I had just returned from holiday,and was about to board the airport bus to the train station,when I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder,and a rather harsh and stentorian voice in my ear,said “just a moment,sir”.Aparrently,they were having a crackdown at the airport on litter louts,and, fumbling for change at the last moment,I had inadvertently,and unknowingly,dropped some sweet wrappers from my pocket,which I had intended to deposit in a proper receptacle,when I got the chance.But,not accepting my excuses,The Litterman (for that was who he was),escorted me to the Litter Office,to be formally brought to book.

Upon learning that I was currently unemployed,The Litter Authority had no hesitation,under the new Litter Legislation,in sentencing me to 28 days Foot Service Duty,at the cabin crew’s Comfort Station (the large shelter where the Air Hostesses waited for the bus that would take them to where they wanted to go,i.e,staff car park,rail station,etc.) The sentence to begin Monday (today was Sunday),hours of service,to be 8.a.m – 8.pm. 7 days a week.I was issued with a travel warrant for the duration,and a pair of knee pads.Finally,I was told that I must accord the Air Hostesses the highest possible respect,at all times,and that it was absolutely of paramount importance,that I  must always obey them.

When I got home,and told my family what I was going to be doing for the next 28 days,and why,and expecting some sympathy,I was instead told I deserved everything I got,for dropping litter.It was the likes of me,they said,that was bringing shame on the country.Though some eyebrows were raised,as to the nature of my punishment.Except for my sister,who said she was glad.

Monday came,and I reported directly to the Comfort Station as instructed,and was signed in by an Air Hostess,on ‘The Footboy’s Daily Record Sheet’.This was the document on which,if I served them well,it was in the power of the Air Hostesses,to recommend a reduction in my sentence for good behaviour,and upon which they recorded their comments on me,to facilitate the assessment of my conduct.Just then,the Air Hostess who had signed me in,boarded her bus,and over her shoulder,commanded me to “tidy the place up,footboy!”After about 2 minutes,a gaggle of 4 Air Hostesses enteredthe Comfort Station,sat on the bench,and,with a sigh,gratefully eased their feet partially out of their shoes,after their long,tiring flight duty.

Then,one of them ordered me to my knees,in front of them.Then,in turn,with their feet freshly out of their shoes,they pressed both panty hosed feet firmly into my face,and made me smell them,and commanded me to kiss them.Then,rubbing their feet on my face,by way of a massage,I was,in this fashion,passed from one Air Hostess,to the next.Their feet emanated,shall I say,a rich aroma,and I was to come to know very well,each of their distinctive perfumes.Then,one of them ordered me to my hands and knees,in front of them,parallel  with the bench,and they all rested their tired,aching feet,on my proffered back.Then,the Air Hostess facing my head,crossed her ankles on the back of my neck,to further enhance her comfort,and which soon caused my neck to ache.Not that she,or her friends noticed,and still less cared.To them,I was just an object that existed purely for their comfort,and they chattered amongst themselves like a cage full of canaries,and ignored me accordingly.After what seemed like an age,(though the buses were every 20 minutes),the bus arrived,and the 4 Air Hostesses released me from my duty to them,and put their shoes back on.Then,the Air Hostess who had been crossing and recrossing her ankles on the back of my neck,went and wrote a comment on ‘The Footboy’s Daily Record Sheet’.She then went and boarded the bus with her friends,without so much as a look or a word to me,from any of them.But,as the bus pulled out,they regarded me through the window with a look of such withering disdain,that I am sure that I felt myself shrivel,under their contempt.My self respect,shot to pieces.My self esteem,atomised.My dignity,gone.For,such was the nature,of my punishment.

I had barely 2 minutes to pick up their litter of crisp packets,drinks cartons,sandwich wrappers,fruit peel,etc,that the Air Hostesses had dropped so blatantly,so casually,and so tauntingly,all about me (Oh!,the exquisite irony,of it!!),before I was summoned to serve 2 Air Hostesses who had just missed the previous bus.I was commanded to my knees,and to kiss their heels,as they popped them from their shoes.Then,they took turns to order me to sniff the insides of their shoes,and they pressed my head with their foot,as I did so,deep into their shoes.And so it went on,on that first day of my 28 day sentence,for 12 long,miserable hours.After the 8.pm.bus left,I remembered about ‘The Footboy’s Daily Record Sheet’,and went to look at it,secure in the belief that I had given good service and satisfaction all day,and equally confident,that that would be reflected in the many comments that the Air Hostesses had made about me.So you will readily comprehend my utter shock,and profound dismay,when such indictments as “must do better!”,demanded the first one.”Not good enough!”,complained another,and,”must apply himself more diligently!”,the considered opinion of yet another of many,blazed out accusingly at me,like the unsatisfactory school report of a lazy,and inept pupil.

