sklavos
09-07-2004, 3:25 AM
The path to India
Produced by Sklavos
Episode One
I was a student in England – getting into my second year – looking for cheap accommodation, when I saw an advertisement about a bedroom that was available for rent. The location of the house was close to the university, but the ad made it explicitly clear that preference would be given to females! It turns out that the bedroom was in a house where an Indian lady lived with her daughter, hence the discrimination. Both were quite attractive with the lady, Mrs Shadal, being in her early 40s and her daughter, Miss Amna, in her late teens. They showed me the room, which was fairly small (the main reason for being cheap I guess), and then we sat in the living-room, with Mrs Shadal asking me all sorts of questions regarding my background. Obviously, the final and crucial question, which I was expected to asnwer, that would determine my candidacy was based on the fact they prefered a female – who would have more things in common with them – and, naturally, wanted to know how could I counter-balance it. First, I thought that I could benefit by asking them to take me as their servant too, with a small reduction in the price, as I was a foot-fetishist and their culture was stronlgy related to the beauty of females. I was already imagining myself on my knees, washing Mrs Shadal’s feet. What, eventually, made me talk was that another dimension of their culture portrays women second to men and I believed that surrendering power to them would certainly excite them. It took me some time before I responded to their question, but my answer brought a smile on Mrs Shadal’s face.
- What can you do as a servant?
- I do not know to cook well or iron, but I am a fast learner. However, I can clean the whole house, do the dishes, the laundry, mow the lawn, bring you something to eat and drink, anything.
- I am the only one to cook in here. Your other skills sound sufficient. You can move in tomorrow.
- Thank you Mrs Shadal, Miss Amna. I will do my best to prove that you made the right decision. Thank you.
I left their place with an ambition to become their foot slave, but I returned the following morning to move into my new home. After I had made my room, having put all my things in place, I went downstairs. Their house had a living room, a dining-room, a bathroom and a kitchen on the ground floor and three bedrooms upstairs. Two of them large, mine being small enough to use it as a store-room. I found them sitting in the living-room watching TV and decided to seat myself too and get some rest. As soon as I sat down, both turned their heads to my direction with a frown look on their face.
- What do you think you are doing?
- I hope I have not offended you Mrs Shadal, but I thought of having a break.
- First of all, did you have permission to sit down from either of us? Second, even if you had our permission, how dare you seat on the furniture. Your place is at the floor. And third, according to your role in this house, you are not to think of anything else other than how to serve us best. Now what do you say to all that?
This was my next opportunity to surrender further powers to them. So, I stood up, walked to the middle of the room so to be before them and dropped to my knees.
- I am sorry Mrs Shadal. I have to admit that I did not seek your permission to sit myself down and from now on I will always be down on the floor. I sincerely apologise for having made decisions on my own, without first consulting you. Please ignore this incident. I promise to be more devoted and submissive to you and your daughter.
She accepted my apologies and dismissed me to the kitchen to attend to my duties.
Mrs Shadal decided to stay at home and do the paperwork that concerned the room I had to pay for, as well as being their servant, and Miss Amna went out for a walk. When Mrs Amna returned, her mother was still in the living-room doing some paperwork. So, as a good servant, I rushed after her and went to the living-room in case she needed something.
- Good afternoon Miss Amna. Is there anything I could do for you?
- No, I am fine. Except for my feet. They are tired and sweaty.
- Then, would you like me, perhaps, to remove your sneakers and then give you a relaxing footbath?
Mrs Shadal did not say anything, but Miss Amna was definitely thrilled upon hearing my request. She accepted both offers, I got on my knees, lifted one leg and then the other to remove her shoes, returned her feet on the floor and left to gather what was necessary. First, I went upstairs in Miss Amna’s room to get her slippers. Then, I returned downstairs, went to the bathroom, filled a small basin with water, threw a bar of soap in it and tried to lift it with my hands when I realised that I also had to carry Miss Amna’s slippers. So, I put her slippers in my mouth, lifted the basin with more ease and went, in this form, to the living-room. Both Mrs Shadal and Miss Amna were hysteric upon seeing me. Nevertheless, I moved forward to where Miss Amna was seated, put down the basin and removed her slippers from my mouth.
