Sock-Show Day
The 14th day of the third month in the Gynarchial calendar (known as the month of Venus) is national ‘sock-show’ day. It is the day on which superior mistresses throughout the glorious Gynarchy are encouraged to put public footslaves out of their male-footslave misery by showing them a glimpse of those delightfully feminine ladysocks which would otherwise be hidden inside their pretty boots or shoes.
It’s not a legal requirement that they do so; it’s just a tradition; but most mistresses magnanimously comply.
Which is just as well for lowly, public footslaves like slave no. 75894S (nicknamed slave ‘Sockswain’ by the Female Authorities on account of his predilection for pretty, female socks) who operates a humble, stand-up, public bootlick stand in his local neighbourhood out in the suburbs of the capital city, Barbaria.
For despite his fancy nickname, and precisely because his humble shoe and bootlick stand is of the basic ‘stand-up’ variety, he is frequently, and cruelly, denied a glimpse of the objects of his pathetic, sockslavish devotion - his female-customers’ sweet, feminine hosiery - as they utilise his humble, boot-shining services.
Maybe if his lady-customers were sitting down in a comfortable seat above him whilst their boots or shoes were being licked he might have more of an opportunity to observe their hosiery inside their outer footwear, due to the riding up of their feminine, bootcut trouser hems etc.
But often slave Sockswain has the frustration of licking female boots and shoes which are hiding socks, stockings and tights which he therefore never gets to see. Even those young women on his estate who choose to wear dresses or skirts will often wear them with so-called ‘secret’ socks hidden deep inside their sneakers, making it look like they are wearing sneakers on bare feet, when, in fact, they are wearing socks!
Slave Sockswain, it has to be said, is always suspicious of female sneakers on apparently ‘bare’ feet. He suspects that most young women do wear some sort of low-cut socks on their pretty feet inside their equally pretty sneakers – even in the height of summer – but, of course, a lady never bothers to take off her sneakers at a mere ‘stand-up’ shoelick stand, so he can never know for certain! Again, maybe if she were sitting down…?
A slave like Sockswain, therefore, frequently has to resort to his imagination – to imagining what type of socks the superior customer-mistress may be wearing inside her outer footwear – the style; the texture; the colour; the condition.
Except, that is, on 14th Venus – national ‘sock-show’ day; the only day of the female year he can respectfully request the mistress to show him her socks without being instantly whipped for impertinence.
And today is 14th Venus!
There are various ways a mistress may choose to enter into the spirit of sock-show day:
She may wear shoes instead of her normal boots – low-cut shoes such as ballet flats or low-top sneakers which are suitably sock-revealing; or
She may wear full-length ankle socks instead of ‘secret’ socks inside her sneakers; or
She may wear a skirt or dress instead of her usual trousers or jeans; or
She may simply hitch up her trouser or jean-leg in front of the salivating slave to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of sock; or
She may permit the humble footslave to look down inside her ankle boots; or
She may permit the slave to unzip the side of her ankle, calf or knee-length boot with his mouth in order to admire her sweet sock; or
If she doesn’t normally wear socks she may simply choose to do so on national sock-show day; or
If she normally displays her socks to all and sundry anyway she may, by way of compensation, choose to wear a pair of socks which her public footslave has never seen before.
Regular Customer – Miss Reema
It’s most definitely his regular lady-customers’ ordinarily hidden socks that slave Sockswain is most interested in seeing on sock-show day – all those hours spent licking boots or shoes, and not knowing what the lady is wearing inside her boots. His heart therefore starts to race as, from his permanently kneeling position over his humble and well-worn, wooden footblock, he suddenly spots the familiar, black leather boots of one such regular customer approaching him – the calf-length boots of 28 year old miss Reema.
Miss Reema is a delicate and fragile flower of an Asian girl – small; petite; beautiful; wouldn’t say boo to a goose (though she has been known to chide the odd public footslave or two). Born in Pakistan, she is now quite ‘gynarchised’ – in that she has almost completely lost her Pakistani accent and now feels comfortable having her dirty boots licked clean in public by a dirty, public footslave.
She never used to feel that way, not when she first emigrated to the Gynarchy with her family some 10 years ago!
But that’s not to say that this delicate, Asian flower has suddenly become cruel and unkind – especially not on national ‘sock-show’ day.
‘Hi slave! Happy sock-show day!’ she greets slave Sockswain chirpily as - with a genuine and warm smile on her pretty, Pakistani face - she stretches forward her delicate, right, ankle-booted foot onto the inviting wooden footblock beneath his humbly-kneeling nose.
It is the same pair of boots miss Reema always wears – black, round-toed; chunky-heeled; designed to make her South Asian feet and legs look bigger and stronger than they actually are; and frustratingly calf-length! Since miss Reema also always chooses to wear matching, black, bootcut slacks – slacks which stylishly cover the tops of her ubiquitous, black, calf-length boots - slave Sockswain never gets to see whether she is wearing any socks inside her precious boots!
Nor has he ever been permitted to enquire as to mistress Reema’s sockwear, as he humbly tongue-shines her black, calf-length boots on his public shoelick stand in the middle of the suburban housing estate – for miss Reema and her family only moved into this estate some 9 months ago i.e. well after last year’s national sock-show day!
Her socks are therefore a complete mystery to him – although hopefully not for much longer!
Not that he does not appreciate miss Reema’s choice of calf-length boots. They do ‘big-up’ her otherwise rather skinny ankles and calves, and they are always suitably muddy and dirty for his bootlick mouth. Indeed, slave Sockswain was fairly sure that miss Reema must take the time and effort to deliberately muddy them up for him each day, for he always leaves them spotlessly clean.
Such a sweet and considerate Pakistani girl!
But slave Sockswain knows that today miss Reema’s boots will, for once, take second billing, for the sweet and kind young woman has clearly remembered that today is ‘sock show’ day. She has already offered him the traditional greeting, and he must therefore reply in kind:
‘God bless you, miss Reema. Pray show this slave your socks on this special day, if you would be so kind to a weak and humble footslave, mistress Reema!’
