View Full Version : Path to India by Sklavos

14-02-2012, 07:01 AM
The path to India

Produced by Sklavos

Episode One

I was a student in England – getting into my second year – looking for cheap accommodation, when I saw an advertisement about a bedroom that was available for rent. The location of the house was close to the university, but the ad made it explicitly clear that preference would be given to females! It turns out that the bedroom was in a house where an Indian lady lived with her daughter, hence the discrimination. Both were quite attractive with the lady, Mrs Shadal, being in her early 40s and her daughter, Miss Amna, in her late teens. They showed me the room, which was fairly small (the main reason for being cheap I guess), and then we sat in the living-room, with Mrs Shadal asking me all sorts of questions regarding my background. Obviously, the final and crucial question, which I was expected to asnwer, that would determine my candidacy was based on the fact they prefered a female – who would have more things in common with them – and, naturally, wanted to know how could I counter-balance it. First, I thought that I could benefit by asking them to take me as their servant too, with a small reduction in the price, as I was a foot-fetishist and their culture was stronlgy related to the beauty of females. I was already imagining myself on my knees, washing Mrs Shadal’s feet. What, eventually, made me talk was that another dimension of their culture portrays women second to men and I believed that surrendering power to them would certainly excite them. It took me some time before I responded to their question, but my answer brought a smile on Mrs Shadal’s face.

- What can you do as a servant?

- I do not know to cook well or iron, but I am a fast learner. However, I can clean the whole house, do the dishes, the laundry, mow the lawn, bring you something to eat and drink, anything.

- I am the only one to cook in here. Your other skills sound sufficient. You can move in tomorrow.

- Thank you Mrs Shadal, Miss Amna. I will do my best to prove that you made the right decision. Thank you.

I left their place with an ambition to become their foot slave, but I returned the following morning to move into my new home. After I had made my room, having put all my things in place, I went downstairs. Their house had a living room, a dining-room, a bathroom and a kitchen on the ground floor and three bedrooms upstairs. Two of them large, mine being small enough to use it as a store-room. I found them sitting in the living-room watching TV and decided to seat myself too and get some rest. As soon as I sat down, both turned their heads to my direction with a frown look on their face.

- What do you think you are doing?

- I hope I have not offended you Mrs Shadal, but I thought of having a break.

- First of all, did you have permission to sit down from either of us? Second, even if you had our permission, how dare you seat on the furniture. Your place is at the floor. And third, according to your role in this house, you are not to think of anything else other than how to serve us best. Now what do you say to all that?

This was my next opportunity to surrender further powers to them. So, I stood up, walked to the middle of the room so to be before them and dropped to my knees.

- I am sorry Mrs Shadal. I have to admit that I did not seek your permission to sit myself down and from now on I will always be down on the floor. I sincerely apologise for having made decisions on my own, without first consulting you. Please ignore this incident. I promise to be more devoted and submissive to you and your daughter.

She accepted my apologies and dismissed me to the kitchen to attend to my duties.

Mrs Shadal decided to stay at home and do the paperwork that concerned the room I had to pay for, as well as being their servant, and Miss Amna went out for a walk. When Mrs Amna returned, her mother was still in the living-room doing some paperwork. So, as a good servant, I rushed after her and went to the living-room in case she needed something.

- Good afternoon Miss Amna. Is there anything I could do for you?

- No, I am fine. Except for my feet. They are tired and sweaty.

- Then, would you like me, perhaps, to remove your sneakers and then give you a relaxing footbath?

Mrs Shadal did not say anything, but Miss Amna was definitely thrilled upon hearing my request. She accepted both offers, I got on my knees, lifted one leg and then the other to remove her shoes, returned her feet on the floor and left to gather what was necessary. First, I went upstairs in Miss Amna’s room to get her slippers. Then, I returned downstairs, went to the bathroom, filled a small basin with water, threw a bar of soap in it and tried to lift it with my hands when I realised that I also had to carry Miss Amna’s slippers. So, I put her slippers in my mouth, lifted the basin with more ease and went, in this form, to the living-room. Both Mrs Shadal and Miss Amna were hysteric upon seeing me. Nevertheless, I moved forward to where Miss Amna was seated, put down the basin and removed her slippers from my mouth.

- I apologise Miss Amna for having put your slippers into my mouth without permission, but there was no other way to bring them all together.

- That is fine. No need to apologise. In fact, this is the way I want you to carry all my footwear from now on. It will be fine to see you looking for me around the house, while having a pair of my shoes in your mouth. Just like a good dog.

Her mother burst into laughter and said that the same ‘rules’ applied to her and her shoes too! I simply noded my head submissively and proceeded with washing Miss Amna’s feet. After her feet were washed, I put her slippers on and awaited further orders. Mrs Shadal told me to prepare the kitchen so as to cook for dinner. Most certainly, I did not dine with them. Instead, I was constantly carrying out orders like pouring water into their glasses, otherwise I was standing behind them. After they had their dessert, I was allowed to have some dinner and then do the dishes. When I finished, I resumed my position in the living-room, ready to attend to their needs. At some point, the topic of their discussion revolved around the amount of time I would need to study, therefore, being unable to serve them. They invited me to join their conversation by offering me a seat on the floor and there it was decided that I would study only for tests and projects, until my exams came up.

After a couple of hours Miss Amna had to go on a night out with her friends. She took a shower, changed clothes and shoes and just before she left I told her not to hesitate waking me up when she returns, so that I could wash her feet before she went to bed. Once she was gone, I returned to the living-room where Mrs Shadal told me to give her a foot-massage. As I was massaging her feet, Mrs Shadal watched TV until she turned her attention to me.

- I have not had my feet washed since yesterday. Does the smell of them bother you?

- No, my lady. Your feet are so beautiful that I cannot imagine them smelling bad. In fact, you have feet that deserve to be kissed. May I, please, kiss them a bit?

- If you insist.

Her feet looked dominant and her toes were aggressive. Having such feet rest on my face, I thought, would be a picture capable of winning all photography-related awards by storm. Her long and imposing toes had nails painted in a rot apple colour, her soles were wide and strong enough to flatten someone, their insteps were as smooth as silk and, finally, her ankles as graceful as a masterpiece. I kissed her feet in a submissive manner, declaring my devotion to her, and went on with her foot-massage. When I was finished, I asked, again, whether I had permission to kiss her beautiful feet and, once more, I was allowed to kiss them. It was as if my lips were stuck on their skin. Then again, considering the condition her feet were in, maybe they did get stuck, particularly, on her soles. I can only imagine her feet ‘absorbing’ the perspiration they had produced to that point and – since she was wearing a pair of flat sandals – dirt from the ground had definitely managed to blend in with her foot sweat. After all, her soles were a bit grey. When she started feeling sleepy, she told me to wash her feet and asked her, for a third time, to kiss her feet. She allowed me to do so, then put her sandals on her feet and followed her upstairs. In her room, I told her that I would wait until she was seated on her bed ready to lay down and then leave switching off the light and closing the door behind me. When she was seated, I dropped to my knees, removed her slippers and asked, yet again, to kiss her feet. She gave permission and even said that I could kiss her feet whenever I ‘felt’ like doing so. Why would I ‘feel’ like kissing a pair of feet? A man who would do so would have to be either a foot-fetishist or as submissive as a slave. Only these two characteristics would define one who would really like to kiss a pair of female feet, which means that whatever my classification she was aware of my great ‘potential’, but what happens when you get them both in one? Obviously, you have a very lucky lady and a submissive foot-fetishist to attend to the lady’s needs.

