Gynarchy X
Inspired by the imaginative slave Nylonsniff; written by the talented slave Paul! The result – a femdom, foot-fetish masterpiece!
Although the modern Gynarchy Empire was a happy and content, if somewhat isolated world, some of the master species (females) decided that the laws and statues of the land were far too lenient on the second class citizens (free males). As a result, a large number of these rather haughty women broke away from the society to form their own society in the centre of the Gynarchy capital of Barbaria! The women (and some free males) colonised an abandoned peninsula that was once an ancient Gynarchian fort.
Years passed by, and the small (yet ever growing) town was blossoming. The inhabitants set up their own government and laws similar to that of the outside world of the Gynarchy. The name of this secondary civilisation was somewhat unimaginatively called:
‘Gynarchy X’.
Some would argue that the X stood for Xile, signifying the low regard that some of the Gynarchy population felt towards their geographically close neighbours. A growing majority of visitors to the tin-pot colony, however, felt that the X stood for Xtra, or X as in Roman numerals for ten times better!
In the principal Gynarchy, for example, no freemale can be sentenced to foot-slavery without committing a heinous crime and being justly convicted by a female court. In the ‘Gynarchy X’ things were somewhat different. ALL freemales were treated with equal contempt!
The fast-paced, modern Gynarchy X was in the midst of a crisis! Although the current epoch of peace and prosperity was never before more greatly felt by the free women of this almighty fledging nation, a terrible crisis gripped the female inhabitants of the small, independent state. The crisis was a simple one; not enough male footslaves to service the ever expanding populace of female immigrants and natural born inhabitants. Things were so dire that some women were even forced into dual slave ownership! Although this benefitted the many Gynarchy X based law firms with additional contracts and ownership clauses, the nation was held tightly in a grip of unease and uncertainty! What was to be done to rectify this unacceptable situation?
To begin with, several highly popular new laws were passed across the land. The first amendments were made to the list of arrestable offences’ statute. This gave a much wider range of petty crimes that would incur custodial sentences for free males. At first no one could see any benefit from this new clause; all that was being achieved was more and more men held under lock and key boosting the prison service’s already bulging budget! So, a later statute was passed, and accepted unanimously by the Female Parliament of Gynarchy X, to the effect that under these so called “POPSS” (periods of prolonged slave shortages) all men currently held in custody, for whatever conviction and sentence, be re-sentenced to life as footslaves without parole! The newly legalised POPSS law as it came to be known was a popular first step on the road to recovery for this great, if minority, nation!
Sadly, however, for the younger generation of women currently residing in the Gynarchy X, this simply was not enough! Even with the prisons being emptied of convicts and forced into footslavery (a hitherto unheard of solution born out of desperation) a severe shortage of humble and contrite footslaves still existed. The newly recruited and hastily trained slaves were assigned to the more mature and high ranking free women of the Gynarchy X. This left a large gap in the market so to speak. Young, free women with no personal footslaves to attend to them!
It did not take too long for the Gynarchy X government to call a crisis meeting and seek a firm and permanent solution. As so often recorded in the brief, but proud, history of the Gynarchy X, great times of struggle and unrest always bring great leaders to the floor! History will forever more record the moment when the young politician, Miss Constantine, herself a ‘slave virgin’ (i.e. without a personal footslave), rose from her seat in the chambers of the female mighty, and proclaimed that she alone had the solution!
Her haughty and self-assured nature was not uncommon in today’s fast-paced way of life. People have little time for manners and little pleasantries in times of crisis! Miss Constantine had only just joined the council, and was only a very junior member of the all-female parliament. Her unabashed outburst should have brought about much scorn and derision as she cut short a more senior honourable member in full tirade! Miss Constantine, however, pulled off her thick rimmed, black spectacles and thrust them into her tight, black bun of hair that seemed to sit atop her head like a naturally formed crown of authority:
‘I alone have the only logical solution to ALL our problems! It is quite simple; CONSCRIPTION!’
Miss Constantine’s suggested programme of conscription or footslave national service, as it was termed in the well-presented reports that she handed out to the council, was extremely well received! It seemed so unbelievably simple! Miss Constantine’s suggested solution was taken to the very highest authority for approval. It did not take long for the act to be accepted and passed as law.
In many ways it was nothing new. All free males in the Gynarchy X are eligible for footslavery from a young age. This was certainly not the case in the mainland Gynarchy where freemales were still second class, but NOT slaves! Only the lowliest of professional slaves and convicts were condemned to foot-slavery in the mainland Gynarchy.
But in the offshoot of the Gynarchy X, the proclamation went forth across the land:
‘All free men not currently engaged as footslaves in the land occupied by the Gynarchy X States are hereby ordered to sign the footslave eligibility register in their local town hall. The register of names will be evaluated, and account taken of marital status and reserved occupation. No other exclusions will apply. The minimum length of service for all National Service footslaves will be set at TWO YEARS. On completion of this service, the male will be freed from bondage and allowed to return to normal life as a freemale following a satisfactory report. Failure to sign the register, or any attempt to defraud the Female Government of the Gynarchy X in any way, will be deemed as grounds for immediate arrest and automatic sentencing to life as a footslave! All males in your town must have signed the register thirty days from the printing of this poster, or this will incur immediate arrest and automatic sentencing to life as a footslave! Failure to complete the minimum period of national service currently set at TWO YEARS will result in immediate arrest and automatic sentencing to life as a footslave! All males found guilty of attempting to escape National Foot-Service by proposing marriage to a free woman of the Gynarchy X State will result in immediate arrest and automatic sentencing to life as a footslave!’
Paul and Amy looked on in a state of disbelief and shock as the poster was nailed to a nearby telegraph pole in their small town! This was the biggest change in the law within their lifetime, and it would certainly alter all their future plans! Paul had only three months ago proposed marriage to the delightful Amy and she had accepted with great delight! The happy couple had been childhood friends, and had quite literally grown up together. It had taken Paul over ten years to build up the courage to ask for Amy’s dainty hand in marriage, and he was now kicking himself! He re-read the poster and paid particular attention to one paragraph:
‘All males found guilty of attempting to escape National Foot-Service by proposing marriage to a free woman of the Gynarchy X State will result in immediate arrest and automatic sentencing to life as a footslave!’
What if the authorities decided that he was guilty of such attempted evasion? He could end up serving at women’s feet for life!
Paul then remembered the ‘evaluation’ clause:
‘The register of names will be evaluated and account taken of marital status and reserved occupation’.
