Hospitality

Ms Hafsa’s personal footslave must kneel beneath her chair and silently study her sneakers and socks whilst she visits her aunt and uncle in their home. No coffee or hospitality is offered to him. And rightly so, for he’s just a slave, not a guest. If he needs warming up, there is always the WHIP!

A warm conversation carries on over the footslave's head...

...as his mistress Hafsa updates her aunt and uncle on her university experiences

The slave, of course, must not be eavesdropping on the conversation above him

He is fit only to contemplate his lowliness and study the backs of his mistress's socks!

How humble he must feel down there

Missing out on the hospitality above him

And compelled to look at SOCK

And not just sock, but the bare feet also of his host - Ms Hafsa's uncle

As well, of course, as the feet of her aunt!

But, if he needs a reminder of his lowly place down amongst the feet of his betters, the WHIP will surely oblige?

Better to humbly and unobtrusively study sneakers, socks, sandals and feet than to feel the biting STING of the WHIP!

SOCKS or the WHIP?

He chooses SOCKS!

He's pathetic like that!

Meanwhile, he has the added indignity of being on a lowly level with his mistress's aunt's sandalled feet

He can clearly see her TOES

As indeed he can observe the sandals, feet and (hairy) toes of his mistress's uncle!

Haha, truly Ms Hafsa's footslave is the slave of all the feet he encounters in his lowly life!

This is where he belongs - at the feet of others; of his BETTERS!

He knows he is worth less than the SOCKS on his mistress's feet

For she is a beautiful GODDESS

And he is just her personal SOCKSLAVE!


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