‘The Footboy’s Daily Record Sheet’,was full of such defamatory condemnations,and it dawned on me then,with awful clarity and conviction,that there never was any hope of remission of sentence,for good behaviour.Why were the Air Hostesses so cruel? Partly,they enjoyed their malicious amusement,and were often very inventive and outrageous in their false assertions against me.But,mostly,it was to ensure that I serve them for my full term.Of course,the Air Hostesses had the power of the ultimate sanction,of recommending an extention of my sentence,but I was given to understand that the Air Hostesses would not implement this,except in the instance of the one unforgivable crime,of disobedience.I suppose it was best to be under no illusions,and to understand perfectly my position,from day one.

Before the end of that first week,there was no more powerful a symbol of subjugation,than the heel of the Air Hostess.And by the end of my second week,at the service of the Air Hostesses,I had almost been brainwashed,to accept and believe that I had found my true station in life.serving at the feet of these authoritarian,and supremely arrogant females.They held me in thrall,with a sense of awe that went far beyond the deepest respect.

Sometimes,the Air Hostesses seemed regal,stately,elegant,refined and sophisticated,in their demeanour and stylish uniforms,and often with their hair up in the styles that I found very attractive,from the elegant chignon,through the pony tail,and the ‘pineapple’ style,sported by some of the younger Air Hostesses,equally beguiling,in it’s own way.And,as they were some of the most beautiful girls that I had ever seen,it was like being tormented by angels.But then there were times,and they were many,when I was forcefully disabused of such fanciful notions,by their powerful foot aroma,and various other examples of unangelic attributes.Sometimes,the only way I knew that they had deigned to acknowledge my existence,was when they might gently massage a foot on my face,as I sat,knelt,or laid at their feet.Yet I was to find that these majestic ladies,for all their poise,could,on occasions,with their conversations and their colourful language,cause me to blush to the roots,when in the company of some of the more lively,fun loving,outrageously naughty colleagues.And sometimes,especially among the newer,more recent recruits,to whom having a footboy to serve them was still a novelty,a far more exuberant behaviour was often exhibited,and they would be playful and animated,in their attitude toward me,my face,an amusing plaything for their feet.And sometimes,the Air Hostesses would come into the Comfort Station having changed out of uniform,and be bare legged,wearing mules,sandals,stilettos,balet flats,etc.But,what ever their attire,what ever their footwear,what never changed,was my sense of their total authority over me,which,given the circumstances of my situation,is not hard to understand.But,even more powerful than that,was my sense of their exquisite arrogance,that,to them,it was the most natural thing in the world,to these superior beings,that,always,a footboy be available to serve at their feet.