His successful job as a Gynarchy X financial advisor in a large bank would surely be looked upon as a reserved occupation? Surely he could escape conscription that way? Then the wedding could go ahead as planned!
Throughout all of his assumptions and introspection, Amy remained unusually silent! Amy had put two months’ hard work into planning the big day and was internally devastated! She knew what this all meant, but she wanted to remain calm and show a united front, for Paul’s sake! It seems that they were truly a devoted couple indeed!
The betrothed couple went for lunch at a nearby restaurant and began to discuss the poster and its bombshell revelations. Paul still seemed unequivocally sure that he would be given a reserved occupation order and allowed to go about his life with Amy unmolested! He was so steadfast in his belief that he took the courageous decision to attend the town hall that very afternoon and be one of the first to sign the burdensome, inhuman register! Amy seemed to be very supportive of Paul’s new found confidence, but was secretly more doubtful of his likelihood to be held back as a reserved occupation!
Following a most enjoyable lunch, Paul departed his beloved wife-to be and headed for the town hall. He joined a small queue of semi-angry, perplexed-looking men waiting to do the same. His time finally came after some twenty minutes in line. The heavy bound register consisted of several columns that ordered the signee to input the required data on age; marital status; position held in the Gynarchy X; and any known reasons for exemption from slavery. Paul filled the register out in a steady hand and bold capital letters.
‘Go on - evaluate me then!’ he thought rather haughtily to himself.
Paul stormed out of the town hall to return to his place of work in the main, high street bank.
Unusually for a male, Paul had been allowed to progress quite a way through the ranks of the female bank. He had worked with the same branch for over twelve years now and was highly thought of by the female board. Indeed, he had been promoted to the highest position possible for a freemale - Chief Financial Advisor!
Paul walked in to the office of the bank and made his way to the finance department. His private office was in the middle of a shared office. The junior members of his team were a real cross section of the Gynarchy X today.
Paul had his favourite, Miss Kathy. She was a very shy, but highly intelligent, young lady in the truest sense. She was the quiet, modest type that had no ambitions as such; she simply enjoyed her job. She dressed smartly and sensibly for her job. Miss Kathy always wore a nice, checked, feminine, woolly skirt that covered her knees. Her black, woollen jumpers were contrasted by a frilly, pink blouse hidden underneath, along with all of her feminine modesty. On her feet she wore a pair of black leather, court shoes which covered her ubiquitous, black woollen tights. She would always smile out from her auburn-framed face, and the warmth of her personality could not be disguised by the thick, intelligent-looking glasses that were as much a part of her everyday appearance as her famous, black woolly tights!
Paul was now twenty minutes late! He passed Kathy’s desk in time to hear her soft voice say:
‘Don’t worry; I’ve covered for you! Hope Amy is well, Sir?’
What a lovely girl!
Unlike the next desk he had to pass.
Miss Charlotte, or “Lottie” as her friends (few that they were) referred to her, was a chubby, long-haired, spiteful, blonde bimbo! The only reason she had been appointed was because of her spiteful nature, and good feminine looks. She was a vicious vixen who had honed her tongue over many years of derision - normally at a man’s expense! She would love it when the papers announced a new convict would be placed in the town kneeling stocks! She would even save her lunch so she could leave the office and sit and mock the confined-in-wood prisoner, and hit him with her spiteful put-downs and razor-sharp tongue! Paul merely stared down at her chubby, bare feet that were partly covered by her well-worn, black leather, ballet flats. He had hoped to pass her by with no comment.
‘Hi, Sir’, she said sarcastically. ‘Hope you enjoyed your nice, long lunch? Thanks for popping in!’
Paul stormed past her and chose to ignore her so-called wit!
Next on the list was his sworn adversary, and ultra-competitive-natured deputy, Miss Laura!
Miss Laura hated the fact that she was number two. Moreover, she detested the fact that she was a number two to the second class species - man! Everything that Paul produced from his private office was scrutinised by his deputy Laura for the tiniest flaw. She would revel in announcing any mistake to anyone that would listen, and was compiling a nice long list of flaws for head office to read one day in the future! Her attire was more suited to the bank Manageress! She wore a black pinstripe suit with her hair tied back in a ponytail. Her feet were clad in finest, nylon stockings. She wore six-inch, stiletto heels with a patent, black leather finish. Her two-inch-long finger talons would smash at the computer keyboard loudly throughout the day, as if to announce her presence to everyone.
‘I’ve moved your three o’clock back to three thirty, and cancelled your four o’clock with the Slave Concentrator Company, Sir!’
This last word was always filled with venom! She despised Paul with every fibre of her superior female being!
Paul pushed past into his office and shut the door. All he could hear was Miss Laura bashing away at the keyboard, no doubt adding tardiness to his list of minor infractions. Bitch!
Later that evening Paul and Amy went out for a drink at the local bar. They sat at a table and were approached by their mutual friend, Ted. He was the local town’s butcher. He was carrying a pint of beer that was brimming over the edges of his glass. More noticeable, however, was his brimming smile:
‘Guess what? I’ve been given a reserved occupation order from national foot-service!’
Paul was genuinely delighted for him! If Ted’s profession was classed as a reserved occupation, Paul was free for sure!
Amy jumped up and gave Ted a hearty cuddle and a big kiss:
‘Well done Ted! I knew you would be alright!’
Following the ensuing celebration of Ted’s enduring freedom, Amy and Paul were allowed to talk alone for a while. Paul could see out of the corner of his eye a beautiful, young woman with a scrawny-looking, pathetic footslave at her ballet-clad, stool-resting feet! It must have been one of the convicts that were sentenced to footslavery, as he was wearing one of those evil-looking cangues with the words “Old Lag” inscribed on it! How he detested the idea of ending up like that! For all he knew the poor miscreant was only guilty of non-payment of a measly parking fine!
Paul was rather surprised when Amy announced her new plans rather suddenly:
‘I have been thinking, maybe it would be better if you just did your national foot-service first, and then we can get married afterwards? It is only two years, and we have waited so long anyway! I do not want you to be charged with proposing marriage just to get out of slavery!’
Paul was stunned!
‘No! They will grant me reserved occupation for sure. Look at that oaf Ted!’
What Paul did not know was that Ted had passed on a rather hefty bribe to a town clerk friend!
Three weeks later a letter arrived on the doorstep for Paul. He opened it over his breakfast as Amy made some more coffee. The official looking note read:
‘Dear Sir,
Following the recent review of your status and proposed reserved occupation claim, we have pleasure in enclosing the following statement for your immediate attention.
