sock on her pretty little foot. She then remarked:

‘I bet you would rather be in the horrid old stocks, wouldn’t you slave?’

‘Oh yes, Mistress, this humble slave now fully appreciates the humbling power of the stocks most kind and merciful Mistress Jo’, was his response.

Jo responded:

‘I thought you would say that, Paul! ...’

What did she just say? .. She used his real name! Did she know it was him, after all, even with this terrible mask?

‘Oh you fool,’ she chirped. ‘Haven’t you worked it out yet? I was the one that kept you talking while Miss Maxine planted that anti-feminist material in your locker! You utter footfool, now we own you for life. A life of stocks, socks and terrible shocks!’

The End.