Welcome!

Julie and I worked in the local supermarket. We'd been reasonably friendly for a number of years, though were never going to be bosom pals. Our relationship had become quite special though. I was now like a shoeshine boy to her and on several occasions had served as her full-time slave. It was a very satisfactory arrangement. And how that had begun?

It had started one Saturday evening in the back warehouse of the building. We were working the late shift and fooling around, clearing stuff up. I was brushing up some fruit on the floor that had got crushed by the heavy pallets that had been pulled through the warehouse earlier that day. I bent down to pick up and apple that was clinging to the dirty ground, when all of a sudden, Julie stepped up in front of me and trod straight on the apple, crushing it further into the floor.

Footslave Themepark

Part 1 – The Welcome

The four young women and their boyfriends, all in their 20s, reached the entrance to the theme park. They read the sign on the gate:

'Welcome to the Footslave Themepark!

Strictly adults only.

No admittance to persons under the age of 18.'

'This is going to be fun!', exclaimed Olga, the leader of the group.

Her friends knew she was right. It had been Olga's idea to come to the theme park, and it was a brilliant idea! The excuse was to celebrate Angela’s 25th birthday -- not that this particular group of friends needed any excuse to humiliate pathetic, male footslaves. They were all haughty, arrogant, spoilt young people -- confident in their innate superiority over mere slaves. And what better place to exercise and demonstrate that superiority than in a theme park devoted to the subject of foot slavery?

The Door to Door Footslave

Part 1

Master Peter knocked on the door of the run-down looking apartment. Kneeling at his feet, naked but for his slave shorts and collar and chain, was one of the company's footslaves.

Peter had been commissioned with drumming up as much business as possible in this poorer part of town as the company was desperate to expand its client base. They already had plenty of customers on the richer side of town, but the company directors were gambling that the poorer inhabitants, many of whom could not afford their own slaves, would embrace the services their company offered even more willingly - providing, of course, the price was right.

"You're going to be licking the floor clean first, Shithead", she cooed down at me. She was now sipping on a mug of tea, no doubt to help with her hangover. As the hot, tasty liquid slid down her throat, another lump of mud slid down mine. What very different lives we led!

"Then I'll be checking your homework.." What this meant was she would basically rip up the reams of paper I was expected to take to her. The paper was covered with tributes to her, handwritten, and to order. This week's task was to fill 50 lined sheets with "A piece of mud on Mistress Daisy's shoe is worth fifty of me." I was to ensure that my hanbdwriting was neat throughout and the words weren't too big. It had taken me many hours that week to ensure they were perfect. It was a sign of my willingness to do anything for Daisy and also a way of ensuring that I was truly sure of my place. It was true: I was worth a fiftieth of a piece of mud on Daisy's shoe and writing it out so many times certainly helped drum it in. And every week she would inspect it and then nonchalantly rip the sheets up or burn them. She had even been known to make me eat them. That was not much fun but it amused her greatly, so it served a real purpose.

I arrived at Daisy's house as I did every Saturday morning, dressed in tight leather jeans and after taking off my jacket, wearing a t-shirt that read "Shithead." It was the name Daisy most frequently called me when we were not at work. Daisy was my boss at work and out of work she was my mistress. We'd come to this agreement after she found an invoice for a femdom magazine in my incoming mail. She was intrigued by what she saw when she read more about the magazine on its website. Indeed she has since carried out some of the stories she has read on the site.

On and on Dave licked, carefully removing any dirt, grass, grit or who knows what from Kim's shoes and boots. Kim would have been amused to see him there on his knees cradling a pair of her hiking boots in his hands, removing the mud from the treads. His tongue began to hurt quite badly after about these boots. Removing the grit from the sharp edges of soles. These were tough boots and were suitably dirty as Kim liked to walk during her time out. He still brought them to as much of a shine as you can hiking boots, with delicately sucked clean laces.

Aurora Sexy Assassin

-by Joaquin (a.k.a. "bootboy" / "bootslover")
Dedicated to the lovely Aurora

EPISODE 1: "Death comes in black thong panties"

The long straight lonely highway stretch for several miles for as far as the eye could see. On both sides of it, a vast desert landscape, warm and only beginning to show signs of life as the sun steadily rose on the far horizon. Other than a frightened gecko that scurried pass across the wide deserted avenue and a flight of vultures overhead, and one patient rider well hidden behind a boulder, the infinite scenery was definitely lifeless.

Saturday came around and Dave arrived at Kim's room on time as requested, hungry to serve. He lightly tapped on the doior and Kim promptly answered with a sweet, sadistic smile on her face. She ushered him in, and once the door was shut, naturally ushered him to the floor. He dropped at once and almost synchronised with the snap of her fingers as she pointed to her feet, planted kisses over her socked feet. The socks were black and a little sweaty. Dave figured she must have been for a run that morning. He sniffed the aroma lightly as he kissed, and she towered above. Man, it smelt good, thought Dave. The scent of life itself.

Dave licked both of Kim's boots to perfection, they gleamed like new. It made him feel so proud to have acomplished something so wonderful. To enhance Kim's appearance even more by ensuring her boots were as clean as could be was an incredible honorur to him, and Kim felt it as he looked up at her, a look of slavish devotion in his eyes.

"Ah, look at how proud he is to have licked your boots, Kim," chuckled Claire. "Isn't it a great feeling?" "Oh yes," replied Kim as she crouched down a little to examine her boots, turning them on the heel from side to side. "He's done a good job, too. You've really trained him well. I would love to have a shoelicker of my own!!"

Part 1

He lay shackled on the floor of his gloomy, windowless cell. Only the single, bare light bulb in the ceiling kept him from being in total darkness. The only sign of life was the occasional sound of the voices of the female guards outside the cell door as they patrolled the corridors.

It was more of a dungeon than a cell - straw on the ground for a bed; a hole in the ground for a toilet. The sole item of furniture was, somewhat bizarrely, a thick, heavy wooden chair in the middle of the room – a chair he couldn’t even reach far enough to sit on due to the chain connecting him to the wall. All he could do was lie or kneel in front of it. Why was there a chair in the middle of the room? It obviously wasn’t for his use. Who was it for?