Patheticus Minimus 3D

  Introductions My new, bubbly-blonde, thirty-something deskmistress – office-mistress Barbara – is adjusting my upturned face so that it is at an angle which is comfortable for her to rest her booted feet on. She explains that her comfort is paramount whilst she is working at her desk, and that she doesn't give a damn whether or not my neck and face are in perennial pain beneath her, since she is the superior office-mistress and I am just the inferior, male footrest-slave! Can’t argue with that! She also explains that, as I am a mere lowly piece of office foot-furniture, I am never to speak unless spoken down to, and even then my conversation must only ever be about the comfort and wellbeing of my deskmistress’s feet, or indeed the feet of any other young woman who happens to be seated at mistress Barbara’s desk in her absence, since I must be totally fixated on superior, office-female feet and footwear – all the time! Dominant office-deskmistress Barbara further confirms that,

He’s back – and taking us back to Ancient Barbaria. Another classic saga of footslavery, from Slave Paul! A new sensation was sweeping like wildfire across the Gynarchy! The eminent lady Professor Juliet’s translation from Latin of ‘Servus Narrat’ (or ‘A slave’s tale’ ) had finally been published and was the new bestselling book throughout the Gynarchy! Never before had the humble work of a mere slave from ancient times been so highly appreciated by the free-female populace of the modern Female State. It was interesting for them to note that, even back in ancient history, an embondaged, male slave could not refer to himself as ‘I’! The book had originally been written by the slave, and about the slave; but in the third person. Let the torrid tale of torment from antiquity begin… CHAPTER ONE Slave Paulus and the other twenty semi-naked men lay shackled in the underground dungeon, sweating and shaking with fear for the fifth successive day in a row. If they were not chosen f

  Round 1 – Patience is a Virtue! Even though it’s chucking it down, my beautiful, young, black mistress Patience and her family are dawdling along the city pavements like there was no tomorrow, seemingly unconcerned that they are getting soaked! Mind you – they aren’t really the ones who are getting soaked, since they are well wrapped-up and protected from the wind and the rain by their heavy, winter overcoats, hoods and umbrellas. I’m the only one who is semi-naked and soaked through to the white skin, being clad only in my flimsy, white slave-shorts and heavy chains as I crawl behind my mistress Patience’s white, boxer-style, laced-up, gymnasium boots and tight, skinny, blue-denim jeans whilst she ambles along the wet pavements seemingly without a care in the world, and certainly oblivious to my maleslave suffering and discomfort behind her! But I have no right to complain about getting wet; after all, it is an honour and a privilege to be a 22 year old black girl’s personal fo

She’s such a sweetheart! Naïve and innocent, twenty-something, mixed race, regular-customer mistress Aurelia pops into my public footbooth on her way into work for a ‘quick lick and a shine’ of her plain, flat-heeled, black suede leather, lace-up, workday shoes almost every weekday morning (and sometimes also on Saturdays). She works on the tills as a check-out clerk in a nearby supermarket. She is always early – and invariably my first customer-mistress of the day – as she seems to prefer doing early shifts at the supermarket. This morning, it is particularly dark and cold outside as she pops into my booth and takes up her raised seat of shoelick-power in front of me, but her winsome, young-womanly smile soon warms the cockles of my footslave heart. She has both her grey-gloved, dainty hands wrapped around a warming cup of takeaway coffee, but, of course, she has not brought me any warm beverages, since it is illegal to feed or water a slave (only my official ‘minder-mistress’ is