Footslavery-The Auction Part 2
Submitted on 07/16/06
The trainee footslave was feeling increasingly depressed. It was largely the
result of boredom. He had been languishing in his gloomy, windowless,
dungeon-cell for some three weeks now, and there was still no sign of his
official trainer, mistress Paula.
Where was she? Why had she not started his training? He found himself
increasingly anxious and keen to get his training over with so that he could
get back out into the community and serve his life sentence as a women's
footslave.
Perhaps a large part of his motivation was purely selfish - just to escape
the dismal confines of his sparse and dirty cell; to experience some light
and fresh air again after what seemed like an eternity stuck in the gloom of
the training dungeon. But another part of him genuinely wanted to serve as a
footslave. He knew there was no point in resisting his fate. The Courts had
decided, and psychologically he had come to accept, that he would never
again be a free man who could regard, or who would be regarded by, members
of the fairer sex as his equals. He would spend the rest of his natural life
crawling on his hands and knees, kissing female feet, being mocked and
verbally abused by his female betters. He now accepted all that. He now
wanted nothing other than to be a good footslave. So why weren't the
authorities, why wasn't mistress Paula, getting on with his training?
To be fair, his two female guards, mistresses Antoinette and Lucy, were
doing their best to help him. They would regularly allow him to kiss their
boots, sniff their dirty socks, and even, on one or two occasions, wash
their bare feet in a basin of warm water. Mistress Lucy was being
particularly kind, often taking off her dirty socks at the end of her shift
and leaving them in his cell for him to suck on and sniff -- 'to get him
used to the taste and smell of feminine footsweat', as she so delicately put
it. Furthermore, his relationship with the two guards had been steadily
improving. Of course, they still despised him - what woman wouldn't have
contempt for a boot-licking, sock-sniffing footslave? But they did now allow
him to address them by their names i.e as 'Mistress Antoinette' and
'Mistress Lucy', rather than just 'Mistress'. It was progress of a sort.
The trainee footslave was grateful for these small mercies, but he knew that
the longer he had to wait for mistress Paula to begin his formal training,
the longer he would be incarcerated in the dungeon. Only she could sign his
release order into the community as a fully fledged footslave, and the
guards had warned him that she was something of a perfectionist who had been
known to keep trainee footslaves incarcerated for years because they did not
meet her exacting standards. Mistresses Antoinette and Lucy had laughed when
they told him this, as the expression of disappointment and horror on his
stupid face had greatly amused them. He was hoping that his training would
last a mere matter of weeks.
The other thing that was, quite literally, getting him down was the heavy,
wooden cangue, inscribed with the word 'footslave', which was permanently
secured around his neck. The cangue, or his 'wooden necklace' as mistress
Antoinette liked to describe it, was designed to help the virtually
permanently kneeling slave keep his head bowed and low -- as befits a
footslave. It was designed to be a physical reminder to him that he had no
business looking anywhere other than at the feet of his superior mistresses.
However, the pain it caused in the muscles of his neck and shoulders was
becoming oppressive, and if that wasn't enough the heavy wood was constantly
rubbing against his neck causing it to cut and chafe. It all added to his
overwhelming sense of humiliation and misery.
What the ignorant slave didn't realise, of course, was that this period of
isolation, and the pain and frustration caused by the heavy cangue, were all
part of his training. Mistress Paula was not ignoring him or neglecting her
duty. Although he had not yet met her, she had already begun his training.
It was the first and most important lesson he had to learn - that his fate
was entirely in the hands of others, specifically of women, and even more
specifically it was in her hands. This trainee slave was quite literally at
her mercy. She could keep him there for the rest of his natural life if she
so wished it.
Fortunately for the slave, mistress Paula was not a cruel or vindictive
woman. She was in her early thirties and happily married. Both Paula, and
her husband Leroy, were of Afro-Caribbean origins. They both worked in the
Prison Service and both loved their jobs as much as they loved each other.
He was the Governor of a prison (not the same one), and she was a full-time
slave-trainer. They both believed fervently that criminals should be harshly
punished, and in particular they supported the sentences of slavery imposed
on those who fell foul of the law. At home, they would often talk about
their work; about how they had ordered a slave to be flogged; or the
progress of a particular trainee slave; or the leniency or otherwise of a
particular sentence handed down by the courts.