You have been selected to attend the mandatory two year national footslave service of the States of the Gynarchy X Empire! You will report (bare chested) to the Femina 22B punishment station at 07:00 HRS tomorrow for induction. Leave all valuables at home, or with a loved one. Failure to attend at 07:00 HRS will result in immediate arrest and automatic sentencing to life as a footslave!’
Paul was almost in tears! He could not accept that his life was now going to change in such a drastic way!
Amy tried to console him:
‘Please calm down! We have been through so much before; two years will not make a difference! I will still be here, silly boy!’
Through the panic and desperation, Paul saw a way out:
‘I’ve got it! I could be your footslave, Amy!’
‘Tch! No, silly! I want a husband, not a down-in-the-dirt footslave! HA! You have got so much to do. You had better get to work, and hand in your resignation. Don’t forget to pay this month’s rent on the way back! I don’t want to be out on the streets while you are away licking for Queen and country! HA!’
Amy seemed to be putting on a brave face for Paul’s sake, but it was not helping matters much!
Paul helped himself to a stiff drink before heading to the bank he had spent so long building a successful career in. The humiliation of having to give it all away was intense. On his arrival he was greeted with the perpetually smiling face of Miss Kathy; she seemed to know something was different?
Paul exchanged pleasantries and passed onward to the next two desks as usual. He was not looking forward to this part! Both Miss Laura and Miss Charlotte were there waiting. Paul was stunned to see all of his office furniture was heaped on the floor outside the door! Miss Laura was sitting cross-legged at her desk, filing her nails:
‘Well, Sir, you won’t be needing an engraved stationary set where you are going, will you? Unless it says “footslave” of course! HA!’
She knew!
Busted!
‘Hope you like the taste of women’s foot dirt, Sir? HA!’ opined a jubilantly spiteful Miss Charlotte.
Paul just turned and ran out of his former department. The humiliation was too much for one man to bear!
He returned home to spend one last night of comfort alone with his betrothed sweetheart. He begged her to apply for a footslave in the hope that he would be assigned to her, but she point blank refused! A long night of heavy drinking ensued!
The next day came round all too quickly for Paul! He was dressed by six AM to be sure to make the deadline at the punishment station! Tardiness would not do today! He was ordered to attend the punishment station bare chested? Yet more humiliation!
A long and love-filled embrace, and a few loving words, signalled the start of a two year stint as a lowly women’s footslave!
Paul arrived early at the punishment station. The letters were sent out in order, so that there was no mad rush in the intake of new slaves. Paul went up to the female officer on the desk and presented himself. The middle-aged, dark-haired, freckle-faced officer merely smiled and asked him to sign his call-up papers. Once signed she pointed to a desk that was piled high in shiny metallic objects:
‘Help yourself to a pair and make your way over that line to the next section’.
The line was marked on the wall in rather hastily affixed tape. On one side of the line the word FREE was written. On the other side, the ominous word SLAVE was written!
Paul made his way to the desk to discover that the shiny objects were handcuffs!
‘Don’t just look at them! Pick ‘em up and put ‘em on!’ shouted the freckle-faced officer behind the desk!
They actually want us to put them on ourselves? Paul’s hands were shaking as he ratcheted the mechanisms shut around each wrist. He looked at his feet crossing the line marked SLAVE; this was it!
Once over the line, Paul was met with other frightened-looking men of similar age. All terrified about what was about to happen, and all humiliatingly stripped to the waist.
A strong smell of alcohol filled the room; he was evidently not the only one that had made the most of his last night of freedom!
Some men were making small-talk in the background; some were just quietly sobbing, when:
‘Attention! Kneel to attention when you are being spoken to by a superior, woman officer, you slave scum!’ a rather less than polite military-looking, young lady, wearing an olive green uniform and Sam Browne belt with foreboding-looking jackboots barked sharply!
‘You will shortly be removed for processing and be issued with you new uniforms and equipment. The most minor infractions from this point on will be punished with this...’
SWISH… CRACK!
A poor, innocent, kneeling slave-to-be was whipped with a thin, single-tailed punishment whip! A loud scream resonated throughout the room!
The Officer Mistress murmured calmly some of the facts that she knew about the physics of advanced whipping:
‘In a scientific sense, the momentum (the product of mass, times velocity) of a wave set in motion down the length of a whip remains constant. The mass at each point along the length decreases, proportional to the square of the diameter, so the velocity must INCREASE as a consequence, resulting in speed in excess of the speed of sound as it reaches the tip. And this results in the penis-shrivelling firecracker sound that makes all males quail! So, in words that YOU will understand scum I am in charge, and YOU will be in pain!’
Needless to say nobody offered an opinion on this well-informed rhetoric that seemed to be very well rehearsed!
The rabble of pathetic men were all too quickly led through the induction process. This involved being stripped naked (including the removal of Paul’s beloved engagement ring) and issued with new uniform (white, cotton slave-shorts – one size fits all) and new equipment (foot-scrapers; files; nail brushes; spatulas; and other pedicure-related consumables). The men were then lead (still in handcuffs) shuffling on their hands and knees to individual slave cells. There, they were told to expect a free sample of what the punishment centre has to offer!
Paul was kept locked away for two whole days! It took some time to get round to his ‘free sample’ of corporal punishment. He was lead off to meet someone called “The Tickler”? To Paul’s rather inappropriate relief, The Tickler was a slightly-built, Indian girl. Paul had his handcuffs affixed to a chain over his head and was hoisted onto tip-toes by some kind of winch. The young Indian woman then explained that she was the whip Mistresses’ apprentice. She was directly responsible for sterilising all of the punishment whips and maintaining the many braziers used in judicial brandings! It was her job to stimulate Paul prior to his whipping session!
He was not fully aware what this meant, and was not looking forward to finding out! In the background all he could hear was the sound of the whip, and terrible, agonised screams from the slave slightly ahead of him in the queue!
The “Tickler” Mistress meanwhile closed in on her prey!
‘Hello, new slave! How are you liking your new reality? It is being my job to intensify the experience that you will shortly be undergoing, isn’t it?’
She then set about running her long, sharp, Indian fingernails all over his torso, setting his nervous system alight! He was quite ticklish!
Now the mockery came. She sharply ran her finger across his left flank saying:
‘Maybe a whip here; here; and here, I am thinking slave?’
If the slave leaves the clutches of The Tickler in a jabbering, insane and terrified manner, then The Tickler has done her job well! Paul was yet another highly successful project for the young, Indian pain-Mistress!
Before he knew it, Paul was prostrate on a whipping trestle under the watchful gaze of the cruel Whip Mistress herself! It was her job, and moreover her pleasure, to be the first whipping experience that these wretched creatures would have to suffer!
