Patheticus Minimus 3D

Once again, you find me lying on the dirty floor of the bus with my humble head next to my master and mistress's SHOES and SOCKS - specifically between my mistress Mukta's SNEAKERED and SOCKED ANKLES whilst she sits happily next to her husband, my magnificent master Simon sir. They appear to be cavorting and canoodling with one another on the otherwise empty upper deck of the bus. But none of that, of course, is any of my damn business! My only business, as their SOCK SLAVEY, is to ponder and contemplate how I may become an even better slave to their SOCKS!   Kneeling with my humble head suitably bowed in between my masters i.e. my mistress Mukta's SOCKS! I am not fit even to look at these SOCKS; only to think  about them... ...and how I can become a better servant to them! Not forgetting my bondage to my master's  SOCKS also, of course! His SOCKS must be treated with the exact same respect as my mistress's SOCKS... ...being the SOCKS of her sexual partner! I can ...

Master Simon sir brusquely orders me to praise his wife’s new BOOTS and to thank her for wearing long SOCKS inside her BOOTS so that I can observe her SOCKTOPS. I hastily obey master Simon sir as I kiss-worship his lovely wife’s BOOTS: ‘Oh pray Ms Mukta madam, if it pleases you Ms Mukta madam, truly your new BOOTS look fabulous on you mistress, if this slave may be so bold mistress please don’t have me whipped mistress? And God bless you for wearing long socks inside your boots, mistress, so that this unworthy slave might study and admire your equally fabulous SOCKTOPS, mistress. The mistress is very kind, mistress madam, begging your female pardon miss?’ Ms Mukta says nothing other than to snort derisively down at me – the worm at her feet. As the master and mistress turn to leave me to rot in the dirt behind them, I overhear the master-sir congratulating his wife on her humiliation of me with her BOOTS and SOCKS, and I gather that the happy couple are now heading home to make l...

The beautiful customer-mistress is wearing long, black leather kneeboots over her blue denim jeans, meaning I have no way of knowing the nature of her SOCKS, if any, inside her boots. No way of knowing, that is, unless I audaciously ask her! I decide it’s worth the risk of a WHIPPING, extremely fearful though I am of the WHIP! ‘Oh pray, pretty mistress, if it pleases you pretty mistress, pray pardon this slave’s interruption, mistress madam, please don’t beat me miss, but this pathetic slave is yearning to know whether the mistress is wearing any socks inside her boots madam, on account of his being a pathetic and weak sockieboy slave, madam, and, if so, the nature of those socks – their colour, texture and style, miss, begging your female pardon and indulgence miss oh pray don’t have ne whipped for insolence miss oh pray miss oh beg?’ She doesn’t beat me, but she doesn’t answer my question either: ‘Shut the f**k up, slave! Just get on with licking the outsides of my boots. Tch...