Everyday Scenes of Footslavery Volume 5
Scene no. 1 - Getting Personal
Although I am a communal, office footslave, and am not owned by an individual mistress, I like to pretend – as I perform my daily, office rounds on my hands and knees kissing and lickshining the office shoes and boots of the various lady office-workers, under the close supervision of my charming, but demanding, supervisor-mistress, 30 year old miss Punita – that I am the personal footservant of each and every office-mistress whose dirty footwear I attend to. I find it helps me to focus on what I am doing, and thereby to deliver a good and humble service.
And besides, I'm sure that many of my office footmistresses regard me as their de facto personal footservant in any case, judging by their haughty and dismissive attitude towards me!
- My day of humble servitude begins with my short and stocky, Indian supervisor-mistress herself, miss Punita. As soon as she unlocks me from my office-basement, foothole-cell I am all over her angular, and usually ropey-grey, sneaker-style socks inside her ubiquitous, shiny black plastic, cheap loafer shoes – kissing and worshipping the stylish, white-tick logos on the sides of her grey socks as I respectfully cup each of her dainty, Indian-girl feet in turn beneath her ankle-length, grey-cotton leggings. I imagine myself putting her short, bare-heel-exposing, ropey-grey socks onto her soft, brown feet, followed by her slip-on, black plastic, loafer shoes, immediately after she has breakfasted with her husband at home (speaking Hindi to one another above me so as to cut me out of their private conversation and to deliberately ignore me). It's actually quite easy to imagine myself as supervisor miss Punita's personal, household footservant since, in her capacity as my workplace supervisor, she does most approximate to being my owner since I spend all of my working day crawling after her feet (plus, of course, she carries, and frequently uses, her supervisory, office bulls-pizzle whip on me, like a personal footmistress might do in the privacy of her own home, as she accompanies me on my office foot-rounds!)
- Miss Punita then leads me behind her loafered heels to my second 'personal' footmistress of the day – invariably receptionist-mistress Sarala, a fellow-Indian girl, though older (by several years), taller (by several inches) and fatter (by several stones) than my short and stocky supervisor-mistress Punita. That means her feet, beneath her receptionist's front-desk, are bigger and fatter than her Indian-girl counterpart's, but I still cup them, and worship them, one by one, as if they were the feet of my personal, tall and fat, thirty-something, Indian footmistress! Goddess-mistress Sarala likes to wear blocky-heeled, round-toed, single-strapped, black leather, mary-jane-style shoes on her fat feet beneath her black polyester trousersuit hems, and today she is wearing them with a delightful pair of full-length, black cotton anklesocks with white spots on them. Her spotty socks are already quite dusty and creased, and so I make a show, underneath my supervisory-mistress's dangling, bulls-pizzle whip, of kissing the dust off the creases in officemistress Sarala's fat socks as if they were the spotty, black and white socks of my personal, Indian footmistress, for which I had sole responsibility. The two Indian girls laugh at my sock-devotion!
- Miss Punita then roughly drags me by means of my neck-chain behind her dry and chapped, exposed, bare Indian-girl heels, flat black plastic loafers, and angular, grey socks up to the first floor of the female office where I must pay my early-morning respects to my next 'personal' footmistress – Chinese office goddessmistress Wei-Lan – she of the skinny, black leather ankleboots and slender, black anklesocks. I cup and kiss her Chinese-girl boots and twisted socktops with particular reverence as I know she is fond of chiding male prisoner-slaves in the town square stocks during her freetime, and so I like to imagine myself confined and helpless on my hands and knees in the public kneeling-pillory before her – forced to admire her slender boots and socks as she rubs manure into my face and mocks me in her cute but cruel, Chinese-girl accent!
