Lovely Loafers

Lovely loafers to lick!













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Roman Villa Footslave

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The lady Julia, the senator’s 20-year-old daughter, has her sandalled feet kissed by the villa footslave – much to her proud father’s approval! 'Kiss my feet, slave!' 'Yes, domina Julia madam. I obey you, domina Julia madam. Please don't have me whipped, madam!' The proud senator watches on as his haughty daughter has her feet kissed by the villa footslave! He has brought her up so well! He rather fancies that she is now ready to manage her own slaves! For his humble part, the villa footslave anxiously kisses ms Julia's feet...  ...in an effort to be pleasing to both her and her father! For, in this Roman villa, the WHIP is never far from his back! Better to kiss Roman feet than to feel the mighty STING of the Roman WHIP! The slave has already been broken by the WHIP! The senator congratulates his daughter on her humiliation of the footslave She listens proudly to her father's praise, for she respects her senator-father, just as she despises her father's
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Her Every Right

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My mighty and magnificent master sir has made it perfectly clear that his pretty girlfriend has every right to beat me if I displease her or fail to show her sufficient slavish respect. I therefore show her the utmost slavish respect in an effort to be pleasing to both her and the master! Showing the utmost  slavish respect to my master's new girlfriend... ...who has every right to BEAT me! I kiss her red and white sneakers beneath her white socks Better to kiss feet than feel WHIP! Kissing feet is humiliating, but at least it isn't painful! Unlike the STING of a WHIP! I must submit to my master and his pretty girlfriend, and be pleasing to them both! The master-sir is, naturally, very protective of his girlfriend My cringing obeisance seems to be working. The mistress is clearly pleased! Which means the master will be pleased! And if the master and mistress are pleased with me, hopefully they won't BEAT me! Kiss feet...kiss feet...kiss feet... ...admire sock...admire so
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A Footslave's Reflections

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  As nighttime draws the curtain on yet another humble day kissing and licking the shoes and boots of my betters, I humbly reflect on my lowly life. I feel privileged to be a public humble-head, kissing the feet of my superiors and getting to know their socks. Sure, if I was a personal footslave to a master or mistress I would become much more intimately acquainted with their feet and footwear – particularly their smells ! But ‘variety is the spice of slave-life’, as they say, and as no two pairs of socks are the same, I certainly get to observe a lot of variety! Every stitch, every crease, every area of bobbling on my esteemed customers’ socks -some of whom are regular visitors to my confined face, others just ships that pass in the night – is worthy of my slavish praise and adoration, since it is a feature of the sock of one of my betters, I being inferior to all ! It's an invaluable lesson for a slave to learn – his innate inferiority, not just to his customer masters and mistr
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