The Footpool Fool
The Footpool Fool
By Slave Paul
I am truly grateful to Patheticus for kindly allowing me to borrow so heavily from his original story ‘Sentenced to Footslavery’. It remains my favourite story and the first I ever read on this site!
The great Gynarchy state was undergoing a boom in tourism of late. As a fully independent country, the populus enjoyed the freedom to trade all over the world and was becoming more prosperous by the day. The local currency (The Fem) had a high value and went a long way in all of the towns and villages.
An influx of tourists and migrants was adding to the overall wealth and prosperity of the glorious feminist dictatorship. Even free men were now allowed to visit the country as long as they purchased a non-working visa costing 100F from the town council where they were staying. The tourist brochures guarantee a good restful time with plenty of slave minions to do all of the work for the care free, happy go lucky tourist! In truth, things were oftentimes so relaxing and trouble free for the visitors (especially male ones) that mistakes were made!
One such common mistake was forgetting to renew ones ‘Male non-working visa’! It was an easy enough mistake to make - some poor chap enjoying the opulence of a marble clad, five star hotel with his girlfriend, lost in a world of delight! The last thing anyone would remember is to check the visa expiry date on a long or extended stay!
Unfortunately for Paul, however, that is exactly what happened!
His girlfriend Jan was the responsible one who took care of all of the travel arrangements and details. He was famed for being a bit of an absent minded boob at home! To make things worse, women were, obviously, exempt from having to carry a visa, so Jan had nothing to remember!
It was an innocent mistake and one that the couple hoped to sort tomorrow. The back of the visa card read:
‘Failure to re-new this visa is viewed as a serious offence. Offenders should report with all travel documents and this visa to the local female police station as soon as possible!’
They decided that, as they had booked an extra five days and were already three days over the visa limit, it would not hurt to leave it for the rest of today and report to the police to buy an extension tomorrow morning after the pre-paid, adventure excursion to the slave theme park.
The rest of the day went extremely well; the slave theme park was a real laugh! All of those foolish-looking slaves giving rides and providing humiliating entertainment for the masses was such a thrill! The couple settled down for another evening of fine dining in the delightful hotel.
Dawn rose on the last day of the vacation. Jan and Paul enjoyed the breakfast in bed that they ordered the night before. They got ready to leave the hotel for the police station to sort out the misunderstanding. Jan had booked one extra night as a special deal so that they could leave the bags in the room while they enjoyed the last day’s sightseeing. The plan was to get the police station out of the way early and make the most of the last day.
The taxi driver made good time through the busy, town traffic and they were deposited outside the foreboding-looking female police station. As they entered the marble clad lobby of the law enforcement centre, they were greeted by the desk Sergeant. She was a smiley faced individual with a slim face and auburn hair tucked up under the rim of her uniform cap. She cheerily greeted the free couple and said:
‘Good morning Madam and Sir; welcome to the Femina five station! How may I be of assistance?’
Being the responsible one, Jan stepped forward with all of the papers and handed them over explaining:
‘It’s a trivial thing really; my silly boyfriend forgot to renew his visa thing, Miss!’
The police officer examined the documents and then turned to the calendar. Her cheery expression turned sour very quickly:
‘This visa is nearly five days overdue! We normally allow a maximum of 24 hours, with a hefty fine added! I will have to get my commanding officer!’
She spun on her office chair and clicked her heels as she marched off to summon assistance.
A short while later, the couple were evidently unaware that the police Captain had entered the lobby, as they were sharing a joke together. Jan had remarked that Paul’s vacation may end by breaking rocks or cleaning dishes in the slave theme park HA!
A loud cough filled the room and echoed around the polished marble walls:
‘I am Captain Bennett. My Sergeant tells me that you are five days overdue for renewal?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m afraid that is correct,’ stammered Jan. ‘You see, we were having such a good time that we simply forgot….’
‘Enough, Madam! Does the man not have the ability to speak for himself?’
Paul stood looking at the weasel-faced Captain who stood taller even than him. She had mousey brown hair and an evil expression. Her uniform was clad in medals and colourful lanyards denoting her high rank and importance. He began to formulate a sentence apologising for his tardiness:
‘I am sorry for accidentally breaking your laws mam, and will happily pay any fines that I may have incurred!’
‘Too late for that, I’m afraid! You went beyond that point two days ago! We now have no option but to arrest you!’
Jan interjected at this latest revelation:
‘No! You cannot be serious? It was an accident and we are more than able to pay!’
‘It’s out of our control; he committed a category two offence and will have to face trial as a result. You must submit, or sign a legal document swearing never to return to the Gynarchy! The choice is yours!’
Paul was busy reaching inside his top pocket for the pen to sign the contract. Jan hastily pulled his hand aside and whispered loudly:
‘This was the best time I have ever had! I am not going to sign that document. Don’t worry, we will sort it out. I will get a lawyer onto it straight away. It’s all a complete farce!’
Paul was still for signing the document, however without Jan’s signature it would be meaningless!
He stood looking tearfully at her, waiting for her next act.
‘Okay Mam, you can take him in!’
What?! The formerly happy-faced, young girl came marching towards him clutching a heavy, old fashioned pair of handcuffs! Paul recoiled in terror, but was guided roughly into the restraint by the Sergeant!
‘You may both sit together for a while before we lock your partner away’.
They made their way to the wooden bench and perched themselves next to each other. Paul’s heart was still racing from the bizarre experience. He had never been in restraints before and it was not a good feeling!
‘What’s it like?’ asked the naïve Jan.
‘This is ridiculous! It must be some kind of joke, or something!’
‘No joke!’ replied Jan, fingering the wrist shackles. ‘These are real enough!’
She sat there grinning sarcastically before muttering:
‘Maybe you will end up as a convict after all? HA!’
She was mesmerised by the wrist restraints he was wearing and not by the incredible predicament they found themselves in.
