patheticus555
02-18-2008, 12:14 AM
Part 5 – The Laughing Stock (ii)
The reason why WPC Shariya was standing to attention and saluting was that one of the two ladies now approaching the slave in the stocks was the honourable Lady Judge Priscilla – the very lady judge who had sentenced slave Ernesto, as evidenced by the placard on the wall behind him.
40 year old Justice Priscilla was accompanied by her 23 year old niece, Abigail, whom she was escorting to the shops to buy a smart dress for her up and coming graduation ceremony. Abigail had just graduated in Media Studies and had a bright career ahead of her in film and television. Lady Justice Priscilla was very proud of her niece!
As the two black women approached the pillory slave Ernesto recognised the dulcet tones of the all-powerful woman who had passed sentence on him. It sent a shiver down his confined spine:
‘Good morning, Shariya. How are you?’
‘Fine, thank you, Ma’am!’ replied the young, asian policewoman.
There was a lot of mutual respect between the black, female Judge and the young, asian policewoman. Both, in their own way, had fought hard to achieve their respective positions of power over men, and both very much enjoyed that position.
‘Allow me to introduce you to my niece, Abigail,’ continued the Lady Judge.
‘Pleased to meet you, miss’ responded WPC Shariya politely. She was, after all, addressing her boss’s niece, even if she wasn’t much older than the WPC herself!
‘Likewise,’ responded miss Abigail, keen to behave equally politely in front of her aunt, although she actually hated cops!
‘And how is the dirty criminal faring today?’ asked Lady Judge Priscilla.
Slave Ernesto, mistakenly, thought the good Lady Judge was addressing him, and was about to respond when mistress Shariya answered for him:
‘I think he’s already starting to ache even though he’s only been in the stocks for some 30 minutes or so, Madam!’
She was right. Now that she mentioned it, slave Ernesto was beginning to feel an unpleasant and persistent dull ache in his neck and shoulders, caused by the enforced confinement of his bent neck in the stocks. To make matters worse his knees, which he was equally unable to move, were starting to ache also.
He remembered the kindly words of advice from miss Penelope earlier that morning: ‘You really must try to concentrate on all the ladies’ boots and shoes – I’m sure that’s the only way you’ll be able to take your mind off the pain!’
He therefore concentrated on the feet and footwear of the two black women now standing directly in front of him as he knelt in the pillory.
Lady Justice Priscilla was wearing a black, knee length skirt, dark, nylon tights, and a pair of very smart, black patent leather, high-heeled, knee-length boots. She looked like she could be dressed to go into Court even though it was evidently her day off!
Her niece was wearing purple, corduroy jeans with matching purple, suede, low-heeled pumps, and black socks.
Slave Ernesto found himself wishing that the two black ladies would move even closer to him so that he could study their footwear close up, and it was the lady Judge Priscilla who obliged first. She stepped forward and stretched out her right, booted foot until it was directly under the kneeling criminal’s nose:
‘Kiss the top of my boot, you dirty piece of no-good, criminal filth!’ ordered the good Lady Judge.
It was the kind of intemperate and injudicious language she would not be able to get away with in court, but that was precisely why she felt able to express herself freely now – today she was just another civilian woman teasing and tormenting a dirty, convicted felon in the stocks.
The ‘no-good, criminal filth’ Ernesto at first wondered why the good Lady Judge had specifically ordered him to kiss the top of her boot, as opposed to the, presumably dirtier, bottom part of her boot – the inevitably dust and mud marked toe of the boot, for example, which was the part most likely to be covered in street dirt. But as he now strained his neck up as far as he could to place a respectful kiss just below the knee-high rim of Justice Lady Priscilla’s black, patent leather, spike-heeled boot he soon realised her motivation.
Pain suddenly shot down the muscles of his neck and shoulders, causing him to audibly grimace.
‘Ha! Ha! Did you hear that, Abigail?’ shouted the good Lady Judge gleefully. Can you see how the muscles in his neck are going into spasm with the pain?’
‘Ha! Ha! Yes aunt Priscilla, I can see it!’ replied the younger black woman, who was still standing a few feet away.
‘Come and feel his neck muscles, Abigail. You should be able to feel the criminal’s muscles dancing with pain under his skin!’
Miss Abigail, it seemed, needed no further encouragement as, through a haze of pain, slave Ernesto saw the younger black woman’s purple, suede pumps and black socks coming towards him and standing beside her aunt’s outstretched, knee-length, black leather boot. He then felt the young woman’s soft but cold, feminine fingers touching the warm, throbbing muscles in his neck and shoulders. She seemed to be pressing down on the muscles, making the pain even worse:
‘Ha! Ha! You’re right, aunt Priscilla, I can feel his neck muscles twisting and contorting under his skin. His neck feels really hot and warm!’
‘Ha! Ha! That’s because I’m making him strain up his neck to kiss the top of my boot. It causes prisoners in the stocks absolute agony!’
‘Ha! Ha! Oh you are so clever, aunt Priscilla!’ exclaimed miss Abigail flatteringly (well, her aunt was about to splash out on a new dress for her. Best to keep her sweet!)
Mercifully, the good Lady Judge withdrew her boot from slave Ernesto’s face and did not replace it with her left boot. Instead she stepped away from the stocks and ordered the slave to kiss her niece’s feet:
‘Slave, kiss miss Abigail’s feet, and thank her for feeling the agony in your neck muscles!’
The young woman happily stretched out her right foot directly under slave Ernesto’s nose. For his part, the latter was feeling nothing but a sense of relief as he was able to lower his face to just above ground level once again. He now had a truly close-up view of the young, black woman’s pretty purple shoe. He noticed that the purple suede leather had tiny bits of white fluff, and even a hair, stuck to it, and there were one or two areas around the toe that evidenced traces of ground-in street dirt. They must be difficult shoes to keep clean, he thought to himself – suede leather can’t exactly be polished! Only brushed.
