The first feet I must greet every morning are invariably my
gaoler’s feet. I must simultaneously seek to ingratiate myself with him, since
he is the man with the WHIP!
Whilst I lip respect his footwear, he mockingly asks me how
I have fared during the night (whilst he was no doubt comfortably tucked up in
bed next to his good lady wife!):
‘How did you sleep, slave? Was your repose comfortable in
your wooden bed?’
‘Oh pray, master gaoler sir, thanking you kindly for your
kind enquiry sir, this slave regrets that he endured only fitful sleep, sir, on
account of his being in considerable pain, sir, but which is only fitting
master-sir, given that he is being punished in the stocks, sir, begging you
pardon and forgiveness sir please don’t whip me today sir?’
He chuckles with delight at my obsequious response:
‘That will depend on your humility and slavishness
towards your betters, slave. If you are pleasing to them, I shall have little
occasion to whip you. If, however, you displease them, be assured the WHIP
shall most fervently be applied to your back!’
‘Yes, master sir. And rightly so, sir. I kiss your feet,
sir.’
Oh how humiliating! Oh what an inauspicious start to the day!
Having to kiss the manky old shoes, below the manky stockings, of my unwashed
gaoler sir, and show him all due respect as he threatens to WHIP me if I
displease either him or my ‘customers’ – members of the general public –
throughout the forthcoming day!
Such is the lowly life of a prisoner-slave in the stocks!
The gaoler sir then takes a step back as my first proper ‘customer’
of the day – an early morning jogger – stops to use me to have his running
shoes kiss-respected. I wish I could show you the feet and footwear of a
beautiful young woman first thing in the morning, but prisoner-slaves in the
stocks cannot choose who approaches them and uses them. That’s the whole point!
And, as my gaoler master sir says, I must be pleasing to all my
customers – else I shall most assuredly feel the STING
of his mighty WHIP!
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| Greeting my gaoler master-sir's early-morning feet in an attempt to ingratiate myself with both him and his WHIP! |
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| By being a good and respectful feetkisser throughout the day, I hope to avoid the WHIP! |
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| I therefore make sure to kiss the dirtiest parts of the gaoler-master's SHOES! |
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| And to respectfully study his STOCKINGS - the STOCKINGS of the man with the power to WHIP me! |
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| I'm PATHETIC like that! |
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| The gaoler-master meanwhile switches FEET several times beneath my face, evidently enjoying my HUMILIATION! |
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| He then takes a step backwards and watches Mr serving my first 'proper' customer of the day |
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| A jogger master-sir! |
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| SHOES and STOCKINGS are now replaced by SNEAKERS and SOCKS before my menial mouth |
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| Again, I admire the FEET and FOOTWEAR I am obliged to kiss through my wooden window |
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| MUST be PLEASING to them - or the WHIP awaits my back! |
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| The master-sir seems unimpressed by my early morning efforts! |
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| But the gaoler master-sir, the one with the WHIPHAND, seems less disappointed by my performance |
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| And he is the crucial one, as far as the state of my back shall be concerned! |
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| Nevertheless, I redouble my efforts to be pleasing to the customer's SNEAKERS and SOCKS! |
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| My humbling view of the FOOTWEAR I must kiss |
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| I can even discern the individual lines of STITCHING in the master-sir's SOCKS! |
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| Oh how HUMBLING! Oh how HUMILIATING! |
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| And all under the shadow of the MIGHTY WHIP! The WHIP, I say! The WHIP! All hail the WHIP! |