It was too much for Paul to take in:
‘So, what happens now, then?’ shouted a very nervous Paul to the Sergeant filling in forms at the desk.
‘Well sir, firstly we search you and remove any dangerous objects. Then we remove certain items of your clothing for safety, and then you will be confined to a below ground security cell until we can get you off to court. I do not fancy your chances, mister!’
Paul was still perplexed as to why Jan would not simply sign the papers. He looked to his right, just in time to see Jan standing up to move towards the desk Sergeant:
‘Excuse me miss, can I have a look at his cell before I go?’
What was this for? She seemed to be concerned for Paul’s wellbeing after all?
The strange request was granted, and a little while later the Sergeant and Jan returned to the lobby. Jan walked over to Paul and kissed him on the forehead saying:
‘I think you will be safe enough, but you will certainly be cold for the next few days. BRRR, it’s freezing down there! Take care and I will sort everything out before the trial!’
With that she simply stood up and left! Sadly, Paul could not do the same!
‘Right then, let’s get you searched and secured!’
Following the humiliating body search, he was lead to the cell that had been selected for him. The corridor was a pure white, plaster-covered maze with small metal doors and bolts. The floor was painted with shiny green, gloss paint. Once the bolts were opened for his cell he was thrust inside with some force by the officer!
She spun him round and put her hands around his waist! She began un-buckling his belt and roughly pulled it through the loops of his trousers. She then bent down and removed both of his boots before spinning him round to face her and violently pushing him away! As he tumbled backwards the backs of his legs hit the bunk bed and he fell into a seated position. The Sergeant just pointed at his socks and made a gesture with her fingers to say OFF WITH THEM!
He could hardly refuse her!
He peeled his own socks off and passed them to the officer who casually threw them through the still open door with his other belongings. As she turned to leave she pointed for the first time at her own footwear, and smiled! He noticed her highly-shined, black leather, flat-heeled, zip-up ankleboots. (He wished he was wearing them, as the cold was taking effect!).
She then made a path for the door. Paul shouted loudly:
‘What about these handcuffs, then?’
The reply that came did not even require the guard to turn and face her charge:
‘Yes, what about them? HA!’
SLAM!! The door was sealed shut.
Five cold, lonely days passed by agonisingly slowly!
The door finally opened with an inrush of what felt to him like warm, fresh air. The light from the corridor was blinding!
He must have looked a real mess by now. He had not shaved or showered for nearly a week. His face was dirty and the soles of his feet were blackened by their enforced exposure.
Paul had assumed that the visitor would be his girlfriend, Jan, returning to announce that she had given up and was going to sign the contract stating they would never return.
No such luck!
A very attractive, young, blonde girl walked in wearing a pinstripe suit and black, stiletto-heeled shoes with tan-coloured nylons.
‘Hi, I am the defence lawyer ordered by your girlfriend. My name is Clarissa.’
They were allowed to speak for some time with the door open and no guard present. Paul explained his predicament to her as she wrote everything down on her clipboard.
‘Don’t worry, this seems simple enough. I am sure we will get an acquittal’.
The court hearing was scheduled for tomorrow morning. Clarissa had instructed that Paul was to be given access to a shower and allowed to appear in court fully clothed and free from his restraints, as he was a first time offender. This certainly pleased Paul. At long last things were looking up!
As the appointed hour in court loomed, Paul was at last released from the cell and brought up into the light. Only at the last moment did the cruel desk Sergeant remove his fetters in full view of the court. This was so very humiliating!
He could just make out his girlfriend Jan in the Audience gallery; she was sitting with someone else! It looked like a well-dressed man in a suit! Maybe it was her lawyer, he thought?
The court was called to order and the charges read out to the stunned audience. Over the next hour, following his obvious guilty plea, the defence and prosecution argued over the case, attempting to increase and decrease the severity of any sentence passed. The lady Judge called for a brief recess to allow a small break.
As Paul was unable to leave because of his guilty plea, he simply sat with Clarissa and looked on hopefully, awaiting Jan to make her way over. For some reason she did not.
As Paul sat puzzling over this point, a very attractive young lady made her way over to the box. She was wearing some kind of informal-looking uniform that he felt sure he recognised. She was also wearing a tatty pair of converse sneakers on her highly tanned, bare feet! The two did not fit together.
Her hair was tied up in a neat bun on top of her pretty head. Her face was framed with a very attractive pair of designer, black, thick rimmed glasses.
‘Hi Clarissa, is this the one you were talking about, then?’
Oh hello, Jessica! Yes, this is Paul’.
Paul was in a bit of a daze still, and jumped to his feet to greet and shake hands with the young lady who he assumed was involved in his defence in some way?
‘Paul this is Jessica Adams. She has come over from the next town to meet you!’
‘Hello Jessica. Nice to meet you,’ said Paul nervously. He did not want to look like he was flirting in full view of his girlfriend, seated in the public gallery!
‘Nice to meet you too, Paul. I bet you are a bag of nerves, aren’t you?’
‘You haven’t a clue!’ he replied shakily, with a nervous laugh.
He looked at Clarissa with a blank expression, awaiting a more detailed introduction.
‘Oh sorry Paul, I forgot; Jessica is your potential new Mistress!’
‘Oh I see! I thought…. WHAT?’
‘Assuming you are sentenced to slavery, which is looking more likely now I’m afraid, Jessica has reserved you as her footslave! You see, things are expanding so fast in the Gynarchy that we have not got enough footslaves for Mistresses!’
Jessica smiled and looked at Paul saying:
‘No offence, but I hope it is a long sentence! I have been offered a full-time reps job here, you see?’
That is what the uniform was! She was a Teresa Cook holiday rep! The same company he had booked up with!
Jessica was very polite, and shook his hand once again, saying:
‘I hope you’ll like my smelly old converse sneakers if we end up together? I got them a year ago in the local market. They are replicas though, and make my feet sweat a lot, I’m sorry to say! Anyway, good luck with the case!’