He could smell the suede leather as he lowered his lips to touch the dirty toe of the young black woman’s purple, low-heeled, pump-style shoe.
He then lifted his lips off the shoe and remembered to thank the young woman for feeling his torment:
‘Oh pray, miss Abigail, this dirty slave thanks you and blesses you for feeling the pain in his very sore neck muscles, if it pleases you, mistress Abigail.’
‘Kiss my sock as well!’ she barked back with a tone of youthful arrogance as she pulled up the thick hem of her purple corduroy jean-leg in order to afford him a better view of her black, cotton ankle sock.
Lady Justice Priscilla smiled. She was really extremely proud of her 23 year old niece – and not just because of her successful graduation in media studies, but, even more importantly, because she was turning into a proper little slave-tormentress.
As slave Ernesto obediently lowered his lips to the girl’s sock he noticed how little pieces of white fluff had seemingly attached themselves to her sock also. He wondered whether they were perhaps little pieces of white sock-lint from another pair of her socks? Whatever, he lowered his lips to touch a piece of white fluff in the very centre of her black-socked foot. He could also feel a crease in the black girl’s black sock under his lips as he kissed it.
Unlike her aunt, miss Abigail wanted her left foot kissed as well, and so he was obliged to repeat the process with her outstretched left foot – first kissing her purple, suede leather pump, then her slightly creased, black, cotton ankle sock.
You may wonder why I have described such a simple, humble act as kissing a young black woman’s shoes and socks in such detailed terms. But, like slave Ernesto, you have probably now forgotten about the pain in his neck and shoulders. Miss Penelope’s advice was correct – ‘concentrate on all the ladies’ boots and shoes… that’s the only way you’ll be able to take your mind off the pain!’
‘Ha! Ha! I think he likes kissing my socks, aunt Priscilla! I think they feel nice and soft under his parched lips!’ exclaimed miss Abigail.
58 year old slave Ernesto thought she was a very perceptive young woman. His lips were indeed parched - not so much from thirst, but from fear. He had never felt so vulnerable in all his life. Everyone – even a young, 23 year old girl – seems to tower above you in a position of absolute power when you are on your knees and confined in the stocks!
‘Ha! Ha! Well, dear, let’s see how he likes it when you sit on his neck! You sit down on the cross bar and wrap your legs around his face while I take a picture on my cell-phone!’
Slave Ernesto gulped. This was precisely the position he had earlier imagined the sweet and gentle miss Penelope being in – sitting on top of him whilst he knelt in the stocks. But instead of 19 year old miss Penelope’s soft, black and grey stripy kneesocks enveloping his cheeks, it would be the rough, ribbed, purple corduroy trousers of 23 year old miss Abigail.
Oh well! Beggars and convicted criminals can’t be choosers!
A soon as miss Abigail plonked herself down on the thick, wooden crossbar above his neck he felt another surge of almost indescribable pain coursing through his neck and shoulders and down his spine. She wasn’t a heavy girl by any means – she was of quite average build. But the extra weight was truly unbearable.
He once again let out an involuntary grimace of pain, to the great amusement of both the good Lady Judge and her niece – not to mention WPC Shariya, who was still standing dutifully to one side of the stocks – her black, leather police boots always visible from the corner of slave Ernesto’s eye.
Miss Abigail exacerbated his pain by shuffling around in order to make herself more comfortable as she sat on the heavy, wooden crossbar of the low pillory. She then wrapped her legs around his face, crossing her feet directly below his kneeling nose – giving him another close-up view of her white-fluff marked, slightly creased, black cotton ankle socks inside her dirt-stained, purple, suede leather pumps.
She swung her legs back and forward slightly causing the muscles in slave Ernesto’s neck to strain even more as she did so, though, if truth be told she wasn’t deliberately causing him extra pain this time. She was just happy to be having her picture taken as she sat in a position of power over the convicted male criminal in the stocks.
For his part slave Ernesto accepted his place was under the superior young woman. He accepted that she was his superior in every sense – not just his physical and sexual superior, as he was an inferior old, male and she was a superior, young female – but also his moral superior, as he was a dirty, convicted male pervert and she was the niece of the good Lady Judge who had had the pleasure of sentencing him.
Little did slave Ernesto know that miss Abigail had, in fact, broken the Law on even more occasions than he had. She already had convictions for shoplifting; being drunk and disorderly; and aggravated bodily harm. But, unlike slave Ernesto, she had never been, and would never be, punished for her crimes. Like all women in this particular society she could, as far as the Law (and even her aunt) was concerned, quite literally, do no wrong – in the sense that whenever she was convicted of a crime an anonymous male slave was simply punished in her stead.
It was a system of ‘whipping-boys’ if you like, and miss Abigail was, like all women, quite literally, above the Law, just as she was now, quite literally, above slave Ernesto.
‘Smile!’ ordered the Lady Judge Priscilla.
Slave Ernesto assumed she was talking to her niece.
Having photographed him with his face trapped between her smiling niece’s calves, the Lady Judge, her Worshipfulness Lady Justice Priscilla, decided to slave Ernesto’s immense relief that it was time for her and her niece to hit the shops. The sense of relief he felt in his aching neck muscles when miss Abigail climbed off the heavy, wooden crossbar was quite overwhelming.
As soon as the two black women had gone miss Shariya crouched down to congratulate the slave on his good fortune:
‘Ha! Ha! You’re a lucky slave, innit? Gettin’ to kiss the shoes and socks of Lady Judge Priscilla’s niece! You’re not worthy, innit?’
Slave Ernesto had to agree with the young, asian police officer:
‘Yes mistress Shariya. Thank you mistress Shariya.’
