patheticus555
04-09-2008, 1:32 AM
Part 14 – Annual Review
A year had passed and the good lady Judge, her worshipfulness Justice Priscilla, had summoned slave Ernesto before the Supreme Female Court to review his performance thus far during his sentence of Community Servitude, and to determine whether further remedial action was necessary.
She had also requested the attendance of all the ladies involved with his case so that they could give evidence as to his progress. As he found himself back in the dock, therefore, this time kneeling rather than standing as an already convicted prisoner-slave, and this time clad only in his white, cotton slave shorts and wooden slave collar, slave Ernesto, now 59 years old – not that anyone had noticed or observed his 59th birthday – realised he was surrounded by the all-powerful women who would determine his fate.
In front of him sat the honourable lady Judge herself, Lady Priscilla – the once junior lawyer from the Caribbean made good. From his kneeling position in the dock directly in front of the black Lady Judge’s feet he could see that she was wearing (appropriately enough) smart, spike-heeled, black patent leather court shoes on the finest denier, dark nylon stockings. A beam of light was shining through a window in the Courtroom directly onto the good Lady Judge’s outstretched feet, which were crossed casually at the ankles. The enhanced light caused the patent leather of her black, high-heeled shoes to shine brightly and meant that slave Ernesto could distinguish the individual stitches in her expensive stockings, including those in the tiny creases around her ankles caused by the positioning of her feet.
Beside her, to her right, sat her 24 year old niece, miss Abigail, whom slave Ernesto had previously had the honour of being teased and tormented by in the town stocks. The good Lady Judge Priscilla had arranged for her beloved niece to attend the Female Court for the day and witness proceedings by way of some work experience. She was concerned that her niece was beginning to drift in life. She still hadn’t found a job despite graduating in media studies over a year ago. Justice Priscilla was hoping that her niece might therefore decide on a career in the Courts instead – she could easily get her a job here if she wanted it.
If truth be told, however, Abigail wasn’t really all that interested in finding work. She was going along with her aunt Priscilla’s ‘work experience’ programme just to keep her on board, so to speak, as it was her aunt who basically funded her hedonistic lifestyle of partying and clubbing. Even now as she sat above the kneeling convict Ernesto to the right of her aunt, miss Abigail was suffering from a severe hangover and just wanted to go to sleep. She was not in the least bit interested in slave Ernesto or his fate. But she had to go through the motions, or face having her allowance cut off by her beloved aunt.
For his part, by way of complete contrast, slave Ernesto was very interested in the beautiful, young black woman seated above him beside the good Lady Judge – or at least in her footwear. Unlike her aunt, miss Abigail had not dressed appropriately for Court and was wearing scruffy,blue, denim jeans and a pair of dirty, white keds (which were actually more grey than white) with a hole over the big toe of her left shoe through which he could see a glimpse of dark blue sock. Her choice of footwear eloquently demonstrated that she just didn’t really care about the proceedings, or have any real respect for the Court. Nevertheless, she was clearly, thanks to the influence and power of her aunt, seated in that Court room in a position of considerable power and would doubtless be assisting her aunt in determining slave Ernesto’s future fate. Therefore slave Ernesto had nothing but feelings of awe and respect for miss Abigail and her tatty footwear.
On the honourable Justice Priscilla’s left hand side was seated slave Ernesto’s east European probation officer, the tall, blonde miss Gozia. Miss Gozia was wearing a fetching pair of black, zip-up, stiletto-heeled, ankle boots and black trousers. Because of her seated position the hems of her black trousers were raised slightly above the tops of her ankle boots and slave Ernesto could just see the elasticated top of a bright, pink bootsock on her right calf muscle. The top of the sock wasn’t visible on her left leg – presumably it had slipped down somewhat inside her left ankle boot. They looked like nice, new boots however. Not a mark on them. Slave Ernesto certainly hadn’t observed miss Gozia wearing them before, and he had seen a lot of his pretty probation officer’s feet and footwear over the past year since he had been placed in her charge as part of his 5 year sentence of Community Servitude.
Miss Gozia was rustling some papers above him – presumably her report on his progress which she would later read out to the Court. The twenty-something, pink-socked, female probation officer would be passing judgment on the fifty-something former businessman and now convicted felon. It was exactly how things should be.
The ubiquitous uniformed and headscarfed WPC Shariya was also present in Court. To be fair you might expect to see her here – the Courthouse was, after all, her main place of work. But in addition Justice Priscilla had specifically asked for WPC Shariya to be present at the proceedings as she knew the demurely headscarfed, asian WPC had taken a great interest in slave Ernesto’s case and had been heavily involved in his correction hitherto.
WPC miss Shariya was standing smartly to attention, with her arms behind her back, in the dock to slave Ernesto’s right, and he could just get a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of her black leather, police-issue, still rather scuffed ankle boots under her navy blue, police trousers. Unlike miss Gozia, it seemed, WPC Shariya was wearing the same pair of boots that slave Ernesto had kissed in the court cell immediately following his conviction exactly a year ago to the day. He wondered whether she might even be wearing the same pair of well-worn, white socks inside her boots, perhaps even carelessly put on her podgy feet inside-out as they had been back then! It was a humbling thought.
And finally, seated comfortably behind him, in the public gallery, were the Tahani family – Madam Tahani, her two daughters Arrabella (23) and Penelope (20), together with their maid, Marguerita. All would soon be given the opportunity by the good lady Judge to have their say on slave Ernesto’s performance as a community footslave over the past year – the first year of his 5 year sentence. He really was at the complete mercy of all the superior women in the Courtroom.
Justice Priscilla opened the proceedings by banging her gavel:
‘Order in Court. The Annual Review of prisoner no GOZ/54791 is now in session.’
Everyone settled down and the Courtroom fell silent.
Justice Priscilla continued:
‘The purpose of this review is to determine whether the prisoner Ernesto has shown sufficient penitence and remorse for his crime against women to be permitted to continue his punishment in the community as a women’s footslave, or whether more severe measures are needed to ensure his full contrition and compliance.
