Patheticus Minimus 3D

I’m not having much luck with the ladies this morning! It seems like it’s just one master-sir after another utilising my humble services. But, as I said in my introduction, slaves can’t be choosers, and a public footservant like myself must show the utmost equal respect for the FOOTWEAR of all his customers! A magnificent, fat, bald master-sir heads towards me. I do not believe I have had the honour of serving him before? He stops in front of me with his tree-trunk legs... ...before ordering me to kiss his HAIRY TOES! I obey the master-sir's command, of course! But, privately, I'm wondering if my morning could get any worse? However, just when I think my morning really can’t get any worse, my luck changes, and I am called upon to both tongue-shine and kiss-respect a beautiful pair of female ballet flats with short white socks belonging to an office worker from across the other side of the square. Phew! It means this morning, post Ms Mukta, has not been a total washout! Redem...

Next to come to my face is a master-sir on his regular commute to his office. This gentleman-sir is a fairly regular visitor to my face and he always angrily demands a lick and a shine of his smart businessman-shoes, like it’s my fault they have traces of dirt on them. Which it is , if the master-sir says it is! The familiar master-sir looks tired as he marches wearily up to my face His feet stop in front of me and I know what's coming! 'Lickshine my SHOE, boy!' 'And the UNDER of the SHOE. Clean out all the dirt and the grime with your tongue!' 'Now lick the SIDE!' I do admire the sir's BLACK SOCK as I obediently tongue-attend to his BLACK LEATHER SHOE But as he angrily turns to walk away from me... ...I ruminate on how I would still much rather follow Ms Mukta's BRIGHT RED RUNNING SOCKS to heel, and spend my day with them!

Dawn. As I look out across the deserted town square, I contemplate how another long day of kissing feet, and licking shoes and boots, inevitably lies ahead of me. It’s what I must do all day and every day (and night), for I am a public footslave, obliged to kiss the feet of the public and thus make them feel good about themselves. As I contemplate my lowliness, I find myself wondering who will be my first customer of the day – the first to step up to my humble-head face? Will they be one of my regular customers? Or a complete stranger? Will they be young or old? Black or white? Rich or poor? Cruel or kind? It really doesn’t matter, for they are all my betters, and must be shown equal footslavish respect!  As it turns out, my first customer of the day is very  familiar to me. I espy the familiar frame of local goddess Ms Mukta madam heading towards me on her early-morning jog Her feet stop in front of me, but initially say nothing I'll bet she's casually taking a swig of her...

Next to cross over the threshold are the feet of my esteemed mistress Kerionne’s mother, Ms Paulette madam I recognise the feet of my mistress Kerionne's mother stepping over the threshold... ...those of 53-year-old Ms Paulette madam. Unlike her daughter before her, Ms Paulette madam is knowingly looking down at me... ...but, just like her daughter before her, she adopts an arrogant and aggressive stance in front of my feet-kissing face! And, just like her daughter, she silently shoves her right shoe first onto my menial mouth... ...folowed by her left Ms Paulette madam is a very religious woman, and she likes the ritual of having me, her front porch slave, kissing her and her family's feet every time they enter or leave the house But then, there's nothing unusual about that. This scene is repeated thousands of times a day throughout the Gynarchy's households! Ms Paulette madam still says nothing to me as, feet duly kiss-respected, she heads on in towards the living roo...

It’s late afternoon, and my pretty, 21-year-old mistress, Ms Kerionne madam, is returning home from a visit to the shops to buy some fags. As is so often the case, she is gabbling away on her phone to one of her mates, so her interactions with me, her front porch footslave, are entirely subliminal as she automatically presents each of her booted feet to my menial mouth for respect-kissing without giving me so much as a second thought! And rightly so, for I am just another piece of her hallway furniture, as far as she is concerned. The front door opens and my pretty mistress steps over the threshold... ...as always, nattering away on her phone to one of her friends Her booted feet subliminally stop in front of me - the human welcome mat And then, equally subliminally, her dirty right boot-toe is unceremoniously shoved towards my menial mouth for routine respect-kissing Swiftly followed by her left boot toe I am, of course, deeply enamoured by my mistress's SOCK - the CREASES; the ...

Regular customer-mistress, and gloater, Ms Mukta madam is once again heading towards my footblock. I brace myself for some seriously dirty sneakers, especially as it has been raining this evening! A smiling Ms Mukta madam heads confidently towards me on a rainy evening I brace myself for some seriously dirty sneakers. Esteemed Ms Mukta's sneakers are normally filthy at the best of times. But in wet weather they are foul ! Nevertheless, they stop unashamedly in front of me, as their owner asks me, 'How's it hangin', sockieboy?' , by which she means my humble head ('sockieboy' is Ms Mukta's derogatory nickname for me!) She then, without being invited to, presents me with her RIGHT SNEAKER on my wooden footblock for a default respect-kissing Needless to say, being a 'sockieboy', I focus in on her SOCK, and am gratified to see that it is a plain grey sock, but showing signs of being well-worn, with creasing and bobbling apparent!   As she switches fe...