I must have had less than two hours of sleep when Mrs Amna woke me up. Her feet were sweaty, dirty and drenched in alcohol – all from her dancing I suppose – and had to put some effort to make sure they were absolutely clean before getting into her bed. It was hard to believe, when I got back to my room, that it was just the first day I had been serving them and, even, had taking care of their feet added to my duties.

14-02-2012, 07:02 AM
Episode Two

I had just served them breakfast in the dining-room when I dropped to my knees and started to kiss Mrs Shadal’s feet. After a few seconds I heard Miss Amna asking her mother what I was doing under the table, for Mrs Shadal to explain that I liked kissing feet and took it a step further by offering my lips to her daughter’s feet. Soon, I was in such a position so to have all four feet mere inches away from my kneeling figure. Needless to say, I was kissing their feet until breakfast was over for them. Then, I was allowed a few moments in peace to have a cup of coffee before resuming my duties. By the time I had finished my cup of coffee both ladies had left the house. Mrs Shadal went for the weekly shopping to the nearby superstore with our neighbour and Miss Amna went for a walk with a friend of hers. After a while, Mrs Shadal was back and I was called outside to carry the bags inside. Mrs Shadal introduced me to our neighbour, Mrs Nisha, as her servant and invited her for a glass of juice. I had almost finished putting everything away when Mrs Nisha rung our doorbell. I rushed to the front door, greeted Mrs Nisha and showed her to the living-room where Mrs Shadal was waiting for her friend. Once Mrs Nisha was seated I was ready to take orders.

- How may I serve you my lady?

- Get us some lemon juice and I need a footbath too. Would you like a footbath Nisha?

- No thanks. I am too tired to wash my feet.

- Oh, that’s fine. My servant will take care of that.

- What do you mean?

- He is washing my feet and Amna’s too. I am sure he would not mind washing yours as well. Would you boy?

- My lady, it would be my pleasure to serve your friend.

- OK then, I will have a footbath too.

I brought them their juice and then I got ready to wash their feet. First, I washed Mrs Shadal’s feet and then put her slippers on. Just before I washed Mrs Nisha’s feet, I went to my room and returned with my pillow. After I washed Mrs Nisha’s feet, I put the pillow on the floor and then placed her feet on it. As I had no slippers for her and since her sandals needed some cleaning I thought it would be a good idea to put her freshly washed feet on my pillow and asked for permission to clean Mrs Nisha’s shoes. As soon as Mrs Nisha agreed, I went to the bathroom and licked her sandals clean, paying extra attention to the soles. When I returned, Mrs Nisha’s sandals were as clean as new, but she decided to keep her feet on my pillow as it was more comfortable. I was surprised at how quickly these women would become more dominant and demanding as soon as they sense my submisiveness. OK, so I was the one to think of using my pillow to rest Mrs Nisha’s feet on, but she took it a step further using as a footrest what I used to rest my head when in bed and she was a lady that I had just met. Anyway, I was not needed anymore and decided to do some work. When Miss Amna returned Mrs Nisha had gone and so had her mother. Miss Amna was accompanied by a friend, Miss Shafak, and like her mother decided to show off to her friend by having me serve them both. However, she was much bolder than her mother and told her friend, straight away, that I could wash her feet, if Miss Safak desired so, and even kiss them too. Miss Shafak seized the opportunity, raised her right leg and told me to remove her sneaker. Upon doing so, she placed her sweaty sole on my face, smothered my face as if wiping her foot dry and I, then, started kissing her foot all over. Unfortunately, I had to limit myself to only kissing her delicate, beautiful, foot, but I was doing my best to taste her foot sweat with every kiss of mine. Miss Shafak was obviously rather excited and soon raised her other leg too. Within a short while I had both her sweaty feet in my hands, kissing both of them in a passionate, yet respectful, manner. Apparently, Miss Amna felt that her feet were in need of my attention, removed her sneakers by herself and wiped her sweaty feet on my face, while I was kissing her friend’s feet. Pretty soon, my hands were somehow supporting two pairs of feet, so I could worship them both at the same time. If mature ladies get used to this kind of ‘services’, my guess is that a couple of teenagers ‘having fun’ would not care any more about issues like ‘human dignity’. So, I spent a good hour kissing the feet of the two girls before washing them clean, as it was time for Miss Shafak to leave. When Mrs Shadal got home I served them dinner, during which time I was standing ready to attend to their every need. When it became obvious that I was no longer needed, I got under the table and started kissing their feet. I had dinner too and then spent the rest of the evening massaging and kissing their feet. I washed their feet just before going to bed and then got some rest myself. Another day of worshiping female feet had just gone by. Although I was fully aware that my life was gradually changing, nevertheless, I failed to realise that Mrs Shadal and Miss Amna were soon to become my Mistresses in every sense.

The next few days passed relatively ‘normal’ with me kissing, washing and massaging their feet and attending to other household duties. The only innovation in my relationship with my two ladies was that an additional duty of mine was to greet them at the front door, whether coming or going, by kissing their feet. One day Miss Amna told me to accompany her to another house where three English working ladies in their early twenties lived. Later on, I found out that Miss Amna wished to hang out with them, but as she was a bit younger and not as well-educated, she thought of impressing them by using me. So, we enter their house, Miss Amna got seated and ordered me to get on my knees on the floor.

- Is this the guy you told us about?

- Yes. He does everything I tell him.

Surely, I was obedient and submissive enough when serving my two Indian ladies, but washing, kissing and massaging feet was not exactly ‘doing everything’ I was told. A bit of an exaggeration, which turned against me at the end. Now, if my two Indian ladies had soon become more dominant than their cultured dictated, imagine how dominant three blond young girls – raised in a highly competitive society – could become. The three young English ladies totally ignored Miss Amna and decided to dominate and humiliate me for almost two hours. Miss Amna was all too ‘kind’ to go through the services I could offer. Nevertheless, the three English ladies proved to be rather confident in dominating me and stunned my lady with their ‘imagination’. At first, I kissed their shoes and then licked them clean, being ordered to take extra good care of their soles. After I washed my mouth, it was time to lick their feet clean! They were not that sweaty, as all three of them wore flip-flops, just a bit grey from the dirt on the ground. Then, each one of them trampled my body with no mercy – though, fortunately, either bare-footed or wearing their flip-flops – always making sure they stood, triumphantly, on my face. Near the end of the meeting they decided to stand on me all three of them together, changing positions three times so that they all took their turn standing on my face, chest and stomach. Finally, they invited Miss Amna to stand on my face, while all three English ladies managed to somehow stand on my chest and stomach. To be honest, I was amazed at the ease with which the three English ladies had humiliated me at their feet. I always believed that there was something supreme with most English ladies. Something authoritative in their behaviour, perhaps, stemming from the times when they ruled vast parts of the world and having slaves to serve them. Besides, they were beautiful, white, blond ladies that most probably deserved such attention.