How bizarre! He had been introduced to his possible future mistress in such a casual manner, it seemed like a joke! And what was all this about ‘footslavery’?
He did not have long to wait. The court was being re-convened!
Moments later it was all over. The presiding lady Judge wasted little time in announcing her sentence:
‘I have absolutely no hesitation in announcing to the court that I hereby sentence you to footslavery for life! Take him away this instant!’
It had not registered fully on his foolish, male mind the full implication of the lady’s last verbal sentence! He was being dragged down below the court by two heavy-set, female guards. The door was very close to the public gallery, and this allowed Paul a brief glimpse of his soon to be ex-girlfriend.
Fortunately for her, the smart man in the suit was doing his very best to console her of her loss. He was locked in a loving embrace with her!
She seemed to be taking this all very well indeed, thought Paul?
Miss Clarissa simply stacked her papers saying:
‘You can’t win ’em all! HA!’
Meanwhile the steel gate was being slid open by the third guard from the police station. The sound of scraping metal was signalling his impending doom!
Once he was unceremoniously dragged below the court, and down the antique limestone steps to the subterranean maze of dungeons and holding cells, everything became too much for him! He was on the verge of passing out!
He was forced into a room facing two female officers who were standing behind some kind of lectern. One of them was reading the piece of paper that had been handed to her:
‘So, it’s life as a footslave for you, then?’
He simply couldn’t answer her in his state of shock! The chubby-faced, auburn-haired girl simply smiled back and put her signature on the page.
‘Ok boy, strip off! Get a move on! We need to get you to the next stage!’
He stumbled around pulling his clothes off and dropping them to the floor. He stood facing the giggling girls wearing only his underpants and socks.
‘I did not say stop, boy! Pants and socks too! What do you think this is? Some kind of tanning salon?’
The girls erupted into laughter at this point. The humiliation was unbearable!
As he stood there shivering and attempting to hide his modesty, the elder of the two female guards finally tossed a set of flimsy, white, cotton slave shorts to the floor for him to put on. The younger girl was busy gathering his old belongings and forcing them into a bag marked for incineration.
‘Well, that is better! You are starting to look more like a convict now! Let us get you through to the next stage!’
He was dragged by the two women into the next room. A very large, curly-haired, middle-aged woman was standing in the centre of the almost empty chamber. She was standing bolt upright, with her arms folded across her immense girth. Her uniform sleeves were rolled up revealing a very impressive set of tattoos. They all had one thing in common - male oppression and suffering in the wake of female dominance!
The scary looking woman winked at Paul, and then stood to one side revealing what looked at first to be a very large set of nut crackers, crossed with pincers, and anchored firmly to the floor! Paul was forced to the floor and his hands were cuffed behind him.
Panic started to fill his system; what was happening? His right leg was woman-handled into a position where his foot was being forced through the centre of the pincer mechanism! Then the large woman grabbed violently at the arm of the pincers and started to crush down on the nut-cracker frame!
They were cutting off his right foot!
He screwed his eyes shut, and turned away ready for the pain!...................... Nothing!
He opened his eyes moments later to reveal his foot still attached!
He thought it was some cruel joke, until the hefty woman pulled up on the pincer arm to reveal that it was not a cutting machine after all. Paul’s ankle had been forced through an iron hoop connected to a rusty chain, and pressed shut tight around his ankle! His left ankle was soon subjected to the same process, and moments later he was secured in inescapable, permanent, leg irons!
From here he was finally dragged off to his cell! As he was being bundled in by yet more strangers, he had some paper forced into the palm of his hand as the shackles were snapped shut around both wrists. The door to the cell was being locked shut.
After a very un-masculine crying session, he finally dried his eyes and began reading the paper. It was so old it was originally written on a typewriter and had been copied out many thousands of times since on a copy machine. It read:
‘Information for Males Sentenced to Footslavery.
You have been sentenced by the Courts to footslavery for life. The decision of the Courts is final. There is no right of appeal against this decision and no remission.
The purpose of this leaflet is to help you adjust to this new reality and to explain how your life will be from now on until the day you die.
You must begin by realising that you are no longer a free male with human rights. You are now nothing more than a lowly slave and will be regarded as such by everyone you encounter. Whoever and whatever you may have been in the past is now irrelevant. You no longer have a name and will be addressed by everyone as ‘slave’ or ‘footslave’. For your part you will be required, henceforth, to address every free human being as either ‘master’ or ‘mistress’.
Moreover, as a male footslave in particular, you are regarded as the lowliest of all slaves – fit only to serve the feet of superior women. You must come to terms with this fact both physically and psychologically.
Physically you will be living your life from now on on your hands and knees. You will never be permitted to walk upright again, but will instead spend the rest of your life either crawling or lying at the feet of your female betters.
You will be kept shackled at all times and will shortly be fitted with a heavy wooden collar known as a ‘cangue’. The purpose of the cangue is to keep your head bowed at all times as is befitting in a footslave.
You must concentrate at all times on the feet and footwear of those mistresses with whom you come into contact. You are no longer permitted to look a woman in the eye, or to raise your head above a superior woman’s knees.
Psychologically you must accept your new lot with humility and resignation, as befits a slave. Be under no illusions; the female guards and trainers in your prison will ensure your compliance with the use of corporal punishment if necessary. Their role is to prepare you for your new existence as a footslave and they will be successful in this role. Failure to co-operate with your allocated guards and trainer will merely prolong your stay in prison and result in you experiencing a great deal of unnecessary pain.
Your allocated trainer is …….Mistress Orlessa ……. and she will introduce herself to you within the next few days. Your trainer will be the one to decide when you are fit to be released from prison in order to serve as a footslave in the community. It is very much in your own interests to show complete and total submission towards your allocated trainer as you will be completely in her power throughout the period of your confinement in this prison.
