Proposal To Become Her Foot Slave

As a foot slave, I knelt before the queen. I was ashamed of my appearance but I had a very long journey to reach this remote country and have the honor of an audience with my Queen. Lying on the sofa, wearing only a tunic of white cloth covering only the lower half of her body and leaving her chest totally apparent, she was surrounded by two still amazon guards. She was young, not more than thirty years old. I am only twenty-two. In this country, only women were allowed to take power. The men did not have the status of citizens, so they had even less right to have access to the great hall of the palace to address the queen.

But the young woman had given me this honor in my capacity as a foreigner from afar. “Well, I would be curious to know what you want, visitor.”  The Queen asked. Majesty, my request will surprise you but … I would like to enter your service and become your [slave](https://cfnm-parties.com).

She looked astonished. It was true that in the queen’s palace many slaves were busy cleaning the floors and walls, making her bed, emptying her chamber-pot and bathing her, but it was generally A status that one did not want to take of oneself. The slaves were rather old criminals of small scale, sold on the markets.

“I do not understand,” said the queen. Why would a man want to give up his human status to become my dog? For that is what my slaves are for. Their lives are very difficult. What motivates you? “Being a slave is the only thing I know how to do. But not a slave like the others. I wish to be a foot slave. What exactly would a [foot slave](https://cfnm-parties.com/en/channel.html&type=30&video=1441241078) do for me? The foot slave is a servile being whose whole life is dedicated to the care of the feet of a woman, of his mistress. Massage, support, caress, lick … An object of pleasure for its owner. “That seems to me to be an unenviable existence. Few men would be willing to give up their old life to spend eternity at my feet, like beasts.” “That is what I ask of you, majesty.” My heart was beating fast. I did not know if she would refuse but I was hoping not. The queen looked intrigued. She dismissed her guards with a gesture, considering that I was not dangerous, and beckoned me to approach. We were now alone in the great hall.
I sat down on the floor, before the Queen’s feet. She looked at me and her eyes lowered. “Explain to me,” she ordered me. Tell me what you have done up to now and what made you want to enter my service.”
“Very well,” I said, starting my story. I was born very far from here, into a poor family. As my parents could not take care of me, I was sold to be the servant of a wealthy bourgeois, to be educated, and later to become his assistant or squire. Things like that. But it happens that a very fortunate duchess bought me for a very precise purpose: to make me her foot slave. Indeed, when she was still young, her father had taken her on a journey to an Eastern nation where women are worshiped as goddesses and where very special. Slaves are trained to give them pleasure through their Feet.

After having tasted these pleasures and returned to the country, she dreamed of nothing but one thing: To be able to recover these particular sensations. So she bought me when I could hardly walk and entrusted myself to the care of a temple so that I could be educated as she wished. So, when I was older, she could use me as she pleased, to satisfy her desires.

I spent my childhood in this temple, under severe matrons who instilled discipline and the love of the feet. First, I learned of course servitude. Walking on all fours, expressing oneself with humility, showing great respect for my mistress. Then I was trained to take care of her feet.

Very old techniques of massage were taught to me, secrets of preparation of perfumed oils for the feet, various uses of my tongue and my fingers to relax this part of the body of my mistress … Finally, I had not yet met my mistress but it was the matrons who played this role. I learned to bear the most fragrant feet, to remain motionless and silent for several hours straight under a woman’s feet, to lick and swallow the dirt under the feet of the matrons, sweat, dust or dead skin, and sometimes, To content myself with it as the only meal I would receive.

Finally, it was decided one day that I was ready. I was then sixteen. My mistress was fifty-five.

She used me in every possible way. I explored her feet from multiple angles and tasted her feet an incalculable number of times. She called me her “[Foot Boy](https://cfnm-parties.com/en/channel.html&type=30&video=1441241078)”.

As she walked a great deal and liked to take long walks, she often went home exhausted in the evening and was in charge of dressing herself.

She loved to walk me on a leash and strut around in the streets with me. I was completely naked, being forbidden to wear the lightest garment because it would have made me a human being, and I was a slave. And among the slaves, the foot-slave is the most insignificant, the one who is closest to the state of the object, still inferior to the animal.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/djssbc/proposal_to_become_her_foot_slave