Mistress Paula did not just train male footslaves. She also trained male
slaves sentenced to hard labour in the mines as well as those, relatively
privileged, slaves who had been sentenced to be the personal body-slave of a
woman. But strangely enough, the ones that she enjoyed training most were
the humble footslaves. Quite simply, Paula loved having a male slave grovel
at her feet. At home, lying in the arms of her strong and macho husband
Leroy, she felt loved; at work, with a pathetic male footslave humbly
kissing her feet in abject fear and respect, she felt all-powerful. The
combination, or perhaps more accurately the contrast, between her home life
and work life was what made her so happy and contented.
Meanwhile her latest protégé, the trainee slave sentenced to footslavery for
life for getting into debt, had endured another restless night in his cell.
At least, he assumed it had been night-time - the light inside his cell had
been turned off, but without a window, it was difficult to tell when daytime
ended and night-time began. However, other clues that it had been night-time
were the lack of activity by the guards, and the fact that mistress Lucy had
again left him her dirty, black boot socks to sniff and 'mouth-wash'. Lying
on his back on the straw-covered stone floor that constituted his bed, with
one of mistress Lucy's socks covering his nose and the other in his mouth,
the slave was resigned to yet another 'day' of kissing and groveling to the
two female guard's knee-length leather boots whilst he awaited his 'proper'
training to begin. Little did he know that today would, at last, be the day
when mistress Paula would deign to introduce herself to him.
After what seemed like several hours of trying, and failing, to get some
sleep, the constant throbbing in his neck and shoulders caused by the heavy
cangue not helping, the light suddenly came on in his cell, momentarily
hurting his eyes, and he heard the key turning in his cell door. It must be
breakfast time - his only meal of the day.
It was a routine he was now well used to. As Mistress Lucy entered the cell
he remained lying on his back. This was the only time he was not required to
assume the normal footslave position on his hands and knees. It was to
enable mistress Lucy to enjoy the sight of her dirty sock covering his slave
nose, and to inspect it in order to make sure it was exactly where she had
left it. Any sign that it had moved, or even worse that the prisoner had
removed it from his nose, would be her excuse to punish him severely with
the brown, leather strap hanging from her belt.
Mistress Lucy, although quite petite and dumpy, always looked so tall as she
smiled cruelly down at him first thing in the mornings. She laughed happily,
knelt down and removed both the sock covering his nose and the sock inside
his mouth:
"Well, slave, did you enjoy your night-time snack sucking all the sweat out
of my nasty, stinky sock?"
The trainee footslave, his taste buds still overwhelmed with the salty taste
of her sweaty sock, responded in the only way a humble trainee footslave
could to its superior guard-mistress:
"Mistress Lucy, if it pleases you mistress Lucy, this worthless footslave is
grateful to its most gracious mistress for allowing it the privilege of
sucking its mistress's superior footsweat out of her dirty, black boot-sock.
It hopes that its humble efforts have left the sock in a satisfactory
condition for its mistress, and begs to be punished if its mistress is not
so satisfied".
He was becoming quite good at 'slave-speak' - another sign of his progress
and psychological adjustment to his new circumstances.
Mistress Lucy laughed:
"Well, I can hardly wear it with your dirty, slave saliva on it, but at
least it no longer smells as bad as the other one that was covering your
slave nose. Thank me for letting you smell my other sock all night".
"Yes, mistress Lucy, if it pleases you mistress Lucy, this slave is indeed
grateful for the privilege of having had its mistress's sweaty black sock
over its pathetic, slave nose all night, and for having had the opportunity
to familiarize itself with the odour of its mistress's superior feet".
Mistress Lucy laughed again, and appeared satisfied at the slave's humility
and self-deprecation. With every passing day she was more and more convinced
that he was a 'natural' footslave. Her gut instincts about prisoners were
rarely wrong.
At this point the other guard, the blonde and very beautiful mistress
Antoinette, entered the cell, carrying the cold mush that constituted his
one and only meal of the day. It was supposedly nourishing but it tasted
foul. At least it would take away some of the taste of mistress Lucy's
sock-sweat.
"God, Lucy, put away those socks would you? They still stink!", exclaimed
Antoinette as she extended her booted foot under the, now kneeling,
footslave's face.
The slave kissed the dusty toe of Antoniette's black, leather knee-length
boot.
"Only one of them still stinks!", laughed Lucy, "The other one has been in
his mouth all night and the sweat has disappeared down his throat!".