The young, Pakistani woman laughs:
‘Ha! Ha! All in good time, slave. First you must be cleaning up my dirty boots, isn’t it?’
‘Yes mistress Reema. Of course mistress Reema. At once mistress Reema. God bless you, and your cotton socks, mistress-Madam.’
Slave Sockswain, of course, has, as yet, no way of knowing whether or not miss Reema’s socks are made of cotton, but it is another traditional greeting offered up by humble footslaves towards their superior mistresses on national sock-show day!
He is, in truth, somewhat disappointed that miss Reema still requires her boots to be tongue-shined on this celebrated day, for he is impatient to see Pakistani-girl sock! But it is best always to be ultra polite and submissive towards one’s female customers – especially on a day like today! For, as we noted earlier, a superior mistress is by no means obliged to show a slave her socks on national sock-show day. It’s entirely discretionary – despite all the social and slaveal pressure to do so!
Slave Sockswain, therefore, diligently gets to work, ploughing his tongue through the usual mud on the lower parts of mistress Reema’s familiar, round-toed, chunky heeled, black leather calf-high boots – only with even more slavish enthusiasm than usual, for he knows he is on a promise - a promise to see a sweet, Pakistani- mistress’s unfamiliar bootsocks!
When he is done licking clean both her sweet boots – his face now covered in her bootmud – mistress Reema makes her long-awaited pronouncement:
‘Ha! Ha! Very well, slave. Since you are always being doing such a good job on cleaning my boots I am now rewarding you on sock-show day. You may now be looking down inside the top of my right boot and seeing my sock!’
She then graciously stretches forward her right, well-worn, booted foot onto the well-worn, wooden footblock once again – even though the boot is no longer in need of a shine – and magnanimously hitches up the hem of her fashionable, black, bootcut trouser leg to reveal, for the first time ever, the upper rim of her calf-length boot.
The first thing that strikes slave Sockswain is how skinny her bare, brown-skinned, shin and calf looks inside the boot. There is a lot of space twixt boot and skin on this young, Pakistani woman’s lower leg muscle. But, on reflection, he should have anticipated that – since she is such a slightly-built, beautiful young dark-haired Asian woman.
No sign of sock, though. Not yet! For, as she has invited him to do, he must now move his chained neck forwards as far as it will go in order to peer down into the top of miss Reema’s calf-length boot.
He almost feels caddish in doing so – like he is doing something sinful and forbidden. And normally it would be, but today is special; today is sock-show day; and he therefore has his regular, Pakistani mistress’s explicit permission to be a dirty, girlsock-voyeur!
Almost breathless with excitement, slave Sockswain verbally acknowledges mistress Reema’s kindness and generosity towards him, before leaning forwards as far as the heavy, metal chains will allow his scrawny slave-neck to go, and peering down past her equally scrawny shin into the depths of her mysterious and exotic, Asian-girl boot:
‘Oh pray mistress Reema; God bless you for permitting me to do this, mistress Reema!’
The sight that greets him – deep inside her boot – is truly awesome. The ribbed top of a thick, cream-coloured, ankle length, cotton bootsock!
My God, it’s better than anything he could ever have imagined - a thick, creamy-coloured sock with ribbed stitching filling out such slender and shapely Pakistani-girl, brown-skinned anklebones inside her oversized, calf-length boots! These thick socks evidently must help to keep her loose-fitting boots in place on the young, Pakistani woman’s beautiful feet – for without them her boot would be much too big on such slender, Asian feet and legs!
Slave Sockswain lets out an involuntary, but appreciative, gasp of wonder and awe.
Sock and awe!
Mistress Reema laughed at his pathetic, slavish reaction to her humble sock:
‘Ha! Ha! Well, slave, how are you liking it? How are you liking my sock? Is it being pleasing to you? Is it being meeting with your approval?’
Of course it wouldn’t really matter if mistress Reema’s sock was not ‘being meeting with his approval’ – for it was the chosen sock of a superior young woman – but, actually, such a thick, ribbed cotton, cream-coloured bootsock did meet with footslave Sockswain’s approval – very much so! And he wished to make that perfectly clear to his regular, Pakistani customer-mistress:
‘Oh pray mistress Reema – your sock! Oh mistress, God bless you mistress Reema! Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you mistress Reema, this slave truly does admire the mistress’s choice of socks inside her boots, if you would be so sweet and kind, mistress Reema. Oh pray mistress! Oh pray – please permit this pathetic and dirty slave the honour of observing the mistress’s sock on her left foot also, if you would be so kind and indulgent to this unworthy slave, sweet and kind mistress Reema – my sock-goddess!’
Mistress Reema laughs at the slave’s pathetic epithet for her! And then – because it is national sock-show day, but only because of that – she accedes to her local public-bootlicker’s humbly-delivered request. She changes feet on the footblock beneath his still-mesmerized face, hitches up her left trouser leg, and once again affords him a glimpse of her forbidden sock inside her calf-length boot!