The short-haired, brutish woman fingered the whip and circled her prey:
‘Welcome to our house of pain, new slave! You will only receive your introductory welcome-whipping today, consisting of just ten lashes of the single-tailed whip!’
Paul began to draw breath to prepare for the pain; if he could just mentally prepare himself he would be sure to…
SWISH… CRACK!
ARRRGH!
‘One! Only nine more to go, little slaveman! HA!’
SWISH… CRACK!
ARRR!
‘Two!...’
Paul bit into his bare arm in a desperate, but futile, attempt to create his own, semi-tolerable pain thereby negating the utterly intolerable, stinging, friction-burn pain of the cruel whip!
Fast forward one month and Paul had succeeded in passing his footslave proficiency test! All that was needed now was a placement for him! Needless to say he was not consulted on this matter and was merely bundled into a van with all of his collection of nail files, and a complimentary punishment whip for his new owner, following a hastily arranged posting for the lowly, but freshly-qualified, footslave!
The van twisted and turned for miles. When the doors were finally opened, imagine the look of terror and simultaneous shame that swamped the former freemale’s face when he found himself at the grand, marble clad entrance to his former place of work; the female bank! This was no accident, surely?!
The door to the bank was swung open. The two hefty, male, security guards that had, until only recently, been casual acquaintances of the newly-enslaved male foot-property swiftly seized slave Paul violently underneath the arms. He was dragged rather hastily through the corridors and past numerous familiar desks. He was almost unconscious with shame and embarrassment at this stage! People recognised him immediately!
He hoped, initially, that he would be destined for the director’s office on the second floor. At least Miss Williams does not get too many visitors, so he could remain relatively anonymous. But the guards dragged him past the stairs and any hope of a quiet life! He was now quite sure of his final destination; his former office in the finance department!
The door to his former department was hastily opened and slave Paul was unceremoniously thrust inside. The office was under the new management of Miss Laura, and things were quite busy. Nobody noticed the slave’s ignominious entrance at first over the bustle and din of noisy telephone calls and frantic typing!
A new face could be seen sitting at the former secretary’s desk. The redheaded, young girl was hanging on the phone, staring out of the window and fingering the telephone flex. She finally hung up the receiver and glared down at slave Paul! Through the gobstopper-sized lump of chewing gum she was forcing about inside the inner surfaces of her pretty mouth, she abruptly ejected:
‘New footslave is here!’
The office fell ominously silent!
The familiar, chubby-white legs and bare feet forced into small, leather, ballet-flat-clad feet made their way over to the new office slave. It had to be the cruel Miss Charlotte (certainly not “Lottie” to the likes of a mere footslave!). Paul just looked closely at her virginal-white, feminine footflesh in shameful silence.
‘Well, well, well! I am surprised to see you again, Sir! Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee, Sir? HA!’
Paul simply had to hold back the tears! He stammered the only words he could muster through gritted teeth:
‘How may this humble slave serve you, divine Mistress Charlotte?’
‘Oh you want to serve me do you, Sir? Well, I’m sure that I will be able to think of some amusing ways for you to serve ME over the next two years, Sir! In the meantime, would you be kind enough to lick the toes of my ballet-flats clean please, Sir?’
The incredible amount of sarcasm injected into the word ‘Sir’ was quite palpable! Slave Paul lowered his lips to the chubby, blonde tormentress’s feet, and for the first time in his life he felt truly ashamed of what he had become! He could see close up and personal all of the minute shoedirt and imperfections that the well-worn, soft leathery, shoe material had to offer. Even from some distance away he could smell the musty scent of sweaty feet and feminine footwear. He had always noted that she seemed to only ever wear these tatty old flats to work, and always on bare feet! He allowed his tongue to make contact with the warm leather. Immediately he was aware of her toes wriggling with ecstasy! The leather was so thinning and worn that he could feel her individual toes inside her shoes! The ingrained dirt was hard to remove indeed!
Meanwhile, Mistress Charlotte had evidently tired of all of this standing and signalled an end to his inaugural ballet-flat worship by roughly grasping a clump of his hair and pulling him over towards her colleague, Miss Kathy!
This was going to be hard for him to take! He always had a soft spot for Miss Kathy and did not want her to see him this way!
Miss Kathy, meanwhile, was hard at work above the slave attempting to ignore the shameful display of slavery and servitude that had just taken place in Mistress Charlotte’s area of the busy office. But the ever cruel Mistress Charlotte would not allow this introduction to be a private one:
‘He’s here, Kath! Look at the fool on the floor! I’ll get him to sniff your sweaty, woollen tights, if you like?’
‘NO! Don’t be so mean! And anyway, my woolly tights do not smell! Alright, Charlotte?... Hello Paul, sorry that you were called up for national foot-service, and even more sorry that you have been sent here! How are you feeling? How is poor Amy?’
‘Quiet, you idiot! He is our slave, not our friend or boss! Have you got that? Never call him by his name again! It’s just SLAVE now!’
Mistress Charlotte rather roughly reprimanded the introvert Miss Kathy in full view of the other office staff, and the slave! She then pulled slave Paul away by the hair once more.
They were now approaching what Paul thought would be the final leg on this journey of ritual humiliation - the door to his former office! Doubtless it contained the feisty and uber-confident Miss (or from now on) Mistress Laura! Sure enough, the door was pushed open by Mistress Charlotte to reveal what was Paul’s old desk with Mistress Laura sitting back in her executive, leather chair with her nylon-clad legs and patent black high-heels up on the edge of the desk!
‘Oh, Hi Sir! Thanks for coming to the meeting! Come in and make yourself uncomfortable on the floor there, would you?... Thanks Charlotte, no coffee for him, and I will have my usual’.
The door shut behind him as Mistress Charlotte went to get Mistress Laura’s ‘usual’ (whatever that was?)
‘Well then, does Sir like what I’ve done to the office? Oh, you will pardon me if I don’t call you Sir any more, won’t you? So, Slave, would you like to kiss my stilettos by way of thanking me for securing your services?’
She had given him no choice whatsoever!
‘Yes please, most powerful and victorious office Manageress and Mistress Laura, if it so pleases you, Madam?’
It nearly killed him to say those words in so up-beat a manner!