- I apologise Miss Amna for having put your slippers into my mouth without permission, but there was no other way to bring them all together.
- That is fine. No need to apologise. In fact, this is the way I want you to carry all my footwear from now on. It will be fine to see you looking for me around the house, while having a pair of my shoes in your mouth. Just like a good dog.
Her mother burst into laughter and said that the same ‘rules’ applied to her and her shoes too! I simply noded my head submissively and proceeded with washing Miss Amna’s feet. After her feet were washed, I put her slippers on and awaited further orders. Mrs Shadal told me to prepare the kitchen so as to cook for dinner. Most certainly, I did not dine with them. Instead, I was constantly carrying out orders like pouring water into their glasses, otherwise I was standing behind them. After they had their dessert, I was allowed to have some dinner and then do the dishes. When I finished, I resumed my position in the living-room, ready to attend to their needs. At some point, the topic of their discussion revolved around the amount of time I would need to study, therefore, being unable to serve them. They invited me to join their conversation by offering me a seat on the floor and there it was decided that I would study only for tests and projects, until my exams came up.
After a couple of hours Miss Amna had to go on a night out with her friends. She took a shower, changed clothes and shoes and just before she left I told her not to hesitate waking me up when she returns, so that I could wash her feet before she went to bed. Once she was gone, I returned to the living-room where Mrs Shadal told me to give her a foot-massage. As I was massaging her feet, Mrs Shadal watched TV until she turned her attention to me.
- I have not had my feet washed since yesterday. Does the smell of them bother you?
- No, my lady. Your feet are so beautiful that I cannot imagine them smelling bad. In fact, you have feet that deserve to be kissed. May I, please, kiss them a bit?
- If you insist.
Her feet looked dominant and her toes were aggressive. Having such feet rest on my face, I thought, would be a picture capable of winning all photography-related awards by storm. Her long and imposing toes had nails painted in a rot apple colour, her soles were wide and strong enough to flatten someone, their insteps were as smooth as silk and, finally, her ankles as graceful as a masterpiece. I kissed her feet in a submissive manner, declaring my devotion to her, and went on with her foot-massage. When I was finished, I asked, again, whether I had permission to kiss her beautiful feet and, once more, I was allowed to kiss them. It was as if my lips were stuck on their skin. Then again, considering the condition her feet were in, maybe they did get stuck, particularly, on her soles. I can only imagine her feet ‘absorbing’ the perspiration they had produced to that point and – since she was wearing a pair of flat sandals – dirt from the ground had definitely managed to blend in with her foot sweat. After all, her soles were a bit grey. When she started feeling sleepy, she told me to wash her feet and asked her, for a third time, to kiss her feet. She allowed me to do so, then put her sandals on her feet and followed her upstairs. In her room, I told her that I would wait until she was seated on her bed ready to lay down and then leave switching off the light and closing the door behind me. When she was seated, I dropped to my knees, removed her slippers and asked, yet again, to kiss her feet. She gave permission and even said that I could kiss her feet whenever I ‘felt’ like doing so. Why would I ‘feel’ like kissing a pair of feet? A man who would do so would have to be either a foot-fetishist or as submissive as a slave. Only these two characteristics would define one who would really like to kiss a pair of female feet, which means that whatever my classification she was aware of my great ‘potential’, but what happens when you get them both in one? Obviously, you have a very lucky lady and a submissive foot-fetishist to attend to the lady’s needs.
I must have had less than two hours of sleep when Mrs Amna woke me up. Her feet were sweaty, dirty and drenched in alcohol – all from her dancing I suppose – and had to put some effort to make sure they were absolutely clean before getting into her bed. It was hard to believe, when I got back to my room, that it was just the first day I had been serving them and, even, had taking care of their feet added to my duties.