Upon your release from prison you will be put up for auction as a footslave in the male slave market. This will result in one of the following:
• You may be purchased by the state in order to serve as a public footslave in one of the town squares or in the lobby of a public building; or
• You may be purchased by a private company to serve as a footslave in an office or private building; or
• You may be purchased as a personal footslave by an individual mistress X
Whatever the outcome you must come to terms with the fact that you will have no say in your future fate and can be bought and sold at any time by your female masters and betters.
Your trainer will explain to you in more detail the nature of the training you are about to undergo. Suffice it to say that by the end of your training you will be familiar with all aspects of how to serve a lady’s feet and footwear, and you will know the meaning of pain, humiliation and degradation. It is only through this harsh regime that you can be properly prepared for the wretched existence of permanent slavery at the feet of superior women.
For now, you must observe the following rules at all times. Failure to comply will result in severe punishment:
1. You must not speak unless you are spoken to
2. You must obey without question every order given to you by the female guards and trainers
3. You must look only at the feet of all those women with whom you come into contact whilst in prison
4. You must remember at all times that you are now nothing more than a lowly footslave.’
What the hell has just happened? he thought in a deep state of terror and confusion!
He looked around his bare cell. He was the only thing in it, except for the chains that bound his wrists to the far wall, and a large, imposing, wooden chair in the centre of the room. Unfortunately Paul’s wrist shackles were too short to allow him access to the comfy-looking chair. He had to make do with the cold concrete floor of the dusty cell!
Several hours later he could hear the keys jangling in the cell door lock! He got to his knees remembering the words on the leaflet!
The door screeched open to reveal two quite comely maidens! The sort of women that he would have been all too happy to flirt with, before his ill-fated vacation that is!
The first girl was tall and slim, with blonde hair tied back in a strict ponytail.
The second girl was much shorter and quite well rounded. She had shorter, brown hair but was dressed in the same uniform as the first girl.
They were both wearing the standard, Gynarchy prison-officer uniform of dark-navy jacket and pleated, knee length skirt. They wore Sam Browne belts around their waist, with foreboding-looking, leathery, punishment straps suspended from them!
Both girls wore identical footwear also. They had flat-heeled, polished black, knee-high, leather, zip-up boots covering their now all too important feet! Paul had never been so close to a girl’s footwear before!
The blonde officer was the first to speak:
‘You will always kiss our boots as we enter and leave your cell, slave. Is that clear?’
The first person to ever call him ‘slave’!
He stammered a forced reply:
‘YYYYYes, madam!’
‘Yes Mistress, fool!’
Whack!
A shaft of searing, stinging pain went across his naked shoulder.
‘OWWW! Sorry Mistress!’
He lowered his lips for the very first time to the dusty caps of her boot. As he laid on several penitent kisses, he could feel her feminine toes wriggling inside with delight! She must have been satisfied, as she replaced this foot with the other one for more of the same worship!
If truth be told, Paul was so full of emotion at this stage, that he could not even remember this act of servitude!
The shorter, more rounded girl laughed at his discomfort following the lash and chirped:
‘We have come to fit you with your new cangue, slave boy! Oh what joy this will be! HA!’
The young officers loved this part, as the shock to the feeble prisoner’s system was immense, from the moment he first claps eyes on the device, right up to when it is snapped shut around his scrawny neck!
The dark-haired girl had stepped out to collect the cangue, laughing and mocking as she did so. It was so heavy, she needed help from her colleague in order to steady the contraption beneath the kneeling slave’s face!
He examined the wooden collar in silent awe. It must have been nearly four inches thick, made of dense, dark brown wood with a cold metal strip running around the outside edge. The front had the words:
‘Convicted footslave prisoner No 45887’
engraved into it and accentuated in a humiliating luminous pink stain for all to see!
The podgy girl then went on to explain that:
‘This is one of the fancy new cangues that has an internal locking device! The old cangues had hefty padlocks, which could be cut off by escaping slaves on the run. This new version has these sprung-loaded prongs that will permanently anchor the two halves together! HA! You had better hope I do not catch your scruff in the closure, boy, or you will be in trouble! Now hold still!’
The blonde officer had now gone behind him to steady his head by pulling tightly on his hair. He drew a deep breath and swallowed (probably the last time he would swallow so freely!)
The cangue was closed around his neck, and the larger of the two guards had to bash the top of the device with her well-padded palm in order to engage the locking prongs effectively! Once the prongs went so far into the internal metal socket, the halves were quickly pulled together with immense force making a sound like a clapper board! It would have easily crushed any dainty, feminine fingers not quick enough on the retreat! Never mind the slave’s neck!
The immense weight was only fully apparent when the beautiful, blonde guard released his hair, allowing the cangue to do its evil work! The couple laughed at their impotent charge cowering on the floor, with his head barely able to move. The blonde officer helpfully pointed out that the cangue was of regulation dimensions, so would fit nicely into the many Gynarchy town pillories if he was ever released from this prison!
The pair stood back to examine their handy work.
The chubby officer exclaimed loudly:
‘Do you like your new necklace slave? Is it comfortable? Would you like to take it off? How does it fit slave? HA!’
“Begging your pardon, oh great Mistress, but this slave has to report that the new necklace is extremely tight, and has several rough edges that are grinding against the neck of the slave, oh great Mistress, if it so pleases you?”
‘That’s great! It is a good fit then! It is supposed to hurt you, fool! You are meant to be suffering in this dungeon; it is not a holiday camp! You do not get a choice in your jewellery and accessories anymore! HA! But look on the bright side dork - it really suits you, and makes you look totally oppressed and pathetic! Just try and take it off; go on!’
The newly collared slave slowly felt his way round the rough, wooden contraption for the locking device, but none could be found! Panic was setting in already; he could not even fit his fingers in between the rough wood and his neck, as it was such a tight and uncomfortable, restrictive fit!
The chubby Mistress particularly enjoyed watching the panic set in and his futile attempts at removing the, now permanent, wooden necklace from his entombed neck! She grinned a wide, tooth-filled smile and said:
‘So, you will enjoy wearing our little present, from us to you, for the rest of your miserable, pathetic, female-foot-filled life, then, slave?’