Slave Paul made his way on all fours to the side of ‘his’ desk where her feet were now resting. He could still see the stain from the coffee that he spilt all those years ago! He brought his lips up close to her stiletto heel on her left foot, and began to kiss loudly as he had been instructed in his brief training session at the slave boot (and socks, shoes, nylons) camp! Mistress Laura maintained an aloof nature throughout all of this footslavish attention, but slave Paul could hear her satisfied heavy breathing over her pretend typing! Paul knew that she was not really working, as he could think of no word in the English language that has 76 letters without one space!
Slave Paul continued kissing the powerful stilettos of Mistress Laura for one full hour. She had finished all of her favourite coffee, and finally lowered the mug to the desk. Suddenly she withdrew her feet from his face and threw herself down to his level! She grabbed violently at his hair causing tears to form in his eyes and slapped him repeatedly across the face!
‘Listen here, you vile little creep! I have ruined you; I have brought you down to this level; I will be the one that controls every aspect of your life for the next two years! As payment for the indignation that you caused me over the last ten years, YOU will be my little nylonsniffer from now on, understand?’
Laura threw herself back into the chair and kicked off her pretty shoes. Her dark-nylon-covered feet were thrust ignominiously into slave Paul’s waiting face! He had never been so close to a woman’s nyloned feet before in his life! The smell and the sensation was truly overwhelming! The feeling of the coarse nylon material on his face was very intimidating! He thought that he might not be able to breathe properly! His growing stubble was also catching on the nylon! What if he laddered her stockings? There would surely be hell to pay! To make things worse, the sensation of damp around her toes was quite sickening. She had quite shapely, long toes that seemed to be quite adept at moulding themselves around the slave’s face and nose in particular. Her nails appeared to be lacquered in a deep royal blue colour and looked all the darker through the deep tan material of the nylon stockings.
Slave Paul’s old, plastic ruler was used from his personalised stationary set to point to areas of the stockings that she wanted his nose to focus on in particular! She had never had so much fun at work before in her life! The slave could see his former freemale name on the ruler being thrust between her nylon clad toes as if a metaphor for his own wretched existence from now on!
Mistress Laura had been enjoying herself for four hours now! All of the other staff had gone home long ago! She had slave Paul refit her shoes and thank her for the experience of sniffing her nylons.
Slave Paul had naturally expected to accompany the new Mistress home for the evening, but Mistress Laura simply rose from her chair and made her way over to where the old drinks cabinet used to be. She pulled back a curtain to reveal a very compact, yet heavy looking, slave cage!
‘In we go, slave; its beddy-byes time!’
Slave Paul was forced into the cramped confines of the narrow, broad-barred, box-shaped cage. The hatch was closed and padlocked shut. Mistress Laura once again presented her stiletto covered feet for kissing, before saying:
‘You see? You will be my little, office-executive- toy, slave boy! Sleep badly, slave! HA!’
Mistress Laura’s wish came true that night; slave Paul did indeed sleep badly! The agony of cramp and constant discomfort stopped any prolonged, natural sleep. He would frequently awake in a cold sweat screaming, though nobody would hear him locked away in the bank all on his own!
Eventually, mercy was to come to slave Paul in the form of Miss Kathy at six AM! Slave Paul had no idea that she regularly started work this early! She heard the cries of pain and ventured into the private office to see what was going on. She was shocked to see her former boss locked inside a cage semi-naked on the floor of his former office!
‘Oh you poor thing! Are you alright?’
Slave Paul took the foolishly brave decision to take Miss Kathy into his confidence and speak plainly to her:
‘Miss Kathy, this cage is agony! Please let me out for a few hours mercy! Please!’
‘Oh I am sorry, Sir, but I haven’t got the key!’
‘Then please tell my Amy where I am, Miss Kathy. Perhaps she will be able to help?’
‘Alright Sir, I will look for her after work tonight. Now I must get on; could you try to be quiet please, Sir, as your moans are quite off-putting!’
Such a kind and compassionate young lady, thought slave Paul, as she closed the door behind her and put on the radio to drown out the moans of his pain!
Maybe Amy could help?
Today was to bring new challenges for the newly enslaved foot prisoner Paul. Mistress Laura finally arrived at 09:15 and made slave Paul kiss her feet and beg for release. She finally acceded to his unreasonable request for freedom and announced that he would be in the charge of Mistress Charlotte today, as she herself had to attend several important meetings!
Mistress Charlotte was delighted to take charge of the slave for the day! But Slave Paul was dreading being in her power!
‘Oh we (or I) am going to have so much fun today, slavey! I bet you have always wondered what my bare feet actually look like, haven’t you? Well, today is your lucky day, boy! Off with my flats!’
Slave Paul was not in the least bit curious to see what lay within the Pandora’s Box of Mistress Charlotte’s female footwear! But he had no option but to gently pull away the first shoe. It was so worn that the lining of the sole was stuck to the sweaty, bare, right foot of Mistress Charlotte! Slave Paul had to deftly tug the sole-lining material off the bottom of her pasty-white, bare foot.
He could now see a rather well-proportioned, if slightly chubby, young lady’s foot. Her toenails were actually quite well kept, and neatly filed square. They were painted a sort of turquoise green/blue colour (which was chipping off in places). They were quite long toenails, and seemed to have damaged the upper material of the shoes where the square edges of the nails had rubbed away at the inner leather over the years! He could also see alarming amounts of black balls of footdirt rolled up between her toes. He felt sure that he knew where that would be going later!
This apparent lack of feminine foot-hygiene was no doubt due to the young Mistress’s lack of a personal footslave at home. The smell hit him like a runaway freight train! Pungent and vinegary, it was so invasive at these close quarters he felt himself losing consciousness momentarily!
He was ordered to remove the old nail polish with the special pedicure-toolkit that he had been issued with. Once this was done he could see the heavy lines of sticky, black toejam under her long well-kept toenails!
‘Spatula time, isn’t it?’ the owner of the toenails barked.
This was his most hated task from training college! The spatula was for removing the noxious compound from beneath the Mistress’s nails. Once removed, it was only destined for one place - inside his mouth!
His stinky ‘breakfast’ gave him terrible indigestion!
Slave Paul was then ordered to lick and suck the rest of Mistress Charlotte’s foot clean over the next two hours. He had to tongue-smooth over the heel and ball of her foot to remove any hard skin that had built up. Shortly after lunch he was ordered to paint her toenails a bright and vibrant red colour. Once finished, her foot looked very pretty indeed!
Slave Paul thought that he might get to nuzzle the woollen tights of Miss Kathy for the rest of the afternoon, but was sorely disappointed when Mistress Charlotte looked down and grunted:
‘Now start on my left foot! Once you’ve finished that, you can then lick the insides of my shoes clean!’
Never-ending, Charlottey toejam and foot odour!