I wish to invite all those women who are most closely involved in the criminal’s supervision and punishment to voice their opinion on his progress thus far…’
She then gave a friendly smile towards Madam Tahani in the public gallery:
‘…Madam Tahani, can I ask you to come forward and to stand before the Bench, over the kneeling convict, with your legs on either side of his face?’
Madam Tahani smiled back and made her way out of the public gallery over to where the hapless slave Ernesto was humbly kneeling, head bowed, his eyes still focussed on the good Lady Judge’s sparkling, black court shoes in front of him.
He soon switched his slavish attention, however, to Madam Tahani’s feet and footwear as she positioned herself, as directed by the Lady Judge, to stand above him in the dock with her shapely ankles and calves digging into the side of his temples.
Madam Tahani was wearing a smart, cream, trouser suit and cream coloured, low-heeled pumps on her bare, brown Moroccan feet. She really did have the most beautiful, shapely feet for a woman in her late forties. Even the vein that ran along the top of her right foot, a vein which slave Ernesto had oftentimes been required to lick, only served to enhance the beauty of Madam Tahani’s feet. He felt an overwhelming, submissive urge to pay homage to his mistress’s feet by kissing her brown footskin – but, of course, that was not part of the Court protocol. He could only look and not touch.
‘Madam Tahani, would you please give the Court your assessment of the prisoner’s performance as a footslave in your household thus far into his sentence?’ requested the good Lady Judge in a soft, friendly tone.
‘Certainly, your honour,’ replied Madam Tahani.
As slave Ernesto stared at her brown feet in their smart, cream-coloured pumps, he listened intently to his Moroccan mistress’s assessment of his performance:
‘On the whole I am disappointed with the slave’s performance. He was singularly lacking in respect for myself and my two daughters when he was first allocated to our household by the Probation Service, and I’m afraid that, in my view, his attitude has not improved much over the year. My daughter, Penelope, has even had to purchase a whip at her own expense in order to keep him in line.
I am particularly disappointed, however, at his performance in my Beauty Salon, where he is often perceived as surly and rude by my female customers as he massages and pedicures their feet.
My daughters and I have tried our level best to imbue a sense of male humility and contrition in the footslave, your honour, but I regret to have to inform you that there is still room for improvement in him.’
Slave Ernesto felt shame as he listened to Madam Tahani’s entirely accurate assessment of his pathetic performance as a footslave thus far.
It must be accurate because she is a superior woman and women are always right.
‘Thank you, Madam Tahani. Please return to your seat,’ responded Lady Justice Priscilla, without any further comment.
Her lack of comment, though, was ominous. Even slave Ernesto picked up on that!
‘Miss Arrabella, would you like to take the stand please?’ continued the good Lady Judge.
Slave Ernesto heard the click-clack of high-heeled boots walking across the floor of the Courtroom behind him, and his head was soon surrounded by the familiar blue denim, designer jeans tucked into brown, leather, calf-length boots of his fashion-model mistress, miss Arrabella. He could smell the freshly polished leather of the brown boots. He knew they were freshly polished because he had been ordered to polish them himself that very morning. That was why he couldn’t complain when he felt some of her boot polish rubbing off onto the side of his face as she now dug her booted ankles into his temples. It was yet another example of his sloppy work.
‘Miss Arrabella, would you please give the Court your assessment of the felon Ernesto’s performance as a footslave thus far?’ invited the honourable lady Justice Priscilla.
‘He’s crap!’ replied miss Arrabella.
A ripple of suppressed laughter went around the Courtroom. Even the good Lady Judge Priscilla allowed herself a wry smile at the petulant young woman’s unladylike, and certainly injudicious, language:
‘Perhaps you would care to elucidate, young lady?’ prompted the Lady Judge.
‘He’s a complete waste of space, your honour – lazy; clumsy; disrespectful; disobedient and incompetent. I mean, look at the way the polish is coming off my boots onto the sides of his stupid, ugly face! He just can’t do anything right! He’s a complete numbskull! That’s why my sister had to buy the whip – pain is the only language he understands!’
And with that slave Ernesto felt mistress Arrabella digging her booted heels hard into the sides of his temples, causing him to involuntarily cry out.
Again a ripple of feminine giggles and laughter echoed around the Courtroom. Everyone had to smile at the young woman’s evident frustration at the uselessness of her personal footslave.
Only slave Ernesto wasn’t laughing, and not just because he was in pain. He was also totally ashamed of himself.
‘I see, well thank you, miss Arrabella. Perhaps your sister would now like to take the stand?’
Mercifully, the stylish, but harsh, leather-booted ankles of miss Arrabella removed themselves from his now throbbing temples to be replaced by the much less stylish, but gloriously softer, thick, grey woolly tights and black, canvas, mary-jane style, T-bar strapped moccasins of the bespectacled English Language and Literature teacher miss Penelope.
For all her ‘new, harsh regime’, for all her new-found love of the whip, slave Ernesto still saw miss Penelope as the gentler of the two Tahani girls. He still had a ‘soft spot’ for her, and hoped she still had a ‘soft spot’ for him – albeit now well hidden. Surely miss Penelope would have something nice to say about him?
He watched as her grey, woollen tights creased around the ankles as she positioned her pretty feet on either side of his bowed head.
‘So, miss Penelope, I understand that you have felt it necessary to purchase a whip in order to control the convicted prisoner?’ enquired Lady Justice Priscilla, looking at the bespectacled young woman over her own black spectacles.
‘That’s correct your honour. I’m afraid the dirty criminal totally disrespected myself and my friends to begin with, even demanding at one point that I comfort him by rubbing my socked feet over his aching shoulders after he had spent a whole day confined in the stocks!...’
She paused at this point for dramatic effect and to allow gasps of astonishment and condemnation to echo around the Court room. A dirty footslave demanding comfort, indeed!