- Then it's over to the soft and musty-smelling, black leather ballet-flats of 19 year old, blonde-ponytailed, office-junior mistress Samantha, and her cute, cartoon-themed, black cotton sneaker-socks with the brightly-coloured cartoon characters along the insteps! I love the contrast between the pale white of her bare ankleskin and the plain black elasticated upper of her short sock, and make a point of placing one worshipful lip simultaneously on each as I pay my office-footslave homage to her sweet young-womanly ankles whilst trying to imagine what it would be like being the full-time, personal footservant of such a fit and feisty, young blonde woman (even though she can't legally own a personal footslave before the age of 21!). I imagine I'd find it hard to keep up with such a fit-looking young woman in her physical prime, and that she would, quite literally, leave me crawling to catch up with her off-duty, sneakered heels as she went for her early-morning jog each day with her equally young and fit boyfriend – office master-sir Kevin in Accounts! Yes, I expect I wouldn't be able to keep up with the feet of such a fit and healthy, young woman, and should lower my expectations in that regard. Still, at least I am having the honour of paying literal lip-service to her bare, white ankleskin and black, elasticated socktop above the multicoloured cartoon characters on the main body of her sock!
- Speaking of jogging sneakers, the next office mistress I must serve – 23 year old, portly black-girl mistress Shaniqua – has a special dispensation to wear her scruffy, black, lace-up, low-top sneakers to work because of her bad ankles. I don't know exactly what's wrong with them (though no doubt I would do if I were genuinely her personal footservant) but I do know that she wears nice, thick, black towelling socks with her fat ankles – again, presumably, to help protect her damaged, feminine anklebones! And so, under the ever-watchful eye of my Indian supervisor-mistress Punita, I gently and respectfully cup and kiss the scuzzy, black sneakers and fuzzy, black towelling socks of black goddessmistress Shaniqua's diseased feet and ankles, doing my ankle-level best to care for them as a personal footservant would do at home under pain of the whip!
- Next it's over to the desk, and the blocky-heeled, square-toed, black leather, zip-up ankleboots of ginger-haired goddessmistress, miss Emma. I am never guaranteed sight of miss Emma's bootsocks inside her boots as I kiss and lick them on her feet beneath her office desk – not unless she is seated with her right leg dominantly crossed over her left with therefore just a hint of sock showing on her upper anklebone beneath her raised trouser-hem – but even on days like today when she is seated with both her booted feet placed firmly on the floor, I know for a fact that she will probably be wearing a pair of pastel-pink-shaded anklesocks inside her glorious, trouser-covered, black leather ankleboots since she has a well-known penchant for pink bootsocks! Again, her lucky, personal footservant would know for sure what colour of socks she had on inside her boots today, for he would have humbly put them on her feet, but I, sadly, for all my imaginations, am not ginger-haired miss Emma's personal boot and sock slave – so I can only speculate; and yearn!
- No need to speculate or guess as to the nature and colour of the next officemistress's socks, for they are fully on view between her black cotton trouser-hems and the black leather uppers of her smart, office-loafer shoes – the black, ribbed, cotton anklesocks of white South African mistress Karin. They are deliciously dust-stained (as are her shoes) and so I am required to spend a lot of time dabbing dust off the ribbed stitching down the sides of her black cotton socks with my tongue, as well as off the insteps of her black leather loafers, rather like a personal footservant would do! Helpfully, office goddessmistress Karin even hitches up her black-cotton trouser hems still further to ensure that my mouth has full and unimpeded access to the tops of her socks on her soft, white ankleskin – again, rather as she might do for her personal footservant at home!
Of course, all of these office-mistresses (apart from miss Samantha) will already have personal footwear-servants at home, and therefore don't need me to attend to their feet and footwear full-time. But just having the honour of serving them at work, and pretending to be the permanent slave of their shoes, boots and socks, is good enough for me, even if I don't get to study their personal sockdrawers in their homes!
I'm not complaining, and, let's face it, variety is the spice of an office footslave's humble life!
Scene no. 2 - Expert Sockteases
Most young women will tactfully, and demurely, pull down their trouser or jean hems to hide their socks from their freemale acquaintances – out of a sense of feminine decorum and respect for the freemale’s manliness. For he doesn’t want to see her socks; he’s much more interested in her bare flesh – particularly in the area of her breasts!
But with me, of course – the male public footslave – the opposite is true; beautiful young women are completely unabashed about showing their undergarments to me – at least as far as their socks are concerned, since I don’t count as a real man! Indeed, if anything, they revel in imposing their stinky socks on my lowly, maleslave vista, since they know it is my job to attend to their socks, along with the rest of their footwear.
