The Stage Is Set

March 25, 2023

The stage is set.

I have been sentenced by the female courts to publicly kiss regular customer-mistress Ms Kadal madam's feet 1000 times each (that's 2000 times in total) as a punishment for disrespecting her socks by having inadvertently brushed my forehead against them whilst I had recently been kiss-respecting her brown, sheepskin boots to order in my public-footslave alcove.

A wave of shocked anger ripples through the crowd of (mainly female) onlookers as my crime is announced by the compere master-sir, and there are (again, mainly female) shouts of 'shame' and 'whip him' as I bow my humble head in shame over the wooden footblock in front of which Ms Kadal madam - the offended customer - shall soon be sitting.

The compere master-sir announces her arrival and she steps up onto the stage to thunderous applause and cheers from the audience. The sympathy of the crowd is most definitely with her, as she is the victim of such a heinous and presumptuous crime by a wretched and despicable, public footslave. How dare he touch her socks without her explicit female permission! He deserves all he gets!

Having introduced Ms Kadal madam to the crowd, the compere-sir briefly interviews her as she settles herself down onto the throne of power in front of me and rests her sheepskin-booted and socked feet onto the kiss-footblock directly beneath my kneeling face (the very same footwear I had so outrageously slighted just a few short days ago, prompting my current punishment predicament!)

The compere master-sir begins by assuring pretty Ms Kadal madam of the crowd's support for her and asks her how she is feeling? She replies that she is feeling good and is looking forward to my public humiliation at her feet. A roar of approval and applause goes up from the crowd!

The compere master-sir then turns the microphone on me and asks me if there is anything I would like to say to Ms Kadal madam's boots and socks before my punishment commences? I humbly and respectfully apologise out loud to Ms Kadal's boots and socks, begging their female pardons and forgiveness, and express my undying respect and admiration for them - especially her socks (since it is the socks I am deemed to have offended the most!). The crowd jeers at my pathetic and meaningless apology, and further female cries ring out of 'whip him', and 'make him kiss her feet'; 'humble him'; 'humiliate him' etc. etc.

The compere master-sir then addresses the crowd and explains exactly how my feetkissing punishment is to be carried out. He explains that I am under the strict instructions of the female court to deliver my kisses to Ms Kadal's sheepskin boots thusly:

I am to kiss each boot alternately, beginning with her right boot, 1000 times
My kisses must be delivered to her rounded boot-toes
Each individual kiss must be respectful and audible to the surrounding microphones
I must wait 10 seconds in between each kiss, my humble penitent head slowly bobbing up and down and moving from side to side over Ms Kadal's boots
On each descent towards her boots, I must look at her socks - BUT, NEEDLESS TO SAY, I MUST NOT TOUCH THEM! If I do brush my forehead against her socks again, inadvertently or otherwise, the bootkiss will not account and must be repeated. I shall also receive 10 lashes of the WHIP later for each sock-brushing, to add to the 100 lashes to which I have already been sentenced by the female courts (this will be the second part of my punishment!). The crowd roar with laughter and approval at this particular stipulation!

Having outlined proceedings, the compere master-sir then begins my punishment by ordering me to deliver my first penitent kiss to Ms Kadal's right boot. As my feckless face lowers itself towards Ms Kadal's dirty, right boot-toe I get the familiar aroma of musty-smelling female sheepskin-boot beneath her thick, grey (barely visible) bootsocks - socks whose stitching, as the compere has just explained, I must study, but not touch! My lowly lips gingerly touch the dirt-stained, rounded boot-toe and then respectfully press down onto the sheepskin material such that I can just about feel Ms Kadal's socked toes beneath the soft and malleable boot material. I make sure my first humble bootkiss (the first of many) is audible to the hushed room - as per the compere master-sir's instructions - and a roar of (mainly female) triumph echoes around the hall as my humble head then begins its lowly journey back up towards the tops of Ms Kadal madam's superior socks!

The compere counts 'one' over the din, and I wait 10 seconds for the noise of the crowd to die down before repeating the whole humbling process on Ms Kadal madam's left boot. And so it continues, for a total of 2000 kisses, with the compere interrupting proceedings after every 10 bootkisses to ask me how I am liking it, having to kiss my slighted customer-mistress's boots in front of a baying crowd? He also asks Ms Kadal madam how she is enjoying it after every 20 kisses or so, and I hear her words of sheer, triumphant joy echoing around the room over the microphone.

She has every right to feel joyous and triumphant, since her original accusation against me of brushing my forehead against her socks had been entirely false. But, of course, neither the female courts, nor this baying crowd, give two hoots about that minor detail!