He had no choice but to respond coyly:
‘Yes Mistress. This slave is truly privileged to wear such a heavy and humbling, wooden necklace, oh powerful and feared foot-mistress!’
This made them both erupt with un-controllable laughter!
‘Oh Lucy,’ said the blonde, ‘I think he will be our best yet! He knows his place already!’
The chubby officer breathlessly panted:
‘Oh yes, Shelly! I think he’s a natural! What a dork - I bet he even likes the smell of our feet! What a dirty pervert!’
After the girls had calmed down sufficiently to be able to further interrogate their new convict on the wing, Miss Lucy, as she was now known, went on to ask several mockingly-silly questions:
‘So, slave, do you like the smell of festering socks and putrid toejam? Do you like the idea of licking in between a woman’s sticky toes, until all of that crap is inside your achingly empty belly? Does it turn you on?... Well?’
He did not realise he had to answer her!!
‘Oh, begging your pardon most powerful mistress, but this slave has never had the experience of smelling a woman’s socks before, if it so pleases you Mistress? This humble, contrite slave realises that this is an inestimable privilege, to be allowed to even contemplate this sort of action on a superior female, oh great Mistress!’
This obsequious bleating had the effect of yet more spontaneous laughter and hysterics from his female captors! It had the desired effect, they actually quite liked him!
‘Well, Mr Slave,’ chirped Miss Lucy, ‘would you like to have a good old whiff of my socks then?
‘Oh, yes please, most feared and respected mistress Lucy, if it so pleases you?’
This was a risk - using her name; but, again, he seemed to be able to walk on water at the moment! Only one lash of the punishment strap so far!
Miss Lucy then announced, with great delight, that she had been wearing the same socks inside her leather boots for some three days non-stop! Miss Shelly commented that she did notice the pungent aroma in the changing room this morning? Miss Lucy’s only response was a beaming smile directed at the slave. Fortunately for him, the cangue was doing such a good job, he could not see her evil smile above him!
She plonked herself into the chair and fingered the boot-zipper:
‘Come on then, slave!’
It was hard for him to reach the tops of her boots, without being able to look up! He finally found the zipper and had to pull hard to get the boots off.
Her chubby, white calves were revealed, drenched in sweat. Moreover, her inner footwear was now on show too! She was wearing dark, black, thin cotton anklesocks! The smell hit him like a ton of bricks! Putrid, heady vinegar enriched over ripened cheese! Oh he felt so heady he could have passed out! And he was still some five inches away from them at this stage!
‘Go on, slave, get your nose in between those toes! You know you want to!’
He was not so sure he did! One thing was for sure, though - he had absolutely no choice in the matter. If a female prison guard wants you to smell her putrid socks, you just smell them!
The utter humiliation of his predicament had hit him hard in the pit of his stomach. Such shame and anguish!
All Mistress Lucy kept saying was:
‘Good; keep going; sniff harder, in between these toes now! More, more!’
He felt he was going to die!
She finally released him from her bacteria-ridden socks!
Mistress Shelly did not want him to have a break and shouted:
‘My turn now!’
Miss Shelly was so eager to get her feet under the slave’s face, she accidentally kicked him hard in the nose! The couple laughed as he shrieked in pain!
Miss Lucy bent down, now barefoot on the dusty concrete cell floor, and produced a pink feminine, frilly handkerchief and moved it to the slave’s nose:
‘Here boy, blow hard. We do not want you to miss out on any of Shelly’s stench, do we?’
This was no act of female kindness after all; just more cruelty in the making!
Once his slave olfactory-sensors were suitably cleared he was set to work, following a weird sort of pep talk:
‘So, Slave boy, do you want to have a guess as to what colour socks I am wearing inside my boots today?’
The honest answer at this point was a definite NO! He just wanted to break free from this torturous, cangue contraption, and these infernal manacles, and the humid cheese-filled air of the cramped cell!
Of course, he knew better than to speak his rebellious mind by now!
‘Oh begging your immense female mercy, Mistress, this slave believes that you might be wearing small, black cotton anklesocks on your Goddess-like feet, oh great and respected Mistress?’
‘Well, my lad, there is only one way to find out, isn’t there?... Off with my boots, you pathetic footslave!’
He fingered the zipper on her leather ankleboots and tugged at them, as he did with Mistress Lucy previously. For some reason, these boots were offering up more of a fight than the last pair. All was soon revealed - Mistress Shelly was not wearing any socks at all! She was completely barefoot in her warm, clammy, leather, prison-officer boots!
What a shock! Her pretty, bare feet were quite white and pale in complexion. This was sharply contrasted by the jet-black, nail polish that adorned her ten tiny toes that glittered like jewels in the dim light of the cell!
‘First things first, slave; SNIFF EM!’
The smell was not as strong as before with Mistress Lucy’s sock-covered, putrid feet. Nevertheless, they did smell quite strongly of vinegary, boot leather!
After some time Mistress Shelly proclaimed that it was time for the new slave to have his first taste of the unique flavour of female foot sweat! She skilfully inserted her entire right foot into his mouth, quite slowly. Meanwhile, Mistress Lucy was busy photographing the historic moment for posterity!
The flavour was tart and bitter; not as he had imagined at all! He sucked and sucked until ordered to swap to the other foot some time later. Her nails were considerably longer than Mistress Lucy’s, and had sharp edges that grazed along the inside of his mouth. The hard, rough skin on the soles of her workaday feet was causing a gag reflex that he had to supress.
Without any further communication, Miss Shelly’s foot was sharply withdrawn from his mouth and the two officers simply refitted their footwear and left the cell, securely locking the solid, iron door behind them.
This left slave Paul alone, to contemplate the now lonely and pain-filled existence that awaited him!
The cell smelt strongly of feet, as Miss Lucy had helpfully left her socks just out of his reach, so he could get more accustomed to her foot stench!