The two female guards laughed, as mistress Antoinette switched feet
extending her left boot under the slave's nose.
Again he kissed, hard and loud enough for her to feel and hear his humble
act of subservience, as well as see it - just as they had trained him to.
"Has he paid his respects to your boots yet, Lucy?"
"Not yet. Move over and give me some room", responded Lucy petulantly.
As mistress Antoinette's slender booted leg was withdrawn from his field of
vision the slightly broader right-booted leg of mistress Lucy replaced it.
Again he kissed the mud-stained toe, and then waited for her left boot to be
positioned for him to pay his humble respects to it also. As he did so it
occurred to the slave for the first time that he would never again get to
kiss the lips of a woman. From now on he would only be kissing women's feet
and footwear. He wasn't worthy to kiss them anywhere else.
Mistress Antoinette than shoved the bowl of mush directly under his nose and
ordered him to eat. Meanwhile mistress Lucy poured him his one bowl of water
that he was allowed to lap up during the day (except when he was required to
wash their feet; the girls kindly allowed him to lap up their dirty foot
water on the relatively rare occasions when he had been required to wash
their sweaty feet in a basin).
As he was munching up his meal of nourishing mush like a dog, mistress
Antoinette dropped the bombshell he had been waiting for:
"You'd better eat it all up today, slave, for your trainer, mistress Paula,
will be visiting you for the first time today - and there's nothing she
hates more than an ungrateful slave who won't eat up all his food!".
The slave almost choked, much to the two guards' amusement.
"Ha ha! That's right, slave, mistress Paula wants to begin your training
today", added mistress Lucy. She then crouched down to lower her face close
to the kneeling slave's face. As she did so the slave had a rare view of the
top of her boot and her bare knee:
"I know you won't let us down, slave, and that you'll remember everything
that we have taught you about how to show respect to your betters. I mean,
haven't we been kind enough to teach you how to kiss a woman's boots
properly; how to sniff her dirty socks; how to taste and appreciate her
superior footsweat? You've already got a head-start, thanks to Mistress
Antoinette and me, and don't you forget it! We want mistress Paula to see
that we're good at our jobs".
Her tone contained an unmistakable element of threat in it.
"Yeah", added mistress Antoinette, crouching down beside him on the other
side, "We're both hoping to be promoted to full-time slave trainers
ourselves one day. If you mess things up for us we'll make your life a
living hell - do you understand what we're saying, slave?".
The slave gulped down the remaining mush in his mouth. He was in absolutely
no doubt that these two guards were in a position to make his life a living
hell:
"Yes, mistress Antoinette. Yes, mistress Lucy. This slave is indeed grateful
for all the help and assistance its mistresses have given it and will
endeavour to put into practice all the valuable lessons its mistresses have
taught it".
Mistress Lucy chuckled as she pinched his right ear-lobe between her thumb
and forefinger, digging in her sharp nails and causing him to whince.
"You better had, slave, or I'll personally make you wish that you could shed
your skin and slither away into the dirt like the worm that you are!".
The slave wasn't entirely sure that worms did shed their skin. Surely that
was snakes? But, either way, the message was clear. Mistress Paula, as the
official trainer, was an important person in the prison hierarchy, perhaps
even more so given that she was married to a prison governor - albeit of
another prison. She clearly could have influence on the promotion prospects
of other prison staff, and would be making a mental note of how well or
otherwise the two guards, Antoinette and Lucy, had prepared the new
footslave for his training.
It was some two hours later that mistress Paula entered his cell, flanked by
both mistress Antoinette and mistress Lucy. The slave immediately assumed
the kneeling position.
The first thing that struck the footslave about his trainer was that, unlike
the two guards, she was in civilian clothes. In fact, she was dressed like a
very smart businesswoman - the very type he had been used to negotiating
with in his previous life, and whom he had fallen foul of by getting into
debt - how distant that previous life now seemed; like it had belonged to
someone else, not him. Mistress Paula was wearing a grey pin-striped
trouser-suit over a white blouse, and flat, black leather, loafer-style
shoes. She was quite 'petite' (certainly shorter than mistress Antoinette),
but was undoubtedly one of those women who exuded self-belief and power - a
strong, self-confident black woman in a position of absolute power over the
lowly male prisoners. Even Antoinette and Lucy were clearly in awe of her
and were somewhat nervous in her presence.
