Why You Are Not Feeling Frightened, Slave?

‘Why you are not feeling frightened, slave? Why you are not quaking in your boots? Are you not seeing that my husband is carrying a whip for your back? Be kissing my boots and begging me for mercy this instant!’










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Office Feetslave

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The office feetslave is at the beck and call of all the office workers, who know they are his superiors. They use him as a human footrest, and frequently have him kiss-respect their office feet! Here we see him humbly kissing an office lady’s ankleboots, whilst an office man-sir rests one of his smart shoes on the kneeling slave’s back. Kissing office feet and serving as an office footrest 'Haha, that's right feetyboy slave! Kiss Ms Abigail's office boots... ...And study her SOCKS while you're down there!' The mocking office master-sir's smart SHOE... ...and fancily-stitched SOCK! But it is the BOOTS and SOCKS in front of him that the office 'feetyboy slave' must focus on! The office BOOTS and SOCKS of Ms Abigail madam! Oh how humiliating! Oh how humbling for the slave - to have his head trapped in between Ms Abigail's SOCKED ANKLES! Whilst the SHOE and SOCK of the office master-sir rest on his kneeling back! The side of the slave's cheek brus...
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The public footservant has some nice footwear waiting to be lickshined in front of him this afternoon – after he has finished tongue-attending to the equally nice, black, patent leather mary-janes and white socks of the attractive Pakistani businesswoman at the head of the queue:           The brown leather, mudstained Chelsea-boots of a smartphone-obsessed, beautiful blonde girl          The grubby, black and white canvas sneakers of a magnificent, stubble-faced master-sir Lucky slave – to be serving a trio of such good-looking customers!
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This beautiful, Romany customer-mistress has very definite instructions for me, the public shoelick: ‘Make sure you clean the underside of my shoes, slave. Taste the dirt I have been walking in! I want the soles of my shoes to be sparkling!’ ‘Yes, mistress madam.’ At least she kindly twists her shapely ankle around so that my tongue may gain the required access to the dirty sole of her shoe!  ‘Make sure you clean the underside of my shoes, slave...  ...Taste the dirt I have been walking in!... ...I want the soles of my shoes to be sparkling!’ ‘Yes, mistress madam.’ It is an inestimable, if humiliating, honour to taste this Romany goddess's SHOEDIRT! To literally, as she herself had put it, taste where she has been! I respectfully keep my eyes focused downwards on the menial task in mouth I must not stare at the Romany goddess's cleavage (i.e. her TOE CLEAVAGE!) I am not fit to look her in the BARE FOOT! I'm just a common-or-garden, PUBLIC SHOELICK WHIPMARKS on my shou...
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