The slave is once again suitably awestruck, which pleases Reema immensely, so much so that she feels emboldened enough to take the mickey out of him:
‘Ha! Ha! Just think slave, every time you are being licking clean my boots I am being wearing socks like these inside my boots. Ha! Ha! You are being licking dirty boots which are covering my white ankle socks, and there is being damn all you can be doing about it! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain fully realised that miss Reema was just teasing him now:
a) The socks weren’t white, they were cream-coloured – at least as far as he could make out (it was a bit dark down there inside her warm and sweaty boot). If they were indeed white socks, let’s just say they had become somewhat discoloured due to repeated, Pakistani-girl wear;
b) He was sure she didn’t always wear the same socks, or even the same colour of socks, inside her boots. She was a clean girl (apart from the mud on her boots), and she must, therefore, surely have other pairs of sweet, feminine bootsocks in her sock-drawer at home (Oh – her sock-drawer! What wouldn’t he give to spend an afternoon exploring that!);
c) Mistress Reema is quite right, however, when she declares that there is, normally, sweet damn all he can do about her socks being hidden deep down inside her boots, for his role is merely to lick clean her outer footwear. The next time he is required to lick the street filth and mud off miss Reema’s bootleather – as he will no doubt be required to do again the same time tomorrow – he will have to do so in the frustrating knowledge that such sweet, ribbed, thick, ankle-length bootsocks (or very similar socks) are so near, and yet so far from his bootlicking mouth. He will have to resort to once again imagining the superior, young Pakistani woman’s socks inside her boots – to visualizing them in his mind’s eye; for sock-show day, sadly, comes but once a year, and today is that day!
Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal – and mistress Reema’s cream-coloured bootsocks will once again be hidden from his prurient eyes, deep inside the spacious confines of her muddy, calf-length boots!
Regular Customer - Miss Sally
The next mistress to grace slave Sockswain’s stand-up, public shoe and bootlick stand on sock-show day is mistress Sally – a 25 year old, slim and svelte, auburn-haired girl (she had recently dyed her hair from its natural blonde colour – in order, she said, to give herself more ‘gravitas’ in the workplace).
Mistress Sally never wore socks – always plain, black ballet flats on bare, white feet beneath her plain, navy-blue, office slacks.
But today, of course, was national sock-show day – and mistress Sally was graciously entering into the spirit of things. Today, as she merrily approached slave Sockswain’s festive, public shoelick stand from merrily on high, mistress Sally was, exceptionally, wearing a pair of sweet, navy-blue ankle socks inside her ubiquitous, black ballet flats – just for him!
And not just any old socks! They were clearly a deliberately-chosen pair of old socks – well-worn, and carefully selected by the mistress in order to both excite and humiliate the pathetic public footslave. For as the auburn-haired office-girl gaily presented her right foot on the wooden footblock beneath his suitably awestruck-face, slave Sockswain could see multitudinous little balls of dark blue sock-lint all over the cotton surface of the sock - a sure sign of well-worn sock!
Slave Sockswain wasn’t just awe-struck. He was dumb-struck! He would never have had mistress Sally down as a sock-girl in her spare time – a secret sock girl! He had always assumed that she just hated wearing socks, period – whether she was at work or at play! Some young women just don’t like the feeling of socks on their feet – and mistress Sally had always struck him as one such girl.
How wrong could he have been? These socks had clearly seen frequent wear on her soft, feminine feet!
God bless sock-show day! It is truly a revelation!
Miss Sally can see that the slave is suitably dumb-struck at the sight of her navy-blue and somewhat fuzzy, low-cut sneaker-sock inside her plain black ballet-flat, and accordingly, like the Pakistani girl before her, she laughs at him and mocks him:
‘Ha! Ha! Well, slave? What do you say? What do you have to say about my yummy socks? Do you like them? Do you? Do you? Mmm…yum yum!’
She mimics his evident enthusiasm for her socks, for it is written large on his gormless, footslave face, as well as in his slave-nickname!
Slave Sockswain himself comes back down to earth – back down from sock-heaven to the dirty, mundane ground of his wooden footblock – and tries to keep mistress Sally’s navy-blue anklesock, covering her arrogantly outstretched, right foot which is resting beneath his kneeling face on the wooden footblock, in some kind of perspective. For it is, after all, only a girl’s sock!
But it’s no use. It isn’t just any girl’s sock – it’s the divine mistress Sally’s sock, a sock he has not seen before!
Amidst his truly pathetic, sock-obsessed confusion he at least remembers his public-footslave manners, and answers the superior young auburn-haired woman’s question:
‘Oh pray mistress Sally, if it pleases you mistress Sally, truly this slave thinks your sock is awesome, if you would be so kind most beautiful and compassionate mistress Sally!’
She continues to laugh out loud at him, as well she might:
‘Ha! Ha! Happy sock-show day, sock-slut! Ha! Ha! You may kiss the top of my sock, and praise and bless me for wearing my socks for you today!’
It’s an order, of course – not a proposal.
Even on sock-show day a mistress is still a mistress, and a slave is still a slave.
Having said that, slave Sockswain, the sock-slut, can hardly believe his luck – actually being ordered to kiss mistress Sally’s, well-worn sock; sock covering her bare, pale, and somewhat veiny bare feet; for he is very familiar with her bare feet, and has kissed those sweet feminine, bluish foot-veins many times before!
He wondered, as he lowered his lips to the fuzzy-with-lint, navy blue, cotton sock-material whether he would be able to feel miss Sally’s most prominent foot-vein through the material of her sock.
As it turned out he couldn’t – even though he knew exactly where on her right foot that beautiful, blue vein was located; although the feel of the soft sock-lint on his sensitive lips was more than enough by way of compensation for this minor disappointment.
As he kissed sock, he praised and blessed the pretty sock-wearer, just as he had been ordered to do:
‘Oh pray mistress Sally, God bless you mistress Sally! God bless you for wearing your cotton socks inside your ballet-flats today for the benefit of this humble, public foot-servant. Truly this slave is indebted to the mistress and her perfect socks, if it is so pleasing to you most sweet and kind mistress Sally!’
Mistress Sally then graciously permits him to repeat the mistress-praising and sock-worshipping process with her left sock. His lips lingered lovingly on his superior, auburn-haired customer-mistress’s left, navy-blue sock.
But there was more to come.
‘Ha! Ha! I have another little surprise for you, sock-slut!’ declares mistress Sally out of the blue.
Literally so, for suddenly – out of the blue of her sock – came pink sock, as she slid the back of her pretty, feminine heel out of her low-cut, black ballet-flat!
Yes - the heel area of the well-worn, navy blue girlsock was pink!