Slave Ernesto’s sense of shame only deepened, although the irony was not lost on him that his slave head was currently enveloped in the comforting presence of miss Penelope’s thick, woolly tights.
‘…I therefore felt it necessary to purchase a slave-whip, your honour, in order to instil some discipline in the slave and to beat some respect into him,’ continued miss Penelope, now confident in the art of public speaking thanks to her presentational skills course.
‘Of course, my dear, and you can rest assured that I shall make an order reimbursing you for the expense of your purchase,’ the good Lady Judge reassured her.
‘Thank you, your honour. I must say that the whip has made a difference to the criminal’s attitude, but, as my sister Arrabella has just told the Court, he is prone to incompetence. On at least two occasions now he has embarrassed me in front of my girlfriends by failing to clean their socks properly whilst they were wearing them - either by smudging the dirt on the sides of their socks with his stupid, slave lips and making the dirty stains even worse, or by failing to suck off the dirt completely with his stupid, slave mouth. He just doesn’t seem to realise that his superior mistresses’ socks are more important than he is. I regret that I really don’t think he’s up to the job!’
As slave Ernesto had expected, the kind-hearted miss Penelope had defended him the most vigorously thus far. She had correctly pointed out his failings and ineptitude but ‘regretted’ that she didn’t think he was up to the job. For his part, he regretted letting her down.
He had thought that miss Penelope’s testimony would be the end of the Tahani family’s evidence, but had forgotten, of course, about the family’s hispanic maid, 31 year old miss Marguerita. She was a woman, and therefore his superior too, and her evidence was considered just as important by the Court.
She was wearing the smartest set of clothes she had – her maid’s uniform – and so slave Ernesto found his temples surrounded by the dark, nylon stockings and black, patent leather, high-heeled shoes of the Tahani family maid. He could see his blurred reflexion in the top of her shiny, black shoes – which was appropriate, for that was all that he was: a pale reflection of a superior maidservant.
‘So, Miss Marguerita, in your opinion has the criminal at your feet performed in any way adequately during his period of service under your supervision in your mistress’s household?’
It was a somewhat leading question by the good Lady Judge and, had slave Ernesto been represented in Court, his barrister would doubtless have raised an objection.
But there was nobody representing slave Ernesto in Court.
‘Ha! Slave Ernesto very bad slave, your honour,’ replied the hispanic maid in her broken English. ‘Not work hard; not wash miss Arrabella and miss Penelope dirty socks properly in mouth; not wash Madam Tahani dirty stockings properly; not shine Madam Tahani dirty shoes properly. Marguerita have to use cane on slave many times; cause slave many pain! Marguerita hate slave!’
She had said it all really. She hated the slave even though he admired and worshipped her as a superior woman. Indeed, the same could evidently be said for all the women who had given evidence thus far against slave Ernesto – they all ‘hated’ him in the sense that they despised him and held him in contempt as a lazy, impudent and incompetent footslave.
Lady Justice Priscilla didn’t really need to hear any more evidence, but Court protocol demanded that she also take evidence from the Police (WPC Shariya) and Probation Service (Miss Gozia).
WPC Shariya was next to stand over the kneeling slave Ernesto. As she placed her feet on either side of his temples the hem of her right, navy blue trouser leg caught temporarily on his right ear giving slave Ernesto a brief flash of dirty, white sock inside her boot. He couldn’t be sure, but it may well be that WPC mistress Shariya was indeed wearing the selfsame socks she had worn on the day of his conviction a year ago! At any rate, she wasn’t wearing her regulation uniform, navy blue bootsocks. She was such a rebel – albeit a demurely dressed, headscarfed rebel!
As she gave her evidence to the Court slave Ernesto sensed the now all too familiar mixture of musty, female leather boot mixed with delicate, feminine halitosis wafting up his nostrils.
‘Officer Shariya, would you please give the Police’s assessment of the criminal’s progress thus far?’ asked the good lady Judge politely. Her Honour Justice Priscilla liked WPC Shariya – a fine, upstanding and diligent young officer, destined for promotion in the very near future!
‘Yes, your honour. In my opinion the convicted-criminal has failed his probationary year, innit? During his period of hard labour on the treadmill in the State Penitentiary he managed to complete the required number of turns on only 5 out of the 14 days of his imprisonment…’
Slave Ernesto felt a shudder run down his spineless back as he remembered the horrors of the Penitentiary, No wonder he had lost so much weight in there! As WPC mistress Shariya had correctly said he had achieved his daily target of 3000 revolutions of the heavy, wooden treadmill, set for him by the blonde, pony-tailed, prison governess, on only 5 out of the 14 days he was incarcerated there, thereby failing to earn his daily supper of bread and water for 9 out of the 14 days. And WPC mistress Shariya should know as she had spent two hours sitting in front of him on the treadmill every evening and had therefore had the privilege of tallying up his final score. She must have been rolling in overtime payments that month whilst he went hungry!
‘…We also had to use the slave serum on him on at least one occasion, your honour,’ continued WPC Shariya, referring to the injection of submissiveness-inducing serum she had so lovingly given him during his period of boot-shining in the Police Station.
Of course, the fact that the Police had felt it necessary to inject him with submissiveness did not bode well for his case review today.
Her honour the Lady Justice Priscilla thanked WPC Shariya for her evidence and the latter returned, smiling, to her standing position by the side of the dock.
Last, but not least, it was the turn of the pink-socked, black ankle-booted, blonde probation officer miss Gozia to give the Probation Service’s report on slave Ernesto, or file no. GOZ/54791 as he was known to the Probation authorities. Unlike the other witnesses miss Gozia was not required to stand over the kneeling prisoner as she read out her report. Instead she remained seated on the Bench above and in front of the prisoner, her right leg now crossed over her left thereby revealing even more of her pink sock on her right calf inside her black ankle boot as it dangled in the air.
Miss Gozia read out her damning report in her crisp, clear, East European accent:
‘Prisoner no. GOZ/54791 was convicted of stealing a lady’s undergarments for the purposes of sexual gratification exactly one year ago to the day, and was sentenced by this Court to 5 years’ Community Servitude as a women’s footslave with periodical corporal punishment and incarceration with hard labour.