If he was in a position of good fortune, then his cup was about to ‘runneth over’, for the next pair of boots to approach his pillory were the unmistakeable black, patent leather, pointy-toed, high-heeled ankle boots of mistress Arrabella under her frayed, blue denim jeans.
Slave Ernesto recognised her voice instantly:
‘Hi, Shariya! Gozia said you’d be here!’
‘Good morning, miss!’ replied the always polite and professional, demurely headscarfed, asian police woman.
‘This is my boyfriend, Peter!’ continued mistress Arrabella.
Slave Ernesto now realised that the young man who had ‘picked up’ miss Arrabella in the pub the previous evening was accompanying her.
Boyfriend! Boyfriend! He somehow doubted it would last! But then, it was really none of his business what the two, free, young adults got up to. He assumed miss Arrabella was skiving off work to be with her new man.
‘Good morning, sir!’ said WPC Shariya.
Again slave Ernesto flinched somewhat in his stocks. How his social status was now so different from that of the still unconvicted, free man he had been just a week ago! However, now that he had been sentenced to 5 years’ community servitude, no woman would be calling him ‘sir’ for the foreseeable future. Just ‘slave’ or ‘dirty slave’!
‘Ha! Ha! Just look at him, Peter! Look at the strain on his ugly face. He looks like he’s in agony! Ha! Ha!’ exulted miss Arrabella, clearly referring to slave Ernesto.
‘Ha! Ha! Yeah, make him kiss your boots, honey. I want to see him swallowing the toe of your pointy boot!’
Arrabella kissed Peter on the lips before stepping forward. She loved him!
The next thing slave Ernesto felt was his lips being prised open by the sharp, pointy toe of miss Arrabella’s black, leather ankle boot as it penetrated his mouth. As she did so she pulled up the hem of her blue denim jean leg to expose the scrunched-up top of her navy blue bootsock. Slave Ernesto wished it was the soft, feminine sock inside his mouth rather than the harsh, pointy toe of the leather boot, which he feared may damage the roof of his mouth.
That, however, appeared to be precisely what master Peter wanted:
‘Ha! Ha! That’s right, darling, go on! Push the toe of your spiky boot all the way into his mouth. Make him gag on it! Ha! Ha!’
Fortunately for slave Ernesto the toe of the boot wasn’t long enough to cause him to gag. But it was still a deeply unpleasant experience, particularly as he felt a globule of female boot-mud slithering down his slave throat.
‘Ha! Ha! I can’t get it in any further!’ exclaimed mistress Arrabella. ‘His mouth just isn’t big enough!’
‘Ha! Ha! Maybe you should break open his jaw!’ joked master Peter.
At least, slave Ernesto hoped the young man was joking.
Mercifully, miss Arrabella withdrew the pointy-toe of her boot from slave Ernesto’s mouth without doing too much damage:
‘Well, at least he’s given the toe of my boot a nice shine!’ remarked miss Arrabella. ‘Just look at it compared to the other one!’
And with that she stood with her two booted feet side by side so that everyone, including slave Ernesto, could see the difference in the shine on the boot that had recently been deep inside his mouth.
Slave Ernesto, not unnaturally, assumed that his young mistress would want her left boot to be similarly mouth-shined, but he assumed wrongly! Miss Arrabella wasn’t in the least bit concerned about the state of her boots. She had wanted merely to torment slave Ernesto – not to have her boots shined. That was just a side effect.
Besides, she and her boyfriend Peter were in a hurry to get back to his flat for some more, passionate love-making:
‘I’m afraid we have to go, Shariya, but make sure he does a good job on all the other ladies’ boots and shoes, won’t you?’
‘No problem, miss,’ replied miss Shariya, saluting the young, civilian, female citizen and her boyfriend as they walked off hand in hand.
Slave Ernesto, needless to say, wasn’t going anywhere – not for another 7 hours or so! As he watched miss Arrabella happily strolling off with her newly polished boot it dawned on him that whilst she, and all the other free men and women around him, were at liberty to go where they liked and do what they liked, he was confined in his pillory-prison until such time as his female probation officer, mistress Gozia, decided he should be released. And until that time he would also be at the mercy of every passing female.
That thought did worry him for, even at such an early stage of his 5 year sentence, he was quickly coming to realise that the quality of feminine mercy was, rather like the muscles in his aching neck, strained.
And so, for the rest of the day he kissed feminine shoes, licked feminine boots and sniffed feminine socks, tights, stockings and bare feet. The whole, vast array of female feet and footwear seemed to pass before his eyes – feet and footwear in various conditions; some clean; some dirty; some smelly; some smooth; some rough.
And, of course, as a slave confined in the stocks, he had no choice as to which type of female feet he serviced. Be they the slender, shapely ankles of a young woman in her twenties, or the fat, podgy ankles of a perhaps more mature woman in her forties – he had to pay his respects to them all. For he had effectively been reduced to the role of a public footslave for the day. How glad he was that he hadn’t been sentenced to life as a public footslave! He appreciated now that those guys really did have it hard!
The only other ‘highlight’ of his miserable day in the stocks came late in the afternoon when two hispanic women in their early thirties, both laden down with shopping bags, approached his pillory. One was wearing black, patent leather, court shoes with two-inch heels on dark, nylon, finest-denier stockings under a knee-length, black skirt. The other was wearing black trousers and a pair of pink, cotton socks inside black, soft leather, ballet flats.
Slave Ernesto didn’t recognise the first hispanic woman until she was standing directly in front of him in her patent, leather heels and spoke to him:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave like view from wooden window?’
It was miss Marguerita , the Tahani family maid. He hadn’t seen a lot of her since he had been sent to live with Madam Tahani and her two daughters as their slave, but then miss Marguerita wasn’t a ‘live-in’ maid and only worked for the family part-time. Slave Ernesto’s first thought was how nice it was to see a ‘friendly’ pair of feet. Surely his ‘fellow-servant’ would have some degree of sympathy for him in his predicament?