Not bright pink – just a pale pink; a worn pink – with evidence of some shoe-staining by way of little, black marks on it! But pink nevertheless!
Slave Sockswain thought his poor head was going to explode! The pink completely feminised the sock!
Mistress Sally laughed almost hysterically at slave Sockswain’s jaw-drooping reaction:
‘Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Sock-surprise, slave! Ha! Ha!... You weren’t expecting that, were you, sock-slut? Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain had to confess that the superior and clever young mistress had indeed caught him unawares with her deliciously pink-socked heel:
‘Oh pray mistress…Oh mistress Sally ….Truly the mistress has surprised the slave and caught him unawares! Oh mistress Sally! …Oh mistress!...Your sock! Oh the pink!’
Mistress Sally revelled in the slave’s pathetic sock-stupor for a few delicious seconds:
‘Well then! Go on! Kiss my pink heel, sock-flirt! Kiss the pink you admire so much! You know you want to! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain actually wanted to whip himself – just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming! Not only was the normally sockless mistress Sally wearing socks today; not only was she wearing delightful, short, navy blue, cotton socks with lots of fuzzy sock-lint on them; not only did her socks contain awe-inspiring pink areas on the heels; but he was now actually being invited, or rather ordered, to kiss the pink of her sock!’
Truly his footslave-cup ranneth over!
He was anxious to kiss while the sock was still hot:
‘Y…Yes mistress. At once mistress!’
In utter disbelief, he lowered his unworthy lips to delicious, feminine, pink-socked heel, and kissed.
It felt soft and rough at one and the same time - soft sock over hard-skinned heel.
But mistress Sally still hadn’t finished socking it to him on sock-show day!
She next slid her socked foot completely out of her left ballet-flat to reveal – yes, you’ve guessed it – a matching, pink, reinforced toe-area of the sock!
Slave Sockswain very nearly passed out – not from the smell, you understand – for the smell wasn’t all that bad; just a faint whiff of delicate, feminine foot-odour, although it has to be said mistress Sally did her level best to release as much of that odour as she humanly could by wriggling her sweaty, pink-socked toes directly underneath the kneeling footslave’s nose.
No – he nearly passed out because he was now overdosing on the mere sight of such deliciously pink, feminine girlsock! If truth be told he was utterly mesmerized by the sight of the 25 year old office temp’s creasing and folding pink and navy-blue sock beneath his nose – too hypnotised to even notice the delicate, sweaty aroma emanating from the warm sock.
Feeling a little bit slighted by the public footslave’s lack of reaction to her supposedly stinky sock-smell, mistress Sally ordered him to openly sniff her socked toes:
‘Smell my sock, slave. Get your nose on the pink area covering my toes this instant, and breathe in through your nostrils. I want to hear you sniffing my sock-stink!’
‘Yes mistress. At once mistress!
Slave Sockswain was always happy to obey an order to sniff sweet, feminine sock – for he liked the smell of beautiful young women’s sweaty socks, and it was an order he didn’t receive often enough!
He therefore did his foot-level best to inhale warm, pink girlsock, before mistress Sally, her delicate socked foot starting to get cold in the cool, mid-Venus air, slid it back inside her nice and warm, black leather ballet-flat.
The Unknown Arab Girl
Slave Sockswain’s next customer on national sock-show day was not a mistress whom he was familiar with. Unlike her two predecessors that morning, she was not one of his regulars. She was ‘passing trade’, so to speak, although any young woman was welcome to become one of his regulars – especially such a beautiful and mysterious young woman as this!
Like the beautiful and slender miss Reema, she was in her late twenties or possibly early thirties, and dark-haired and swarthy-skinned – but more Arab than Pakistani in appearance. Maghrebi, probably. However, slave Sockswain quickly realised that any footslave-flirting with this particular, North African girl was out of the question, and that he would have to be on his very best footslave-behaviour – for unlike miss Reema, the young Maghrebi woman was wearing a traditional, black headscarf, and appeared to be in a much more serious mood.
The Arab girl did not strike him as being as fully ‘gynarchised’ as miss Reema, although interestingly the rest of the Arab mistress’s attire, apart from her traditional headscarf, was very European - a black, leather jacket over a modestly-cut, white blouse; black, denim jeans; and shiny, black patent leather, pointy-toed, spike heeled, zip-up ankle boots.
Unsmilingly, the beautiful, young, black-headscarfed Arab woman stretched forward her right foot onto the wooden footblock beneath slave Sockswain’s humble head:
‘Shine them up, infidel-slave!’ was all she said, in a strong, Arabic accent.
She sounded quite sullen. No ‘happy sock-show day’ greeting from this stranger-customer. Judging by her strong accent, she was definitely an out-of-towner; perhaps visiting Arab friends or family in the Gynarchy and therefore, perhaps, blissfully unaware of the significance of the 14th Venus throughout the Gynarchy! She had probably never even heard of sock-show day!
Slave Sockswain fervently hoped that he was wrong about this, for he was already intrigued to know just what make and style of socks – if any – this traditionally headscarfed, but partially westernised, young Arab woman was wearing inside her highly stylish and modern, patent black leather ankle boots!
And he had already taken the brave decision that, if necessary, he would have to invoke his sock-show day ‘right’ to request the Arab mistress to show him her socks, though he didn’t relish the thought of having to approach such a serious-minded and sullen-looking young Arab woman with such an outwardly impertinent supplication!
Be all that as it may, he first had some serious work to do on the serious young Arab mistress’s seriously impressive ankle-boots. He had been ordered to tongue-shine the beautiful boots, and tongue-shine them he jolly well would:
‘Yes Arab mistress. At once, Arab mistress!’
Slave Sockswain lowered his lips to a particularly muddy stain along the lower side of the dominant, Arab girl’s dominant ankle boot (her right boot) and began to lick muddy bootleather, much to her audible amusement:
‘Ha! Ha! That’s right, slave-boy! Clean the side of my boot! Ha! Ha! What a dork! What a cluck!’