Produced by Sklavos
Episode One
I was a student in England – getting into my second year – looking for cheap accommodation, when I saw an advertisement about a bedroom that was available for rent. The location of the house was close to the university, but the ad made it explicitly clear that preference would be given to females! It turns out that the bedroom was in a house where an Indian lady lived with her daughter, hence the discrimination. Both were quite attractive with the lady, Mrs Shadal, being in her early 40s and her daughter, Miss Amna, in her late teens. They showed me the room, which was fairly small (the main reason for being cheap I guess), and then we sat in the living-room, with Mrs Shadal asking me all sorts of questions regarding my background. Obviously, the final and crucial question, which I was expected to asnwer, that would determine my candidacy was based on the fact they prefered a female – who would have more things in common with them – and, naturally, wanted to know how could I counter-balance it. First, I thought that I could benefit by asking them to take me as their servant too, with a small reduction in the price, as I was a foot-fetishist and their culture was stronlgy related to the beauty of females. I was already imagining myself on my knees, washing Mrs Shadal’s feet. What, eventually, made me talk was that another dimension of their culture portrays women second to men and I believed that surrendering power to them would certainly excite them. It took me some time before I responded to their question, but my answer brought a smile on Mrs Shadal’s face.
- What can you do as a servant?
- I do not know to cook well or iron, but I am a fast learner. However, I can clean the whole house, do the dishes, the laundry, mow the lawn, bring you something to eat and drink, anything.
- I am the only one to cook in here. Your other skills sound sufficient. You can move in tomorrow.
- Thank you Mrs Shadal, Miss Amna. I will do my best to prove that you made the right decision. Thank you.
I left their place with an ambition to become their foot slave, but I returned the following morning to move into my new home. After I had made my room, having put all my things in place, I went downstairs. Their house had a living room, a dining-room, a bathroom and a kitchen on the ground floor and three bedrooms upstairs. Two of them large, mine being small enough to use it as a store-room. I found them sitting in the living-room watching TV and decided to seat myself too and get some rest. As soon as I sat down, both turned their heads to my direction with a frown look on their face.
- What do you think you are doing?
- I hope I have not offended you Mrs Shadal, but I thought of having a break.
- First of all, did you have permission to sit down from either of us? Second, even if you had our permission, how dare you seat on the furniture. Your place is at the floor. And third, according to your role in this house, you are not to think of anything else other than how to serve us best. Now what do you say to all that?
This was my next opportunity to surrender further powers to them. So, I stood up, walked to the middle of the room so to be before them and dropped to my knees.
- I am sorry Mrs Shadal. I have to admit that I did not seek your permission to sit myself down and from now on I will always be down on the floor. I sincerely apologise for having made decisions on my own, without first consulting you. Please ignore this incident. I promise to be more devoted and submissive to you and your daughter.
She accepted my apologies and dismissed me to the kitchen to attend to my duties.
Mrs Shadal decided to stay at home and do the paperwork that concerned the room I had to pay for, as well as being their servant, and Miss Amna went out for a walk. When Mrs Amna returned, her mother was still in the living-room doing some paperwork. So, as a good servant, I rushed after her and went to the living-room in case she needed something.
- Good afternoon Miss Amna. Is there anything I could do for you?
- No, I am fine. Except for my feet. They are tired and sweaty.
- Then, would you like me, perhaps, to remove your sneakers and then give you a relaxing footbath?
Mrs Shadal did not say anything, but Miss Amna was definitely thrilled upon hearing my request. She accepted both offers, I got on my knees, lifted one leg and then the other to remove her shoes, returned her feet on the floor and left to gather what was necessary. First, I went upstairs in Miss Amna’s room to get her slippers. Then, I returned downstairs, went to the bathroom, filled a small basin with water, threw a bar of soap in it and tried to lift it with my hands when I realised that I also had to carry Miss Amna’s slippers. So, I put her slippers in my mouth, lifted the basin with more ease and went, in this form, to the living-room. Both Mrs Shadal and Miss Amna were hysteric upon seeing me. Nevertheless, I moved forward to where Miss Amna was seated, put down the basin and removed her slippers from my mouth.
