Slave Survey

Don’t believe them when they tell you that a footslave’s opinions count for nothing! Just last week I was interviewed by a charming, young Pakistani lady who was carrying out a survey on behalf of the Gynarchy authorities on my experiences as the personal footslave of my mistress – fiery redheaded mistress Beverley.

I was ushered into my mistress’s, private living room with the young Pakistani surveyor-woman and, after I had kissed her feet several times, was kindly informed by her that everything I said to her would be treated in the strictest confidence – so, for once, I need not worry about actually speaking my footslave mind, such as it is! There would be none of the usual consequences for a slave speaking his mind (those consequences being the harsh sting of the female whip on his bare back!)

The young, Pakistani surveyor-woman was arguably not the prettiest girl on the planet – late twenties; somewhat thin and gaunt with a large pointy nose; straggly, greasy hair; a somewhat cynical expression etched onto her face; and, most importantly for me – since I was still obliged to kneel in front of her and stare at her feet whilst she sat on my mistress’s living-room sofa above me interviewing me – bony, wheatish-coloured, feet and ankles, with dirty toenails and several areas of blotchy, white hardened skin in evidence on her bare, pale-brown feet inside her equally leathery and weather-worn, strappy, flat, dark-brown, high-heeled sandals!

On the plus side, however, she was wearing a very fetching, bright red top and matching, ankle-length dress which went some way to making up for the harsh boniness of her protuberant ankles! She also had a kindly, reassuring voice which helped to put me at my ease – as did her cute, Pakistani-girl accent.

Her private interview with me went as follows – all faithfully recorded in Q & A format by her on her surveyor’s clipboard:

Q So, slave, what is being your slave-name, if you are having one?

A Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you most beautiful surveyor-mistress, this slave has been christened ‘socksniffer’ by his mistress Beverley, madam?

Q Ha! Ha! I am liking your name, slave! Ha! Ha! Presumably it is being because your mistress is requiring you to be sniffing her dirty socks, isn’t it?

A Yes indeed, surveyor-mistress; if it pleases you, all powerful surveyor-mistress.

Q Ha! Ha! You may be calling me miss Ishrat, socksniffer, since we are now being on first name terms, isn’t it?

A Yes miss Ishrat; as it pleases you miss Ishrat!

I like this girl; so sweet; so relaxed. I really feel like I can open up to her, and I’m starting to feel a new respect for her bare, sandaled feet – despite all their obvious dirtiness and flaws – especially as the big toenail on her petite and dainty right foot keeps moving most fetchingly beneath my kneeling face every time she writes something down onto her clipboard (I’m beginning to wish it was her dirty-toenail clipping board!)

Q It is indeed being pleasing to me, socksniffer, so you must be doing it, isn’t it? You must also be answering all my questions truthfully; remember – your mistress will not be getting to hear the results of this survey, or your thoughts and opinions of her, isn’t it?

A Yes, miss Ishrat. Thank you, miss Ishrat. God bless you, miss Ishrat.

Q Good! So, socksniffer, what is being your age?

A Oh pray miss Ishrat, if it pleases you miss Ishrat, this slave is 50 years old, miss Ishrat.

Speaking in confidence or not, kneeling at the feet of a bony, but kindly, Pakistani surveyor-mistress who is some 20 years my junior, or not, I must still answer her questions in a suitably respectful manner, in a tone befitting an inferior footslave i.e. by utilising humble and respectful slave-speak. She certainly seems to expect that, for she has notably not given me permission to relax my slavish mode of address towards her. She is still my infinite, female better, after all; and she knows it!

Q And how old is being your mistress Beverley?

A Oh pray miss Ishrat, if it pleases you miss Ishrat, my mistress Beverley is 26 years old, miss.

Q And how long are you being enslaved by her at her feet, socksniffer?

A Oh pray mistress, some 4 glorious years now, miss – since my mistress got married to my master-sir. I was her wedding present to her from her parents-in-law, miss Ishrat madam.

Q Ha! Ha! You are describing them as being ‘glorious’ years, socksniffer-slave. But are you really thinking that they are being all glorious? Surely you must be being angry and frustrated with your female foot-owner at times?

A Oh pray miss Ishrat, if it pleases you miss Ishrat, this slave believes that a slave must just take the rough with the smooth, miss, and do so with good grace, miss – for he is just a humble slave, miss Ishrat madam!