She may have spoken with a strong, Arabic accent, but her command of English was well-nigh impeccable! More importantly, she clearly did have some sense of humour, despite her serious demeanour!
It reminded slave Sockswain that he must never jump to conclusions about his mistress-customers. He should know better than to think he can know his betters!
Meanwhile, the now-smiling, young Arab mistress quickly changed feet on the footblock underneath slave Sockswain’s face without, apparently, feeling the need to verbally order him to lick her left boot. She was correct, of course. Her requirement to have her left boot licked clean did not need to be verbalised, either in English or in Arabic. It was obvious what the pathetic, public bootlicker had to do.
He therefore licked Arab-girl left boot until – all too soon – having somewhat disdainfully and dismissively inspected her freshly-tongued boots, she was about to just walk away from the public bootlick-stand without so much as a by-your-leave, when slave Sockswain knew he had to act, or forever hold his peace:
‘Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you Arab mistress, please be so kind as to show this dirty slave your socks on this sock-show day before you depart from his humble presence, if you would be so kind to a common and unworthy public footslave, mistress-madam!’
‘What?’ replied the young woman, her demeanour now serious again.
Slave Sockswain gulped. Although he was immune from prosecution for putting such an impertinent request to a mistress on sock-show day, any other day of the year he would likely as not be whipped for such seeming insolence towards a superior mistress-customer. And if this young Arab visitor to the Gynarchy really was ignorant of the strange, festive tradition of sock-show day, he might well be in big trouble right now! For he sensed that this was a young woman who whipped first, and asked questions later!
He hurriedly rushed to explain his slavish impertinence further:
‘Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you most beautiful and respected Arab mistress, please don’t be angry with this prone and vulnerable slave who prostrates himself at your feet and throws himself on your sweet, feminine mercy, mistress. But today is national sock-show day, sweet mistress, when a slave is permitted to humbly ask his superior mistresses to show him their socks, if you would be so kind and understanding most gracious, Arab mistress. And this slave, being truly enamoured by the mistress’s great beauty, would truly deem it an honour if the mistress would reveal her socks to the pathetic slave, most sweet and kind mistress. Oh pray mistress! Oh pray!’
It was a moment of great tension, broken, thankfully, by the young Arab mistress’s mocking laughter:
‘Ha! Ha! You mean I should show my socks to you, infidel?’
‘Oh pray mistress. Yes please mistress. If it is pleasing to you, superior mistress!’
Slave Sockswain’s gamble appeared to be paying off. It looked like he was going to see Arab-girl bootsock!
The young Arab woman laughingly placed her freshly-shined, ankle-booted, right foot back onto the recently-vacated, wooden footblock beneath his petitioning face and graciously gave him the order he had been eagerly anticipating since the moment he first set eyes on her patent black leather ankle-boots:
‘Very well, infidel-slave! You may unzip the side of my boot with your infidel-teeth and look at my sock!’
Slave Sockswain’s heart was pounding. He was eternally grateful for this small mercy by the liberal-minded, but traditionally-headscarfed, Arab mistress, for she did not have to conform to the Gynarchy’s idiosyncratic ways, despite his pathetic pleas for her to do so!
Without further ado he moved his unworthy mouth up to the young, Arab woman’s boot-zipper on the inner side of her shiny, black leather ankle boot, and slowly and gently pulled it down with his ‘infidel-teeth’. Although, if truth be told, he is not an unbeliever. He believes, very much, that the Arab mistress is wearing socks inside her boots.
The descending zip in the believer-footslave’s mouth soon reveals that his faith was fully justified, for a delightful slither of thin, black, ankle-length, cotton bootsock – black to match the beautiful young Arab woman’s traditional headscarf – miraculously manifests itself before his very eyes, and what’s more the black sock is all creased and folded over the enigmatic, Arab mistress’s shapely and exotic, Maghrebi ankle-bone.
Slave Sockswain is completely bewitched – bewitched and entranced by the sweet, black-socked, Arab-female anklebone now resting directly in front of his humbly bowed face.
The female wearer of the black bootsock – his ultimate better – laughs at his pathetic, footslave-consternation:
‘Ha! Ha! I think you like it, infidel! I think you like what you see, yes? Ha! Ha! It’s as if your eyes are glued to my sock! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain is almost lost for words, faced as he is with such a mysterious and exotic sock-beauty!
Almost – but not quite:
‘Oh pray mistress. Oh pray! Truly this slave does indeed admire the mistress’s sock on her foot, and all its creases and folds, if you would be so kind and understanding most respected, Arab mistress!’
The young Arab woman smiles smugly to herself as she readjusts her black headscarf round her pretty, Maghrebi face. She then continues to talk down to him:
‘Ha! Ha! Show me how much you like my dirty bootsock, slave! Nuzzle the side of my creased sock like a dirty dog! Bury your ugly pig-nose in the creases all along the outer side of my sock. Ha! Ha! Show the world that you are nothing but a superior Arab woman’s dirty sock-nuzzler!’
Pig or dog, slave Sockswain was more than happy to comply – for this was an extra-special treat; an extra-special treat for a humble, public shoelick on a day of special treats.
He buried his nose in mysterious, Arab-girl, black bootsock and immersed himself in its exotic, North-African aroma.
A Happy Couple
Next up were a young, courting couple in their early twenties – strangers to him, but both clearly very much in love with each other, for they were locked in a seemingly endless embrace as the young woman, almost subconsciously, placed her right, knee-length booted foot onto the recently vacated wooden footblock beneath slave Sockswain’s humbly-bowed face.
It was another pointy-toed, high-heeled boot, but this time of the stretch-boot variety, and made of red, suede leather. The female wearer of the boot was a white girl, brunette – and she was wearing a fetching red miniskirt to go with her revealing, pink blouse and red, knee-high, suede-leather boots.