Be that as it may, she was still his social superior, and must be responded to with the respect she deserves:
‘Oh pray, miss Marguerita, if it pleases you, miss Marguerita, this slave is indeed honoured to be able to view the pretty, feminine feet and footwear of all the superior women who stop in order to have him pay homage to their superior feet, if it so pleases you, mistress Marguerita.’
‘Ha! Ha! Slave kiss my feet then!’ she ordered, stretching forward her right foot until it wobbled in its high heel directly under his nose. He noticed how the fine nylon material in her stocking momentarily creased around her inner ankle bone as her foot wobbled.
‘Yes mistress. At once mistress.’
He lowered his lips to the shiny toe of her patent, black leather shoe and witnessed how his slave breath temporarily turned the toe of her shoe misty just before his lips touched the leather. Miss Marguerita then replaced her right foot with her left for him to repeat the slavish gesture.
She then made way for her companion:
‘This miss Consuela – my friend. Consuela work as cleaner in office. Slave kiss miss Consuela feet. Pay respects!’
The giggling, office cleaning-lady of latina origins then shoved her pink-socked, black ballet-shoed foot directly under slave Ernesto’s nose for him to kiss. As he had previously done with miss Abigail, the Lady Judge’s niece, he initially kissed the toe of the young cleaning-woman’s soft, leather shoe, rather than her sock. A slave must never presume to kiss a lady’s sock without her express permission!
And miss Consuela, it seemed, didn’t want her pink sock to be kissed. For no sooner had he kissed the top of her black, leather ballet flat than she withdrew her foot laughing hysterically. She clearly wasn’t used to having her feet kissed by a man.
Somewhat exasperated at her friend’s undignified behaviour, miss Marguerita decided to demonstrate to her innocent and naïve fellow-worker just how far a lady could go with a footslave – even in public:
‘Ha! Ha! Marguerita feet tired. Marguerita on feet all day. Feet sweaty; stinky. Marguerita want slave massage stockinged feet with face!’
Miss Shariya wasted no time in bringing over a chair for miss Marguerita, the hard-working, hard-shopping, maid to sit on directly in front of the pillory. The latter then kicked off her black, leather, high-heeled pumps and stretched out her right, nyloned foot in order to rub it all over the kneeling and imprisoned slave Ernesto’s face.
The dark nylon had a black, reinforced sole, heel and toe area. Slave Ernesto quickly realised that miss Marguerita must indeed have been on her feet all day – for her nyloned foot was really dreadfully hot and sweaty. He could feel the sweat rubbing off her nylon stocking and onto his face, and his nostrils were suddenly assailed by the unpleasant, but increasingly familiar, aroma of female footsweat.
He heard both miss Shariya and miss Consuela laugh at him as miss Marguerita vigorously rubbed the nylon-stockinged soles of first her right foot, and then her left foot, all over his slave nose and face. To his horror, slave Ernesto noticed that the reinforced, black nylon on the sole of her left foot had the beginnings of a small ladder in it. It horrified him because it ‘reinforced’ the message that these were no new pair of stockings freshly on, but had been worn by the maid many times before. How humiliating! How degrading! Having a superior maidservant rubbing the sweat from the soles of her well-worn nylons onto your inferior slave face! No wonder the various women passing by joined Miss Shariya and miss Consuela in their laughter. The convicted criminal, slave Ernesto, truly was a laughing stock!
Sadly, he never did get to suck on miss Shariya’s black bootsocks inside her police boots, as she had so kindly offered him to do earlier in the day, for when his probation officer mistress Gozia arrived back at 6:00 PM to release him from the stocks he was driven in the prison van straight back to the Tahani family home.
Later that evening, as he lay in his boxroom cell, ruminating on the events of the day, the delightfully sweet 19 year old miss Penelope came in to see him. He immediately adopted the kneeling position, head dutifully bowed, even though such a position now caused his neck to ache terribly following its long hours of confinement in the stocks.
‘Poor Ernesto! How are you feeling? Was it truly horrible in the stocks? Was my sister beastly towards you?’
Miss Penelope was still wearing the same calf-length, floral dress and knee-length, stripy, black and grey socks inside soft, suede, beige ankle boots that she had been wearing that morning. How he longed for her to wrap her socked legs around his neck! He was sure that would help to relieve the throbbing muscles in his neck. Bravely he decided to ask miss Penelope to do just that!
‘Oh miss Penelope, if it pleases you miss Penelope, please will you help to ease the tension in my sore neck and shoulders by wrapping your socked legs around my neck?’
Whack!
Miss Penelope gave him a stinging slap across his right cheek that sent him flying to the ground, the wooden slave-collar landing hard on the floor and causing the muscles in his neck to spasm even more painfully.
Slave Ernesto hadn’t been expecting that!
‘How dare you speak to me like that, slave!’ she barked. ‘Really, I do sometimes think that you are seeking to take advantage of my kind nature. I’ll bet you wouldn’t talk to my sister or mother like that! Asking me to ease your pain, indeed! Just who do you think I am? Your friend?’
Slave Ernesto immediately realised the justness of miss Penelope’s wrath! How dare he talk to a mistress like that! Such disrespect for his better! He was truly contrite:
‘Oh pray, mistress Penelope, please forgive me, mistress Penelope, please forgive this dirty, slave for his rudeness and downright arrogance!’ and with that he picked himself up off the floor, resumed his kneeling position and began showering miss Penelope’s soft, beige ankle boots with humble and respectful kisses, as he should have done the very moment she had deigned to enter his room.
Amongst the many valuable lessons he had learnt that day, slave Ernesto had just learnt another one: never presume to know the mind of a superior mistress!
