Patheticus Minimus 3D

My first customer of the day (if we don't count my regular wake-up call from jogger Ms Mukta madam) is a beautiful, but haughty, young woman with very fixed ideas as to how I should behave at her feet. She stops in front of me: 'You're gonna kiss my feet, boy!' The term 'boy ' might seem somewhat incongruous, given that I am in my mid sixties and she looks to be in her early twenties. But, of course, she is referencing my slavish impotence and the fact that I am not a proper man, but a mere kisser of feet! I seek to assure her that that is indeed precisely what I'm her for - to kiss her feet and worship her: 'Oh pray, mistress madam, if it pleases you mistress madam, this slave would indeed be honoured to kiss your feet, miss, on account of you're being better than him and a beautiful goddess, madam, please don't have me beaten miss?' She sullenly shoves her right, sneakered foot out towards my face: 'Make sure you look at my SOCK while y...

Every morning, regular as clockwork, regular joggers Ms Mukta madam and her husband master Simon sir, stop by me for a quick breather during their daily jog. Master Simon sir normally takes a refreshing swig from his water bottle, whilst Ms Mukta madam likes to have me kiss her feet. They then resume their early morning jog, leaving me with a bad taste in my menial mouth - that of Ms Mukta's sneaker dirt and sweat. It sets me up for the day, though - a long day of kissing the passing public's feet! Here they come, regular as clockwork - my early morning wake-up call! They interrupt their jog for a breather, with Ms Mukta taking the opportunity to have her feet kissed Her running sneaker tastes hot and sweaty It thus sets me up for the day - a long day of kissing the public's dirty shoes and boots! And staring at their SOCKS! Master Simon sir's sneakers, regrettably, remain out of reach for my menial mouth As is so often the case, it is the female  who demands my slavish...

My mistress’s whip Hangs by her hip Ready to strip The skin from my back!   I kiss her feet And whine and bleat In an effort to gain Some respite from pain!   But a whip uncoiled Goes rarely unsoiled And soon it shall crack ‘Cross my bony old back!   All hail to the WHIP Giver of PAIN Guarantor of submission Along with the CANE! One thing I do  know is that when my mistress is minded to WHIP, nothing will stop her from doing so! Once her WHIP is unfurled, it is fully ready for action! But my slave instincts still compel me to kiss her feet and beg for mercy! I will try anything  to avoid the piercing STING of the WHIP's bulbous tip! I will kiss SNEAKER I will kiss SOCK! 'M...mercy... m...mistress!...Oh fear!...Oh...p...pray...mistress... . ..not the WHIP, I prithee?' She switches feet, indicating she approves of my grovelling But I know in my heart of hearts that my pleas are falling on deaf ears! Have WHIP... will WHIP! That ...