It was the young man who barked down their orders at the humble footslave:
‘Clean my girlfriend’s dirty boots, slave!’
The girl giggled, and the happy couple then resumed their snogging above the inconsequential slave.
‘Yes master sir. At once master sir.’
Slave Sockswain knew he was required to verbally kow-tow and submit to the free man in such humiliating circumstances, since the young man would wish to look all macho in front of his besotted girlfriend.
As he obediently lowered his slave-tongue to the scuff-marked toe of the young woman’s outstretched, suede-leather, stretch-boot, however, all he could think about was how he could get that boot off the beautiful and amorous, young woman’s leg in order to see her sock!
He assumed she would be wearing socks inside her boots – red socks to match her red miniskirt; or possibly pink to match her partially-unbuttoned, pink blouse. She certainly wasn’t wearing any tights or stockings on her legs, and she surely must be wearing some form of hosiery inside her delicious boots on national sock-show day?
As the free man sucked on his girlfriend’s eager and willing tongue, slave Sockswain’s equally eager and willing tongue did its best to clean the soft, suede leather of the young woman’s right boot – never an easy task since it is not possible to ‘shine’ suede in the way one can tongue-shine ordinary leather.
Not that the enamoured young, brunette woman appeared all that bothered, as she nonchalantly changed feet on the footblock beneath her without even bothering to inspect slave Sockswain’s diligent efforts on her right boot. She was much too preoccupied with her boyfriend’s mouth.
Eventually, the dominant couple stopped kissing above him, and the free man invited his girlfriend to inspect her red boots and to mark the public bootlick’s humble work out of ten.
She gave him an ‘8’ – which was sufficient for the young man not to feel obliged to whip the slave.
Normally that would be the end of the transaction, and the couple would be at liberty to just walk away.
They still were, of course, and that’s just what they made to do.
But today was national sock-show day, and slave Sockswain – emboldened by the slavish tradition of asking to see a mistress’s socks – was determined to do just that. He was determined to see brunette-girl red socks inside her freshly-licked, red boots!
He therefore spoke up for himself on the only day of the year he was permitted to do so:
‘Oh pray master sir! Oh pray mistress madam! God bless you both, master and mistress. Oh pray master and mistress, pray show this dirty slave the mistress’s socks on this festive sock-show day? Oh pity pray?’
The couple looked at each other with some initial degree of shock at the public footslave’s seeming impertinence. They had clearly forgotten that it was national sock-show day! Hardly surprising, perhaps, given that they only had eyes for each other!
Then the man laughed:
‘Ha! Ha! Of course, honey! Today is sock-show day! You’re supposed to let the dumbass slave see your socks! Ha! Ha!’
The young woman now laughs out loud also:
‘Ha! Ha! Yeah – I forgot! Ha! Ha! Oh well, we mustn’t disappoint a poor slave on sock-show day, must we?’
She steps back towards the footblock and stretches her right booted foot back out onto the wood beneath the supplicant-slave’s humbly kneeling face:
‘Very well, slave. You may pull off my boot and admire my sock, since it’s sock-show day! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain actually panics momentarily! Having begged for the honour of seeing the sweet and kind young, brunette mistress’s socks, he now has the problem of how to remove her red, knee-length stretch boot from her pretty, white leg – for there is no zipper on the side of this boot!
Fortunately, however, and most magnanimously, the young man – her suitor – moves over so that the young woman can balance on his manly arm whilst the pathetic slave pulls the extended boot off her lower leg. The man is clearly not jealous of what slave Sockswain is about to do – since it is only his girlfriend’s dirty socks that he is about to reveal to the humble slave-man. It’s not like he is about to show him her red knickers!
Slave Sockswain keeps his head respectfully bowed as he reaches up with both hands to pull down the red boot. It comes off with a whoosh – and a revelation of short, white, below-the-ankle sneaker sock!
He was wrong! Slave Sockswain’s sock instincts had been wrong! The young woman was not wearing red bootsocks to match her scarlet-red miniskirt, or pink socks to match her seductively-pink blouse – but short, white sneaker-socks!
And the short, white sock on her right foot did look decidedly grubby! There were obvious, brown sweat-stains on the toe and instep areas! Yet it was still a pure, feminine sock in slave Sockswain’s slavishly naïve eyes – pure to match the purity of the superior mistress, for she must still, surely, be a virgin, being unmarried and in her early twenties!
She is still courting after all – and is clearly not a scarlet woman, despite her revealing attire! She is a white-sneaker-socked beauty, and slave Sockswain was truly grateful to her for showing him her grubby, white sock on national sock-show day; short, white sneaker-sock which, on any other day of the year, he would have had no chance of seeing inside such a knee-high, red suede boot!
He expressed his gratitude through the medium of humble slavespeak:
‘Oh pray mistress madam! Oh pray master sir! Such beautiful, white sock! God bless you, master, for allowing the mistress to show it to me!’
The freeman laughed at the bondsman:
‘Ha! Ha! What a sock-dork! What a chump! Ha! Ha! Why don’t you give him a cheap thrill, honey? Make him sniff your dirty sock! Make him sniff it out loud! Ha! Ha!’
The young woman likes her manly boyfriend’s slave-humiliating idea, and suddenly shoves her grubby, white-socked foot into the humble footslave’s face:
‘Ha! Ha! You heard my boyfriend, sock-lover! Sniff my stinky sock! Smell it out loud! Ha! Ha! I want to hear my sock-stink going up your ugly, slave nose! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain is, of course, only too happy to oblige – so everyone is happy. The slave gets to smell stinky, sweaty girlsock; the master and mistress get to laugh at him and mock him; and you get to read all about it!
Truly slave Sockswain loves national sock-show day, and wishes it could be every day! He buries his nose in the brown-stained sock folds beneath the mocking, young, brunette woman’s wriggling toes – and audibly sniffs.
