Patheticus Minimus 3D

The only way I can detect the changing of the seasons - since I am permanently  confined in the underground train station corridor - is from the changing footwear styles of my customers. The appearance of sandals on bare, freshly pedicured feet, for example, heralds the arrival of summer! I still have to kiss feet, however - whatever the weather; come rain, hail or shine! Such a pretty herald of summer... ...a summer angel! The heraldic angel elects not to speak to me... ...but rather, lets her feet do the talking - presenting her pedicured, right foot to my menial mouth... ...so that I might humbly and worshipfully kiss-respect it Her left foot then follows I taste her orange toes... ...the fresh toes of summer! Such a fragrant feminine foot... ...reeking of summer meadows and fresh flowers (mixed with the delicate aroma of sandal leather!) Not like the musty and leathery shoes and boots of winter! All too soon the herald angel proceeds on her way... ...secure in the knowledge she...

Not for the slave the sweet perfume of freshly-pedicured female feet. He must kiss (and inhale) plain grey sock on the pretty mistress's toes as she pops out in her night attire to the sink-estate stairwell for a quick, post-coital cigarette.  Kissing a local mistress's socks on the sink-estate stairwell Not for the public footslave the sweet aroma of freshly pedicured, feminine feet! But it seems the young woman does not even wish for her sweaty bedsocks to be kissed: 'KISS THE STRAP, SLAVE!' By which she means, of course, her plastic, flowery-patterned sandal strap covering her plain-socked toes This young woman knows her own tidy mind, even if her bed-hair is somewhat tousled and dishevelled! The slave instantly obeys the mistress's command and moves his lowly lips up to her feminine sandal strap Oh how humiliating! Oh how humbling - to have one's face so close to a girl's sock... ...close enough to smell it... ...close enough to observe the individual st...

A superb young woman - a demurely dressed smoker - heads confidently towards me across the yard late at night and unabashedly uses me to have her feet kiss-respected. Supremely confident, yet demure Her smoker's sneakers and socks get ever closer to my confined face They stop directly in front of me - no longer demure, but dominant! I admire the young woman's green socks She casually informs me that I am going to kiss her feet And with that, her right sneakered foot is confidently presented to my menial mouth She continues to smoke as I pay lowly lip-service to her demurely outstretched foot... ...and she looks down upon me female-triumphantly... ...as well she might, for she is the master and I am the slave! She relaxes high above me with her cigarette, confident in the knowledge that she is being demurely dominant over me Meanwhile, I continue to be in lowly awe of her socks... ...plain green, demure socks The socks of a demurely-dressed goddess... ...of a winner! Said winner...

As a domestic sockslave, I must continuously observe and appreciate my master and mistress's socks as they go about their daily business. Even at breakfast time, I must kneel and study the backs of my mistress's socks as she discusses the day's plans with her manly husband over the kitchen table, high above me. Master and mistress discussing their plans for the day over the breakfast table Needless to say, I am not a party to the discussions My sole role is to study the backs of my pretty mistress's socks beneath her chair I have no business thinking about, or looking at, anything else Her socks are my life, on account of my being her permanent, full-time sockslave! I endeavour to count the visible stitches in my mistress's socks, whilst observing any creases or folds that spontaneously develop in the soft, cotton, sock stitching Sock creases and folds are important, as I may be held accountable for them later! Of course, by Law, I must simultaneously remain mindful...