At 17:00 hours exactly, Mistress Laura returned to the office. She promptly relieved Mistress Charlotte of her footslave-minding duties, and pulled Slave Paul back into her (once his) private office. She made good use of her sweaty nylon-sniffer before locking him once again into the unforgiving confines of the box cage! The never ending cycle of pain, foot-cheese and misery was becoming just too much to bear!
Little did he know that, true to her word, Miss Kathy was busy seeking out Miss Amy as per the footslave’s wishes!
Another agonizingly cramped night passed slowly by. Slave Paul was left to ponder what had gone so wrong. He had decided to steel himself for the arduous, foot-related toil that lay ahead of him for the next two years. At least he had a release date, unlike many a footslave in the Gynarchy X!
He finally fell asleep for a few hours, and dreamed about his beloved Amy and happier times.
The morning finally brought about some relief for slave Paul, when Mistress Laura arrived with key in-hand ready to release her nylon-sniffing, slave boy for the day! A big meeting was planned for 9:30, and Mistress Laura once again wanted the snivelling little creep of a slave out of the way for the day. So Slave Paul was sent to act as servitor to the hitherto nameless, redheaded, receptionist girl! He was given his orders and received an encouraging kick up the backside with a patent black leather stiletto toe!
Slave Paul arrived at the beautiful, if rather air-headed, Mistress-receptionist’s desk and firstly had to undergo the ignominious task of verbally requesting permission to serve her feet and footwear for the day:
‘Begging your pardon, oh great and omniscient, fiery redheaded Mistress-Goddess, but this wretched slave of women’s feet requests the inestimable honour of graciously serving your most delicate and perfectly formed feet, if it would be so pleasing to you, Ma’am?’
The young clerk looked down disparagingly at him while chewing loudly on her pink-coloured bubble gum and painting her fingernails:
‘Whatever, dork! Lick my shoes; do whatever you want. Just shut up, alright?’
Slave Paul had briefly had the pleasure of meeting the receptionist at the beginning of the week when he was thrown to the floor by the burly security guards. It was she who had announced his presence to the office, much to his disgust!
He had never seen her standing up, and had certainly never seen her precious feet, as she had the biggest desk in the office and her lower body was, ordinarily, well covered. Slave Paul now had to crawl around the back of the desk in order to then climb underneath it. Once there, he was greeted by a pair of rather tatty, well-worn-looking, greying tennis shoes. The rubber toes were almost blackened by the scuffmarks and street-detritus that clung to them! Inside her worn shoes she was wearing a pair of knee-length, black-and-green-striped, cotton, elasticated socks!
He well and truly had his work cut out today! If he was going to get those shoes clean this side of Christmas, he had better get started now!
He thought (briefly) that the nameless Mistress was rather less than enthusiastic about having her feet attended to for the whole day by a dirty slave? It could be that she is a little…
‘ARE YOU GONNA LICK EM OR NOT, DORK?’
The nameless telephonist Mistress had overcome her shyness it seemed!
Suitably rebuked by his better, Slave Paul tarried no longer!
He was quite unprepared for just how bitter and foul-tasting the toes of her formerly white, tennis shoes were! It took all of his self-control to keep himself from baulking at the truly disgusting taste! He spent three bitter-tasting hours licking hard at the rubbery material. Occasionally, the redheaded girl would accidentally kick him hard in the face as she forgot he was there, and would suddenly cross her legs or kick forward.
After yet another hour, a small note was handed down from upon high to him. It read:
‘Finished yet? If it would not be too much trouble, would you mind removing my shoes and sniffing only the green stripes on my socks?’
It seemed a reasonable enough, written request, he thought!
Then suddenly another note came fluttering down:
‘Oh, and if your nose inadvertently touches a black stripe on my socks, I will cut it off! Get it?’
This was going to take a steady hand; or rather, nose in this case!
The sweat was pouring from Slave Paul’s face as he inhaled softly, but deeply, at only the green stripes of both, long kneesocks! He realised why she wanted the green stripes sniffed; it was the toe-areas of both socks that were covered by the green material, so they would undoubtedly prove to be the smelliest areas to sniff!
And so it was.
A short while later, Slave Paul became aware of several highly-polished and expensive-looking, female shoes marching past the desk. It seems that the meeting had run its course! Mistress Laura was about to depart for her lunch, when the nameless, redheaded Receptionist-Mistress above Slave Paul suddenly announced that Mistress Laura had a second meeting to attend, right now! Laura was quite surprised as she did not normally see people this late in the day without an appointment:
‘Well who is it then?’
‘She just said her name was ‘Amy’, boss!’
AMY! It must be my Amy, thought slave Paul!
He forced his face to the underside of the nameless Receptionist-Mistress’s desk in order to see if he could recognise the shoes of his fiancée! But the two pairs of female feet both marched off to the private office so fast slave Paul could not see!
Five minutes elapsed, and a shrill ‘SLAVE, COME HERE!’ rang out over the office.
Slave Paul abandoned the striped socks of peril belonging to the nameless, redheaded Mistress and scrambled to the private office to greet his office Mistress!
Once inside he was stunned! It was Amy! His Amy! Slave Paul just knelt there speechless! He so wanted to jump up and hug her, but he was a slave now!
‘Ahem, aren’t we forgetting something, office foot-slavey?’
Mistress Laura held out her right, stiletto-covered foot for kissing in the full presence of Amy! This bitch was out to utterly humiliate Paul! He had no choice other than to obey, of course, so he duly lowered his lips to kiss her shoe! But even more ignominy was to come, for he was then ordered to kiss the feet of the ‘visitor-Mistress’!
He was in abject hell now!
‘Not necessary, Miss Laura! I preferred it when he kissed me on the lips, thank you!’
Amy had put the heartless bitch in her place! Mistress Laura obviously did not know who Amy was!
‘Hi Paul, I managed to get the reception booked for our wedding in two years from now! The catering is booked and I have arranged a few surprises for you too! Look at these suit material samples I’ve got for you; I think black looks best on you!’
Mistress Laura was seething with rage!
‘DON’T call MY slave by his former first name! I sent for MY slave to tend to your feet as a complimentary service that we offer our Clients here at the bank, and nothing else!’
Amy was not phased one iota by Laura’s attitude:
‘Unless you moderate your tone, I will close my account and bank elsewhere in future!’
Slave Paul was thrilled to hear the evil tormentress being spoken down to in such a derogatory fashion! He knew he was bound to suffer for the embarrassment caused to Mistress Laura later, but right now he was too busy feeling elated to pay the consequences any heed!