Spring is in the air, and so is this beautiful and magnanimous, young brunette woman’s grubby, white sock.
Ha! Ha! Have a stinky sock-show day, slave Sockswain!
The End
It’s not a legal requirement that they do so; it’s just a tradition; but most mistresses magnanimously comply.
Which is just as well for lowly, public footslaves like slave no. 75894S (nicknamed slave ‘Sockswain’ by the Female Authorities on account of his predilection for pretty, female socks) who operates a humble, stand-up, public bootlick stand in his local neighbourhood out in the suburbs of the capital city, Barbaria.
For despite his fancy nickname, and precisely because his humble shoe and bootlick stand is of the basic ‘stand-up’ variety, he is frequently, and cruelly, denied a glimpse of the objects of his pathetic, sockslavish devotion - his female-customers’ sweet, feminine hosiery - as they utilise his humble, boot-shining services.
Maybe if his lady-customers were sitting down in a comfortable seat above him whilst their boots or shoes were being licked he might have more of an opportunity to observe their hosiery inside their outer footwear, due to the riding up of their feminine, bootcut trouser hems etc.
But often slave Sockswain has the frustration of licking female boots and shoes which are hiding socks, stockings and tights which he therefore never gets to see. Even those young women on his estate who choose to wear dresses or skirts will often wear them with so-called ‘secret’ socks hidden deep inside their sneakers, making it look like they are wearing sneakers on bare feet, when, in fact, they are wearing socks!
Slave Sockswain, it has to be said, is always suspicious of female sneakers on apparently ‘bare’ feet. He suspects that most young women do wear some sort of low-cut socks on their pretty feet inside their equally pretty sneakers – even in the height of summer – but, of course, a lady never bothers to take off her sneakers at a mere ‘stand-up’ shoelick stand, so he can never know for certain! Again, maybe if she were sitting down…?
A slave like Sockswain, therefore, frequently has to resort to his imagination – to imagining what type of socks the superior customer-mistress may be wearing inside her outer footwear – the style; the texture; the colour; the condition.
Except, that is, on 14th Venus – national ‘sock-show’ day; the only day of the female year he can respectfully request the mistress to show him her socks without being instantly whipped for impertinence.
And today is 14th Venus!
There are various ways a mistress may choose to enter into the spirit of sock-show day:
She may wear shoes instead of her normal boots – low-cut shoes such as ballet flats or low-top sneakers which are suitably sock-revealing; or
She may wear full-length ankle socks instead of ‘secret’ socks inside her sneakers; or
She may wear a skirt or dress instead of her usual trousers or jeans; or
She may simply hitch up her trouser or jean-leg in front of the salivating slave to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of sock; or
She may permit the humble footslave to look down inside her ankle boots; or
She may permit the slave to unzip the side of her ankle, calf or knee-length boot with his mouth in order to admire her sweet sock; or
If she doesn’t normally wear socks she may simply choose to do so on national sock-show day; or
If she normally displays her socks to all and sundry anyway she may, by way of compensation, choose to wear a pair of socks which her public footslave has never seen before.
Regular Customer – Miss Reema
It’s most definitely his regular lady-customers’ ordinarily hidden socks that slave Sockswain is most interested in seeing on sock-show day – all those hours spent licking boots or shoes, and not knowing what the lady is wearing inside her boots. His heart therefore starts to race as, from his permanently kneeling position over his humble and well-worn, wooden footblock, he suddenly spots the familiar, black leather boots of one such regular customer approaching him – the calf-length boots of 28 year old miss Reema.
Miss Reema is a delicate and fragile flower of an Asian girl – small; petite; beautiful; wouldn’t say boo to a goose (though she has been known to chide the odd public footslave or two). Born in Pakistan, she is now quite ‘gynarchised’ – in that she has almost completely lost her Pakistani accent and now feels comfortable having her dirty boots licked clean in public by a dirty, public footslave.
She never used to feel that way, not when she first emigrated to the Gynarchy with her family some 10 years ago!
But that’s not to say that this delicate, Asian flower has suddenly become cruel and unkind – especially not on national ‘sock-show’ day.
‘Hi slave! Happy sock-show day!’ she greets slave Sockswain chirpily as - with a genuine and warm smile on her pretty, Pakistani face - she stretches forward her delicate, right, ankle-booted foot onto the inviting wooden footblock beneath his humbly-kneeling nose.
It is the same pair of boots miss Reema always wears – black, round-toed; chunky-heeled; designed to make her South Asian feet and legs look bigger and stronger than they actually are; and frustratingly calf-length! Since miss Reema also always chooses to wear matching, black, bootcut slacks – slacks which stylishly cover the tops of her ubiquitous, black, calf-length boots - slave Sockswain never gets to see whether she is wearing any socks inside her precious boots!
Nor has he ever been permitted to enquire as to mistress Reema’s sockwear, as he humbly tongue-shines her black, calf-length boots on his public shoelick stand in the middle of the suburban housing estate – for miss Reema and her family only moved into this estate some 9 months ago i.e. well after last year’s national sock-show day!
Her socks are therefore a complete mystery to him – although hopefully not for much longer!
Not that he does not appreciate miss Reema’s choice of calf-length boots. They do ‘big-up’ her otherwise rather skinny ankles and calves, and they are always suitably muddy and dirty for his bootlick mouth. Indeed, slave Sockswain was fairly sure that miss Reema must take the time and effort to deliberately muddy them up for him each day, for he always leaves them spotlessly clean.
Such a sweet and considerate Pakistani girl!
But slave Sockswain knows that today miss Reema’s boots will, for once, take second billing, for the sweet and kind young woman has clearly remembered that today is ‘sock show’ day. She has already offered him the traditional greeting, and he must therefore reply in kind:
‘God bless you, miss Reema. Pray show this slave your socks on this special day, if you would be so kind to a weak and humble footslave, mistress Reema!’