Q Ha! Ha! So, you are admitting that sometimes you are finding your existence as your mistress’s personal footslave ‘rough’?

At this point, somewhat ironically, the ‘rough’ and bony big-toe on miss Ishrat’s wheatish-brown and blotchy, right foot starts to twitch inside her stale-sweat marked, open-toed, brown-leather sandal almost uncontrollably, like she is subliminally becoming excited and wants to hear more about the ‘rough’ side of being my mistress Beverley’s personal footslave.

A Oh pray, miss Ishrat, if it pleases you, miss Ishrat, it is only right and proper that a footslave’s life should be no bed of roses – since he is being punished for life, as a slave, madam.

Q So tell me, socksniffer, what is it precisely that is being ‘rough’ about your life at your mistress’s feet?

I feel very much on the spot, here. I’m not used to having to answer such probing questions – and especially not truthfully. Even when up before the Female Court on trumped-up charges, a slave is expected to lie and plead guilty, for the pleasure of his false-accuser mistress. But here am I, kneeling in private at the dirty feet of a skinny, Pakistani girl, being exhorted to tell her what it is I don’t like about being my mistress Beverley’s personal footslave. Bizarre! I hope I don’t put my foot in it, so to speak; I’d much rather put miss Ishrat’s bare, Pakistani-girl foot into my mouth and suck away all that dirty toejam from underneath her chipped and unkempt toenails, than have to answer all these questions!

A Erm…well, miss, if it pleases you miss Ishrat, this slave is sometimes obliged to kneel and stare at his mistress Beverley’s blue and white polka-dotted anklesocks inside her shoes – and he does not find such socks particularly pleasing to look at, miss Ishrat, since this slave humbly believes that dark-coloured socks go better with his mistress’s plain, black office shoes and slacks, miss, if you would be so kind and understanding miss?

Pathetic – I know! ‘Is that really your only complaint about being a humble footslave?’ I hear you ask. ‘Are you really so aggrieved by something so minor and insignificant as a perceived sock-sartorial faux pas on the part of your mistress Beverley?’

But you must remember, I am, by definition, my mistress Beverley’s socksniffer, and the style and colour of her socks is therefore ultra-important to me, since they dominate so much of my life, and since I must spend literally hours every day following her socks to humble heel; staring at them whilst she is seated at her office desk; nosing them; sniffing them, and then, eventually, mouthwashing them at the end of the day.

I don’t like my mistress wearing her manky, incongruously-coloured blue and white anklesocks with her sober, black cotton, officer trouser-suit and matching, plain black leather, office loafers. Apart from anything else her blue and white polka-dotted socks go against the officewear, dress code where she works! No, I don’t like that particular pair of my mistress Beverley’s socks – even if I do respect them – and this is my chance to jolly well say so!

Miss Ishrat certainly seems to agree with you, however, and to find my answer both funny and pathetic at the same time:

Q Ha! Ha! But surely, what business is it being of yours whatever socks your mistress is choosing to wear, socksniffer-slave? And what is it mattering what your mistress’s socks are being looking like? Surely it is what they are being smelling like that is being most important to a humble socksniffer?

Miss Ishrat’s tone, for the first time, betrays perhaps just the tiniest hint of fellow-womanly support for my mistress Beverley and her freedom to choose whatever type of socks she damn well likes on her feet. I must be careful – for, for all her reassuring words, you’ve got to wonder, as a dirty male slave, just how ‘independent’ a mistress-surveyor can be when interviewing a lowlife, male slave on behalf of the superior Female State! Might she dob me in to my mistress at the end of the day?

I therefore backtrack somewhat on my foolish complaint:

A Oh yes, miss Ishrat! Indeed, miss Ishrat. This slave meant no offence to his most respected mistress Beverley and her socks; it’s just that, this slave is of the opinion that dark-coloured socks would enhance the aesthetic beauty of his mistress’s feet and ankles even more than her blue and white socks, if it is so pleasing to you miss Ishrat?

Q I see. Now, be telling me, queer socksniffer, your mistress Beverley is being quite fat, with fat calves and anklebones isn’t it? Are you really liking her legs and ankles, and finding them beautiful, or would you not rather be serving the skinny ankles of a beautiful young woman like me, isn’t it?