During the period of his sentence thus far he has shown no remorse for his crime, and has consistently displayed male arrogance and contempt for female authority.
He has failed to reach the required standards in virtually every punitive chore he has been allocated, and has not earned the confidence and support of the women he has been serving.
It is the recommendation of the Probation Service, therefore, that his current sentence of Community Servitude be revoked and replaced by a sentence of indefinite imprisonment, as we see no prospect of the prisoner being reformed or rehabilitated into the polite society of women.’
Miss Gozia sat down to spontaneous applause from the public gallery. Her pink sock disappeared from slave Ernesto’s view as she adjusted the hem of her black trouser leg.
‘Thank you, officer Gozia,’ smiled the good Lady Judge.
Her tone then changed as she, literally, looked down with contempt on the pitiful wretch kneeling in front of her crossed-over feet:
‘Prisoner no. GOZ/54791. You have heard the evidence against you and the report of your charming, young probation officer. Is there anything you wish to say in your defence?’
Slave Ernesto was grateful to the good Lady Judge for giving him the opportunity to apologise to the Female Court for his ineptitude and recalcitrance, and to throw himself on the Court’s mercy:
‘Oh pray, most worshipful Lady Justice Priscilla, if it pleases you, most worshipful Lady Judge Priscilla, this dirty, no-good, slave begs the Court’s forgiveness for his incompetence and his male obstinacy, and pleads with the Court to punish him severely so that he may see the error of his ways and be suitably chastised for the heinous crime he has committed against superior womanhood, if it so pleases you, most worshipful lady Justice mistress Priscilla.’
The irony was that, although everything the lady witnesses had been saying about him in Court was true, their very testimony that day had brought him to the position of sincere penitence, and respect for feminine authority, which they had all hitherto been seeking.
But it was too late.
‘You may kiss my feet,’ declared the good Lady Judge, unfurling her stockinged ankles and stretching forward her right, shiny black, court-shoed foot closer to the kneeling slave’s contrite and bowed head. Miss Shariya quickly stepped forward to assist the now sobbing slave Ernesto in placing his lips on the top of the Lady Judge’s shiny black shoe.
The process was then repeated for her left shoe, before Lady Judge Priscilla ordered the about-to-be-resentenced slave to kiss miss Gozia’s black ankle boots followed by her niece’s dirty-grey and holey keds - with the blue sock covering the big toe on her left foot still peeping through.
An air of anticipation now permeated the Court room. What would the good Lady Judge decide? Would she act on the Probation Service’s recommendation? Would she have slave Ernesto thrown into prison?
His fate was well and truly in the hands of the 41 year-old black Lady Judge, her worshipfulness the Lady Priscilla. Or rather, it seemed, in the hands of her bored, gum-chewing, 24 year old niece, Abigail, for at that moment her aunt turned and spoke to her:
‘Abigail, darling, you have heard all the evidence from the assembled witnesses, and the prisoner’s plea. Do you wish to make a recommendation as to sentencing before I pass judgement on the criminal?’
Abigail yawned again, because she was truly hung-over on a cocktail of alcohol and illicit drugs and didn’t really care what happened to the stupid footslave kneeling in front of her:
‘Erm…life in the foothole?’
And so it was that slave Ernesto’s fate was finally sealed – sealed by a gum-chewing, bored, scruffily dressed, 24 year old, unemployed black girl, although her aunt delivered the formal sentencing for the Court records:
‘Convicted Prisoner no. GOZ/54791. You have heard the evidence against you from all these fine upstanding ladies, and the damning report made on you by the Probation Service.
The Court is grateful to all the women concerned for their sterling efforts in attempting to mould you into a contrite and docile footslave. The fact that you have failed to achieve the requisite standards of servitude is in no way a reflection on them, and reflects solely on the sheer obstinacy and arrogance of your character. This Court will have its way, however, and you will be broken and subdued.
This Court determined at the time of your very first arraignment that you were an arrogant and loathsome male individual who was unfit to be in the polite society of women, but was nevertheless constrained by the Law to offer you clemency and the opportunity to redeem yourself by means of community servitude as a women’s footslave for a period of 5 years.
You were warned by the Court that your sentence would be subject to review, and it is clear today, on the first anniversary of your sentence, that you have manifestly failed to serve as a community footslave to the required standards.
I therefore take great pleasure in adopting the recommendations of your probation officer, and in complying with the wishes of my niece, and hereby sentence you to imprisonment for life in the foothole dungeons.
Officer Shariya, take the prisoner down to the cells please.’
And with that the Court erupted into further, spontaneous female applause as, with a certain sense of deja-vu, slave Ernesto found himself being led once again down the stairs that led from the dock into the prison cells below by WPC miss Shariya – except that this time he was crawling, semi-naked on his hands and knees behind her black, ankle boots and this time also he wouldn’t be coming back out into the world to serve women as a community footslave. He was being incarcerated for the rest of his natural life in a foothole dungeon. Nevertheless he had nothing but feelings of gratitude to the Female Court for showing him mercy. Justice Priscilla, or was it her niece miss Abigail, could have ordered him to also be flogged, and had therefore shown him totally unearned clemency.
Later that afternoon probation officer Gozia was counting the ‘bung’ she had ‘earned’ in advance from the good Lady Judge, her worshipfulness the Justice Priscilla, for compiling a damning report on slave Ernesto that would enable the Female Court to sentence him to life in the foothole dungeons. Gozia smiled to herself as she thought of the exotic holiday she would now be able to book for herself and her boyfriend in the Caribbean. She then pulled up the bright, pink bootsock which had slipped down inside her left ankle boot, before locking away slave Ernesto’s file for good at the back of her filing cabinet.
As far as probation officer miss Gozia was concerned, case no. GOZ/54791, rather like convicted prisoner Ernesto himself, and, indeed, like this story, was now well and truly closed.