Hence:
- Regular customer-mistress Hayley, who has recently celebrated getting married, deliberately hitches up (as opposed to adjusting down) her navy-blue trouser hems as she wishes to show off to me her black cotton bootsocks inside her heavy-duty, security-guard, ankleboots with the block heels and rounded, reinforced toe areas! She wants me to suffer the indignity of having to look at her lowly bootsocks at close quarters as I tongueshine the uppers of her lace-up, uniform ankleboots – an indignity born of the fact that her fully pulled-up socks are hiding her soft, white, lower legskin from my footslavish view – smooth, feminine legskin which is for the delectation of her husband’s eyes only! I, the slave, must make do with sweaty girlsock!
- Similarly, the regular customer-mistress, Turkish mistress Fatima – who works as a cleaner in one of the nearby offices – teases me mercilessly by tucking her blue denim jean-hems inside the tops of her shiny, black leather, chelsea-style ankleboots, thereby cruelly hiding her socks from view. She wants me to pathetically beg to see her socks (for she knows I would love to observe them really!), and so her conversation with me, as she is seated high above my kneeling face on the public-shoelick throne of power in front of me, goes something like this:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave like the way Fatima tuck jeans into boots? Make boots nice and clear for slave-tongue to lick? Ha! Ha!’
‘Oh yes, mistress Fatima. Thank you kindly, superior customer-mistress Fatima. God bless you, goddess-mistress Fatima!’
‘Ha! Ha! You not want see Fatima nice socks inside boots? Fatima thought you a dirty-sock whore! Fatima thought you crave sniff women dirty socks?!’
‘Oh yes, mistress! If it pleases you, goddess-cleaner mistress Fatima! Truly this slave would be honoured to view your socks inside your boots whilst he is lickshining the outsides of your boots for you, if it would be pleasing to you, most glorious mistress-madam!’
‘Ha! Ha! You shut up, dirty slave! Lick boot! Then I decide whether to show you sock! You impudent! You lazy! Maybe I whip you instead? Ha! Ha!’
‘Yes mistress. I am begging your pardon mistress! Please don’t whip me, goddess-mistress Fatima!’
Maybe she will; maybe she won’t – show me her socks, I mean. I think we can safely say she’s going to whip me, whatever happens!
- Another regular customer-mistress who is a bit of a socktease – black mistress Corinne – is next to regale me with her socks. Unlike her Turkish predecessor, African-Caribbean mistress Corinne has her full-length, black anklesocks on full display inside her black leather ballet-flats, and, after she has made herself comfortable on the shoeshine-chair of power above me, hitches up her black cotton trouser-hems to reveal not just her socks in all their glory, but also her smooth, upper, blackgirl ankleskin! She then ostentatiously adjusts her socks in front of my face – but not by straightening them or pulling them up; quite the opposite – she rolls them down, so that they look even more slovenly and slutty than before!
It’s her way of mocking me and tormenting me – for she knows full well that all my footslave-instincts will be itching to straighten her untidy socks whilst I tongue-attend to her outer, musty-smelling, black leather ballet-flats, and yet she equally knows that I can’t touch the slovenly socks – not by hand, face or mouth; not without her explicit, young-black-womanly authority and permission! And so I must soldier on with my tongue on her soft, black shoeleather, trying my ankle-level best to ignore the untidiness of her socks, and the resultant additional, exposed, bare brown ankleflesh!
Yes, a lady's humble socks can be a powerful weapon on the right pair of female feet – both in the seduction of free males and the subjugation of enslaved males – if she knows how to use them for such purposes!
Scene no. 3 – A Change of Scene
Normally when I see her it’s late afternoon, she is alone, and she is wearing her ubiquitous black leather, chunky-heeled, round-toed, zip-up ankleboots beneath her black cotton, office trouser-hems. Scottish, blonde-platted-haired, regular customer-mistress Isla often stops by my street-corner, public bootlick-stand on her way home from work to have her well-worn, office ankleboots lickshined prior to catching her commuter train.
But today she approaches me in the evening, and on her way in to town, as she is, it transpires, out on a hot date with her manly, young husband, who is accompanying her and possessively holding her hand (at least, I presume it’s her husband, as I know she’s only recently got married!)