And so,after what seemed like a lifetime,my last few days drew to a close.But then,on the final day of my 28 day sentence,things took a turn for the worse.There were a small number of male stewards,and it seemed to me,that at least half of them were gay.And,while it was against the rules for the male stewards to avail themselves of the services of the footboy,if ever a rule was made to be broken,this was it.Most of them obeyed the rule,and did not touch me,and did not want to.Yet I was to experience that there were two of them who showed the most cavalier disregard,and contempt,for this edict,and flouted the regulation in a most flagrant manner,for the pleasure and amusement of themselves,and to show off to the Air Hostesses.And the Air Hostesses,while they did not condone the breaking of this rule,would not tolerate any disobedience from their footboy,and this extended to their male colleagues.And this was my most miserable of times,as it happened,on the final day of my 28 day sentence.While sat on the floor behind one of the Air Hostesses,serving her by inhaling her pungent foot aroma,as she massaged her hot foot on my face,my face held in place for her by a foot of each of her two friends,standing on either side of me,each of them massaging a foot on my cheeks,in the same standing attitude as herself,there was the most disagreeable,and alarming turn of events,when the young Air Hostesses I was serving,willingly,and complicitly,gave way to two young,gay male stewards,who were quite openly holding hands,and kissing each other.You will readily appreciate my horror,then,when the young Air Hostess in front of me,was replaced by one of the two gay,male stewards,and the various conversations grew hushed and quiet,as the Comfort Station’s occupants interest was piqued,by these new proceedings.Held steady by his boyfriend to his left,the other gay male steward,with his back to me,having already untied his shoe lace,eased his right foot from his shoe,and then,without ceremony,he placed his black socked foot directly into the middle of my face,and then adjusted slightly,until he could feel my nose,completely buried in his toes.He then commanded me to smell his foot.In the moment before I inhaled,I just had time to register,right in front of my eyes,that the material of his black sock,at his heel,was flat,and stiff,and shiny,and an irrefutable testament that his socks,and therefore it also seemed reasonable to assume that also his feet,had not experienced the application of soap and water,for many days.Although this was certainly a dire warning,nothing could have prepared me,for that mind numbing shock,at the moment of inhalation.It is best to leave to your imagination,the noxious nature of his foot odour,as I find my powers of articulation hopelessly inadequate to the task.Suffice it to say,that it made bad eggs,smell like Chanel No 5.I had barely registered the approval and delight of the watchers,as they laughed and clapped.But,worse was to come,my ordeal, just beginning.Held steady,by his laughing,giggling boyfriend,he reached behind and down,peeled off his sock,and returned his now bare foot,to my face.He commanded me to first kiss his heel,then his arch,then finally,the ball of his foot.Then,with his egregious foot odour emanating in palpable waves,he forced me to dine on the most unapetising,unsavoury,and unpalatable,of 4 course meals,to lick thoroughly,between his toes.This level of degredation had some of his audience in rapture,some in hysterics,and others were crying with laughter.By now,I was also crying.But I was crying with shame and self pity,which just seemed to heighten the viewing pleasure of the watchers,as,all the while,the two gay stewards explored each others mouths with their tongues.Then,after what seemed an eternity,the bus arrived,and all boarded,save for my tormentor,who,not finished with me yet,positioned me on my back,for my final indignity.With my face below the doorstep of the bus,he,still barefoot,stepped onto my face,and,for what seemed the longest minute of my life,and to the loud cheers and applause of the still watching and appreciative audience,my face,mashed and contorted under his weight,he then performed the most convincing,and authentic of victory poses,and my humiliation was complete.Then,at last,the bus driver asked him if he intended boarding the bus,saying that he had no time for such nonsense,and that he had a schedule to keep to.Then,as the bus pulled away,gradually,the sound of high spirits from the cabin crew,still boisterous in the afterglow of such splendid entertainment,dwindled into silence.

Then,getting up,drying my tears and trying to pull myself together,I congratulated myself that at least,and all importantly,I had not disobeyed my cruel tormentors.And,after this soul destroying experience,oh,how I longed to be out of this place forever!Thank goodness,it was my last day here.

Then,I had a final look at ‘The Footboy’s Daily Record Sheet’,to see yet more wholly unfair comments about me,and while there were many,as expected,I was still somewhat relieved that the Air Hostesses had stayed true to their word,and not condemned me to the hell of an extended sentence.For,while I had never once disobeyed them,the nagging suspicion always lurked at the back of my mind,that they would,at the last moment,have some cruel trick up their sleeve.But,no.I was free!At long last!