The footslave and his fiancée went about planning their delayed wedding in full view of the footmistress! The moment Amy stood up to pat slave Paul on the head, Mistress Laura pulled her reclining office chair up to the kneeling slave. Amy turned and said:
‘Thanks for the agreeable meeting, Miss, and thanks for letting me see my fiancé too!... Don’t let them grind you down, honey!’
Slave Paul had his back to Mistress Laura at present and could not see her slipping her shoe off!
The second the door was closed, Laura angrily jammed her nylon-covered, sweaty feet into slave Paul’s face, clamping his air supply off tightly! With her hand, she forced his mouth open and inserted her sweaty, nylon toes into his gawping, defenceless mouth! The act of invading his mouth in such a humiliating and forceful way made Laura feel a real sense of accomplishment!
Barely a minute later, the door swung back open and Amy popped her head back in to hand back the cup that she had been drinking from! She looked down at the Mistress and slave on the floor and said disdainfully:
‘Phew, poor little Paul! Open a window, Miss! Your nyloned feet stink to the high heavens! Bye!’
Laura was biting her lip with rage! She ran in her stockinged feet to the door and smashed it open so hard, it nearly flew off the hinges!
‘LOTTIE, COME IN HERE! I’VE GOT A REAL TREAT For YOU!’
Mistress Charlotte approached with a broad grin as Mistress Laura was to be found rummaging in the filing cabinet. She turned and produced the punishment whip that slave Paul had been issued with!
‘Why don’t you have the rest of the day off, my dear, and take this fool with you! You can do whatever you fancy with him, so long as it involves a lot of this!’ (thrusting the coiled whip into her hands).
Slave Paul was told to follow the hefty, young blonde to heel. She stopped by her desk to collect her hand bag and a padlock from the drawer. Slave Paul caught a furtive glimpse of the naturally pretty face of Miss Kathy, and mouthed the words ‘Thank you’ to her, for arranging for his beloved Amy to come and visit! She smiled and quickly went on working.
Charlotte, meanwhile, grabbed at the slave and pulled him out of the office and out of the building. They were on the go for what seemed like ages. They finally came to a halt outside the town hall that slave Paul had signed on as a potential footslave! Mistress Charlotte reached into her bag and produced the padlock. Slave Paul had not seen what was behind him - the stocks!
‘In you get, toe-jam-chomper! I need to get you nice and uncomfortable for the next part!’
Technically, what Mistress Charlotte was doing was highly illegal! The town kneeling-pillory is only meant for male criminals that have been sentenced by the Female Courts to the stocks! They are not to be used willy-nilly by the female public!
On the other hand, or should that be foot, who would complain?
Slave Paul lowered himself into the shameful, wooden, public-disgrace, confinement device. The personal padlock of Mistress Charlotte was then affixed unlawfully, clamping him in place. She made the slave kiss her ballet-clad feet, to thank her for locking him up on her impromptu afternoon off! At least he did not have the agony of wondering if her toenails were painted inside those tatty, leather, outer foot coverings!
Charlotte disappeared behind him for a moment. Seconds later a loud crack was heard!
OOOOW!
Charlotte lashed and lashed and lashed at the defenceless maleslave’s back with the cruel, Gynarchy X punishment whip! No mercy was shown at all. Worse still, Slave Paul was given no sentence, so did not know how many he had received and, terrifyingly, how many more were to come! Lash after lash after lash! He could take no more…
‘STOP! PLEASE STOP, MISTRESS CHARLOTTE! MERCY, MADAM! NO MORE!!!’
‘Mercy? What is that? I will keep going until either my arm falls off, you die, or the whip breaks you in two, you little coward! Now shut up and take it like a man! I’m trying to concentrate!
WHIP WHIP WHIP!
Mistress Charlotte was sweating profusely. She was coughing and spluttering from all of the exertion, but would not relent the pace of the whip. She was, literally, in a deep state of female ecstasy!
A large crowd was gathering to watch the spectacle. One heavy-set looking man approached Mistress Charlotte and took the whip from her hand! My knight in flabby armour, thought slave Paul through a haze of male pain and steamy sweat!
But, no such luck! The man merely offered to take over the whipping for a while, so that Mistress Charlotte could recover for yet more whipping! She collapsed on the step in front of Slave Paul, and drew herself close to his face. Both were panting from exhaustion, in their own ways!
She lit a cigarette, and signalled with a click of her fingers to the brute standing behind the slave.
WHIP WHIP WHIP!
ARRRGH!
It was another twenty minutes of back-destroying, unrelenting pain! Mistress Laura would surely be furious that her office footslave had been so badly damaged!
The flabby man finally relented. The exertion was too much even for him, and he could whip no more! But Mistress Charlotte had regained her composure by now, following three cigarettes; she was literally born anew! She calmly stood back up and stabbed the cigarette end into Slave Paul’s confined, left, bare shoulder:
OOOWW!
‘Hand it over! My turn again!’
OH NO!
WHIP WHIP WHIP!
Mercifully, Slave Paul finally succumbed to the awesome power of the lash, and was carted away into the relative safety of unconsciousness. This lack of sentience was still no inhibitor for Mistress Charlotte, however, who merely continued to ‘whip some sense’ into the idol slave languishing in the stocks!
Slave Paul finally awoke some seven hours later in a cold, shivering state of shock! He was surrounded by darkness and loneliness. All he could see was the breath emanating from his mouth as foggy vapour, dispersing into the cold midnight air. Another hour of nagging pain passed by, and Slave Paul was suddenly made aware of the fact that he was no longer alone; authoritarian female boots were heading for his location! At last he thought, release!
The two female officers continued their approach. They were a pretty pair to behold in the moonlight, but somewhat comical in appearance, in that one was only five feet tall and the other was well over six feet tall!
The shorter, stockier of the pair was closest to the confined-in-wood slave, and so she spoke first:
‘Alright, Mr, you know it’s an offence to use these stocks without a permit! Where is it? You certainly are not a convict, though your back bears the whip marks of a criminal! Where’s your cangue? What is it then, some sort of stag party that went wrong?’
‘NO, Mistress police officer madam; this humble and contrite, whipped soul is on national foot-service as a footslave, most respected Mistress if it so pleases you? It was confined here as a punishment for humiliating its Mistress in front of its fiancée, most respected police-officer Mistress!’
The uniformed, police pair laughed heartily at this latest revelation!
‘Well it is still a crime to be confined here, unless sentenced by the courts; or if your Mistress has a special permit. So, where is it?’