Did you notice that sudden change in miss Ishrat’s tone? She called me ‘queer’ socksniffer! That’s not my name! But she clearly thinks, after my last answer about not liking certain styles in my mistress Beverley’s, spotty office socks, that I’m a bit ‘queer’.

Maybe she’s right!

But one thing’s for sure – she’s certainly putting me on the spot right now: do I prefer fat girl’s ankles to skinny girl’s ankles – cankles or skankles, that is the question? And the one asking it is a skankle-girl!

Given her slightly more ominous tone, I revert to the default position ingrained into every male slave in the Gynarchy, and lie – lie in order to flatter the mistress in front of him!

A Oh pray miss Ishrat, if it pleases you miss Ishrat, truly this slave prefers the shapely and skinny ankles of the most beautiful, Pakistani mistress in front of him, to those of his own fat mistress Beverley, if it would be so pleasing to you mistress?

Actually, nothing could be further from the truth! I do adore my mistress Beverley’s somewhat fleshy, but by no means shapeless, ankles and lower calves, and, when all is said and done, inviting though the Pakistani surveyor-mistress’s unkempt, wheatish-brown, bare feet may be to the kiss (especially given the constant subliminal movement in her nasty, right big-toe) I do prefer female feet in socks, being a ‘queer’ socksniffer. And at least my fat mistress Beverley nearly always wears socks (albeit sometimes aesthetically unpleasing ones as explained above) inside her shoes, sandals or boots – unlike, it seems, this skinny, bony-ankled, rather plain-looking Pakistani surveyor-mistress, who evidently prefers to go commando when it comes to her feet (i.e. sockless!)

Skinny or not – I’m sure miss Ishrat is not stupid, otherwise she would not have been able to secure such an important job as a surveyor, so I suspect she can tell that I’m lying about liking her feet. I therefore toy with the idea of placing further, unsolicited kisses, on her bare, sandaled feet at this point, as a gesture of faux-adoration for them, but then think better of it. That might be taking too much of a liberty with her kind-hearted nature – placing false kisses on her bare, Pakistani toes to try to cover up my barefaced lies, and pretend that I do find her skinny, bare feet more attractive than my own mistress Beverley’s socked, fat feet!

But, suspicious of the veracity of my answer or not, miss Ishrat lets it pass (come to think of it, her bony, Pakistani-girl feet would, actually, look quite nice in socks – especially dark-coloured socks, and especially if the socks were thick and helped to fill out and protect her painfully gaunt and delicate anklebones! No signs of any tell-tale, lingering, Pakistani-girl sock lint on these particular, sandaled feet, however!)

Q So be telling me, queer socksniffer, are your fat mistress’s feet and socks being very stinky and smelly inside her shoes when you are being having to sniff them?

A Oh yes miss Ishrat, if it pleases you, miss Ishrat! My mistress’s socks can indeed be most pungent and vinegary-tasting with her footsweat at the end of the day, miss Ishrat, if it so pleases you, miss Ishrat?

Have you noticed how I like to answer a question with a question – ‘if it so pleases you, miss Ishrat?’ That’s because I just want to please miss Ishrat. I don’t much care if her feminine survey is accurate or not – I just want to ingratiate myself to her, for she is my female better. I can’t help it; it’s in my submissive maleslave DNA!

Q Ha! Ha! And how are you liking that ‘vinegary’ taste and smell, queer socksniffer?

A Oh pray miss Ishrat, if it pleases you miss Ishrat, this slave finds the smell and taste of his mistress Beverley’s sweaty, stinky socks deeply unpleasant, divine miss Ishrat, but must nevertheless hide his distaste from the mistress, out of respect for his mistress and her smelly, sweat-laden socks miss.

That much is true. I don’t, actually, like the smell of stinky, female socks – few, if any, footslaves do. But we put up with it, as it is part and parcel of our jobs to respect and admire our mistress’s sweaty socks and/or nylons; it just goes with the territory!

Miss Ishrat’s mood seems to lighten again as I confirm my ‘hatred’ for my mistress Beverley’s smelly, vinegary feet. I must say, the Pakistani girl’s feet – despite looking so unkempt – don’t really smell at all; just the faintest whiff of natural, residual foot-odour, only detectable because my kneeling and bowed face is currently so close to them as I am effectively having my humble conversation with her animated big-toe.