To be continued
Footslave Stories Blog (http://footslavestories.blogspot.com)
The reason why WPC Shariya was standing to attention and saluting was that one of the two ladies now approaching the slave in the stocks was the honourable Lady Judge Priscilla – the very lady judge who had sentenced slave Ernesto, as evidenced by the placard on the wall behind him.
40 year old Justice Priscilla was accompanied by her 23 year old niece, Abigail, whom she was escorting to the shops to buy a smart dress for her up and coming graduation ceremony. Abigail had just graduated in Media Studies and had a bright career ahead of her in film and television. Lady Justice Priscilla was very proud of her niece!
As the two black women approached the pillory slave Ernesto recognised the dulcet tones of the all-powerful woman who had passed sentence on him. It sent a shiver down his confined spine:
‘Good morning, Shariya. How are you?’
‘Fine, thank you, Ma’am!’ replied the young, asian policewoman.
There was a lot of mutual respect between the black, female Judge and the young, asian policewoman. Both, in their own way, had fought hard to achieve their respective positions of power over men, and both very much enjoyed that position.
‘Allow me to introduce you to my niece, Abigail,’ continued the Lady Judge.
‘Pleased to meet you, miss’ responded WPC Shariya politely. She was, after all, addressing her boss’s niece, even if she wasn’t much older than the WPC herself!
‘Likewise,’ responded miss Abigail, keen to behave equally politely in front of her aunt, although she actually hated cops!
‘And how is the dirty criminal faring today?’ asked Lady Judge Priscilla.
Slave Ernesto, mistakenly, thought the good Lady Judge was addressing him, and was about to respond when mistress Shariya answered for him:
‘I think he’s already starting to ache even though he’s only been in the stocks for some 30 minutes or so, Madam!’
She was right. Now that she mentioned it, slave Ernesto was beginning to feel an unpleasant and persistent dull ache in his neck and shoulders, caused by the enforced confinement of his bent neck in the stocks. To make matters worse his knees, which he was equally unable to move, were starting to ache also.
He remembered the kindly words of advice from miss Penelope earlier that morning: ‘You really must try to concentrate on all the ladies’ boots and shoes – I’m sure that’s the only way you’ll be able to take your mind off the pain!’
He therefore concentrated on the feet and footwear of the two black women now standing directly in front of him as he knelt in the pillory.
Lady Justice Priscilla was wearing a black, knee length skirt, dark, nylon tights, and a pair of very smart, black patent leather, high-heeled, knee-length boots. She looked like she could be dressed to go into Court even though it was evidently her day off!
Her niece was wearing purple, corduroy jeans with matching purple, suede, low-heeled pumps, and black socks.
Slave Ernesto found himself wishing that the two black ladies would move even closer to him so that he could study their footwear close up, and it was the lady Judge Priscilla who obliged first. She stepped forward and stretched out her right, booted foot until it was directly under the kneeling criminal’s nose:
‘Kiss the top of my boot, you dirty piece of no-good, criminal filth!’ ordered the good Lady Judge.
It was the kind of intemperate and injudicious language she would not be able to get away with in court, but that was precisely why she felt able to express herself freely now – today she was just another civilian woman teasing and tormenting a dirty, convicted felon in the stocks.
The ‘no-good, criminal filth’ Ernesto at first wondered why the good Lady Judge had specifically ordered him to kiss the top of her boot, as opposed to the, presumably dirtier, bottom part of her boot – the inevitably dust and mud marked toe of the boot, for example, which was the part most likely to be covered in street dirt. But as he now strained his neck up as far as he could to place a respectful kiss just below the knee-high rim of Justice Lady Priscilla’s black, patent leather, spike-heeled boot he soon realised her motivation.
Pain suddenly shot down the muscles of his neck and shoulders, causing him to audibly grimace.
‘Ha! Ha! Did you hear that, Abigail?’ shouted the good Lady Judge gleefully. Can you see how the muscles in his neck are going into spasm with the pain?’
‘Ha! Ha! Yes aunt Priscilla, I can see it!’ replied the younger black woman, who was still standing a few feet away.
‘Come and feel his neck muscles, Abigail. You should be able to feel the criminal’s muscles dancing with pain under his skin!’
Miss Abigail, it seemed, needed no further encouragement as, through a haze of pain, slave Ernesto saw the younger black woman’s purple, suede pumps and black socks coming towards him and standing beside her aunt’s outstretched, knee-length, black leather boot. He then felt the young woman’s soft but cold, feminine fingers touching the warm, throbbing muscles in his neck and shoulders. She seemed to be pressing down on the muscles, making the pain even worse:
‘Ha! Ha! You’re right, aunt Priscilla, I can feel his neck muscles twisting and contorting under his skin. His neck feels really hot and warm!’
‘Ha! Ha! That’s because I’m making him strain up his neck to kiss the top of my boot. It causes prisoners in the stocks absolute agony!’
‘Ha! Ha! Oh you are so clever, aunt Priscilla!’ exclaimed miss Abigail flatteringly (well, her aunt was about to splash out on a new dress for her. Best to keep her sweet!)
Mercifully, the good Lady Judge withdrew her boot from slave Ernesto’s face and did not replace it with her left boot. Instead she stepped away from the stocks and ordered the slave to kiss her niece’s feet:
‘Slave, kiss miss Abigail’s feet, and thank her for feeling the agony in your neck muscles!’
The young woman happily stretched out her right foot directly under slave Ernesto’s nose. For his part, the latter was feeling nothing but a sense of relief as he was able to lower his face to just above ground level once again. He now had a truly close-up view of the young, black woman’s pretty purple shoe. He noticed that the purple suede leather had tiny bits of white fluff, and even a hair, stuck to it, and there were one or two areas around the toe that evidenced traces of ground-in street dirt. They must be difficult shoes to keep clean, he thought to himself – suede leather can’t exactly be polished! Only brushed.