I didn’t recognise her at first – because she is wearing a pair of beige-brown, calf-length, misshapen ugg-boots over blue-denim jeans; it was only when she laughed at me and introduced me to her husband that I recognised her from her cute, Scottish-girl accent:
‘Ha! Ha! This is the daily, public bootlicker I was telling you about, honey! He’s such a loser – having to lickshine women’s dirty shoes and boots all day! Ha! Ha! He’s not a bit like you, honey!’
‘Ha! Ha! Too right he’s not! I’d never put my mouth anywhere near your filthy boots, sweetie-pie! Ha! Ha! What do you think I am – a dork? Ha! Ha!’
‘Ha! Ha! Och no, honey – he’s the dork; a public-bootlick dork! Watch!...’
And with that goddess-mistress Isla lets go of his hand and arrogantly positions her right, musty-smelling, beige, sheepskin boot – with its inordinately thick, rounded toe – onto the wet footblock beneath my face (it has recently been raining – as further evidenced by the dark patches in the otherwise beige-coloured sheepskin material along mistress Isla’s unfamiliar, but rain-dampened, ugg boots!):
‘Hey you down there – the pathetic bootlick-boy! Lickshine my dirty, sheepskin boots and clean them up for my husband. I want him to be able to see his handsome, manly face in them!’
There are at least three things wrong with her young-womanly command:
1) I’m not a boy – I’m 50 years old, and at least twice her age! (then again, as she has so rightly pointed out to her husband, I’m hardly a man!)
2) It is not humanly possible to lickshine a beige sheepskin ugg boot (then again, I’m hardly a human being; I’m a subhuman slave!)
3) Her husband is not exactly what I would describe as ‘handsome’; more ‘fat’ and ‘brutish’! (Then again, they do say that beauty is in the eye of the female beholder!)
But, of course, the Female Law states that a superior customer-mistress is always right, even when she is in the wrong or asking the impossible, and so my only legitimate response must be:
‘Yes, mistress Isla! At once, mistress Isla! As it pleases you, mistress Isla-madam!’
She repeats my weaselly words of cringing servility in a suitably whiny voice, and turns her pretty, blonde head toward her manly, young husband for approval.
He congratulates her on her public domination and humiliation of me, as befits a true gentleman:
‘Ha! Ha! Well done, love! Sweet! Ha! Ha! He looks, and sounds, absolutely terrified of you! Ha! Ha!’
‘Ha! Ha! That’s because he knows if I’m not satisfied with his efforts on my boots I’ll hit him hard with the public whipping stick!’
She points to the thin and whippy, rattan cane hanging on a hook on the wall behind my head! And now she is speaking the truth – for goddess-mistress Isla has never been squeamish about noting her displeasure with my tongue-licking efforts on her black leather, office ankleboots! So, I’m guessing her threat to beat me tonight if I fail to spruce up her freetime ugg-boots – in front of her husband – is no idle threat!
Even if it was, the free master-sir now appears to be itching to give me a few stripes with the swishy, rattan cane himself, as he curiously moves over to the wall, unhooks it, and gives it a few practise strokes through the crisp, early-evening air!
Whether or not he’s actually planning to use it on me tonight – perhaps to demonstrate still further his power and masculinity in front of his adoring, young wife – the mere implicit threat of a beating from him is enough to make me redouble my ‘lickshining’ efforts on his wife’s shapeless ugg-boots, even though, if she really wants him to be able to see his ugly face in them, I am doomed to public-footslave failure!
At least I can enjoy a somewhat different taste in my mouth from her usual, black bootleather. The beige sheepskin ugg boots taste much bitterer than their black leather counterparts, which I both like and hate at one and the same time! Let’s just say that blonde-girl ugg boots are clearly an acquired taste!
I wonder, though, if blonde miss Isla is wearing her same, black office bootsocks inside her unshapely uggs? Does she still wear her black cotton, office socks during her free time, or does she change into pure white, or brightly coloured, socks? Is she perhaps even going commando inside her furry, beige boots?
The bootlick-mind boggles!