The End
A year had passed and the good lady Judge, her worshipfulness Justice Priscilla, had summoned slave Ernesto before the Supreme Female Court to review his performance thus far during his sentence of Community Servitude, and to determine whether further remedial action was necessary.
She had also requested the attendance of all the ladies involved with his case so that they could give evidence as to his progress. As he found himself back in the dock, therefore, this time kneeling rather than standing as an already convicted prisoner-slave, and this time clad only in his white, cotton slave shorts and wooden slave collar, slave Ernesto, now 59 years old – not that anyone had noticed or observed his 59th birthday – realised he was surrounded by the all-powerful women who would determine his fate.
In front of him sat the honourable lady Judge herself, Lady Priscilla – the once junior lawyer from the Caribbean made good. From his kneeling position in the dock directly in front of the black Lady Judge’s feet he could see that she was wearing (appropriately enough) smart, spike-heeled, black patent leather court shoes on the finest denier, dark nylon stockings. A beam of light was shining through a window in the Courtroom directly onto the good Lady Judge’s outstretched feet, which were crossed casually at the ankles. The enhanced light caused the patent leather of her black, high-heeled shoes to shine brightly and meant that slave Ernesto could distinguish the individual stitches in her expensive stockings, including those in the tiny creases around her ankles caused by the positioning of her feet.
Beside her, to her right, sat her 24 year old niece, miss Abigail, whom slave Ernesto had previously had the honour of being teased and tormented by in the town stocks. The good Lady Judge Priscilla had arranged for her beloved niece to attend the Female Court for the day and witness proceedings by way of some work experience. She was concerned that her niece was beginning to drift in life. She still hadn’t found a job despite graduating in media studies over a year ago. Justice Priscilla was hoping that her niece might therefore decide on a career in the Courts instead – she could easily get her a job here if she wanted it.
If truth be told, however, Abigail wasn’t really all that interested in finding work. She was going along with her aunt Priscilla’s ‘work experience’ programme just to keep her on board, so to speak, as it was her aunt who basically funded her hedonistic lifestyle of partying and clubbing. Even now as she sat above the kneeling convict Ernesto to the right of her aunt, miss Abigail was suffering from a severe hangover and just wanted to go to sleep. She was not in the least bit interested in slave Ernesto or his fate. But she had to go through the motions, or face having her allowance cut off by her beloved aunt.
For his part, by way of complete contrast, slave Ernesto was very interested in the beautiful, young black woman seated above him beside the good Lady Judge – or at least in her footwear. Unlike her aunt, miss Abigail had not dressed appropriately for Court and was wearing scruffy,blue, denim jeans and a pair of dirty, white keds (which were actually more grey than white) with a hole over the big toe of her left shoe through which he could see a glimpse of dark blue sock. Her choice of footwear eloquently demonstrated that she just didn’t really care about the proceedings, or have any real respect for the Court. Nevertheless, she was clearly, thanks to the influence and power of her aunt, seated in that Court room in a position of considerable power and would doubtless be assisting her aunt in determining slave Ernesto’s future fate. Therefore slave Ernesto had nothing but feelings of awe and respect for miss Abigail and her tatty footwear.
On the honourable Justice Priscilla’s left hand side was seated slave Ernesto’s east European probation officer, the tall, blonde miss Gozia. Miss Gozia was wearing a fetching pair of black, zip-up, stiletto-heeled, ankle boots and black trousers. Because of her seated position the hems of her black trousers were raised slightly above the tops of her ankle boots and slave Ernesto could just see the elasticated top of a bright, pink bootsock on her right calf muscle. The top of the sock wasn’t visible on her left leg – presumably it had slipped down somewhat inside her left ankle boot. They looked like nice, new boots however. Not a mark on them. Slave Ernesto certainly hadn’t observed miss Gozia wearing them before, and he had seen a lot of his pretty probation officer’s feet and footwear over the past year since he had been placed in her charge as part of his 5 year sentence of Community Servitude.
Miss Gozia was rustling some papers above him – presumably her report on his progress which she would later read out to the Court. The twenty-something, pink-socked, female probation officer would be passing judgment on the fifty-something former businessman and now convicted felon. It was exactly how things should be.
The ubiquitous uniformed and headscarfed WPC Shariya was also present in Court. To be fair you might expect to see her here – the Courthouse was, after all, her main place of work. But in addition Justice Priscilla had specifically asked for WPC Shariya to be present at the proceedings as she knew the demurely headscarfed, asian WPC had taken a great interest in slave Ernesto’s case and had been heavily involved in his correction hitherto.
WPC miss Shariya was standing smartly to attention, with her arms behind her back, in the dock to slave Ernesto’s right, and he could just get a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of her black leather, police-issue, still rather scuffed ankle boots under her navy blue, police trousers. Unlike miss Gozia, it seemed, WPC Shariya was wearing the same pair of boots that slave Ernesto had kissed in the court cell immediately following his conviction exactly a year ago to the day. He wondered whether she might even be wearing the same pair of well-worn, white socks inside her boots, perhaps even carelessly put on her podgy feet inside-out as they had been back then! It was a humbling thought.
And finally, seated comfortably behind him, in the public gallery, were the Tahani family – Madam Tahani, her two daughters Arrabella (23) and Penelope (20), together with their maid, Marguerita. All would soon be given the opportunity by the good lady Judge to have their say on slave Ernesto’s performance as a community footslave over the past year – the first year of his 5 year sentence. He really was at the complete mercy of all the superior women in the Courtroom.
Justice Priscilla opened the proceedings by banging her gavel:
‘Order in Court. The Annual Review of prisoner no GOZ/54791 is now in session.’
Everyone settled down and the Courtroom fell silent.
Justice Priscilla continued:
‘The purpose of this review is to determine whether the prisoner Ernesto has shown sufficient penitence and remorse for his crime against women to be permitted to continue his punishment in the community as a women’s footslave, or whether more severe measures are needed to ensure his full contrition and compliance.