We returned home to find Mrs Shadal expecting me anxiously, as she had just returned from the town centre, so that I could take care of her feet. I was massaging her feet, while Miss Amna described in every detail my encounter with her three friends and at some point Mrs Shadal decided to abandon the conventional footbath and replaced it with having the pleasure to have her feet licked. My lady, too, had only been wearing a flat pair of leather, thong, sandals and her feet looked delicious in their brown colour – covered in some mixture of dried sweat and dust, with occasional black spots. There, I guess, a dribble of footsweat must have been mixed with dirt and become solidified under the pressure of her bare foot to produce a unique lickerishness that was to be savoured by the tongue of a connoisseur. The taste of her soles was exquisite and my adoration was soon interpreted as a desire to serve in a slavish manner that degraded myself. Speaking of surrendering power to them, licking their feet meant that I had become their slave! There was barely a sense of pride left inside me when I turned my attention to Mrs Shadal’s toes. First, I licked her toes individualy and, then, all the toes of her foot together. On her right foot she had a toering, which I removed with my lips to clean it inside my mouth, then kept it under my tongue in order to suck the toe she was wearing it on and then put it gently back on her toe by using just my lips. I was worshiping her and, particularly, her imposing foot, while Mrs Shadal was enjoying every second of it. A young, white, man, on his knees before her, holding her feet in his hands and licking them clean. Until the night before, that same young man only had to wash their feet and now he was cleaning them with his tongue. My tongue was not worshiping one of the commonly intimate parts of the female body, but just a dirty pair of bare feet. The subservience that characterises such a task was the main reason I thought of myself as their slave for the first time. In fact, it was the very first time I was becoming a slave with the purpose to attend to female feet. The first of many more times to come or the only one ever that would last forever?

14-02-2012, 07:03 AM
Episode Three

That evening I got a sample of how their feet tasted and smelled, became familiar with the collection of shoes they had, cleaned their shoes with my tongue and found out how it felt having either of them standing full-weight on my face. That night two new Mistresses were born and a male had been successfully enslaved. The supremacy of the female sex was becoming evident and that was symbolised by me being literally under their feet. If our external appearance is what distinguishes us all humans from one another – primarily, the distinctiveness of our face – then, having my face being used by a lady as a nice spot to stand made me insignificant to society. Once in slavery, I decided to offer my upper body and face to rest their divine feet on, as they watched TV. Mistress Shadal placed her feet on my face, one accross my forehead and the other covering my mouth, whereas Mistress Amna rested one foot on my chest and the other on my stomach. By that time I had removed my T-shirt so that Mistress Amna, too, could feel the heat of my body on the soles of her teenage feet. Feet that I believed that looked like and tasted as sweet as a chocolate. Her gorgeous soles had no blemishes. They were perfect, feeling like pure silk and with ten ambitious toes eager to conquer the world. That was the turning point from freedom to slavery. The beauty and undescribable taste of their feet had reduced me to a passive subject of their desire to dominate. The experience, alone, of worshiping these two ladies could be someone’s dream and I was determined to live it. Certainly, my ‘relationship’ with the two Indian ladies changed remarkably. They took pleasure in humiliating me with their feet in every way imaginable. They no longer considered me as a human being with rights and feelings. I was there to serve them, worship them and obey their every wish. In whatever time was left, I took the opportunity to study. The new academic session was about to commence in a few days and I had to be well-prepared.

One day, Mistress Shadal’s sister, Mrs Maruk, came to visit us with her two daughters. She lived in London, her husbabd had a job that was paying rather well and she and her daughters, Miss Rashi and Miss Nupur, lived a luxurious life that somehow maintained a sense of ‘competition’ between the two sisters. Our three visitors were quite surprised when they saw me opening the door on my knees, welcoming them and showing them to the living-room where my two Mistresses were seated. After exchanging pleasantries, all ladies sat down and Mistress Shadal ordered me to bring some lemon juice. While I was preparing everything, I heard my Mistress explaining to her sister all about me. When I returned to the living-room, my Mistress told me to greet our visitors ‘properly’. So, I crawled to Mrs Maruk and kissed the toes of her feet, painted in a burgundy colour. Then, I moved to Miss Rashi, who had already removed her shoes and pressed her feet on my face. Young Miss Nupur was a bit shy at the beginning, as she withdrew her feet when I tried to kiss her toes, but at her mother’s encouraging words she, too, allowed me to greet her ‘properly’. I was then called to serve my two Mistresses by offering my upper body and face to rest their feet on. Our guests were extremely amused and they suddenly started talking in Indian. I could not understand anything and was just laying there – under their feet – as any ordinary, lifeless, footmat would. Then, they started talking in English again.

- I am very happy for you sister. Eventually, you are having the kind of life you always deserved, even though not under the same financial circumstances with me or living in as big a house as mine, but anyway. Tell me, how else does he serve you?

- Well, other than the ordinary household chores, he is responsible of worshiping our feet. Apart from kissing them and being their footmat, he also licks them clean, smells our feet, licks our shoes clean as well as their soles, we trample him and, basically, humiliate him at all times.

- Aunt Shadal, can he lick my feet too?

- Of course Rashi. Slave, you heard my niece. I want you to serve Miss Rashi, her sister and mother as well as you serve us.

- Certainly my Mistress.