Q Ha! Ha! And so finally, slave-socksniffer, please to be telling me what it is that your mistress Beverley could be doing to better discipline you, and be keeping you in line?

This final question takes me somewhat by surprise. Such a rapid and abrupt change of subject! You’d almost think it was possibly the only question that really matters in the whole survey – the only one that counts as the Gynarchy authorities look for new and ever more inventive ways of disciplining maleslavedom!

Or am I being too cynical?

Who cares?! I must just answer the female question:

A Oh pray, miss Ishrat, if it pleases you miss Ishrat…erm, this slave thinks that his mistress Beverley already keeps a suitably tight rein on him, if it is so pleasing to you surveyor-mistress miss Ishrat?’

It’s a wishy-washy answer that seemingly won’t wash with the Pakistani surveyor-mistress, who visibly grimaces around her bony face in evident frustration at my negative reply to what was supposed to have been a rhetorical question.

She sounds angry:

Q Oh, so you are being the perfect slave, is it slave? Not being in any need of more sting from the female whip, is it? You are being such a damned, high and mighty footslave that you are not requiring the discipline of your mistress’s stick and whip on you, is it?

I wasn’t, until now, aware that there could be a right or a wrong answer to an independent survey. But, clearly, my last answer had been displeasing to the ‘impartial’, Pakistani surveyor-mistress. I therefore immediately seek to rectify my inappropriate earlier response:

A Oh pray, miss Ishrat, if it pleases you miss Ishrat, this humble and stupid slave did not mean to imply that he should be immune from the female whip, miss. It is just that his mistress Beverley is already so adept with the whip that she does not require any other sanctions, miss, in order to effect proper discipline and humility on her dirty, socksniffing slave, miss Ishrat, if you would be so kind and understanding to a lowly and stupid slave of socks, madam?

I am speaking the truth again. Can’t the Pakistani surveyor-mistress see the state of my whip-scarred back?! Miss Ishrat, however, is no longer in the mood to be kind and understanding to an impudent and arrogant, socksniffing-slave. Her big-toe twitches angrily and contemptuously beneath my face:

Q Very well, dirty slave. I am hereby informing you that under Section 3 1 (a) of the Female Penal Code I am revoking the private and confidential nature of your replies to this survey, isn’t it? This is meaning that, despite what I am saying to you earlier, your answers will now be being revealed to your mistress Beverley! Ha! Ha! Soon we will be seeing whether your fat mistress is being pleased with your answers, or whether she is feeling that you are being an impudent and disloyal socksniffer-slave – one who is being most deserving of the sting of her whip, isn’t it?

A Yes, miss Ishrat. Thank you, miss Ishrat. God bless you, miss Ishrat!

I should have guessed it! I’ve been conned – conned into publicly dissing my mistress, and in particular her manky, blue and white spotted office socks and her fat ankles, and all for what? Another painful taste of the whip, no doubt!

Q Now be kissing my feet many times while I am calling your mistress on the phone! Ha! Ha! I am hoping she will be letting me stay and watch your suffering, isn’t it? Ha! Ha!

What can I possibly say in reply to that? Beg for mercy and forgiveness? It’s all I can think of, for I am about to be well and truly dumped in it by the seemingly kind and unassuming Pakistani surveyor-mistress, who had won over my confidence!

Miss Ishrat now gleefully places her clipboard, with all its incriminating evidence of my disloyalty and disrespect for my mistress Beverley and her feet and footwear, to one side and takes out her mobile phone, in order to legitimately betray that foolish and misplaced, maleslave confidence.

Meanwhile I lower my lips to her wheatish-brown, bare footflesh inside her musty-smelling, brown leather sandals, and start to repeatedly kiss my treacherous interrogator’s dirty, hard-skinned feet:

A Yes miss Ishrat…kiss...kiss… Please have mercy on me, miss Ishrat…kiss...kiss...kiss…Oh pray, mistress! Oh do!...kiss…kiss…kiss…

I never again spoke so candidly to a mistress; and never will. The subsequent whipping I received at the hands of my mistress Beverley’s husband, in front of my mistress and her surveyor-friend, miss Ishrat, convinced me of the prudence of maleslave taciturnity!

The End

Now watch this entire story – as it happened!

Slave Survey by patheticus on GoAnimate