Meanwhile both the happy, Scottish mistress-madam and the jubilant, fat master-sir are laughing out loud at my furious efforts to lickshine her haughtily-extended, beige-brown, rain-dampened, city-street, ugg boot with my feeble, maleslave tongue – knowing, perhaps, that they can have free rein to whip me as there is absolutely no way the thick-skinned, master-sir’s ugly face will appear in her post-licked, sheepskin ugg boots!
But, luckily for me, their very joy and happiness at my stress and humiliation seems to turn them on so much that they lovingly start to embrace one another, and then leave me in the lurch as they saunter off, arm in arm, towards the nearby cinema where, no doubt, they shall be heading straight for the back row for a bit of young-married-couple snogging!
Yes, the change of scenery (with regard to customer-mistress Isla’s boots) has been quite bittersweet – sweet to see her so much in love; but bitter to have the sour aftertaste of her musty, sheepskin boots in my abandoned, footslave mouth!
Scene no. 4 – A Possessive Master-Sir’s Helpful Advice to a lowly public footservant
The pretty, petite, twenty-something Japanese girl in the fetching pink cap and matching pink cotton tracksuit, scrunched-up, orange anklesocks, and bright yellow and white, laceless, low-top, canvas sneakers with elasticated sides, somewhat diffidently extends her dainty, right, oriental foot onto the low-level footblock beneath my publicly-kneeling face – at her masterful boyfriend’s behest – whilst the latter, a somewhat older-than-her, white man in his forties, crouches down beside my kneeling head to give me my orders.
I can smell the master-sir’s stale, smoky breath. He sounds American as he talks:
‘Hey you – the slave – start lickshining the white, rubbery insteps of my pretty, Japanese girlfriend’s sneakers, yeah? And while you’re at it let’s get a few things straight, shall we slave? You ain’t worthy to look my girl in the bare ankleflesh; nor do you have my permission to stare her in the bright orange anklesock; even the creases in her nice, orange socks are none of your concern, slave! Nor are you to focus on the uppers of her bright yellow and white sneakers, you dig? When I say ‘lickshine her rubbery-white insteps’, that’s exactly what I mean, footslave! You just concentrate on the dirty, lower sides of her sneakers – for you ain’t even worthy to look my pretty, Japanese girlfriend in the sock, yeah? Ha! Ha! Even your ugly slave-head is lower than her sock – so let’s keep it that way slave, yeah?’
‘Yes, master-sir! Thank you kindly, master-sir! This slave hears and obeys the magnificent and all-powerful master!’
‘Ha! Ha! That’s right, slaveboy! You just focus on my Japanese gal’s lower sneakers and lick off all the mud and crud she’s been walkin’ in! Ha! Ha! You leave her socks to me! Ha! Ha! Only I am permitted to touch them – when I’m pullin’ them off to make love to her in bed! Ha! Ha!’
The Japanese girl giggles at the pleasing thought of making love to her sugar-daddy, American boyfriend, blows him down a loving kiss above my head, and then cocks her own pretty, pale-pink-capped head to one side as she looks down upon me, in order to get a better view of my tongue’s frantic efforts on the lower insteps of her dirty, oriental street-sneakers!
The master-sir has firmly put me in my place – and she loves it!
She loves him!
‘Ha! Ha! You obey your master! You lickshine my dirty sneaker. Ha! Ha! My handsome boyfriend your god-o, and I your mistress! Ha! Ha!’
‘Yes, mistress madam…lick…lick…lick…Yes, master sir…lick…lick…lick…’
Scene no. 5 – She Loves…
She loves the fact that I am duty bound to focus on the lowest, meanest, dirtiest parts of her brown leather kneeboots with my public-bootlick tongue, even though I yearn to attend to her boots’ sexy uppers…
She loves the fact that her manly boyfriend is gleefully bossing me about and directing my humble tongue-work as I endeavour to lickshine her scuffmarked and well worn, lower brown bootleather…
She loves the fact that even her grey, cotton kneesocks, peeking out unevenly from the tops of her boots, are higher than me…
She loves the fact that my head is bowed contritely over her brown leather kneeboots…
She loves the fact that I am in her power and at her mercy…
She loves the fact that she is feeling horny…
She loves her man…
She loves… to make love in front of me – the impotent slave!