I removed Miss Rashi’s sneakers to reveal a sweaty, teenage, foot that was in need of my tender attention. It turns out that she was a bit ticklish, so I had to put extra pressure to prevent her from giggling all the time. When she got used to it, she became more confident and stuck her foot in my mouth, wiggling her toes inside. Immediately, I started licking between her toes removing all dirt and then begun to suck them clean. Although I could not see the expression of Mrs Maruk’s face, she must have been rather excited at the prospect of having me at her feet. As she could hardly wait for her turn, she kicked my side and with her left foot brought my face to her direction. Shen then placed her sole on my face, the heel on my lips and the toes on the forehead, dragged it all over my face and, finally, brought her toes to my mouth to begin the ritual. Unlike her daughter, Mrs Maruk was patient and, clearly, living every moment of it. She did have a sense of superiority. She was very nicely dressed, in a traditional Indian costume, and her behaviour indicated that she was somehow used to this kind of lifestyle. In fact, her attitude towards me – not that I was anything more siginificant – could have easily fooled one to believe that I was serving her in that way for years. Unfortunately, Mrs Maruk’s youngest daughter was not interested in having me lick her feet and decided to just rest hers on my face. I say “unfortunately” because, as you can probably imagine, she had a very cute pair of feet with ten sweaty toes that reminded that girls of her age did not care much about their feet. Anyway, there I was, being humiliated by three females I had just met. Again, that is what a slave is for. To serve everyone his Mistress orders him to, even if that meant having my face used and abused as a lowly footmat by a girl as young as Miss Nupur. Time was flying and soon I found myself licking the shoes of both Mrs Maruk and Miss Rashi clean. Miss Nupur, again, turned down my appeals to worship her like a princess and only wiped her sneaker’s soles on my hair. Most certainly, despite her shyness, she had the potential to become a very dominant girl if served in a submissive manner. At the end of their visit, Mrs Maruk decided to leave her marks on my face by trampling me severely. She was as cruel as to wipe her shod feet on my poor face, like it was part of having her shoes cleaned. Miss Rashi was equally enthusiastic while standing full-weight on my face, but Miss Nupur proved difficult to convince that standing on my face was hurting me just a bit. Actually, I begged her myself, too, and even licked the floor in front of her shoes, thinking that acting as a dog would probably show her that it was just a game of fun to me. In no time, Miss Nupur was standing on my face in all sorts of different poses, as if during a photo shooting. During the time Miss Nupur stood on my face, my Mistress and her sister were going through the final details that would see me serving Mrs Maruk, her daughters and the female Indian high-society of London in the near future.

Over the next days, pleased by my good performace on the day her sister and nieces had visited us, Mistress Shadal allowed me to long hours of foot-worship and trampling sessions, which I enjoyed thoroughly. My two Mistresses would make their feet sweaty and smelly by wearing boots with neither socks nor stockings on, walked barefoot when at home to make their feet dirty (slightly so, as I kept the house immaculate) and stood on my face with flat shoes of all types – primarily, with sandals, loafers and boots) so to extend their trampling time. It is noteworthy that, by that time my Mistresses had realised that the face was my favourite part of the body that I liked having trampled. Despite the pain I felt, each and every time I had either of my two Mistresses stand on my face, I also felt like I was doing the ‘right’ thing. Such ladies deserved to stand on a human’s face rather than the cold floor or a plain carpet, no matter how plush it was. The trampling sessions, nevertheless, were only some good fun and being their footmat was what I enjoyed most. You know how it feels when you are tired and you just want to sit down and relax. Well, when my ladies felt like that I had the privilege of having their feet rest on me. Somehow, I was worthy enough to contribute to their relaxation and that made me feel proud. Besides, laying under their feet was more of a break to me, than serving my two ladies – of course, meaning no disrespect to my Mistresses. The sense of making them feel better, by doing nothing more than offering my face as their footmat, gave me the opportunity to travel with my mind to lands where females were the dominant sex and men lived to serve them, while laying, motionless, under their beautiful feet. The lowest part of their body I was allowed to come to contact with, as if I belonged to that part of the Indian society that is known as the caste of the ‘untouchables’. Finally, I also got a very good opportunity to smell their feet for long periods of time as they rest on my face.

14-02-2012, 07:03 AM
Episode Four

The time had come for me to go to London. It was mid-term in university and I was serving my two ladies for nearly three months, having established a very clear Mistress-slave relationship with both of them. However, serving Mistress Shadal’s sister was a wholly different matter. That was my major challenge, in my endeavour to satisfy my Mistress and meet her high standards. I was asked to give my best ever performance when serving any lady while in London, in order for Mistress Shadal and her daughter to further elevate themselves and gain a higher status as well as the well-earned and deserved respect that came along. The first day of the week I would be serving Mrs Shadal’s sister and her two daughters, during which time her husband was away to another city for business, I spent it at the feet of my three new tormentresses. As I was about to find out, they had, purposefully, left their feet unwashed over the last few days and had not cleaned their shoes for a couple of weeks, so “to have some extra fun”, according to Mistress Maruk. Nearly half an hour was spent on each pair of feet – lovingly licking their soles and sucking each of the thirty toes with equal tenderness – and, then, they trampled my whole body, with Mrs Maruk even standing on my genitals. Fortunately, to say the least, her two daughters – including Miss Nupur – limited themselves to just kicking my privates, once only! Nevertheless, all three of them appeared quite interested in standing full-weight on my face. Whether in shoes or barefoot, my face was brutally attacked by all three ladies’ pairs of feet and abused severely as they allowed me small breaks to recover. Oftentimes, they attempted to stand on my face all three of them together. I wished they had succeeded early, because every time they failed they returned more determined to conquer my face! Every time they tried to gain some balance I would suffer under the weight of three ladies trying in an unorthodox manner to stand on my vulnerable face and that hurt a lot. You see, each one of them tried to place her feet to whatever part of my face was accessible, often mistreating me to an extent that my face was misshapen. Those ladies were too cruel to feel sympathy for me. As a matter of fact, Miss Nupur seemed to have been tutored with effect, as she was much more dominant than the last time I served her. As young as she was, her dominance was pure, as if she had been induced to such a lifestyle prior to her birth. She was delivered to this world to dominate submissive males like myself and she had all the potential to become an esteemed Mistress. Finally, I had to lick clean all their shoes. Considering their wealth and their luxurious lifestyle, I was expecting a huge collection of shoes of all sorts and was really pleased to discover that I was correct. It took me nearly two hours to lick their shoes – naturally, while they wore them – and enjoyed most attending to their summer shoes. Every time I was licking the sole of an open shoe my excitement would grow as I could also get glimpses of their feet, with the middle part of the foot protruding from either side of the shoe, and even get to smell them. Eventually, we all went to sleep, myself on the floor and at the side of the bed Mrs Maruk was sleeping on. Tomorrow would be another exhausting day and I had to get some rest.

