What happened under table?

This weekend I had another meeting with My German “servant” hans. Nothing special, but when I took him to diner last night, I had a special “game” in store for him.

I was sitting opposite of My servant at the table and I had ordered him to praise Me each time I’d kick him under the table. Also, he was not to make a sound or even move or twist his face when the tip of My boot hit him!

I had this idea from an experience I had a few years ago with My German Friends when We had diner at My Friend Charlotte’s place. While dining three slaves had to sit under a large table constantly kissing and licking Our boots. Our hostess told Us winking that She always had to stretch her legs when sitting for a longer time.

No need to tell that We understood the hint immediately.

From the sounds under Our table, I could tell that the slaves at Our boots had a rough time. one or two of them got a bleeding noose and as a result they were punished for soiling Our boots with their blood.

Of course, at the end they had to lick away all the blood stains from the leather.  

Anyway, last night servant hans (I call him “knecht”) got his chins black and blue and I was worshipped and praised like never before.

For example he called Me “the most beautiful rose with the largest and sharpest thorns…”,   “the Goddess of Queens and the Queen of the Goddesses…”, and that I should be worshipped and served every second of the day…. Of course he already knew that I like men worshipping and adoring Me, but I liked the combination of pain and adoration, triggering it with a good kick.

Maybe a combination of sadism and vanity…?

Lady Contessa Pat