He could smell the suede leather as he lowered his lips to touch the dirty toe of the young black woman’s purple, low-heeled, pump-style shoe.
He then lifted his lips off the shoe and remembered to thank the young woman for feeling his torment:
‘Oh pray, miss Abigail, this dirty slave thanks you and blesses you for feeling the pain in his very sore neck muscles, if it pleases you, mistress Abigail.’
‘Kiss my sock as well!’ she barked back with a tone of youthful arrogance as she pulled up the thick hem of her purple corduroy jean-leg in order to afford him a better view of her black, cotton ankle sock.
Lady Justice Priscilla smiled. She was really extremely proud of her 23 year old niece – and not just because of her successful graduation in media studies, but, even more importantly, because she was turning into a proper little slave-tormentress.
As slave Ernesto obediently lowered his lips to the girl’s sock he noticed how little pieces of white fluff had seemingly attached themselves to her sock also. He wondered whether they were perhaps little pieces of white sock-lint from another pair of her socks? Whatever, he lowered his lips to touch a piece of white fluff in the very centre of her black-socked foot. He could also feel a crease in the black girl’s black sock under his lips as he kissed it.
Unlike her aunt, miss Abigail wanted her left foot kissed as well, and so he was obliged to repeat the process with her outstretched left foot – first kissing her purple, suede leather pump, then her slightly creased, black, cotton ankle sock.
You may wonder why I have described such a simple, humble act as kissing a young black woman’s shoes and socks in such detailed terms. But, like slave Ernesto, you have probably now forgotten about the pain in his neck and shoulders. Miss Penelope’s advice was correct – ‘concentrate on all the ladies’ boots and shoes… that’s the only way you’ll be able to take your mind off the pain!’
‘Ha! Ha! I think he likes kissing my socks, aunt Priscilla! I think they feel nice and soft under his parched lips!’ exclaimed miss Abigail.
58 year old slave Ernesto thought she was a very perceptive young woman. His lips were indeed parched - not so much from thirst, but from fear. He had never felt so vulnerable in all his life. Everyone – even a young, 23 year old girl – seems to tower above you in a position of absolute power when you are on your knees and confined in the stocks!
‘Ha! Ha! Well, dear, let’s see how he likes it when you sit on his neck! You sit down on the cross bar and wrap your legs around his face while I take a picture on my cell-phone!’
Slave Ernesto gulped. This was precisely the position he had earlier imagined the sweet and gentle miss Penelope being in – sitting on top of him whilst he knelt in the stocks. But instead of 19 year old miss Penelope’s soft, black and grey stripy kneesocks enveloping his cheeks, it would be the rough, ribbed, purple corduroy trousers of 23 year old miss Abigail.
Oh well! Beggars and convicted criminals can’t be choosers!
A soon as miss Abigail plonked herself down on the thick, wooden crossbar above his neck he felt another surge of almost indescribable pain coursing through his neck and shoulders and down his spine. She wasn’t a heavy girl by any means – she was of quite average build. But the extra weight was truly unbearable.
He once again let out an involuntary grimace of pain, to the great amusement of both the good Lady Judge and her niece – not to mention WPC Shariya, who was still standing dutifully to one side of the stocks – her black, leather police boots always visible from the corner of slave Ernesto’s eye.
Miss Abigail exacerbated his pain by shuffling around in order to make herself more comfortable as she sat on the heavy, wooden crossbar of the low pillory. She then wrapped her legs around his face, crossing her feet directly below his kneeling nose – giving him another close-up view of her white-fluff marked, slightly creased, black cotton ankle socks inside her dirt-stained, purple, suede leather pumps.
She swung her legs back and forward slightly causing the muscles in slave Ernesto’s neck to strain even more as she did so, though, if truth be told she wasn’t deliberately causing him extra pain this time. She was just happy to be having her picture taken as she sat in a position of power over the convicted male criminal in the stocks.
For his part slave Ernesto accepted his place was under the superior young woman. He accepted that she was his superior in every sense – not just his physical and sexual superior, as he was an inferior old, male and she was a superior, young female – but also his moral superior, as he was a dirty, convicted male pervert and she was the niece of the good Lady Judge who had had the pleasure of sentencing him.
Little did slave Ernesto know that miss Abigail had, in fact, broken the Law on even more occasions than he had. She already had convictions for shoplifting; being drunk and disorderly; and aggravated bodily harm. But, unlike slave Ernesto, she had never been, and would never be, punished for her crimes. Like all women in this particular society she could, as far as the Law (and even her aunt) was concerned, quite literally, do no wrong – in the sense that whenever she was convicted of a crime an anonymous male slave was simply punished in her stead.
It was a system of ‘whipping-boys’ if you like, and miss Abigail was, like all women, quite literally, above the Law, just as she was now, quite literally, above slave Ernesto.
‘Smile!’ ordered the Lady Judge Priscilla.
Slave Ernesto assumed she was talking to her niece.
Having photographed him with his face trapped between her smiling niece’s calves, the Lady Judge, her Worshipfulness Lady Justice Priscilla, decided to slave Ernesto’s immense relief that it was time for her and her niece to hit the shops. The sense of relief he felt in his aching neck muscles when miss Abigail climbed off the heavy, wooden crossbar was quite overwhelming.
As soon as the two black women had gone miss Shariya crouched down to congratulate the slave on his good fortune:
‘Ha! Ha! You’re a lucky slave, innit? Gettin’ to kiss the shoes and socks of Lady Judge Priscilla’s niece! You’re not worthy, innit?’
Slave Ernesto had to agree with the young, asian police officer:
‘Yes mistress Shariya. Thank you mistress Shariya.’