The next day all three ladies decided to spend their time at home, so to get to know each other better as well as have me at their disposal. My day started when Mrs Maruk woke up and smothered my face with her beautiful feet. Then, I put her slippers on and, momentarily, she stood on my face just before stepping down on the floor. I followed her to the bathrooom where she stood on my chest while washing herself and, finally, back to her room to help her get dressed. Then, I was sent to prepare breakfast. When everything was ready, I used a tray to bring breafast to my lady, who was already in the living-room watching the morning TV shows. After I placed the tray on a nearby table I asked her if she needed anything else and she simply said that she wanted to rest her feet on my face. Immediately, I removed her slippers, layed down on the floor and parallel to the armchair she was seated on at the exact spot of where her feet should be and, then, I placed with grace her divine feet on my face to rest.When breakfast was over, I took the tray to the kitchen and returned to the living-room to resume my footmat duties. After a while I heard noises coming from the girls’ bedrooms, some doors opening and others closing and then someone entered the room and, casually, stood on my defenceless chest to kiss her mother and tell her “Good-morning”! When Mrs Maruk placed her right foot on my throat and the left one on the floor behing my head, I saw Miss Nupur standing on my chest for a couple of seconds before she lifted, first, her right foot – placing it down along my face (heel on the lips and toes on my forehead) – and, then, the left one to stand on my face full-weight, though with the support of her mother’s arm! When she stepped down, before even thinking of making a move, Miss Rashi placed her left foot across my mouth and the right foot on my forehead, stood there for a few moments and when she stepped down too I was odrered to make breakfast for the girls. When I was done, I served my younger ladies their breakfast and was then asked to get under the table I had placed the tray on to be used as a footmat, with Miss Rashi placing her young feet on my face and Miss Nupur decided to use my chest to rest her dominant feet on. Certainly, more dominant than Mrs Nupur’s feet and, perhaps, Mrs Maruk’s feet too! That is how I distinguised one lady from another. Breakfast over, I found myself in the living-room awaiting orders, with Mrs Maruk seated in the armchair and my two princesses on a luxurious leather couch. They were trying to think of something that could involve everybody, as long as it was related to their feet. The first thing they decided to play was to have me decide whose feet smell what by blindfolding me and then rubbing old socks on my nose. Those times that I would get it right they would withdraw a pair of socks from the lot, but when I lost the owner of the pair would trample my face wearing boots. A hard task for me to accomplish, as boots tend to lessen the sense of touch on their feet due to their size and weight; therefore, making the trampler ‘look’ more cruel than usual – as if they were not cruel enough. Most times I won, some other I lost, because I figured out soon which socks smelled like the feet of one of them. Miss Nupur’s socks had a strong and heavy smell as she was the one to care less about her feet too. Miss Rashi’s socks smelled like a young lady’s feet, giving me the impression that the pair of socks belonged to a healthy person with normal perspiration. Mrs Maruk’s socks, I decided, smelled like the feet of a mature lady, who has lived an easy life full of similar experiences, that produced an aroma of elegance and superiority. If oxygen is what keeps us all alive, such smell could make me live for years and years serving at a lady’s feet. That exquisite was the smell of her socks and equally phenomenal was my punishment. Every time I lost, I had to lay down on the floor while the winning lady would stand on my poor face to express her antipathy and underline her supremacy over me. Normal people have no good reason to use a doormat the way these three ladies abused my face. The boots must have given them an extra sense of confidence and superiority as they trampled my face with no mercy for the human being beneath their booted feet. When the game came to an end, they gathered the remains of their breakfast, removed the boots from their bare feet and fed me breakfast after they smashed the food on the tray under their sweaty soles, often collecting food between the toes as well! At that moment, I was having breakfast during lunch-time because after I ate I was told to prepare lunch. That long lasted their game, all the while I was with no food in my stomach to support my efforts to withstand the trample I received. While they were having lunch, I was under the table, again, used as a footmat, with Mrs Maruk using my face seated at the head of the table and the two young ladies my chest and stomach. After lunch they decided to watch a couple of DVDs, during which time I had to attend to their every need. I brought them to eat and drink and even had to lick, kiss their feet and be used as a footmat. Once more, I felt like I had been serving those three ladies for ages and it was only the second, successive, day after I first met them back at Mistress Shadal’s house. Following the completion of the second movie I was told to prepare dinner for all, I guess that included me too, and I repeated the same ritual as with lunch before I was, again, fed by their feet. Then they decided to go for a walk, so I could get a break too. During my break, as funny as it may sound, I had to hand wash all the socks for which I was either given a reward or received punishment. They returned tired and decided to relax with an extra-long foot-worship session. Three hours I was licking their feet, by which time my mouth and tongue had become pretty sore. Fortunately, that was the time they went to sleep, myself following Mrs Maruk into her room to rest on the floor and by the side of her bed. If anything, I had to make sure that the first step she makes in the morning is right on my expecting face.

14-02-2012, 07:04 AM
Episode Five

All days were similar to the one mentioned above, apart from one. On that day Mrs Faruk had invited some ladies for tea to her house and I was the main attraction. All of the female guests were aware of my presence. They all knew the story about a white, young, man who worshipped, and was trampled under, female feet. Some of them even brought their daughters, as they were friends with my two younger ladies. I greeted every guest at the door, on my knees, bending to kiss their feet and welcome them. Except for Mrs Maruk and her daughters, there were another nine ladies accompanied by four girls, 16 pairs of feet in total! As you can understand, it would have taken me ages to properly serve every lady’s feet, so our guests only got a taste of what it feels like to dominate and humiliate someone as submissive as myself. Nevertheless, I recall that event as the most exhaustive experience I have had by that time. Their sheer number, interpreted in a variety of different feet and shoes, means that I was abused in any manner. The more mature ladies saw my discomfort as a symbol of their supremacy, whereas the younger ladies were just having fun. The former even asked me to beg them for degradation, while the latter kept me constantly altering my position in order to get a sample of all the services I could offer every time they had the chance to humiliate me. At the end, my upper body was full of marks from a good range of different types of shoes and my mouth had nearly lost the sense of taste after having licked so many feet with so many different flavours of female foot sweat. Considering that I also had to lick 16 pairs of shoes, when the last guest departed I could do nothing but collapse on the floor. One of the three ladies must have brought me a cover, never got to know who, as I woke up on the floor near the front door in the comfort of a thick cloth. It was the bathroom’s mat, the one they stepped on just before using the shower/bathtab or resting their shod feet when using the toilet! At least, someone thought of me and the cruelty I had to endure that evening. That day was no different to the earlier ones, apart from the fact that one of the ladies that was present the evening before visited us again together with a female friend of hers. The lady who was not a stanger to me any more only wished for a thorough foot-worship session. I spenf half an hour kissing and licking each foot before she declared herself satisfied. Then she decided to rest her feet on my face and get them smelled at the same time. After a while it was her friend’s turn. This lady did not wait for me to act, but was happy to take the initiative herself. As casually as she stuck her foot on my lips, before forcing it into my mouth, she would then withdraw one foot from inside my mouth to replace it with the other one at her whim. She then forced my head down against the floor so to use my face as a footmat, often rubbing her feet against my skin. Next was ‘trampling’ and then ‘shoelicking’. The first lady trampled me with care, as if fragile, and stood on my face with grace. However, her friend decided to be a bit more aggressive and concentrated her efforts on standing on my face long enough to consider this experience as part of her daily life. Under the guidance of the ‘nicer’ lady, me licking her shoes was very similar to a picture of a child licking an ice-cream with extreme desire. She, thoroughly, enjoyed having her shoes’ soles licked as she said she could feel the warmth of my tongue penetrating the leather of her shoe and make contact with her bare foot. The ‘nasty’ lady, again, was hard to please, as she even ordered me to lay on the floor and stick out my tongue to clean the shoes herself by dragging the soles on it. Immagine how different she was, compared to the ladies I had been asked to serve to that moment, that I remember the lady that I had just served for a second time only as a nice lady – implying that she treated me nicely too. It is important to note, nevertheless, that this lady had me lick, kiss and smell her both feet and shoes and trampled me just like any of the other ladies, though for a second time! That was a ‘nice’ lady, according to my own standards of kindness. To explain, as it only takes one to be kind so that another one feels happy, I was offering my face to these ladies to stand on if that made them happy. I was prepared, both mentally and physically, to attend to their every need, but that last lady whom I served before going back home made me feel like she hated me for some odd reason. Maybe because I was male, were she mistreated by another male partner. Now imagine how dominant and cruel she could become, if I was at her mercy. While these thoughts crossed my mind, I was a footmat to the two guests, before they left. I spent the rest of the night serving as a footmat to all three ladies and I was already dreaming of going home to serve Mistress Shadal and Misstress Amna. Funny as it may sound, the next time I had a chance to relax I was a footmat to Mistress Shadal and Misstress Amna. I was delighted with being surrounded by familiar feet. The very same feet that subjected me to foot-slavery and I was happy again.