It was impossible for him to sleep on the first night, with the new cangue encircling his neck. It would not allow any comfort at all! He was left alone for several days, with only one meal a day passed under his cell door hatch. Occasionally he would be ‘treated’ to fresh socks and a supplemental meal of foot-bacteria, courtesy of his female guards, but the monotony had well and truly set in. He hated prison!
Several more days passed by slowly, and he was left to contemplate the whereabouts of his trainer, Mistress Orlessa. What would she be like? She has a Russian sounding name. Maybe she will be kind? How long am I going to be kept here in the dark?
He did not have to wait too long for an answer. Mistress Orlessa was indeed a Russian girl, of some repute in her field. She was a well-respected, footslave-trainer Mistress in the Gynarchy. She had a good reputation to uphold, and the slaves she trained never failed the course, and would always fetch the highest price at auction!
Her hair reached down to just above her waist and was a natural, fiery red colour! Her deep blue, soulful eyes (not that the slave would be permitted to see them) were filled with determination and authority! Her doll-like face twitched with joy as she received the invitation to begin training the new slave in the prison!
The door was slowly opened by Mistress Shelly, and in walked the familiar prison officer’s boots for routine kissing. This time, however, they were not alone! In walked a pair of brown leather, civilian, high-heeled, zip-up, calf-length boots.
‘This is your new training Mistress - Mistress Orlessa!’
The shrill tone of the blonde officer’s voice was deafening, following his long period of enforced silence.
He had one chance at impressing his new trainer; he simply had to get out of here! The kisses to her boots were therefore delivered extremely well indeed!
Mistress Orlessa was suitably impressed with the progress of the new convicted prisoner:
‘Good! I see that your guards has already started vith de training?’
Miss Shelly smiled and left the slave and trainer alone to begin the long path to a fully qualified footslave!
Mistress Orlessa sat in the chair, and immediately placed her boots on the slave’s cangue so that the spiked heels of her boots pulled roughly down, adding to the terrible weight of the punishing device!
‘OOOOWWWW!’
‘Excellent! De cangue is good fit and weight, and your body has already deforming to accommodate de addition of de weight!’
She lowered her booted feet to the dusty floor and immediately began the first lesson - bootkissing.
This went on for some time until she was fully satisfied. The next order came to remove her boots, and pay homage to her socks. As he pulled down on the tightly fitting boots he was surprised by the sight that greeted him! She had enormous feet for a woman; they were quite huge!
Her right foot was clad in a knee-high wool/cotton sock that had bright colours that were a welcome change to the regulation prison officer’s dark socks. Her left foot, however, was clad in a sweaty-looking, stained, formerly white cotton anklesock! How strange! This could be no accident?
‘I am explaining to you, slave. It is my job to teach you how to be serving de many varieties of female footwear that exist in de outside world. Today it is boots and socks; tomorrow will be ballet flats and nylons; the day after will be sandals; and so on!’
Now he understood.
His first allotted task was to sniff loudly at the toe area of the sock on her right, brightly coloured foot. This was not too bad; her sock smelled slightly damp, but nothing nearly as bad as he was used to with Miss Lucy!
The next step was kissing the sock, followed closely by removing the sock with his teeth - no easy task when it reaches up to your Mistress’s knee!
When the colourful, foot garment was removed, a pleasant sight greeted him. Her enormous feet were, at least, well cared for. It was a well-presented, giantess foot with dark blue nail polish and neatly-filed, smooth nails and smooth footskin. Slave Paul had decided that Mistress Shelly’s feet were much nicer than the un-kept feet of Mistress Lucy!
He was ordered to sniff each toe and kiss it in turn, until ordered:
‘You will now suck each toe, slave. I will inspect with magnifier glass for damage to nail polish; each damage mean one big whip on your slave back!’
He did do well; only three ‘big whip’ on his bare back!
Now the other foot came into view:
‘Dis one is not a well-kept foot! You make it better with pedicure when I am telling you!’
He sniffed as before, loudly and deeply. The smell was awful! She must have recycled this sock many times before?
He then kissed the stained sock, before pulling it off her left foot with his teeth. This time he was greeted by an altogether different sight. Her nails were long and chipped - no nail varnish at all, only black lines of dirt underneath her nails! Her foot was covered in a sweaty dew, and had copious amounts of hard skin around her heel and sole.
‘Your task is to vash, den to clean out under nails vith your teeth and mouth-trim my nails neatly. You vill den be made to remove all hard skin and paint nails vith your new mouth-brush!’
She then produced his new tool-kit! It was actually for him, and had his prison number stamped on the box! It contained numerous pedicure implements and spatulas for digging out the detritus from under the toenails of free women, and filing their nails smooth for a foot beauty session!
Her face was beaming with delight at his depressed, and frankly daunted and defeated, expression! She loved the fact that her feet were so large that it would take hours for him to complete each degrading task! Nevertheless, he did his humble work well, much to his own disgust! He discovered that the newly named toe-jam was not to his liking at all!
Over the coming weeks, he was introduced by trainer-mistress Orlessa to a variety of foot worship scenarios and techniques, and a wide array of footwear.
‘Today ve do boots again... Today ve do nylons and ballet flats… Today ve do sandals and bare feet; my feet are black vith dirt - you vill lick clean, or I punish!’
And so on….
He was progressing through his basic training with flying colours!
It was most un-becoming in a contrite and servile slave, but he was actually feeling quite proud with himself at his continuing success! The only section he did not excel at was the punishments. It was not as though he needed to be punished, though! He simply had to endure the unjust torments as part of the training course.
It was all listed in tick sheet form. Each section had to be completed and countersigned by Mistress Orlessa herself. She had marked him down as having a low pain threshold and not suited to physical punishment!
On day three in the stocks, for example, a female Doctor had to be called as he had passed out unconscious, having been kept immobile for so long! The only medication that was prescribed him was a good dose of the pretty Doctor’s sweaty nylons, followed by a visit from Nurse Whip! That soon sorted him out!