I wish to invite all those women who are most closely involved in the criminal’s supervision and punishment to voice their opinion on his progress thus far…’
She then gave a friendly smile towards Madam Tahani in the public gallery:
‘…Madam Tahani, can I ask you to come forward and to stand before the Bench, over the kneeling convict, with your legs on either side of his face?’
Madam Tahani smiled back and made her way out of the public gallery over to where the hapless slave Ernesto was humbly kneeling, head bowed, his eyes still focussed on the good Lady Judge’s sparkling, black court shoes in front of him.
He soon switched his slavish attention, however, to Madam Tahani’s feet and footwear as she positioned herself, as directed by the Lady Judge, to stand above him in the dock with her shapely ankles and calves digging into the side of his temples.
Madam Tahani was wearing a smart, cream, trouser suit and cream coloured, low-heeled pumps on her bare, brown Moroccan feet. She really did have the most beautiful, shapely feet for a woman in her late forties. Even the vein that ran along the top of her right foot, a vein which slave Ernesto had oftentimes been required to lick, only served to enhance the beauty of Madam Tahani’s feet. He felt an overwhelming, submissive urge to pay homage to his mistress’s feet by kissing her brown footskin – but, of course, that was not part of the Court protocol. He could only look and not touch.
‘Madam Tahani, would you please give the Court your assessment of the prisoner’s performance as a footslave in your household thus far into his sentence?’ requested the good Lady Judge in a soft, friendly tone.
‘Certainly, your honour,’ replied Madam Tahani.
As slave Ernesto stared at her brown feet in their smart, cream-coloured pumps, he listened intently to his Moroccan mistress’s assessment of his performance:
‘On the whole I am disappointed with the slave’s performance. He was singularly lacking in respect for myself and my two daughters when he was first allocated to our household by the Probation Service, and I’m afraid that, in my view, his attitude has not improved much over the year. My daughter, Penelope, has even had to purchase a whip at her own expense in order to keep him in line.
I am particularly disappointed, however, at his performance in my Beauty Salon, where he is often perceived as surly and rude by my female customers as he massages and pedicures their feet.
My daughters and I have tried our level best to imbue a sense of male humility and contrition in the footslave, your honour, but I regret to have to inform you that there is still room for improvement in him.’
Slave Ernesto felt shame as he listened to Madam Tahani’s entirely accurate assessment of his pathetic performance as a footslave thus far.
It must be accurate because she is a superior woman and women are always right.
‘Thank you, Madam Tahani. Please return to your seat,’ responded Lady Justice Priscilla, without any further comment.
Her lack of comment, though, was ominous. Even slave Ernesto picked up on that!
‘Miss Arrabella, would you like to take the stand please?’ continued the good Lady Judge.
Slave Ernesto heard the click-clack of high-heeled boots walking across the floor of the Courtroom behind him, and his head was soon surrounded by the familiar blue denim, designer jeans tucked into brown, leather, calf-length boots of his fashion-model mistress, miss Arrabella. He could smell the freshly polished leather of the brown boots. He knew they were freshly polished because he had been ordered to polish them himself that very morning. That was why he couldn’t complain when he felt some of her boot polish rubbing off onto the side of his face as she now dug her booted ankles into his temples. It was yet another example of his sloppy work.
‘Miss Arrabella, would you please give the Court your assessment of the felon Ernesto’s performance as a footslave thus far?’ invited the honourable lady Justice Priscilla.
‘He’s crap!’ replied miss Arrabella.
A ripple of suppressed laughter went around the Courtroom. Even the good Lady Judge Priscilla allowed herself a wry smile at the petulant young woman’s unladylike, and certainly injudicious, language:
‘Perhaps you would care to elucidate, young lady?’ prompted the Lady Judge.
‘He’s a complete waste of space, your honour – lazy; clumsy; disrespectful; disobedient and incompetent. I mean, look at the way the polish is coming off my boots onto the sides of his stupid, ugly face! He just can’t do anything right! He’s a complete numbskull! That’s why my sister had to buy the whip – pain is the only language he understands!’
And with that slave Ernesto felt mistress Arrabella digging her booted heels hard into the sides of his temples, causing him to involuntarily cry out.
Again a ripple of feminine giggles and laughter echoed around the Courtroom. Everyone had to smile at the young woman’s evident frustration at the uselessness of her personal footslave.
Only slave Ernesto wasn’t laughing, and not just because he was in pain. He was also totally ashamed of himself.
‘I see, well thank you, miss Arrabella. Perhaps your sister would now like to take the stand?’
Mercifully, the stylish, but harsh, leather-booted ankles of miss Arrabella removed themselves from his now throbbing temples to be replaced by the much less stylish, but gloriously softer, thick, grey woolly tights and black, canvas, mary-jane style, T-bar strapped moccasins of the bespectacled English Language and Literature teacher miss Penelope.
For all her ‘new, harsh regime’, for all her new-found love of the whip, slave Ernesto still saw miss Penelope as the gentler of the two Tahani girls. He still had a ‘soft spot’ for her, and hoped she still had a ‘soft spot’ for him – albeit now well hidden. Surely miss Penelope would have something nice to say about him?
He watched as her grey, woollen tights creased around the ankles as she positioned her pretty feet on either side of his bowed head.
‘So, miss Penelope, I understand that you have felt it necessary to purchase a whip in order to control the convicted prisoner?’ enquired Lady Justice Priscilla, looking at the bespectacled young woman over her own black spectacles.
‘That’s correct your honour. I’m afraid the dirty criminal totally disrespected myself and my friends to begin with, even demanding at one point that I comfort him by rubbing my socked feet over his aching shoulders after he had spent a whole day confined in the stocks!...’
She paused at this point for dramatic effect and to allow gasps of astonishment and condemnation to echo around the Court room. A dirty footslave demanding comfort, indeed!
Slave Ernesto’s sense of shame only deepened, although the irony was not lost on him that his slave head was currently enveloped in the comforting presence of miss Penelope’s thick, woolly tights.