This latest question was punctuated with a small kick in the face. The shorter and rounder of the police officers was also getting short on patience!
Slave Paul now realised that he was here illegally! He was in trouble with both the forces of female law and order, and his office foot-Mistress! The foolish outlaw could say no more; the taller, senior, blonde-ponytailed officer merely murmured:
‘Go back to the car, Stacy, and fetch the bolt croppers for the padlock; and bring some handcuffs back with you too!’
For possibly the first time in Gynarchy X history the lock to a set of kneeling stocks was cut off without the slave’s Mistress explicitly authorising his release!
Slave Paul was delighted to be free of the unforgiving wooden grasp of the ancient mocker and tormenter of male slaves! But he was all too quickly fastened into tight-fitting, metal bracelets (this time judicially applied).
‘You are under arrest and have no rights; so shut up!’
Slave Paul was then dragged away for a night in the police cells. When morning came he was hauled out in front of the town bailiff. He was immediately charged and found guilty of trespass and creating a public scene! The bailiff went on to say that she had prescribed a light sentence of 12 months in prison, to be served at the end of the footslave national service period. This was indeed a light sentence! Unfortunately for Slave Paul, however, the controversial POPSS law was still in place! His sentence was immediately overturned, and re-issued as the ink was still drying on the charge sheet: LIFE AS A FOOTSLAVE, WITH NO PAROLE!
Slave Paul was returned to the office that he once ran as someone of importance and status. He was now a truly broken man! He had no hope of freedom; an aching back that was striped red-raw; a Mistress that hated him, and nightly forced him into a cage not big enough for a puppy, following a sound sweaty-nylon-sniffing session; and, to top it all, he now had to tell his beloved fiancée that the wedding was off! What else could possibly go wrong?
Mistress Laura actually burst into tears following the announcement of the new sentence of permanent foot-slavery! Perhaps she was finally feeling sorrow for Slave Paul’s misfortune? No, she was just so delighted that she had him as her own property for the rest of time!
The two female-police officers who had first arrested him and now escorted him back to his place of toil, left as soon as he had cringingly kissing their uniform-boots and thanked them for arresting him in the first place! A jubilant Mistress Laura could not get her stilettos off quickly enough in order to toejam her nylon-covered, sweaty feet into the now permanently enslaved male’s face! She literally threw her pricy shoes at the wall to begin her mockery.
Mistress Laura drew herself down to the kneeling, terrified slave’s face so closely that she could have kissed him!
‘Are you scared, slave?’
Her coffee-laden, hot breath enveloped his face. Mind you, it made a somewhat more pleasant change to her footsweat!
‘YYYYes, Mistress. As it pleases you Mistress.’
‘Well, I haven’t even started on you yet! I’m going to make your life hell from now on! First, I am going to have you legally renamed as ‘slave Nylonsniff’; then I will have you branded with MY name! Then I will have you fitted with the most outlandish, hideous-looking, and above all humiliating foot-fool mask that I can afford! Then you will be ready to serve me anew, footslave! HA! Oh, and one more thing; as you will not be needing your engagement ring anymore, I’ve had it seized as my personal property, and will have it fitted over my middle toe! That way you will be married to my sweaty feet for evermore! HA!’
She set about reserving a place in the local punishment centre, and booked a session with the Indian “Tickler” Mistress for the branding. That was a painful experience in full view of the ticket-holding public that gathered to watch! The “Tickler” Mistress proclaimed to the crowd over the rebranded ‘Slave Nylonsniff’s’ screams: ‘Not to be worrying, ladies! Males are not feeling pain, as we are!’
The new paperwork was signed, legally changing his name to ‘slave Nylonsniff’, and the dreaded footfool-mask was fitted permanently to his face in order to dehumanise him. Mistress Laura chose some fetching words to affix to the mask that she thought would best sum up his remaining years:
TOEJAM, FEET, DIRT, CHEESY, SNIFF, WHIPPED, CLIPPINGS, LICK.
She also saw fit to have his new name added to the right ear of the mask, so nobody would forget who he was. Mistress Laura further decided that it would be nice to add a small model of her black stilettos to his left earlobe, and a pair of miniature, sweaty ballet-flats on bare feet to his right ear by way of a thank you to Mistress Charlotte for engineering his arrest!
He was now the proud, if unwilling, owner of a new pair of heavy, foot-obsessed earrings!
Days later, and the newly named slave Nylonsniff was finally released from his cramped cage to wander around the office asking for permission to act as a masked servitor to the women’s powerful feet and footwear.
He made a direct path for the merciful Miss Kathy, in the hope of some sweet feminine sympathy!
‘Oh hello, Sir! AHEM, I mean slave Nylonsniff . Sorry, but I had better start calling you that, Sir!’
She still was not getting the hang of this Mistress-slave thing, it seemed!
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Kathy, but could you go to my house again tonight and fetch Miss Amy? She will be able to help me! Then, could you fetch my legal papers that are in my desk drawer and take them to my solicitor on Burbank Road? They will…
Slap!
‘Enough! YOU are the slave; not ME! I think you had better start by kissing MY well-worn shoes five hundred times each, and then you can start nuzzling my black woolly tights! Oh, and by the way, I lied! They do smell after all! HA!’
Slave Nylonsniff had evidently gone too far this time! Now he had ruined things for good with his one and only ally in the office! His only erstwhile office-friend was now against him; what a fool!
Mistress Charlotte came by to congratulate the hitherto tranquil and kindly Miss Kathy on joining the ranks of the dark side! Miss Kathy (or as she was to be known from now on, Mistress Katherine) did however agree to send for Miss Amy! This was not to help him in any way, however. She merely wanted to see the expression of shock and disdain on Amy’s pretty feminine features at her former fiancé’s artificial, and now almost unrecognisable, rubbery-masked appearance!
Miss Amy did stop by a week later. She was initially shocked to see her former lover’s contorted, comical appearance! She did not stay long, however, as she had some pretty damming news to disseminate to her office audience! She looked pitifully down at the one whom she still thought of as ‘Paul’, and patted him on the rubbery head:
‘I will not be seeing you again, my dear, as I think it is best to have a clean break in these sorts of situations. I’m sure that Miss Laura and all of your other friends in the office will take good care of you from now on! I have decided to marry Master Ted, the Butcher, instead, so at least all of the planning we did will not go to waste! Now, I do think that you owe me a goodbye kiss, Paul; I mean Ny-Lon-Sniff (she strained to read his name aloud from his bendy, rubber ear).
The most humiliating part was when she put her right, black leather, anklebooted foot forward for kissing, and not her cheek!