If he was in a position of good fortune, then his cup was about to ‘runneth over’, for the next pair of boots to approach his pillory were the unmistakeable black, patent leather, pointy-toed, high-heeled ankle boots of mistress Arrabella under her frayed, blue denim jeans.
Slave Ernesto recognised her voice instantly:
‘Hi, Shariya! Gozia said you’d be here!’
‘Good morning, miss!’ replied the always polite and professional, demurely headscarfed, asian police woman.
‘This is my boyfriend, Peter!’ continued mistress Arrabella.
Slave Ernesto now realised that the young man who had ‘picked up’ miss Arrabella in the pub the previous evening was accompanying her.
Boyfriend! Boyfriend! He somehow doubted it would last! But then, it was really none of his business what the two, free, young adults got up to. He assumed miss Arrabella was skiving off work to be with her new man.
‘Good morning, sir!’ said WPC Shariya.
Again slave Ernesto flinched somewhat in his stocks. How his social status was now so different from that of the still unconvicted, free man he had been just a week ago! However, now that he had been sentenced to 5 years’ community servitude, no woman would be calling him ‘sir’ for the foreseeable future. Just ‘slave’ or ‘dirty slave’!
‘Ha! Ha! Just look at him, Peter! Look at the strain on his ugly face. He looks like he’s in agony! Ha! Ha!’ exulted miss Arrabella, clearly referring to slave Ernesto.
‘Ha! Ha! Yeah, make him kiss your boots, honey. I want to see him swallowing the toe of your pointy boot!’
Arrabella kissed Peter on the lips before stepping forward. She loved him!
The next thing slave Ernesto felt was his lips being prised open by the sharp, pointy toe of miss Arrabella’s black, leather ankle boot as it penetrated his mouth. As she did so she pulled up the hem of her blue denim jean leg to expose the scrunched-up top of her navy blue bootsock. Slave Ernesto wished it was the soft, feminine sock inside his mouth rather than the harsh, pointy toe of the leather boot, which he feared may damage the roof of his mouth.
That, however, appeared to be precisely what master Peter wanted:
‘Ha! Ha! That’s right, darling, go on! Push the toe of your spiky boot all the way into his mouth. Make him gag on it! Ha! Ha!’
Fortunately for slave Ernesto the toe of the boot wasn’t long enough to cause him to gag. But it was still a deeply unpleasant experience, particularly as he felt a globule of female boot-mud slithering down his slave throat.
‘Ha! Ha! I can’t get it in any further!’ exclaimed mistress Arrabella. ‘His mouth just isn’t big enough!’
‘Ha! Ha! Maybe you should break open his jaw!’ joked master Peter.
At least, slave Ernesto hoped the young man was joking.
Mercifully, miss Arrabella withdrew the pointy-toe of her boot from slave Ernesto’s mouth without doing too much damage:
‘Well, at least he’s given the toe of my boot a nice shine!’ remarked miss Arrabella. ‘Just look at it compared to the other one!’
And with that she stood with her two booted feet side by side so that everyone, including slave Ernesto, could see the difference in the shine on the boot that had recently been deep inside his mouth.
Slave Ernesto, not unnaturally, assumed that his young mistress would want her left boot to be similarly mouth-shined, but he assumed wrongly! Miss Arrabella wasn’t in the least bit concerned about the state of her boots. She had wanted merely to torment slave Ernesto – not to have her boots shined. That was just a side effect.
Besides, she and her boyfriend Peter were in a hurry to get back to his flat for some more, passionate love-making:
‘I’m afraid we have to go, Shariya, but make sure he does a good job on all the other ladies’ boots and shoes, won’t you?’
‘No problem, miss,’ replied miss Shariya, saluting the young, civilian, female citizen and her boyfriend as they walked off hand in hand.
Slave Ernesto, needless to say, wasn’t going anywhere – not for another 7 hours or so! As he watched miss Arrabella happily strolling off with her newly polished boot it dawned on him that whilst she, and all the other free men and women around him, were at liberty to go where they liked and do what they liked, he was confined in his pillory-prison until such time as his female probation officer, mistress Gozia, decided he should be released. And until that time he would also be at the mercy of every passing female.
That thought did worry him for, even at such an early stage of his 5 year sentence, he was quickly coming to realise that the quality of feminine mercy was, rather like the muscles in his aching neck, strained.
And so, for the rest of the day he kissed feminine shoes, licked feminine boots and sniffed feminine socks, tights, stockings and bare feet. The whole, vast array of female feet and footwear seemed to pass before his eyes – feet and footwear in various conditions; some clean; some dirty; some smelly; some smooth; some rough.
And, of course, as a slave confined in the stocks, he had no choice as to which type of female feet he serviced. Be they the slender, shapely ankles of a young woman in her twenties, or the fat, podgy ankles of a perhaps more mature woman in her forties – he had to pay his respects to them all. For he had effectively been reduced to the role of a public footslave for the day. How glad he was that he hadn’t been sentenced to life as a public footslave! He appreciated now that those guys really did have it hard!
The only other ‘highlight’ of his miserable day in the stocks came late in the afternoon when two hispanic women in their early thirties, both laden down with shopping bags, approached his pillory. One was wearing black, patent leather, court shoes with two-inch heels on dark, nylon, finest-denier stockings under a knee-length, black skirt. The other was wearing black trousers and a pair of pink, cotton socks inside black, soft leather, ballet flats.
Slave Ernesto didn’t recognise the first hispanic woman until she was standing directly in front of him in her patent, leather heels and spoke to him:
‘Ha! Ha! Slave like view from wooden window?’
It was miss Marguerita , the Tahani family maid. He hadn’t seen a lot of her since he had been sent to live with Madam Tahani and her two daughters as their slave, but then miss Marguerita wasn’t a ‘live-in’ maid and only worked for the family part-time. Slave Ernesto’s first thought was how nice it was to see a ‘friendly’ pair of feet. Surely his ‘fellow-servant’ would have some degree of sympathy for him in his predicament?