Nevertheless, he had now completed the training course, and passed. He was handed the completion certificate that had been laminated with his hand-signed grades. Mistress Orlessa handed him the certificate in haste, to be gone; she had another pressing engagement in one of the prisons across town! She never even looked down at him; a click of her high heels and away she went - forever!
He actually wanted to follow her out of the cell as he had grown quite attached to her (and her smelly feet) over the last few months, but thought better of it, what with the heavy shackles and everything.
He then looked more closely at the document and took note of the comments section. Mistress Orlessa had written some lines in her own precious handwriting. What did it say?
‘The Slave is quite docile and servile and will be a good footslave. He Needs more practise sniffing socks and pedicure technique but on the whole has passed the exam satisfactorily. SPECIAL SKILLS: The Slave has sharp teeth that are well suited to removing the accumulated toejam that most free women of the Gynarchy collect, and he seems to genuinely despise this lowly activity (particularly when confined in the stocks!)’
Such praise! She had also read him like a book; he did detest the wooden grip of the stocks, and the bitter, humiliating tang of a young female’s toejam! Even the humiliating name of the foul-tasting, putrid concoction brought him out in a cold sweat!
Slave Paul now had the hardest part to complete - saying farewell to his prison Mistresses!
Although Miss Lucy was quite stoic about it all, he was sure he saw a feminine tear splash onto Miss Shelly’s prison-officer boot as he was locked back into his cell! They had all grown quite accustomed to each other, in a bizarre way.
Suddenly, Miss Shelly opened the door again; maybe one final lick of her boots, after all?
‘By the way, slave, technically you do not exist as a prisoner now, as you are an official slave as of today! So, you will not be fed this weekend, I am afraid! You will be kept here until your Mistress collects you on Monday, and we will be back shortly afterwards to begin training a new slave that has already been allotted this cell. Goodbye and good luck, slave boy!’
Clang went the door one final time! He was never going to see the pretty pair again!
In his now ravenous state of lonely confinement, he could finally start to contemplate what life under the pretty tour rep, Mistress Jess, would be like! He had been working so hard on the footslave training programme, that he had forgotten that he had been allotted a Mistress already!
She had seemed very pretty in the court room, and had a kindly temperament; maybe things would work out well after all?
On Monday morning, one hour before Miss Shelly and Miss Lucy were due on shift, the cell door flung open. The wrist shackles binding him to the wall were finally released, and he was lead out to meet his new Mistress. The last time he met her he was fully dressed, standing upright and wearing his own clothes. Now he was a haggard, whip-marked figure, hunched over a permanent wooden collar bearing his convict number. No fine shoes adorned his feet, only rusty links of iron connected to wrought bracelets clamped around each ankle for ever more. This was going to be a humiliating experience for sure!
‘Hi slave! Wow, you do look somewhat different, don’t you?!’
Miss Jess looked as pretty and as bronzed as ever! Her shrill, feminine voice cut through him like a knife in the stark cold and misery of the corridor.
She was wearing the same Teresa Cook holiday company uniform and, moreover, exactly the same pair of worn and dirty, converse sneakers on her tanned, bare feet that she had been wearing nearly three months earlier!
‘Well, no time to hang around here, eh? I have been wanting to get you home for a long time now! HA!’
He was pulled along the corridor to the external door that was opened at great speed to reveal the blisteringly hot sun of the Gynarchy town outside. He was forced into the tatty-looking, holiday rep car that had been hastily supplied by Miss Jess’s holiday company, and they sped along the narrow and windy roads to her company-owned villa on the outskirts of the tourist town.
Once there, he was given a guided tour of the modest abode. He was quite relieved to see that it was completely free of whips, stocks and shackles! It seemed all too good to be true! But, it was true! Miss Jess (as she preferred to be called) was no cruel, authoritarian vixen! She just wanted a humble little footslave to serve her after a hard day waiting on young married couples, and boozed-up, over-thirties, holiday crowds!
The moment finally came; all these months in the making!
‘Slave, I will put my sneaker-clad feet on this pedestal and you will worship them. Clear?’
‘Oh yes, most respected, free Miss Jess! If it so pleases you, it would be an honour for thy humble slave, oh great Mistress?’
He set about the task in hand, and began kissing at the cheap, rubbery, imitation footwear. The rubber outers and sole material were actually lifting apart in places due to wear and age (and the shoddy workmanship!)
An hour of sneaker-kissing passed, and the order came to begin licking them clean!
Oh what a mammoth task! His tongue was red raw after two more hours hard scouring!
Her pretty features looked on encouragingly and she said sharply:
‘Another hour or so should do it, slave.’
Finally the order to halt was issued. He was given a small bowl of water at this stage. Miss Jess simply giggled as she read his handwritten report to herself over a glass of wine above him. She then bent down with a tissue in hand, and ordered him to blow his nose in order to clean it in preparation for the ‘next stage’, as she put it ominously!
‘Untie my laces with your teeth, and slowly pull those smelly sneakers off me, boy!’
As he did so, a blanket-like stench of rubbery, cheesy, female foot-odour enveloped him!
He was ordered to sniff the insides of each discarded shoe for five minutes each!
‘Now move onto my feet, boy!’
Her pretty-looking, podgy feet were highly tanned, and had heavy track marks from the unforgiving stitching within the imitation, designer foot coverings. She also had the remnants of some black nail-polish lingering on one or two of the toenails on her right foot. The rest of the nails were reasonably neatly kept, but had huge traces of the dreaded, aforementioned toejam built up under the overhang of each nail! Oh no!
‘Get cleaning, slave! I want you to get all of that toejam out with those impressive, sharp teeth of yours! I hear that you are a natural pervert, according to your prison guard Miss Lucy! Enjoy. HA!’
More time passed, and a now very full footslave was ordered to give a full pedicure with his new, personal tool-set! This was the first time a civilian had entrusted him with her precious feet!