So,I tidied up the Comfort Station,one last time.All that remained now,was to get my discharge paper signed,by an Air Hostess.It just so happened then,that the ankle crossing Air Hostess,who had given me such a tired and aching neck,on the very first day of my sentence,and had done so on many occasions since,entered the Comfort Station,and,before she could order me to my knees,for the purpose of resting her feet on the back of my neck,as was clearly her intention,I said to her,meekly,”excuse me Miss” (for that was how I had been told to address the Air Hostesses),”but,would you please sign my discharge paper,as I have now completed my 28 day sentence of ‘Foot Duty Service’,for littering?”.The glare she gave me clearly conveyed,that if she had anything to do with it,I would never be allowed to leave this place.She then pulled down that day’s ‘Footboy’s Daily Record Sheet’,for this would serve as my release document,and begrudgingly,and with the greatest possible reluctance,and the poorest possible grace,she wrote on the back of the document,’Discharged From Foot Duty Service’,and signed her name,which read,’Samantha’.Then,she handed it to me.”Thankyou,Miss Samantha”,I said,for now that I knew her name,it seemed to me to be the correct protocol.For,while I was about to board the bus in less than 10 minutes,and freedom,it was imperative that I maintain my servile,submissive demeanour,to the very end.I folded my treasure,and put it in my back pocket.She startled me then,by speaking to me directly,as she had only ever spoken to me before,for the purpose of issuing her commands.”I will miss you,footboy”,she lamented.I was quite lost for words,when she continued,”you are a very comfortable footstool”,she complimented me.”Thankyou,Miss Samantha”,I managed to get out,extremely ill at ease,in her close proximity,and in other,more normal circumstances,I am sure I would have found her very attractive.My legs nearly buckled,when next she said,”will you miss us,footboy?”.By now,I was praying for the bus to arrive.”Miss Samantha”,I replied,”it is certainly not lost on me,what a privilege I have been accorded,and it has undoubtedly been the greatest honour of my life”.”But,will you miss us?”,she repeated.”It has given me the greatest of pleasure”,I blurted,not knowing what else to say,”to be allowed to serve at the feet of yourself,and your colleagues,in my most humble way,and I shall miss you all very much,Miss Samantha”.At that,the expression in her eyes changed.The mischievous glint,that was common to all of the Air Hostesses was still there,but there was something else,too.Cunning? Inspiration? Then,at long,long last,the bus arrived,and,in what I thought to myself,would be my last act of obsequiousness,I said,”please,Miss Samantha,after you”,but,she told me to board the bus first.Thank goodness it’s over,I thought,as I put my foot on the bottom step of the bus.But,just then,I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder,and a rather harsh,and stentorian voice in my ear,said,”just a moment,sir” Somehow,my discharge paper had contrived to fall out of my back pocket,whilst boarding the bus,and had fallen to the ground.And The Litterman,(for that was who he was),not accepting my excuses,escorted me to The Litter Office,to be officially brought to book.But,in passing Miss Samantha,the ankle crossing Air Hostess,she flashed me such a smile of malicious triumph,that I would have collapsed in shock,and devastation,had it not been for the strong,supporting arm,of The Litterman,in the certain knowledge of what Miss Samantha had done.She had pulled from my back pocket,my discharge paper,which she herself,had signed,albeit reluctantly,and with the poorest possible grace,and dropped it on the ground,where The Litterman could not fail to spot it.Upon learning that I was currently unemployed,The Litter Authority,had no hesitation,under the new Litter Legislation,to sentencing me,as a second offence,to 100 days of ‘Foot Duty Service’,at the cabin crew’s Comfort Station.Hours of duty,8.am – 8.pm.7 days a week. The sentence to run concurrently with the first,which meant I was to report for duty,and start my new sentence at 8.am.,the next day.I was issued with a travel warrant for the duration,and some new knee pads.

When I got home,and told my family what I was going to be doing for the next 100 days,and why,and and expecting some sympathy,they instead said that it served me right,if I can’t learn my lesson.Littering was a very serious problem these days,they pontificated,and my sister danced,and clapped her hands, in approval of my new sentence,and said that she was going to apply to become an Air Hostess.Then,she’d show me,she said.

