Patheticus Minimus 3D

As she crouches down to attach her dirty, stinky, red and white spotty socks to my ears in order to publicly air them, bright and intelligent local girl Ms Arabella madam says that from now on she’s going to call me ‘Sweaty Sockface’, because I am sweating so much (with fear at her presence). She laughs at me and asks me if I don’t feel shame, having a girl’s dirty socks attached to the side of my sweaty face? The look on her own pretty face is a mixture of pity, contempt and disgust. I humbly reply that, whilst it would indeed be a shameful thing for any free and proper human being to have to air someone else’s dirty socks on the side of their face, for the likes of me – a lowlife, public footservant – it is an honour and a privilege, if the mistress would be so kind and understanding to a much lesser being than herself? She laughs at me again before standing up in order to walk casually away from me. As she does so she glances back and reassures me that she will be back tomorrow in o

Here’s a bit of a treat for you all – a story written by regular reader ‘Lowest of the Low’. Enjoy, and please remember to provide him with feedback in the form of star ratings and comments. Or, if you prefer, email me your comments and I will forward them on to him. Eavesdropping Part 1 By Lowest of the Low It appeared to be yet another stunningly bright, sunny day in the Gynarchy of Barbaria. Well, from what I could tell anyway from my limited view inside my drain prison. I was guessing it was around mid morning due to the fact that the footfall above me had just increased as a lot of the office workers would come down for a smoking break and walk over the top of me to go and get a bite to eat and a coffee from the various cafes located around the city centre. It was also a good time for me too, since the increase in foot traffic meant I would also be getting 'a bite to eat' as well. Unfortunately, though, my 'bite to eat' wouldn't be consisting of any of the deli

In a dark and dingy corner of the city a streetwise mistress has her streetwise sneakers lickshined by a dumb footslave. Note the shadow on the streetwise customer mistress's white sneaker-sock. The slave has certainly noticed it!

Today local customer-mistress Ms Arabella madam is having me bid farewell to her beloved boyfriend, master George sir, by kissing his feet. She kindly explains that he has to leave the Gynarchy temporarily in order to apply for a free male’s immigrant visa, which she will sponsor as he is her betrothed. In between my kissing of his feet, she further orders me to praise and bless master George sir, and to congratulate him on his forthcoming marriage to her and thank him for all the times he has graced me with his shoes over the past few months – all of which I most humbly do. Needless to say, as my lips grovel and fawn over master George sir’s shoes I am most admiring of his sock – and in particular the texture and weave of the sock, since it is the sock of a magnificent man; a real man; a much better man than me! However, I must confess to being even more captivated by the nearby black and white spotty socks of his fiancée Ms Arabella madam, since those socks are the socks of a beautif

Mistress Karen madam is commenting to her friend, Ms Kimberly, in the not-too-salubrious surroundings of the rundown, restroom lobby, that the dumb ornamental footkisser appears to be very much admiring her black and grey, argyle-patterned socks as he dumb-kisses her plain, black loafer shoes. Of course, as Ms Karen madam goes on to point out, they can’t very well ask the dumb ornamental footkisser if that is indeed the case, as he’s dumb. But she says she wouldn’t be at all surprised if he was eyeing up her friend’s socks! If the dumb footkisser could talk he would indeed confirm that Ms Karen madam’s suspicions are correct – and that he is indeed most admirous of the blonde black-lady’s grey and black socks. For there is much to admire in them – from the complex weave of the socks; to the intricate shades of grey and black; to the tantalising glimpses of her fleshy, brown footskin underneath. Not that the beautiful wearer of the socks appears all that impressed by the slave’s fixatio

The bright and intelligent young woman faux-fans the slave at the whipping post in a supposed act of compassion and sympathy for his pain and plight. In actuality, however, she is signifying with her yellow fan that the slave is a weak yellowbelly in her eyes – a yellowbelly with a red back! Ha! Ha! And meanwhile the cause of the cowardly slave’s shame and suffering – the young woman’s manly boyfriend – looks on approvingly with his brown leather whip.

My mistress Karen and her husband, master Russel sir, are enjoying a slap-up meal in the privacy of their own home. Needless to say, I, in my capacity as their household footservant, am only permitted to partake of the meal as an observer, since I am rightly deemed unworthy to share my master’s and mistress’s food, being a mere slave. Not only that, but I am permitted to be present merely as an observer of my mistress’s boots and socks, as I kneel on the floor behind her with my neck weighed down by a heavy, wooden cangue, and my humble head adorned with a silly footfool’s cap. Both the cangue and the cap are designed to emphasise my lowliness and stupidity, and to remind me of my inferiority, as are the smarting whip marks across my bare back which were kindly delivered to me earlier this evening by master Russel sir for allegedly disrespecting his wife’s socks by not studying them hard enough. So, I am absolutely determined not to invoke the ire of my master and mistress again, and