Patheticus Minimus 3D

I fully realise that it is not exactly appropriate for a dirty, male slave such as myself to think of his mistresses and female betters in terms of mere stereotypes. Each and every mistress I serve should be viewed as a unique and superior female individual. However, the longer I serve in my capacity as a public footslave, the more I find myself ‘pigeon-holing’ my superior, female customers into various, recognisable types and personalities. Allow me to demonstrate what I mean by quickly taking you through just one of my typical mornings licking female feet and footwear in the central town square of our great capital city: Sporty Mistress My first customer of the morning (and it has literally just gone 6:00 a.m.) is a young, blonde-ponytailed woman out for an early morning jog. She is dressed, appropriately, in a navy blue tracksuit with pink stripes down the sides, white and pale-blue, lace-up sneakers, and matching navy blue ankle socks with a pale blue trim at the top. She is hot an...

Prologue Being a public footslave all your adult life does have some compensations. If you work hard, and serve your female masters and betters to the best of your footslavish abilities whilst you are still young, you may find towards the end of your miserable and humble existence that you are allowed to take things a little bit easier – almost to enter a state of semi-retirement! I am now 69 years old, and this is a snapshot of my twilight years: I am employed as a public footslave in a small, middle-class neighbourhood in the suburbs. I wasn’t always a local, neighbourhood footslave. I used to work as a public footslave at the busy, main railway station in the centre of town, but I became too old for that and just couldn’t keep up with the pace of things there. You see, most of my female customers and betters at the railway station were busy, commuting businesswomen – seemingly always in a hurry. They demanded a quick and efficient boot or shoe shine, and had little time to hang arou...

The concentrator – it is a truly fiendish device; surely the invention of a warped and cruel mind? And yet I bless the day my mistress Felicity fitted it into my brain, for it helps me to be a better footslave. It does exactly what its name suggests – it helps me to concentrate on my mistress’s feet and footwear. I don’t pretend to understand all the technology behind it. All I know is that some sort of tiny sensor implanted in my tiny footslave brain is electronically connected to a sensor implanted in the lining of my mistress Felicity’s right shoe, and that if I allow my eyes to stray from the side of her shoe I feel a sudden and prolonged shaft of pain in my head – worse than any migraine you may have ever experienced. It is a sharp pain that brings me back to my footslave-senses, and can only be alleviated when I refocus my slavish attention on the side of my mistress’s shoe. Even then the relief from the pain will take some time. Again, I don’t know how, but the concentrato...