"Slave, this is your trainer, mistress Paula", mistress Antoinette had
announced - no hint of laughter or levity in her voice now. "You will kiss
her feet to pay your humble respects to her. Mistress Paula, please be so
kind as to present your foot to the slave for kissing".
"Thank you, Antoinette", replied mistress Paula. For all her power, her
voice was soft and kind.
The slave felt his heart start to race as the big moment came when he had to
kiss his trainer's feet for the first time. So much depended on this moment!
First impressions are so important. His whole future was in this woman's
hands - not to say the possible future promotion prospects of the two female
guards who were now watching him intently. He mustn't let them down!
Mistress Paula approached her new trainee footslave slowly, her shoes
squashing the dirty straw of the floor as she did so. When she was about a
metre or so in front of him she stopped, pulled up her right trouser leg at
the knee, and elegantly stretched forward her right foot until it was
positioned directly under the footslave's kneeling nose.
As he nervously lowered his lips to the top of her black leather shoe, he
noticed, even in the dimly lit cell, that she was wearing the finest denier
nylon stockings under her grey, pin-striped trousers. In fact, the
positioning of her foot and the raised trouser leg was even affording him a
glimpse of her nylon-covered, shapely ankle. He found himself longing to
kiss that nylon-covered ankle bone, for it was the ankle of an all-powerful
woman in whose hands his life now depended. But he knew, of course, that any
such move would be interpreted as gross insubordination, and would probably
lead to him being incarcerated in the 'training' dungeon for the rest of his
natural life. No, it was the top of the leather shoe that he must kiss, near
the toe, just as he had earlier paid his respects to the leather boots of
his two female guards.
He kissed the leather, hard enough to be felt and loud enough to be heard.
Mistress Paula withdrew her right foot, and replaced it with her left.
Again, he was mesmerized by the shapeliness and power of her nylon covered
ankle bone. He kissed the shoe leather, which smelt strongly of shoe polish.
To everyone's relief, mistress Paula appeared reasonably satisfied with his
efforts. She only had one minor criticism, which she addressed to Antoinette
and Lucy:
"He kisses well. But his lips did not touch my shoe simultaneously. I
believe his upper lip touched my right shoe momentarily before his lower
lip. I shall have to correct that!".
Mistress Antoinette responded apologetically to mistress Paula:
"I am sorry, mistress Paula. We do find that he responds best to the strap.
Would you like me to give him twenty lashes?".
The slave flinched. Twenty lashes for such a minor imperfection in his
performance?
Fortunately for him, mistress Paula seemed to share his view that this would
be over-the-top:
"Oh no, Antoinette, that's quite alright. It's very early days. I always
allow my trainee slaves to make a mistake once. I find that they never make
the same mistake again. If they do, that's when I have them punished!".
"You are most kind, mistress Paula", responded Antoinette, relieved that the
the official trainer had clearly not seen the slave's error as a
particularly serious matter. Nevertheless she would make the dirty, useless
slave apologise to mistress Paula for his carelessness and disrespect:
"Slave, apologise to your mistress Paula for your insolence and thank her
for showing you such undeserved mercy!",
The slave, now sweating with fear, not at what mistress Paula might do to
him but at what mistresses Antoinette and Lucy might do to him later,
groveled obediently at the young, black woman's feet:
"Oh mistress", (thankfully for him he remembered not to address mistress
Paula by her name as he had not yet been given permission by her to do so),
"Please forgive this dirty, worthless footslave for its crass stupidity and
insolence in not kissing its mistress's superior feet in a proper manner
befitting a lowly footslave. This slave throws itself abjectly at its
mistress's mercy and begs its mistress to accept its heartfelt apology".
Mistress Paula laughed:
"Well, you can certainly talk the talk, slave. Now let's see if you can walk
the walk!".
The mood of the three superior women in the cell immediately lightened, and
not just because of the irony of mistress Paula's comment (the footslave
would never be permitted to 'walk' upright ever again). More than that it
was clear that, despite his flawed attempt at kissing his trainer's feet for
the first time, the footslave had actually passed his first test to mistress
Paula's satisfaction. She could work on him, mould him into a good
footslave. She would, in short, 'take him on'.
She bade the two guards to leave the cell, and sat herself down in the one
item of furniture the cell contained - the wooden chair in the middle of the
room directly under the ceiling light. She crossed her legs and ordered the
trainee footslave to kneel in front of her, with his face lowered to her
left foot which was the one resting on the dusty, stone floor. It was the
classic footslave position - staring humbly at his seated mistress's left
foot whilst her right foot dangled in the air above his head, ready to use
the top of his head as a footrest if it so wished - emphasizing her complete
dominance and superiority over him.