The training had done its work; they looked marvellous in the midday sun now streaming through the window!
‘Well done, slave boy! I knew you would do a good job!’
The next few days were exactly the same. Mistress and slave were quite happy together, until one day when Miss Jess announced that she had used up all of her leave and had to return to work! This came as no great surprise to the newly-enslaved male, as he thought he would be left at home to take care of the few other items of footwear that the Mistress possessed.
‘I have arranged for you to serve as a pool dip slave at the Gynarchy water park, slave boy! It will earn me extra money, and someone will be able to look after you during the week while I am doing my long shifts!’
What was a ‘pool dip slave’?
The next day everything was made crystal clear to the dim slave in the wooden ruff! A mousy-haired, pool attendant-cum-lifeguard girl was explaining his duties while snapping the shackles shut around his wrists. The shackles were fixed through a big hoop to an iron stool with a chrome footrest affixed to it:
‘Your job is to remove the outer footwear of any woman who wishes to enter the poolside area, following repeated kisses of course! Once this is done, you will sniff, then kiss, the internal footwear, if any, that she may have on her precious feet. This done, you will remove the inner footwear, and kiss, then suck, all of the sock-lint from her toes, or dust from the soles of her feet in the case of a lady wearing sandals or flip-flops. You will then surreptitiously inspect her feet for verrucae and transmittable infections such as athlete’s foot. Should you discover one of these, you will press the secret buzzer and alert a pool attendant who will deal with the situation. The young lady may then have you punished for disclosing her unfortunate affliction. Your job will also be to lickshine all of the shoes and boots that are left in your care until the wearer returns. Got it, dumdum?’
‘Oh yes, most respected pool Mistress!’
The work was indeed steady! Many a young lady passed by to have the dirt licked and sucked from her pretty, bare feet. And it was a joy to kiss and lick all of the different types of sock that were on offer in the Gynarchy.
Some women stayed for a long time, to enjoy his suffering and fawning. Others were more interested in the swimming activities beyond the door, and just wanted to get it over with (pool “dipping” is mandatory in the Gynarchy).
At the weekends, he was allowed to accompany the very tired Miss Jess home for a weekend of foot worship and pedicures. The weekdays were always the same - 06:00 chained to the stool to await the early risers and health fanatics.
The summer raged on, and any internal foot coverings became a fond memory for him; just bare feet, in sweaty ballet-flats, or sandals and flip-flops!
Until one fateful day that is! At long last a pair of leather ankleboots, with fetching zippers, came into view! Oh what joy! Something to really get to work on, he thought!
The girl hoisted herself into the stool above him, and then issued the commandment:
‘Get on with it, fool! My husband is waiting on the other side of the pool!’
That voice was so familiar, it caused him to crane his neck up through the haze of pain caused by the cangue! It was his ex-girlfriend Jan!
‘Oh my Goddess, it’s you!!’
She jumped down from the stool and then started to circle the slave to take in the view. She prodded and probed at his whipmarks to see if they were real; then she dropped to her knees to pick up the chain attached to his leg irons and gave a couple of short, sharp tugs before saying:
‘Wow, I love your new jewellery Paul! …I mean, Slave! And your wooden ruff really looks….erm, pathetic and hideously uncomfortable?’
She then yanked violently at the wooden planks encircling his neck, causing an involuntary yelp of agony! Jan then got back into position on the stool and said:
‘I bet you wish you had filled in that visa extension application on time now, darling, eh? Remember how we used to play ‘slave and owner’ at home, and you always chickened out when I ordered you to give me a foot massage? Well, now you have no choice. HA!’
It is true! He had absolutely no interest in her feet, and she was, and still is, such a pretty and vibrant girl! Now he simply has no choice in the matter. His humiliation will be complete in a few short moments in front of his erstwhile lover’s eyes!
‘Better get on with it, boy. Antonio will be getting impatient!’
Who?
‘Oh forgive me, but I should have told you at the time; I was seeing our works’ legal advisor long before you got done for visa dodging, and we have got married and emigrated to the Gynarchy as he is well and truly loaded. HA!’
Paul felt sick to the pit of his stomach! He had come to terms with the fact that he had lost her, but at least neither of them were to blame! Now he knew that the fat-looking man in the court room was her lover, after all!
He simply had to get through the next few minutes without showing any emotion!
‘Better get kissing, convict!’
He lowered his lips to the very boots that he himself had bought for her birthday three years ago!
Jan was in a hurry to step things up a notch, and ordered her right boot to be unzipped and pulled off. Once this was done, he was greeted with a moist and pungent, red sock with pink toe, and heel patches sewn in! He sniffed hard and audibly to supress the rage! Then he kissed slow and hard as he had been shown!
Now came the moment he had been dreading; he peeled her right sock off with his teeth. His heart was racing until it almost came to a crashing halt! There it was - in full view; unmistakably a viral foot-wart!
The joke was on her; his duty was clear! He had to suck each digit clean, and then kiss each toe, which he deftly did. Moments later the pool attendant appeared as if by magic! He had done it! He pressed the secret buzzer to inform the pool staff that a contagion risk was imminent! The satisfaction was brimming on his face!
The pool attendant girl calmly took Jan to one side and whispered into her ear. Jan put her hands to her face in shock and screamed! Paul had never been so humiliated, yet elated! A true sense of ambivalence swept over him.
Moments later, Jan and the attendant returned brandishing a piece of paper. It was dropped to the tiled, wet floor as Paul was busy re-fitting a young woman’s ballet-flat shoe to her chlorine-cleansed, right bare foot. As Jan was escorted out, Paul picked up the paper and read it before the ink smudged from the wet floor tiles. The pool attendant had retained the carbon copy as she left the pool dip area. The paper read:
‘Punishment selected by pool visitor JAN . One week in the stocks; and twenty lashes followed by half ration on toejam-sandwiches for another week!’
Jan, it seemed, still knew her former lover extremely well indeed!
