A master-sir – a magnificent man – enjoys tormenting and
mocking me:
‘He hee, you’re just a slave! You have to kiss people’s
feet, and that! He hee, I’m gonna enjoy watching you bein’ humiliated at people’s
feet, slave!’
‘Yes, master sir. Thanking you kindly, master sir. I kiss
your feet, sir.’
He then stands nearby, watching my humiliation at the feet
of a pretty customer-mistress.
‘He hee, you’re just a slave! You have to kiss people’s feet, and that!...
...He hee, I’m gonna enjoy watching you bein’ humiliated at people’s feet, slave!’
‘Yes, master sir. Thanking you kindly, master sir. I kiss your feet, sir.’
I bow my humble head in shame in front of the superior man's sneakers and socks
I am fit only to kiss such a magnificent man in the foot...
...and to have his sock towering over my humble head
Better to kiss his feet than to invoke his wrath!
'He hee, loser slave!'
'You're just a feetkissin' fritter! He hee!'
'He hee he hee!'
Even the master-sir's SOCK appears to be mocking me!
I repeatedly kiss his dirty sneaker-toe...
...whilst being subjected to his sniggering and mockery
The magnificent master-sir then stands to one side and observes me kissing a stranger's feet - the feet of a young woman
I can still hear him sniggering
But better to kiss feet than to earn WHIP!
I can just observe the customer-mistress's short blue sock peeking out above her plain white sneaker
I humbly focus in on the STITCHING in the sock...
...and the way it stretches below her shapely ankle
I audaciously even look at the superb customer-mistress's bare ankleskin above the SOCK!
Truly, I'm just a weed down amongst the other weeds
A feetkissing, sock-admiring WEED...
...surrounded by the feet and footwear of my betters...
...as they look disparagingly down upon me
And rightly so, for I'm just a slave at their superior feet!
As soon as the young woman has gone, the master-sir resumes his merciless mockery of me
'He hee, how did you like it, slave? How did you like kissin' that babe's feet? Could you see her sock?'
'Yes, master sir, if it pleases you sir, thanking you kindly sir?'
'Sir, I think you're great, sir...
...May I kiss your feet again, sir?'
'Oh sir, oh master sir! Your SOCKS, sir!...
...Your SHOES, sir! Pray permit this slave to pay humble homage to your feet once more, most mighty master-sir?'
'He hee, very well slave! You may kiss my feet. And DON'T look at me above the SOCK, loser!...
...You're not fit to look at me above the SOCK!'
The master-sir is right. His SOCKS are my masters!
As I listen to the soft, departing footsteps of the customer-mistress, my senses are filled with the tastes and smells of MAN SNEAKER!
The good-looking – indeed, some would say godlike-looking – Mondieu family, who originally hailed from Haiti but had emigrated some 3 years ago from Port au Prince to, appropriately enough, Port à la Princesse , a small town on the Gynarchy’s north-eastern seaboard, are gathered in the living-room of their modest, terraced house on Xmas day, enjoying their sumptuous, family-Xmas meal. They are: Monsieur Mondieu – the 53 year old head of the family (even though they are now living in the Gynarchy, old habits die hard; and the traditionally-reared, Haitian women of the family find it hard not to regard the man of the house as the continuing head of the family!) Madame Mondieu – his still stunningly-beautiful, 45 year old wife (the woman from whom Monsieur Mondieu’s two daughters get their extreme good looks!) Mademoiselle Simone Mondieu – their eldest daughter, 23, who has just started work as a journalist on a glossy, Gynarchy fashion magazine (she could equally be on the front ...
An office footslave yearns to touch the teasing office-mistress’s sweaty, bare foot, fresh out of her shoe, with his frustrated tongue! So near and yet so far - the sweaty, soft foot of a beautiful, blonde office-mistress! She's mocking him - as is her friend and colleague! The blonde foot has literally just been liberated from its high-heel shoe! The toes are still glistening with delicious SWEAT! But his tortured tongue cannot reach them! The TOES are laughing at him! Wriggling unobtainably just above his face! 'Haha, how are you liking it, slave?... ...Don't you wanna touch my TOES?... ...Aren't they good enough for you?' Meanwhile, her sweaty, discarded shoe rests nearby... ...adding to the vinegary aroma surrounding his confined face! Oh to lick that FOOT! To clean it for the office mistress! He only wants what's best for her - and her FOOT!
Part 1 – Illegal Alien He was absolutely determined to emigrate to the Gynarchy. Richard – or rather, would-be slave Richard – was fed up with having to pretend. He was fed up with having to hide his natural submissiveness vis-Ã -vis women. He was fed up with having to enjoy his fetishes in private – a surreptitious glance at a shapely, feminine ankle here; a discreet observation of a female sock there. All he wanted was to be a slave – specifically a woman’s footslave, but the society he lived in could not cater for him. He felt very much like an outsider. The only place he felt drawn towards was the mysterious land of the Gynarchy. The Gynarchy was a closed society – a Female Police State which successfully kept the world’s media at a distance. The Gynarchy’s infamous ‘feminine firewall’ even kept the Internet at bay with a fair degree of success. But everyone knew that it was a State run by women – a Slave State, in which men, or at least some of the men, were treated as slaves. The...
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