The slave focused his eyes on a tiny crease in his mistress's nylon stocking
across her outer ankle bone as she spoke down to him:
"You may call me mistress Paula, slave", she graciously condescended. "I
intend to see to it that you leave this place as a fully fledged, fully
competent footslave, one who not only understands his position in life, but
who relishes it. It is the only way you can possibly hope to survive the
life of humility and servitude you are now destined to lead. By the time I
have finished with you, you will wish for nothing else than to please your
mistresses and to serve their feet and footwear in a manner that is
befitting of a pathetic, helpless footslave such as yourself.
Although I will be enlisting the assistance of other women during the course
of your training, you will be practising, primarily, on my feet , so it is
important that you familiarize yourself with my feet and footwear right from
the start. I shall be wearing a wide variety of footwear to give you
practice in how to serve the many different kinds of feminine boots and
shoes that you will encounter throughout your service as a footslave.
As you can see, today I am dressed as a businesswoman, and I want you now to
take off my shoes and to smell my nylon-covered toes. I want you to get your
first experience of what my feet smell like when they have been encased in
nylon, and I want to see if you know how to sniff a lady's feet properly".
With that, mistress Paula uncrossed her legs and placed her right foot down
on the ground beside her left foot under the slave's kneeling face.
The slave was actually quite excited. In the three weeks he had been
incarcerated he had only ever experienced what it was like to sniff the
female guards' sweaty socks. Now, for the first time, he was to sniff an
elegant, young black lady's nylon-stockinged toes! What an honour! What a
privilege!
Mistress Paula positioned her right foot slightly in front of her left,
indicating that he was to remove her right shoe first of all.
The trainee footslave gingerly lifted her right foot off the floor to enable
him to slip off her black, leather shoe. As he did so he heard the whoosh of
stale air escaping from her shoe - air that had been permeated by the warmth
and smell of her feet and which now engulfed his slave nose.
He then placed his mistress's stockinged foot onto the dusty, stone floor.
He wasn't entirely sure that this was the right thing to do but could see no
other option whilst he lifted her left foot in order to remove her left
shoe. Again he smelt the warmth of her foot as the warm air escaped from
inside her shoe. It mixed with the smell of her shoe polish.
Then,he returned his slavish attention to her right foot, gently lifting it
to his nose. It felt soft; the nylon stocking in particular felt sheer and
soft, but it was reinforced with an area of heavier stitching around the
toes. He knew it was this area that he must concentrate on sniffing. He
could also see her painted toenails beneath the mesh of the nylon. They
appeared to be painted red.
"Audibly sniff each foot three times, slaveboy", ordered his mistress, her
voice still calm, but authoritative - the voice of a woman who was used to
being obeyed, and who saw nothing incongruous in addressing a male slave who
was considerably older than herself as 'boy' - for he was no longer a man.
He pressed his nose into the folds of the nylon stocking between her toes
and sniffed, loud and hard - once, twice, three times .
The aroma was, simultaneously, unpleasant yet intoxicating; sharp yet
mellow; familiar yet unique. For it was the very personal foot-smell of his
very personal trainer, similar to the smell of mistress Lucy's feet or
mistress Antoinette's, but, as with all women's feet, not identical. The
young woman whose superior foot he now humbly held in his hands was the
woman who held his whole future in her hands. He had an overwhelming sense
of how honoured, how privileged he was to be sniffing this young woman's
nylon-stockinged foot and to be familiarizing himself with her very personal
foot-odour, and yet, at the same time, the smell was degrading and
humiliating - fit only for a humble footslave. What must she think of him?
Surely she must despise him?
As he lowered her right foot to the ground and lifted her left foot for
sniffing, mistress Paula did indeed look down on the trainee footslave with
contempt. He was indeed pathetic - completely at her mercy and in her power.
It made her feel aroused. It made her want her husband, Leroy, to take her
in his big strong arms and ravish her. She wanted to make passionate love
with a real man whilst the dirty footslave worshipped her stockinged feet!
That was what being a superior, free woman was all about - love and cruelty,
submission and domination, all rolled into one. Yes, she loved her life, and
she loved her job.
And she was going to love training this humble footslave!