Be that as it may, she was still his social superior, and must be responded to with the respect she deserves:
‘Oh pray, miss Marguerita, if it pleases you, miss Marguerita, this slave is indeed honoured to be able to view the pretty, feminine feet and footwear of all the superior women who stop in order to have him pay homage to their superior feet, if it so pleases you, mistress Marguerita.’
‘Ha! Ha! Slave kiss my feet then!’ she ordered, stretching forward her right foot until it wobbled in its high heel directly under his nose. He noticed how the fine nylon material in her stocking momentarily creased around her inner ankle bone as her foot wobbled.
‘Yes mistress. At once mistress.’
He lowered his lips to the shiny toe of her patent, black leather shoe and witnessed how his slave breath temporarily turned the toe of her shoe misty just before his lips touched the leather. Miss Marguerita then replaced her right foot with her left for him to repeat the slavish gesture.
She then made way for her companion:
‘This miss Consuela – my friend. Consuela work as cleaner in office. Slave kiss miss Consuela feet. Pay respects!’
The giggling, office cleaning-lady of latina origins then shoved her pink-socked, black ballet-shoed foot directly under slave Ernesto’s nose for him to kiss. As he had previously done with miss Abigail, the Lady Judge’s niece, he initially kissed the toe of the young cleaning-woman’s soft, leather shoe, rather than her sock. A slave must never presume to kiss a lady’s sock without her express permission!
And miss Consuela, it seemed, didn’t want her pink sock to be kissed. For no sooner had he kissed the top of her black, leather ballet flat than she withdrew her foot laughing hysterically. She clearly wasn’t used to having her feet kissed by a man.
Somewhat exasperated at her friend’s undignified behaviour, miss Marguerita decided to demonstrate to her innocent and naïve fellow-worker just how far a lady could go with a footslave – even in public:
‘Ha! Ha! Marguerita feet tired. Marguerita on feet all day. Feet sweaty; stinky. Marguerita want slave massage stockinged feet with face!’
Miss Shariya wasted no time in bringing over a chair for miss Marguerita, the hard-working, hard-shopping, maid to sit on directly in front of the pillory. The latter then kicked off her black, leather, high-heeled pumps and stretched out her right, nyloned foot in order to rub it all over the kneeling and imprisoned slave Ernesto’s face.
The dark nylon had a black, reinforced sole, heel and toe area. Slave Ernesto quickly realised that miss Marguerita must indeed have been on her feet all day – for her nyloned foot was really dreadfully hot and sweaty. He could feel the sweat rubbing off her nylon stocking and onto his face, and his nostrils were suddenly assailed by the unpleasant, but increasingly familiar, aroma of female footsweat.
He heard both miss Shariya and miss Consuela laugh at him as miss Marguerita vigorously rubbed the nylon-stockinged soles of first her right foot, and then her left foot, all over his slave nose and face. To his horror, slave Ernesto noticed that the reinforced, black nylon on the sole of her left foot had the beginnings of a small ladder in it. It horrified him because it ‘reinforced’ the message that these were no new pair of stockings freshly on, but had been worn by the maid many times before. How humiliating! How degrading! Having a superior maidservant rubbing the sweat from the soles of her well-worn nylons onto your inferior slave face! No wonder the various women passing by joined Miss Shariya and miss Consuela in their laughter. The convicted criminal, slave Ernesto, truly was a laughing stock!
Sadly, he never did get to suck on miss Shariya’s black bootsocks inside her police boots, as she had so kindly offered him to do earlier in the day, for when his probation officer mistress Gozia arrived back at 6:00 PM to release him from the stocks he was driven in the prison van straight back to the Tahani family home.
Later that evening, as he lay in his boxroom cell, ruminating on the events of the day, the delightfully sweet 19 year old miss Penelope came in to see him. He immediately adopted the kneeling position, head dutifully bowed, even though such a position now caused his neck to ache terribly following its long hours of confinement in the stocks.
‘Poor Ernesto! How are you feeling? Was it truly horrible in the stocks? Was my sister beastly towards you?’
Miss Penelope was still wearing the same calf-length, floral dress and knee-length, stripy, black and grey socks inside soft, suede, beige ankle boots that she had been wearing that morning. How he longed for her to wrap her socked legs around his neck! He was sure that would help to relieve the throbbing muscles in his neck. Bravely he decided to ask miss Penelope to do just that!
‘Oh miss Penelope, if it pleases you miss Penelope, please will you help to ease the tension in my sore neck and shoulders by wrapping your socked legs around my neck?’
Whack!
Miss Penelope gave him a stinging slap across his right cheek that sent him flying to the ground, the wooden slave-collar landing hard on the floor and causing the muscles in his neck to spasm even more painfully.
Slave Ernesto hadn’t been expecting that!
‘How dare you speak to me like that, slave!’ she barked. ‘Really, I do sometimes think that you are seeking to take advantage of my kind nature. I’ll bet you wouldn’t talk to my sister or mother like that! Asking me to ease your pain, indeed! Just who do you think I am? Your friend?’
Slave Ernesto immediately realised the justness of miss Penelope’s wrath! How dare he talk to a mistress like that! Such disrespect for his better! He was truly contrite:
‘Oh pray, mistress Penelope, please forgive me, mistress Penelope, please forgive this dirty, slave for his rudeness and downright arrogance!’ and with that he picked himself up off the floor, resumed his kneeling position and began showering miss Penelope’s soft, beige ankle boots with humble and respectful kisses, as he should have done the very moment she had deigned to enter his room.
Amongst the many valuable lessons he had learnt that day, slave Ernesto had just learnt another one: never presume to know the mind of a superior mistress!
To be continued
Footslave Stories Blog (http://footslavestories.blogspot.com)