- I apologise Miss Amna for having put your slippers into my mouth without permission, but there was no other way to bring them all together.
- That is fine. No need to apologise. In fact, this is the way I want you to carry all my footwear from now on. It will be fine to see you looking for me around the house, while having a pair of my shoes in your mouth. Just like a good dog.
Her mother burst into laughter and said that the same ‘rules’ applied to her and her shoes too! I simply noded my head submissively and proceeded with washing Miss Amna’s feet. After her feet were washed, I put her slippers on and awaited further orders. Mrs Shadal told me to prepare the kitchen so as to cook for dinner. Most certainly, I did not dine with them. Instead, I was constantly carrying out orders like pouring water into their glasses, otherwise I was standing behind them. After they had their dessert, I was allowed to have some dinner and then do the dishes. When I finished, I resumed my position in the living-room, ready to attend to their needs. At some point, the topic of their discussion revolved around the amount of time I would need to study, therefore, being unable to serve them. They invited me to join their conversation by offering me a seat on the floor and there it was decided that I would study only for tests and projects, until my exams came up.
After a couple of hours Miss Amna had to go on a night out with her friends. She took a shower, changed clothes and shoes and just before she left I told her not to hesitate waking me up when she returns, so that I could wash her feet before she went to bed. Once she was gone, I returned to the living-room where Mrs Shadal told me to give her a foot-massage. As I was massaging her feet, Mrs Shadal watched TV until she turned her attention to me.
- I have not had my feet washed since yesterday. Does the smell of them bother you?
- No, my lady. Your feet are so beautiful that I cannot imagine them smelling bad. In fact, you have feet that deserve to be kissed. May I, please, kiss them a bit?
- If you insist.
Her feet looked dominant and her toes were aggressive. Having such feet rest on my face, I thought, would be a picture capable of winning all photography-related awards by storm. Her long and imposing toes had nails painted in a rot apple colour, her soles were wide and strong enough to flatten someone, their insteps were as smooth as silk and, finally, her ankles as graceful as a masterpiece. I kissed her feet in a submissive manner, declaring my devotion to her, and went on with her foot-massage. When I was finished, I asked, again, whether I had permission to kiss her beautiful feet and, once more, I was allowed to kiss them. It was as if my lips were stuck on their skin. Then again, considering the condition her feet were in, maybe they did get stuck, particularly, on her soles. I can only imagine her feet ‘absorbing’ the perspiration they had produced to that point and – since she was wearing a pair of flat sandals – dirt from the ground had definitely managed to blend in with her foot sweat. After all, her soles were a bit grey. When she started feeling sleepy, she told me to wash her feet and asked her, for a third time, to kiss her feet. She allowed me to do so, then put her sandals on her feet and followed her upstairs. In her room, I told her that I would wait until she was seated on her bed ready to lay down and then leave switching off the light and closing the door behind me. When she was seated, I dropped to my knees, removed her slippers and asked, yet again, to kiss her feet. She gave permission and even said that I could kiss her feet whenever I ‘felt’ like doing so. Why would I ‘feel’ like kissing a pair of feet? A man who would do so would have to be either a foot-fetishist or as submissive as a slave. Only these two characteristics would define one who would really like to kiss a pair of female feet, which means that whatever my classification she was aware of my great ‘potential’, but what happens when you get them both in one? Obviously, you have a very lucky lady and a submissive foot-fetishist to attend to the lady’s needs.
I must have had less than two hours of sleep when Mrs Amna woke me up. Her feet were sweaty, dirty and drenched in alcohol – all from her dancing I suppose – and had to put some effort to make sure they were absolutely clean before getting into her bed. It was hard to believe, when I got back to my room, that it was just the first day I had been serving them and, even, had taking care of their feet added to my duties.