Scene no. 6 – My Role
My role whilst my 21 year old, blonde-haired mistress reaches up to lovingly kiss her boyfriend on the lips, is to unobtrusively kneel behind her grubby-white, laced-up plimsolls and matching white anklesocks, far beneath her blue denim shorts and bare white legs, and to humbly observe, and count, the creases in the backs of her socks caused by her standing on tippy-toe… and to count myself lucky to be a party to her socks during such moments of intimacy!
Making Out by patheticus on GoAnimate
Scene no. 7 – Burka-Biker Boots
27 year old regular customer-mistress Juhanah from the United Arab Emirates likes to wear her traditional, full-length, black burka and a veil. But she expresses her individuality by wearing chunky, black leather, biker-style, buckled ankleboots with chunky heels and thick, rounded toes, beneath her traditional burka attire.
Not only that – but her individualistic burka-biker boots contain lots of little sharp, metal studs on the toe-areas, making them exceptionally painful for a public footslave like me to kiss! I literally feel a prick every time I must reverentially place my lips onto her spiked boot-toes!
Plus, of course, the many little studs simultaneously make the boots much more difficult to tongue-shine since, as miss Juhanah herself is gleefully wont to point out, each individual metal stud must be sucked to a nice, sparkling shine, so that they all catch the sunlight and bedazzle everyone around her!
Just in case I get any wrong ideas about miss Juhanah, she always wears her burka-biker boots over thick, black woolly tights beneath her ankle-length burka – whatever the weather – so I never get to see her bare ankle or leg flesh, and her Arab-girl modesty is suitably maintained despite her penchant for feisty, feminine footwear!
Scene no. 8 – Tall & Mighty
Most customer mistresses are petite – certainly smaller in stature than me, even though they all seemingly tower above me as I am confined on the ground on my knees at their dainty, feminine feet.
However, just occasionally I encounter a customer-mistress who is a true goddess-giantess, with relatively big feet, such as the black, African mistress now availing herself of my humble, public shoelicking services!
She looks fit – a natural, female athlete – and she clearly isn’t abashed by her large, female feet, for she is wearing an oversized pair of black, high-top, loosely-laced-up, converse sneakers with thick, scrunched-up, blue-and-red-patterned anklesocks on her otherwise bare, long, sporting black legs beneath her tight shorts!
She’s a real freemale-headturner as she barks her arrogant, African-female orders down at me from on high, and elicits a number of courageous wolf-whistles from various male passers-by! And understandably so – for she is the epitome of the mighty female over the masochistic male!
I too am excited, for there is an inordinately large amount of black sneaker-canvas for me to humbly kiss and lick, and the sight of her thick, scrunched-up, blue and red sock peeking out the top inspires me to ever greater efforts on her XL outer footwear!
She is a demanding customer-mistress, as well as a tall one:
‘Puny, insignificant footslave, I want you to lickshine my black, canvas high-tops with your tongue, and then straighten out the creases in my dark blue and red anklesocks with your lowbrow forehead! Try not to screw up, slave, or I will have you whipped!’
‘Yes, mistress! At once, mistress! This slave obeys the tall and mighty African mistress, madam!’
Yes! She wants me to rub my forehead on her socktops, in order to ‘iron out’ the creases! Result! A superb sockmistress, who knows her own devious mind , as well as being a tall and mighty, African footmistress with big feet! Ha! Ha! Watch and weep, freemales, for you can never get to be where I am right now – on your hands and knees in front of her, with your face level with, but not equal to, her high-top, black canvas, converse sneakers and her creased-top, blue and red cotton anklesocks; the mighty sneakers and socks of a beautiful and haughty, African goddess-giantess!
Scene no. 9 – Damned to Look Down
Most people just see a beautiful, twenty-something, black woman – with frizzy, shoulder-length, black hair – standing tall and proud in her smart, black-pinstriped trouser suit and crisp white blouse as she has her soft, black leather, mary-jane style, single-strapped, ballet-flats tongueshined by myself – the street corner, public footslave!
They might also pick up on the fact that she is wearing plain, black, young-businesswoman socks to go with her ballet-flats.