Miss Samantha was raised to celebrity status,by her colleagues.The ingenuity and cruelty of her method of securing my Foot Service Duty for herself and her colleagues,for a further 100 days,appealed tremendously,to their sense of malicious fun.It is exactly 5 years,and 1 day,now,since Miss Samantha so cleverly and so cruelly entrapped me into serving in the Comfort Station for a further 100 days,and each subsequent sentence,being more severe than the last.And,as you might suspect,it is Miss Samantha who has always found a way,to thwart all my entitlements to freedom.I have been totally conquered,by Miss Samantha.By a combination of cunning,cleverness,and cruelty,she has ensured that I have continued to serve in the Comfort Station,at the feet of herself,and her colleagues.She is constantly toasted,and celebrated by admiring cabin crews,worldwide,such is the measure of her notoriety.When in the Comfort Station,she is encouraged by her colleagues to treat me as her own,personal property,her personal footstool,her “very comfortable footstool”.She never tires of regaling her colleagues,with all her various accounts of how she has triumphed over me,and on these occasions,the Comfort Station almost shakes,with the gleeful laughter of her colleagues.And all this,as she rests her feet,on the back of my neck,and with the frequent crossing of her ankles.And that is where her feet were today,as she looked particularly pleased with herself,on the first day of my latest sentence,after first commanding me to first sit cross legged on the floor,facing her.Then,as the dozen or so of the other Air Hostesses (including my own sister,who has become an Air Hostess,and has made good her promise many times,now,to “show me”,and who idolizes Miss Samantha),listened to her,and watched her,she placed both of her warm,panty hosed feet,firmly on my face,over my nose and mouth,and,filling my head with her foot scent,”nice,deep breaths,footboy”,she instructed.There were intermittent gales of mirth from her colleagues,as she went on.”Footboy told me he would miss us all very much,didn’t you,footboy?”She moved her foot from my mouth,for a moment,and I answered her obediently,”yes,Miss Samantha”.”Tell them!”,she commanded. And with her foot,she moved my face,first right,and then left,to face the Air Hostesses,who were sat on the other benches,and I said both times,”I would have missed you all very much indeed,Mistresses”,(for I did not know how else to address them,collectively).Then,with her foot,she brought my face towards her again.She pressed the toes of her left foot over my nose,and said,”big,deep breaths,footboy”,then she ordered me,”open wide”.Obeying her command,I opened my mouth wide,and she inserted the panty hosed toes of her right foot,deep inside.Then,her face,and her voice,full of the pleasure,and the power she was feeling,she commanded,”suck my toes,footboy!”.And it was in this fashion,with her face,her voice,and the heady,intoxicating cocktail,of the sight,the smell,the feel,and the taste of her feet,filling my world,that she went on.”Suck harder,footboy!”.Then,to her laughing colleagues (and no one laughed harder,than my dear sister),”footboy looked so sad,that I just simply had to take pity on him”,she said,watching me suck her toes.”And I knew that he must have been wondering what to do with himself,now,that could possibly be more important than serving us,and it was obvious to me,that he would be so lost,and forlorn,without us,telling him what to do.Am I right,footboy?”,she asked me,at last,removing her toes from my mouth and nose.”Yes,Miss Samantha,that is what I was thinking”,I replied,complianty.For,by now,and long established,obedience,compliance,servility,subservience,had been indelibly etched into my psyche,by the Air Hostesses,and I was ruled and dominated,with an almost innate authority,by even the most junior,of them.”Now,footboy,face that way”,she said,pointing,to her left,with her foot,where the majority of the other Air Hostesses sat,including my sister,enjoying the pantomime.”Get to your hands and knees,footboy!”,ordered Miss Samantha.”I want my footstool”.Then,with her heel,she pushed my neck down to the required height,and lowered both feet,to my neck.Then,with a happy,luxurious sigh,she crossed her ankles on her footstool,her “very comfortable footstool”.Then,wanting to prolong her pleasure a little longer,she enquired of me,”where do you belong,footboy?”.”In the Comfort Station,Miss Samantha”I replied,to her satisfaction.”And,what were you born to do,footboy?,she enquired further of me.”I was born to serve at the feet of you,and my other Mistresses,Miss Samantha”,I informed her,to her obvious approval,and gratification.Shortly after that,the bus arrived,and,Miss Samantha,being the last to board,said to me,with malicious glee,her heart gladdened,at the soul crushing injustice of it,from the step of the bus,and to the huge delight and pleasure of the other Air Hostesses,”footboy,this Comfort Station is a disgrace! Just look at all this litter! Clean it all up,at once!”Then,with that most cruel of parting shots,I watched the bus pull away from the Comfort Station,the windows full of the laughing,happy faces of Miss Samantha,my sister,and their colleagues.

And so ended the first day of my new sentence. 5 years,for persistent littering. The new sentence,to run concurrently,with the last. Hours of duty,8.am – 8pm. 7 days a week..I was issued with a travel warrant for the duration,and given a spare key,to the knee pads cupboard.

When I got home,and told my family what I was going to be doing for the next 5 years,and why,and expecting some sympathy,they instead disowned me as a shameful litter lout,and my sister could not have been more delighted,and has promised me that she is looking forward to continuing to “show me”,for the next 5 years.I have had plenty of time to think,and I know in my heart that my sister is fully entitled to her revenge against me,for I have been a very poor older brother,to her.And now,she can exult in making me miserable,for another 5 years.

I have now resigned myself to this life of serving at the feet of Miss Samantha,my sister,and their colleagues,in the Comfort Station,for I cannot hope to get the better of the infinitely superior cunning,and intelligence,of Miss Samantha.Looking back,things did improve for me,after the first year.The Human Rights people came in,after being alerted,possibly by a tip off from an Air Hostess,and the airlines were forced to make it a sackable offence,for the male stewards to avail themselves of the services of the footboy.The gay male stewards,who had so emphatically humiliated me,on that very last day of my initial 28 day sentence,is still here,but unconcerned.It was just a bit of fun,to them.Sometimes,in the final moments before I finally fall asleep in my humble bedsit,I ask myelf,’what is the point of me?’.And my answer to myself,is always the same – the point of you,david,the whole point,is that you exist to serve at the feet of your female superiors.At the feet of the Air Hostesses.Foot Goddesses,all.

God!,my neck is killing me! I wonder if Miss Samantha will be in,tomorrow?