In no time, Christmas was close and I decided to spend them in England serving my two ladies, instead of going back home, with the excuse of saving money. Christmas was all about having quality time with me at their feet. As the university was closed for a month, my slave hours were significantly increased and with time at my disposal – while serving them, of course – I was introduced to another dimension of foot-fetishism. Gradually, I became more affectionate when worshiping their feet. Their feet had become actual objects of desire. In my, relatively, short account of sexual experiences, I do not recall of myself showing so much love. It was difficult, however, as I learned how to lick their feet with endearment, smell them in utter silence, kiss them with passion, clean their shoes with eagerness and lay under their dominant feet with pride! I perceived their beautiful feet as divine and treated them accordingly. Their shoes, too, were treated with love and passion every time I cleaned them. I was so excited that I also offered myself to paint their toenails and give them regular pedicures. To become more efficient when treating their feet, they decided to let their friends have pedicures by me for a small fee. In fact, they were simply charging the pedicure to cover part of my expenses, but the price was so low that most ladies were having pedicures twice a week! The younger ladies, usually, thought of having more fun by having me paint their toenails several times before deciding on a colour. After all, repetition is the mother of knowledge. Soon, I was an expert pedicurist and my two ladies decided to improve my skills by focusing on other aspects of foot fetishism. Foot-licking competitions were weekly held, to decide which one of our female guests had the best tasting feet, so to enhance my foot-licking skills as I had to take care of many pairs of feet – often as many as seven or eight, excluding my two Mistresses’ divide feet. Group trampling, on the other hand, was thought to increase my body’s resilience, with different ladies standing on different parts of my body. The maximum I have had is six. Whether barefoot or not, all that mattered was making me stand as much pressure as necessary. ‘Necessary’ means being able to satisfy the trampling wishes of ALL ladies present. Again, the younger ladies found it amusing to both wipe the soles of their shoes on my face and standing on it for extended periods of time. However, my shoe-licking ‘classes’ had a much different character. The very same ladies that participated in the foot-licking competitions and the group trampling sessions were, purposefully, keeping their shoes dirty for me to clean them with my tongue. Had we been taking ‘before’ and ‘after’ pictures you would have seen the difference. Muddy boots, dirty sneakers and heels, smelly slippers and worn-out indoor sandals were all cleaned immaculately. It is noteworthy the fact that they all noted they were not concerned with avoiding little puddles or mud anymore (it rains a lot here in England), though they did stress that they made sure not to step on poo. Licking shoes clean, including the soles, mattered no longer. To me it was my normal duty. I wish I could spend the rest of my life in like manner, but that was, probably, not possible. Is that true?

Now I could think of myself as a highly efficient footslave. Months were passing by, in which time I served Mrs Shadal’s sister a couple of times, and summer was getting close. Just like Christmas, I spend the whole three summer months with my two ladies. However, two months were spent in India! Yes, I followed my two Mistresses to their motherland to visit relatives and friends. As it turned out, I would become the main theme of attraction. With strong English presence in the country, a white, young, man licking feet and shoes as well as being facestood was too good an offer to refuse. We were staying at the family house and the males were treating me with disgust and suspicion, but never said or did anything. In Indian religion the Goddesses Kali tramples Shiva, portrayed in a male’s form and, as people tend to be very religious, the men saw the Indian ladies as defeating what represented westernised decadence and perversion.

14-02-2012, 07:05 AM
Episode Six

During my stay in India I served a multitude of Indian ladies, as well some English ones – wives of senior administration officials. The following is an account of some of the ‘interesting’ encounters I had. The first story concerns me serving at the feet of Mrs Shadal’s mother and younger sister, Mrs Lehar and Ms Anu respectively. It was a hot summer day and after the necessary introductions were made, I found myself on my knees before Mrs Lehar and ready to lick her feet clean. Mrs Lehar was in her mid-60s, an impressive lady who obviously took good care of herself. Her husband was dead, leaving her quite a fortune to maintain a luxurious lifestyle and having three servants to attend to her needs meant that having someone to take good care of her feet sounded very reasonable. On that day she was wearing a pair of gold, thong, flat sandals that beautified her ‘brownish’ feet. Mrs Lehar was seated, her legs crossed, when I took her dangling foot in my hands to start sucking her toes and lick in between them too. As soon as I placed her big toe in my mouth to worship she asked me whether a dog would be capable of holding her foot while sucking her toes. When I said ‘No’, she suggested that I behave accordingly and put my hands on the floor just before resuming my duties. I sucked and licked between her toes from a more humiliating position, not being allowed to hold her pretty foot. She had small feet with little toes, but quite dirty. Apparently, her feet were her only bodypart she did not take good care of. With the toes unpainted, hard heels and a slight callous on her right foot, it took me some two and a half hours to accomplish my mission. I soaked her feet in my mouth, covering both of them in excess saliva by using my servile tongue and concentrated on sucking her callous enough to make it softer so that I could then nible on it and attempt to remove it, carefully, with my teeth. Once medically treated, in a rather relaxing manner, I proceeded with painting her toenails in a glamorous red colour. Following such a performance, I was allowed to a break serving as Mrs Lehar’s footstool. She removed the sandals herself and placed both feet on my awaiting face. Actually, I did not offer much of the rest of my body, on purpose, as I thought that this lady deserved to rest her feet on my face only, for some odd reason. Maybe because she was my Mistress’ own mother, in a meaningful sense, the very same lady who should be credited for upbringing three dominant daughters, as I would soon find out. When this divine creature thought that I had recovered from my efforts to serve her well, it was time to reduce me to merely being a part of the floor. It was trampling time and she thoroughly enjoyed standing on my face with some support from her granddaughter, Miss Amna. She tried both with her feet bare and in shoes, though just in that pair of sandals, and from her remarks she seemed utterly convinced that this act gratified her most. Now, only one service was required for me to complete my role as a foot-slave. The soles of her shoes were then embraced by my mouth and tongue. Probably for the same reason as above, I felt like really putting an effort to make the soles of her beautiful sandals as clean as new, unfortunately, having forgoten that I still had to lick Ms Anu’s feet and shoes too. My tongue was already feeling sore and a below par performance would get me punished! Ms Anu was waiting impatiently, dangling her right foot as her right leg was crossed over the left one. I placed my head on the floor underneath her dangling shoe and awaited my orders. She lower her leg so that her shoe rested on the back of my head, wiped it a bit on my hair and then lifted my face with her toes and told me to lick it clean. I sucked her toes, licked in between them, licked her soles and ankles and sucked her heels for nearly an hour before I considered saying that I was finished. She was satisfied with my efforts and had me lick the soles of her sandals too, while she wore them! It was a hard task because they were well-worn and had a sole that felt rough on my poor tongue. Nevertheless, I licked both her shoes’ soles thoroughly and then she trampled me. First, she stood on my face and wiped the soles of her wet sandals against my skin – I really felt like nothing more than a doormat – and then walked all over my upper body, occassionaly putting some pressure on my genitals. At some point I collapsed under her weight. After she trampled me, she rode on my back for ten minutes before I was practically exhausted. I had failed to serve her effectively and had to pay the consequences. I had my face slaped by all four of them using the sandals they were holding in their hands. Of course, only the sole of their sandal was appropriate for carrying out the punishment and as is customary in many Asian countries. Considering the circumstances, I started crying and as soon as they stopped hitting me I took Ms Anu’s sandal in my hands and with the sole I wiped the tears from my eyes begging them to show some lenience. They offered me to choose between being left without food until next morning and having all four of them trampling me simultaneously. Group trampling is what I chose and out of consideration they had Miss Amna stand on my face with the three of them standing on my chest and stomach. I could not move at all when they were done with me. They kept me laying there on the floor while they talked in their own language and let me rest for about an hour. It soon got dark and I had to leave with my Mistress and her daughter. The next day should be quite busy too, I thought!

