Patheticus Minimus 3D

The Death of the Gynarchy The Gynarchy has fallen! Like an unfaithful lover, She has suddenly left, Leaving Her menfolk sad and bereft. Nor more shall we hear the crack of Her whip! Nor more rejoice in male-slave citizenship! Nor more shall we crawl and cringe at Her feet! Nor more shall we kiss Her footwear, so sweet! For we now must live as equals with womankind, All thoughts of submission banished from our mind! Yet, Her memory shall most assuredly live on, Long after Her feminine reality is gone. So emancipated males raise your glasses to the Gynarchy, As you rise up off your knees t’ward unwanted liberty. The Gynarchy may reign no more, But She remains the stuff of yore! Cheer up! It might never happen! 😉

  Asinine Anecdote no. 11 – Smouldering In The Stocks Even though it’s the Sabbath, it’s not a good day to be confined in the public kneeling-stocks in the middle of the town square on Domina Island – land of the Righteous – for the sun is baking down. Already after just two hours my sunburnt, naked back is already starting to peel, which doesn’t auger well for my forthcoming whipping! But relief appears to be at hand, as two kindly-looking young women – one blonde, one brunette – the daughters of the local Reverend who has placed me here, are fast approaching me, replete with their parasols, fresh from morning matins. They are both in their early twenties – misses Abigail and Giselle. At just 20, miss Abigail – the blonde - is the youngest of the two, and is fetchingly clad in her summer Sunday best consisting of a pair of flat, strappy, white leather, open-heeled and open-toed sandals, and white cotton anklesocks to match, along with her pretty, all-white, plain, ankle-length,

Magnificent, fit master and mistress are enjoying a sweaty game of badminton. My role is merely to watch on my hands and knees from the sideline, and then kiss their sweaty feet at the end of the match. What’s that you ask? Who won? Well, with respect, I think I’m the only loser in this scene!  

Dull Anecdotes from equally dull footslaves about their dullard condition at their mistresses’ feet!   Asinine Anecdote no. 1 - Freshers’ Week I am a rental-footslave. Today I have been hired by a Female University for an event during Freshers’ Week. Basically, my brief is to kiss the feet and footwear of the new, 18 or 19 year-old (depending on whether or not they’ve had a ‘gap’ year) female students as they attend an open-day at the college – and to thus make them feel strong and welcome. I am under strict instructions to show the same footslavish respect for each and every female fresher, regardless of whether or not I find her – or perhaps more importantly her dirty footwear – appealing or not (which I would always do anyway!). Thus, during the course of today I have knelt by the outside porch of the female college entrance as a hired-out, doorstopper slave, and have kissed and worshipped all of the following: · The black suede pixie boots, and pastel-pink, cotton bootsocks,