Office Restroom Footslave


The office restroom footslave is a thing that is despised. Nobody ever speaks to it. They just use it to have their feet kiss-respected after they have relieved themselves and performed their ablutions.

As for the footslave itself, what must it be thinking as its menial mouth is full of office-girl, outstretched shoe and as her tights tower triumphantly over its humble head? It must surely be thinking:

‘Truly I am a vile and loathsome creature, surrounded by germs and tasting the dirty shoeleather of my superiors and betters. I am not worthy to be in their presence, nor am I fit to even lickshine their shoes, since I am an unskilled labourer and lack the requisite qualifications to clean office shoes with my tongue. Behind the wall, my back has been whipped and scarred for life – and rightly so, for I must have every last vestige of self-respect and human dignity beaten out of me. I am a nothing and a nobody – friendless and loveless. I am a mere kisser of feet; a lickspittle; an office toady; a nincompoop..’

And as the haughty, but bright and intelligent, bespectacled office girl finishes admiring herself in the mirror, and turns to walk away from the footslave, he should be thinking:

‘There goes another successful, young woman. She may be just a junior manager at the moment, but she will undoubtedly go on to much higher and greater things. She will be promoted, and earn lots of money; get married to a real man, who can satisfy her sexually, and raise a family with him. In short, she will have a happy and successful life – and rightly so. Whereas I shall be stuck here for the rest of my miserable and lowly existence – kissing my betters’ germ-laden feet, smelling their musty shoeleather, and going nowhere. I am a loser, and this girl is a winner. My only modicum of solace is that I have tasted some of her female success from her dirty shoeleather. At least I have tasted where she has been walking, and I have her lingering shoe germs inside my mouth. What an honour! What a privilege! God bless you, young madam, and thank you for shoving your shoe underneath my feckless face. You are better than me.’














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