‘…I therefore felt it necessary to purchase a slave-whip, your honour, in order to instil some discipline in the slave and to beat some respect into him,’ continued miss Penelope, now confident in the art of public speaking thanks to her presentational skills course.
‘Of course, my dear, and you can rest assured that I shall make an order reimbursing you for the expense of your purchase,’ the good Lady Judge reassured her.
‘Thank you, your honour. I must say that the whip has made a difference to the criminal’s attitude, but, as my sister Arrabella has just told the Court, he is prone to incompetence. On at least two occasions now he has embarrassed me in front of my girlfriends by failing to clean their socks properly whilst they were wearing them - either by smudging the dirt on the sides of their socks with his stupid, slave lips and making the dirty stains even worse, or by failing to suck off the dirt completely with his stupid, slave mouth. He just doesn’t seem to realise that his superior mistresses’ socks are more important than he is. I regret that I really don’t think he’s up to the job!’
As slave Ernesto had expected, the kind-hearted miss Penelope had defended him the most vigorously thus far. She had correctly pointed out his failings and ineptitude but ‘regretted’ that she didn’t think he was up to the job. For his part, he regretted letting her down.
He had thought that miss Penelope’s testimony would be the end of the Tahani family’s evidence, but had forgotten, of course, about the family’s hispanic maid, 31 year old miss Marguerita. She was a woman, and therefore his superior too, and her evidence was considered just as important by the Court.
She was wearing the smartest set of clothes she had – her maid’s uniform – and so slave Ernesto found his temples surrounded by the dark, nylon stockings and black, patent leather, high-heeled shoes of the Tahani family maid. He could see his blurred reflexion in the top of her shiny, black shoes – which was appropriate, for that was all that he was: a pale reflection of a superior maidservant.
‘So, Miss Marguerita, in your opinion has the criminal at your feet performed in any way adequately during his period of service under your supervision in your mistress’s household?’
It was a somewhat leading question by the good Lady Judge and, had slave Ernesto been represented in Court, his barrister would doubtless have raised an objection.
But there was nobody representing slave Ernesto in Court.
‘Ha! Slave Ernesto very bad slave, your honour,’ replied the hispanic maid in her broken English. ‘Not work hard; not wash miss Arrabella and miss Penelope dirty socks properly in mouth; not wash Madam Tahani dirty stockings properly; not shine Madam Tahani dirty shoes properly. Marguerita have to use cane on slave many times; cause slave many pain! Marguerita hate slave!’
She had said it all really. She hated the slave even though he admired and worshipped her as a superior woman. Indeed, the same could evidently be said for all the women who had given evidence thus far against slave Ernesto – they all ‘hated’ him in the sense that they despised him and held him in contempt as a lazy, impudent and incompetent footslave.
Lady Justice Priscilla didn’t really need to hear any more evidence, but Court protocol demanded that she also take evidence from the Police (WPC Shariya) and Probation Service (Miss Gozia).
WPC Shariya was next to stand over the kneeling slave Ernesto. As she placed her feet on either side of his temples the hem of her right, navy blue trouser leg caught temporarily on his right ear giving slave Ernesto a brief flash of dirty, white sock inside her boot. He couldn’t be sure, but it may well be that WPC mistress Shariya was indeed wearing the selfsame socks she had worn on the day of his conviction a year ago! At any rate, she wasn’t wearing her regulation uniform, navy blue bootsocks. She was such a rebel – albeit a demurely dressed, headscarfed rebel!
As she gave her evidence to the Court slave Ernesto sensed the now all too familiar mixture of musty, female leather boot mixed with delicate, feminine halitosis wafting up his nostrils.
‘Officer Shariya, would you please give the Police’s assessment of the criminal’s progress thus far?’ asked the good lady Judge politely. Her Honour Justice Priscilla liked WPC Shariya – a fine, upstanding and diligent young officer, destined for promotion in the very near future!
‘Yes, your honour. In my opinion the convicted-criminal has failed his probationary year, innit? During his period of hard labour on the treadmill in the State Penitentiary he managed to complete the required number of turns on only 5 out of the 14 days of his imprisonment…’
Slave Ernesto felt a shudder run down his spineless back as he remembered the horrors of the Penitentiary, No wonder he had lost so much weight in there! As WPC mistress Shariya had correctly said he had achieved his daily target of 3000 revolutions of the heavy, wooden treadmill, set for him by the blonde, pony-tailed, prison governess, on only 5 out of the 14 days he was incarcerated there, thereby failing to earn his daily supper of bread and water for 9 out of the 14 days. And WPC mistress Shariya should know as she had spent two hours sitting in front of him on the treadmill every evening and had therefore had the privilege of tallying up his final score. She must have been rolling in overtime payments that month whilst he went hungry!
‘…We also had to use the slave serum on him on at least one occasion, your honour,’ continued WPC Shariya, referring to the injection of submissiveness-inducing serum she had so lovingly given him during his period of boot-shining in the Police Station.
Of course, the fact that the Police had felt it necessary to inject him with submissiveness did not bode well for his case review today.
Her honour the Lady Justice Priscilla thanked WPC Shariya for her evidence and the latter returned, smiling, to her standing position by the side of the dock.
Last, but not least, it was the turn of the pink-socked, black ankle-booted, blonde probation officer miss Gozia to give the Probation Service’s report on slave Ernesto, or file no. GOZ/54791 as he was known to the Probation authorities. Unlike the other witnesses miss Gozia was not required to stand over the kneeling prisoner as she read out her report. Instead she remained seated on the Bench above and in front of the prisoner, her right leg now crossed over her left thereby revealing even more of her pink sock on her right calf inside her black ankle boot as it dangled in the air.
Miss Gozia read out her damning report in her crisp, clear, East European accent:
‘Prisoner no. GOZ/54791 was convicted of stealing a lady’s undergarments for the purposes of sexual gratification exactly one year ago to the day, and was sentenced by this Court to 5 years’ Community Servitude as a women’s footslave with periodical corporal punishment and incarceration with hard labour.