My ladies woke up in the morning, I prepared breakfast and then they ate having me worship their feet. As soon as they finished we got ready to leave and visit a friend of Mrs Shadal. Her name was Mrs O’ Sullivan, the wife of a senior English delegate. She was in her mid-50s and this would be my second encounter with a pair of English female feet, though the first mature one. Mrs O’ Sullivan was a good-looking blonde lady, with a fairly slim body and quite tall. She welcomed us all and invited us into her house with great enthusiasm. She hugged Mrs Shadal, stating how much she had missed her, gave a kiss to Miss Amna and gave me an evil grin, while I had already got on to my knees before her. The ladies all sat down and started to talk, totally ignoring my presence. They were talking about England, until Mrs O’ Sullivan asked my Mistress about me. Mrs Shadal was using my face as her footrest, as she was explaining to her friend of our ‘relationship’, as she called it. Soon, I was ordered to attend Mrs O’ Sullivan’s feet. She was wearing a casual pair of thong sandals, like most women I had met by that time in India, and had her toenails painted in a bright red colour. She examined me carefully for a few seconds and then ordered me to remove her shoes and lick her feet. It was nice licking a white pair of feet, for a change. They may not always be as beautiful as an Asian pair of feet (excuse my discrimination, considering that I am European), but at least it is more visible when they are dirty and far easier to assess their cleanness once they have been licked. Mrs O’ Sullivan had long feet and with long toes – she was quite tall after all – and very soft soles. It was a beautiful, mature, pair of feet that happened to be white and English. Her soles had no wrinkles, yet, and were innocently pink at her heels, balls and toes and white at her arches. A magnificent pair of feet that awaited me to devour it. She must have had an easy life, I thought, and licked her feet and sucked her toes for nearly one and a half hour, before I was told to lick the shoes’ soles clean. My tongue must have done a good job as she removed her right shoe’s sole away from my hungry mouth to replace it with her left shoe. As I was licking the shoe sole, I heard Amna welcoming someone and then another young female voice. It was Mrs O’ Sullivan’s only daughter, Miss Katy. She was a blond young girl, in her early 20s I would say, very pretty and with a dominant attitude – as I would soon find out. Mrs O’ Sullivan had treated me fairly gently, even when she trampled me while wearing her sandals, but Miss Katy would prove to be quite sadistic. I licked her beautiful feet as normal and then licked her sneakers clean as well. Nothing strange happened. Trampling, nevertheless, was an art to her. She stood on my head, on both sides as well as the face, barefoot and with her sneakers on. She stood there with grace, I can imagine, as she never lost her balance, despite trying many different positions! Yes, there was a link between English ladies and female domination. It suited them well! After Miss Katy exhausted herself by trampling me, she decided to use my face to rest her bare feet on. It was a unique sensation to serve as a foot mat this young lady. To have a dominant, young, white and English pair of feet occupying, so deservedly, my poor face. However, the moment that truly marked me was when she ordered me to put her sneakers back on her feet, spat on my face and wiped her shoes’ soles on it ‘for a good measure,’ as she stated. Never in my life had I felt so degraded, but that young lady could have me drooling at her feet with a mere whisper.

14-02-2012, 07:05 AM
Episode Seven

We were back in England during the early days of September and everything went back to normal again. ‘Normal’, to me, meant licking, kissing and smelling the feet and shoes of my two ladies, as well as the feet and shoes of whoever Indian female was visiting either of my two mistresses. By then, all their friends were used to having me serve them in any way they desired, with their feet always being the focal point. I licked feet that were in sandals and other open shoes; licked shoes’ soles while on their feet; had my face stood on by Indian females with their feet either bare or in shoes; was used both as footmat and footstool by the same pairs of feet; licked sweaty, dirty, young and old female feet; smelled and kissed the same feet; took the place of the conventional doormat; treated their shoes with the same kind of ‘affection’; and did not feel humiliated regardless of what I had turned into. I was a foot freak that lived to worship Indian female feet! In addition, my drinking water was the same water that I had used the day before to clean the feet of my ladies and some days their guests’ feet too. Surely, I loved serving females as their foot slave, but quality mattered a lot more to me. I was almost certain that I desired to serve a white lady with class. Exactly for the same reasons that Mrs Shadal decided to take me as her and her daughter’s servant, females from Asian backgrounds lack the necessary dominance for such a lifestyle. On the contrary, it is easier to find white dominant ladies and one with elegance and class too. The kind of lady that could enslave any one man. So, while serving Indian females, at the same time I was seeking alternatives to my current life, though not to my lifestyle. ‘How’, was the first question that I asked myself. The answer was: university accommodation.