I, however, from my lowly perspective, see much more than that! I can observe that:
· Her ballet-flat – whilst pure black from a distance – is well-worn and creased on her haughtily-extended, pretty, right foot, and contains lots of scuzzy little scuffmarks, particularly around the rounded-toe and instep areas.
· I can also see the numerous tiny pieces of street dirt and detritus stuck to the soles of her shoe – dead leaves; twigs; blackened chewing gum; stones; muck; and the like – semi-invisible (to the free-person’s naked eye) items of everyday street waste which she will nonetheless expect to disappear off her rain-dampened shoesole and down my footslave-throat!
· I can see close-up and personal – the creases in her equally well-worn and scuzzy, black cotton anklesock; a sock which is so worn and thinning in places that the black mistress’s bare, brown footflesh is peeking through from underneath the thin and cheap-looking cotton material, particularly on those areas of lattice-patterned stitching running down the shapely sides of her sock
· Her proffered sock – like her proffered shoe – contains foreign detritus, but in the case of the sock this amounts to almost imperceptible little hairs, pieces of white fluff, and tiny street-dust stains (or perhaps they are dust from her office carpet – for she looks like an office-businesswoman!)
· On top of all this, I can not only see the detail in her black-girl shoe and sock, but smell it, on account of it being so unnaturally close to my face! I mean, when does a free human-being ever get to be so close to another free human being’s feet and footwear? It’s immoral; and degrading! But then – that’s precisely why such humiliating intimacies are the providence of slaves like myself; we are not worth caring about, as we perform our dirty disgusting work of lickshining the scuzz and filth off our female betters’ meanest and lowliest parts!
To be quite candid about it nobody gives a damn, as we public footservants are damned to constantly look down at the dirty footwear of our self-evident superiors!
Scene no. 10 – Mistress Simonna says…
Black, regular customer-mistress Simonna, who is well wrapped-up in her heavy, winter anorak, says she has only stepped in to my public-footslave booth to get out of the icy wind!
Mistress Simonna says that, even though my booth is, quite rightly, unheated (because she wouldn’t want her hard-earned, female taxes going on heating for a mere public footslave), it is nevertheless a bit warmer inside the booth thanks to the fact that it at least offers her some protection from the wind.
Mistress Simonna says that, in her opinion, I – the slave – should be forced to kneel outside the booth, naked apart from my flimsy, white slave-shorts, with only my head allowed inside it (so that I can lickshine my female customers’ dirty shoes and boots), as she does not feel I deserve to be protected from the elements, being a mere down-in-the-dirt footslave!
Mistress Simonna says that her feet are freezing, as she climbs up onto the seat of feminine foot-power in front of me, ready to have her brown leather, chunky-heeled, round-toed, fully zipped-up kneeboots lickshined by my wet tongue.
Mistress Simonna says this is in spite of the fact she is wearing thick, woolly, brown socks inside her brown leather kneeboots.
However, mistress Simonna says that she is not disposed to have me unzip her boots and blow my warm slave-breath onto her socked feet, in order to heat them up a bit (as many customer-mistresses would have me do at this time of the year), as she doesn’t think I am worthy to breathe on her socks, since she can smell my hideous footslave-halitosis!
Mistress Simonna says I must apologise to her for my bad breath (caused by my more or less continuous lickshining of dirty, female shoes and boots throughout the day) as it is offensive to her!
Mistress Simonna says the least I can do is to keep a clean mouth for my customers’ footwear!
Mistress Simonna says she’s going to report me to the Female Authorities for my potty mouth, and have me whipped.
Mistress Simonna says that at least the sting of the whip will help to warm up my back on such a cold and frosty winter’s day.
Mistress Simonna says I should, therefore, praise and bless her for having me whipped!
Mistress Simonna then says that she wants me to get a move on with lickshining her boots, in spite of the rancid condition of my mouth, and that she requires me to concentrate on the chunky heels at the backs of her boots, which are mud and rain splashed from the day before.
Mistress Simonna says I need to spruce up her boots for the benefit of her boyfriend with whom she has a hot date later this evening.
And if mistress Simonna says it, I must do it.
Those are the rules of the public footslave/customer-mistress game!
