His Only Contact

The door of my solitary confinement cell has a metal hatch at the bottom, through which the guards can place their booted feet for kissing. Oftentimes it’s my only contact with the world outside my cell for months on end!

But my guard-mistresses are very kind, and occasionally they will arrange for a civilian prison-visitor mistress to present her feet to me through the hatch for kissing. One such ‘regular’ visitor-mistress is Ms Mukta madam, whose dirty sneakers are a joy to behold and to kiss – a joy because I at least get to taste on my lowly lips where she has been walking on the outside (though I am, sadly, forbidden to lick my betters’ footwear since my sentence is specifically to kiss feet for the rest of my life). Even the sight of her civilian sock brightens up my otherwise lonely and miserable existence!

Sweet and kind young woman that she is, Ms Mukta will often do me the honour of crouching down in order to mock me to my face through the hatch. At such times she will tell me all about her exciting plans for spending the evening with her husband, before asking me whether I have any plans for the evening? She will then mockingly ‘remember’ that I am unable to go anywhere, or do anything, before turning her sneakered heels on me and casually walking away towards the freedom I shall never know.

Then, the last thing I shall see before darkness descends once again in my solitary confinement cell with the closure of the hatch, is the uniform-booted foot of a Gynarchy guard-mistress. Oh how I yearn for that metal hatch to remain open that I might kiss more feet! But I am, as you can see, at the mercy of my female captors and betters. My only consolation is that I can still taste Ms Mukta’s residual sneaker dirt on my lickspittle lips.











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