Fortunately, I did not have to look much, since the manager was a stern lady, Mrs Reeves. A good-looking, divorced, lady in her mid-40s, blonde and tall. Problems occurred when she said that it would be difficult to offer me accommodation as there was a waiting list, particularly, after I told her that I was renting in a house – meaning that I still had a place for the next academic year. So, I decided to beg a little and then a bit more until the moment I fell on to my knees, to show her how desperate I was. Silence fell into the room, when I said ‘Please, I beg you. Offer me a room and I will worship you. I will lick your feet, if you ask me to.’ That is how much I begged her, at the same time making my way to her feet.

- What makes you think that you are worthy of licking my feet?

- I just assumed th..

- You are not here to assume young man. Here you are to follow rules, IF I offer your accommodation. So, use your mouth to clean the soles of my shoes, instead of talking needlessly.

I licked the soles of her shoes eagerly and then she wiped them on my hair, for good measure she said. My enthusiasm while licking the soles of her shoes probably betrayed me as she asked whether I have had similar experiences before. I was honest with her from the beginning, to demonstrate my integrity, and offered to kiss, lick and smell her feet and shoes, my upper body as a foot mat and doormat, my face to stand on, along with what remained of my pride, if any. In a sense, I traded servitude towards Indian females to serving one single white lady. Maybe not of much class, but she had white feet. At least, I was in the right direction. That same evening I found myself lying on the floor, where I was turned into a footmat, with Mrs Reeves’ bare feet resting on my face. It felt nice to have a white pair of feet on my face. I could hardly imagine how great they must taste, but I was patient. After all, I would be spending time until early July there. Soon, I was licking, smelling and kissing her feet and shoes, serving her as a footmat almost every evening, as well as having her trample my torso and stand on my face. What I enjoyed most was the, now, visible effect of me licking her dirty feet. All the dirt from the floor was safely kept and savoured in my mouth and stomach. I even offered to drink the water I used to clean her feet in! I got even happier when I found out that she had two daughters, Hannah (age 23) and Charlotte (age 25).

I met Hannah during my usual evening visit, when she answered the door – wearing only black nylons on her feet and legs – although I had expected Mrs Reeves.

- Hi, is Mrs Reeves in?

- Hi, you must be Chris.

- Yes, I am.

- My mother is still in a meeting. Do you want to come in and wait for her? She said that you would be coming over.

- Yes, I will come in, if this is not a problem.

- Come.

And so, I followed her into the living room.

- Mom says you are licking her feet, is that true?

- Yes, I suppose it is.

- Why, do you like feet?

- Yes, very much so, but I also like behaving in a submissive manner.

- Would you like to see my feet and, perhaps, behave in a submissive manner?

- It would be a privilege.

She took off her nylons and returned her feet to rest on the coffee table. I took a small pillow and put it under her feet and then had a look at them.

- They are beautiful, allow me to say. May I kiss them, please?

- You can kiss them and lick them and smell them until mom comes home.

Just like both previous occasions, worshiping the feet of such a young, white, lady was sensational. Again, those white feet looked ‘cute’ and ‘pure’ and I was determined to honour them by giving my best. When her mother came in, I had properly introduced myself to her younger daughter and was seconds away from serving Mrs Reeves herself. After a long day, a ‘special’ footbath is what my lady always insists upon.

Ever since Charlotte heard of the above incident, she was looking forward to meeting me. She had her opportunity when she visited her mother for Christmas, together with Hannah, of course. She was so keen to meet me that she actually came and knocked the door of my room right after she arrived.

- Come in.

- If you licked my sister’s feet, I demand that you give my boots a thorough polish with your tongue.

As soon as she said that she sat on an armchair and put her boots in my lap after I got on my knees. The more dominant a female is, the more submissive I become and proved it by licking her muddy boots’ soles clean. She then decided to stand on my face, without removing her shoes and even wiped her soles on my hair! Needless to say, that young lady has great potential. That was a girl that I had not even met yet. We were introduced by her mother, after we got back together, and I was immediately used as a doormat just before she walked in. Time went on like that until July, with me only serving Mrs Reeves and some times her daughters. At some point, I admit, I missed the kind of variety of feet I was entitled to serve when I was Mrs Shadal and Miss Amna’s foot slave. Any time I told my lady that I would not mind serving any of her female friends she said she did not know anyone that open-minded. Was I wrong about white females and their sense of domination? It took some time before I found out, but first I learned about black female supremacy. Sasha was a colleague of Charlotte’s and grew very interesting when she heard about me. So, one weekend Charlotte visited her mother with Sasha.

When they got home, apparently, Sasha asked Mrs Reeves about me and requested my services. So, while I was watching TV, someone knocked on my door.

- Who is it?

- A friend of Charlotte’s.

Despite my surprise, I opened the door and invited her in.

- I am Sasha. I hear that you a kind young man that desires to worship female feet. Is that right boy?

- Yes, Ms Sasha, it is. How may I be of service to you?

- You know something white boy? I have a fetish too. Has anyone ever pissed in your mouth?

- No, Ms Sasha. Never.

- Then I’ll be the first one. I always wanted to humiliate someone so here is the deal. You will be allowed to worship my feet, if you agree to be my toilet. How appropriate?

- Yes, Ms Sasha, indeed. It will be my honour to be your toilet.

- Remove my boots and socks. I want you to lick my feet, then smell them and, finally, kiss my feet while massaging them.

Her feet were quite beautiful and rather salty in taste. I loved licking her feet. It just felt right to lick the feet of black young lady. It was a very humble acknowledgement of what her race had been through, a gesture of humility. Licking her soles and between her toes, sucking her toes and heels and gently licking her instep and ankles was simply enough like worshipping an elegant creature. Smelling her feet was a similarly unique experience. Every single breath I took was better than the precious oxygen we all need to live. Kissing her feet was like paying tribute to her beauty and superiority. However, she took extra pleasure when it was time to stand on my head, particularly, when she stood on my face with and without the boots on her feet. It was only normal that I then had to lick those boots clean. She seemed happy to have found a white boy who desired to serve her in such a submissive manner.
After a while her boots were perfectly cleaned and my mouth and tongue felt dry and dirty.

- How about a drink? To rinse your mouth, but you must swallow what I am about to offer to your thirsty mouth. Are you ready?

- Yes, Ms Sasha. I really need to drink something now, thank you.

- Get on the floor and lay on your back. Face up, mouth open.

Then it hit me, as she lowered her panties and started lowering herself too over my face. It was so great worshipping her feet that I forgot all about my toilet responsibilities. I waited patiently until she was comfortably seated on my face. She first only allowed a few drops to make their way to my ‘inner self’, through my mouth, and then released a stream of golden nectar that tasted salty, like her foot sweat. She then ordered me to clean her bottom with a tissue and left.

22-02-2012, 02:52 PM
i love this story
please continue


08-03-2012, 10:09 PM
Long story and good written. I loved it :-)