View From A Foothold

Welcome to my lowly view of the world!

I am a public footslave in the Gynarchy of Barbaria, and this is the view from my so-called ‘foothold’ – a cell looking out onto the street, at foot level, and in which I am permanently confined. Passers-by are welcome to stop at my foothold in order to have their feet kissed. It’s the Law. I must do it if they command me to. Moreover, I must kiss their feet with reverence and respect, as befits a lowly slave kissing the feet of his master or mistress.

I thus spend my days (and nights) being mocked and used by my betters. I kiss feet all year round and in all weathers. I am never off duty and can be kicked awake at any time. Not that I would wish to be asleep when there are feet to be kissed, so accustomed have I become to my lowliness. I must kiss-respect the feet of strangers as well as those of my regular 'customers'. I have kissed so many shoes and boots over the years, my menial mouth now permanently tastes of shoe and boot leather. And I have become an expert in studying socks. Indeed, I often recognise my returning customers from their socks. That's how pathetic I am. A nothing and a nobody. A mere kisser of feet.

That's why you won't see me. All you will see is what I see - my betters and their feet and footwear. And I will do my ankle-level best to describe the various tastes and smells of my esteemed customers' feet and footwear. Not that my best is ever good enough. I'm just a slave!

View From My Foothold By Day

View From My Foothold By Night

View From My Foothold In Summer

View From My Foothold In Winter


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