During the period of his sentence thus far he has shown no remorse for his crime, and has consistently displayed male arrogance and contempt for female authority.
He has failed to reach the required standards in virtually every punitive chore he has been allocated, and has not earned the confidence and support of the women he has been serving.
It is the recommendation of the Probation Service, therefore, that his current sentence of Community Servitude be revoked and replaced by a sentence of indefinite imprisonment, as we see no prospect of the prisoner being reformed or rehabilitated into the polite society of women.’
Miss Gozia sat down to spontaneous applause from the public gallery. Her pink sock disappeared from slave Ernesto’s view as she adjusted the hem of her black trouser leg.
‘Thank you, officer Gozia,’ smiled the good Lady Judge.
Her tone then changed as she, literally, looked down with contempt on the pitiful wretch kneeling in front of her crossed-over feet:
‘Prisoner no. GOZ/54791. You have heard the evidence against you and the report of your charming, young probation officer. Is there anything you wish to say in your defence?’
Slave Ernesto was grateful to the good Lady Judge for giving him the opportunity to apologise to the Female Court for his ineptitude and recalcitrance, and to throw himself on the Court’s mercy:
‘Oh pray, most worshipful Lady Justice Priscilla, if it pleases you, most worshipful Lady Judge Priscilla, this dirty, no-good, slave begs the Court’s forgiveness for his incompetence and his male obstinacy, and pleads with the Court to punish him severely so that he may see the error of his ways and be suitably chastised for the heinous crime he has committed against superior womanhood, if it so pleases you, most worshipful lady Justice mistress Priscilla.’
The irony was that, although everything the lady witnesses had been saying about him in Court was true, their very testimony that day had brought him to the position of sincere penitence, and respect for feminine authority, which they had all hitherto been seeking.
But it was too late.
‘You may kiss my feet,’ declared the good Lady Judge, unfurling her stockinged ankles and stretching forward her right, shiny black, court-shoed foot closer to the kneeling slave’s contrite and bowed head. Miss Shariya quickly stepped forward to assist the now sobbing slave Ernesto in placing his lips on the top of the Lady Judge’s shiny black shoe.
The process was then repeated for her left shoe, before Lady Judge Priscilla ordered the about-to-be-resentenced slave to kiss miss Gozia’s black ankle boots followed by her niece’s dirty-grey and holey keds - with the blue sock covering the big toe on her left foot still peeping through.
An air of anticipation now permeated the Court room. What would the good Lady Judge decide? Would she act on the Probation Service’s recommendation? Would she have slave Ernesto thrown into prison?
His fate was well and truly in the hands of the 41 year-old black Lady Judge, her worshipfulness the Lady Priscilla. Or rather, it seemed, in the hands of her bored, gum-chewing, 24 year old niece, Abigail, for at that moment her aunt turned and spoke to her:
‘Abigail, darling, you have heard all the evidence from the assembled witnesses, and the prisoner’s plea. Do you wish to make a recommendation as to sentencing before I pass judgement on the criminal?’
Abigail yawned again, because she was truly hung-over on a cocktail of alcohol and illicit drugs and didn’t really care what happened to the stupid footslave kneeling in front of her:
‘Erm…life in the foothole?’
And so it was that slave Ernesto’s fate was finally sealed – sealed by a gum-chewing, bored, scruffily dressed, 24 year old, unemployed black girl, although her aunt delivered the formal sentencing for the Court records:
‘Convicted Prisoner no. GOZ/54791. You have heard the evidence against you from all these fine upstanding ladies, and the damning report made on you by the Probation Service.
The Court is grateful to all the women concerned for their sterling efforts in attempting to mould you into a contrite and docile footslave. The fact that you have failed to achieve the requisite standards of servitude is in no way a reflection on them, and reflects solely on the sheer obstinacy and arrogance of your character. This Court will have its way, however, and you will be broken and subdued.
This Court determined at the time of your very first arraignment that you were an arrogant and loathsome male individual who was unfit to be in the polite society of women, but was nevertheless constrained by the Law to offer you clemency and the opportunity to redeem yourself by means of community servitude as a women’s footslave for a period of 5 years.
You were warned by the Court that your sentence would be subject to review, and it is clear today, on the first anniversary of your sentence, that you have manifestly failed to serve as a community footslave to the required standards.
I therefore take great pleasure in adopting the recommendations of your probation officer, and in complying with the wishes of my niece, and hereby sentence you to imprisonment for life in the foothole dungeons.
Officer Shariya, take the prisoner down to the cells please.’
And with that the Court erupted into further, spontaneous female applause as, with a certain sense of deja-vu, slave Ernesto found himself being led once again down the stairs that led from the dock into the prison cells below by WPC miss Shariya – except that this time he was crawling, semi-naked on his hands and knees behind her black, ankle boots and this time also he wouldn’t be coming back out into the world to serve women as a community footslave. He was being incarcerated for the rest of his natural life in a foothole dungeon. Nevertheless he had nothing but feelings of gratitude to the Female Court for showing him mercy. Justice Priscilla, or was it her niece miss Abigail, could have ordered him to also be flogged, and had therefore shown him totally unearned clemency.
Later that afternoon probation officer Gozia was counting the ‘bung’ she had ‘earned’ in advance from the good Lady Judge, her worshipfulness the Justice Priscilla, for compiling a damning report on slave Ernesto that would enable the Female Court to sentence him to life in the foothole dungeons. Gozia smiled to herself as she thought of the exotic holiday she would now be able to book for herself and her boyfriend in the Caribbean. She then pulled up the bright, pink bootsock which had slipped down inside her left ankle boot, before locking away slave Ernesto’s file for good at the back of her filing cabinet.
As far as probation officer miss Gozia was concerned, case no. GOZ/54791, rather like convicted prisoner Ernesto himself, and, indeed, like this story, was now well and truly closed.
The End