The young, Pakistani woman laughs:
‘Ha! Ha! All in good time, slave. First you must be cleaning up my dirty boots, isn’t it?’
‘Yes mistress Reema. Of course mistress Reema. At once mistress Reema. God bless you, and your cotton socks, mistress-Madam.’
Slave Sockswain, of course, has, as yet, no way of knowing whether or not miss Reema’s socks are made of cotton, but it is another traditional greeting offered up by humble footslaves towards their superior mistresses on national sock-show day!
He is, in truth, somewhat disappointed that miss Reema still requires her boots to be tongue-shined on this celebrated day, for he is impatient to see Pakistani-girl sock! But it is best always to be ultra polite and submissive towards one’s female customers – especially on a day like today! For, as we noted earlier, a superior mistress is by no means obliged to show a slave her socks on national sock-show day. It’s entirely discretionary – despite all the social and slaveal pressure to do so!
Slave Sockswain, therefore, diligently gets to work, ploughing his tongue through the usual mud on the lower parts of mistress Reema’s familiar, round-toed, chunky heeled, black leather calf-high boots – only with even more slavish enthusiasm than usual, for he knows he is on a promise - a promise to see a sweet, Pakistani- mistress’s unfamiliar bootsocks!
When he is done licking clean both her sweet boots – his face now covered in her bootmud – mistress Reema makes her long-awaited pronouncement:
‘Ha! Ha! Very well, slave. Since you are always being doing such a good job on cleaning my boots I am now rewarding you on sock-show day. You may now be looking down inside the top of my right boot and seeing my sock!’
She then graciously stretches forward her right, well-worn, booted foot onto the well-worn, wooden footblock once again – even though the boot is no longer in need of a shine – and magnanimously hitches up the hem of her fashionable, black, bootcut trouser leg to reveal, for the first time ever, the upper rim of her calf-length boot.
The first thing that strikes slave Sockswain is how skinny her bare, brown-skinned, shin and calf looks inside the boot. There is a lot of space twixt boot and skin on this young, Pakistani woman’s lower leg muscle. But, on reflection, he should have anticipated that – since she is such a slightly-built, beautiful young dark-haired Asian woman.
No sign of sock, though. Not yet! For, as she has invited him to do, he must now move his chained neck forwards as far as it will go in order to peer down into the top of miss Reema’s calf-length boot.
He almost feels caddish in doing so – like he is doing something sinful and forbidden. And normally it would be, but today is special; today is sock-show day; and he therefore has his regular, Pakistani mistress’s explicit permission to be a dirty, girlsock-voyeur!
Almost breathless with excitement, slave Sockswain verbally acknowledges mistress Reema’s kindness and generosity towards him, before leaning forwards as far as the heavy, metal chains will allow his scrawny slave-neck to go, and peering down past her equally scrawny shin into the depths of her mysterious and exotic, Asian-girl boot:
‘Oh pray mistress Reema; God bless you for permitting me to do this, mistress Reema!’
The sight that greets him – deep inside her boot – is truly awesome. The ribbed top of a thick, cream-coloured, ankle length, cotton bootsock!
My God, it’s better than anything he could ever have imagined - a thick, creamy-coloured sock with ribbed stitching filling out such slender and shapely Pakistani-girl, brown-skinned anklebones inside her oversized, calf-length boots! These thick socks evidently must help to keep her loose-fitting boots in place on the young, Pakistani woman’s beautiful feet – for without them her boot would be much too big on such slender, Asian feet and legs!
Slave Sockswain lets out an involuntary, but appreciative, gasp of wonder and awe.
Sock and awe!
Mistress Reema laughed at his pathetic, slavish reaction to her humble sock:
‘Ha! Ha! Well, slave, how are you liking it? How are you liking my sock? Is it being pleasing to you? Is it being meeting with your approval?’
Of course it wouldn’t really matter if mistress Reema’s sock was not ‘being meeting with his approval’ – for it was the chosen sock of a superior young woman – but, actually, such a thick, ribbed cotton, cream-coloured bootsock did meet with footslave Sockswain’s approval – very much so! And he wished to make that perfectly clear to his regular, Pakistani customer-mistress:
‘Oh pray mistress Reema – your sock! Oh mistress, God bless you mistress Reema! Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you mistress Reema, this slave truly does admire the mistress’s choice of socks inside her boots, if you would be so sweet and kind, mistress Reema. Oh pray mistress! Oh pray – please permit this pathetic and dirty slave the honour of observing the mistress’s sock on her left foot also, if you would be so kind and indulgent to this unworthy slave, sweet and kind mistress Reema – my sock-goddess!’
Mistress Reema laughs at the slave’s pathetic epithet for her! And then – because it is national sock-show day, but only because of that – she accedes to her local public-bootlicker’s humbly-delivered request. She changes feet on the footblock beneath his still-mesmerized face, hitches up her left trouser leg, and once again affords him a glimpse of her forbidden sock inside her calf-length boot!
The slave is once again suitably awestruck, which pleases Reema immensely, so much so that she feels emboldened enough to take the mickey out of him:
‘Ha! Ha! Just think slave, every time you are being licking clean my boots I am being wearing socks like these inside my boots. Ha! Ha! You are being licking dirty boots which are covering my white ankle socks, and there is being damn all you can be doing about it! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain fully realised that miss Reema was just teasing him now:
a) The socks weren’t white, they were cream-coloured – at least as far as he could make out (it was a bit dark down there inside her warm and sweaty boot). If they were indeed white socks, let’s just say they had become somewhat discoloured due to repeated, Pakistani-girl wear;
b) He was sure she didn’t always wear the same socks, or even the same colour of socks, inside her boots. She was a clean girl (apart from the mud on her boots), and she must, therefore, surely have other pairs of sweet, feminine bootsocks in her sock-drawer at home (Oh – her sock-drawer! What wouldn’t he give to spend an afternoon exploring that!);
c) Mistress Reema is quite right, however, when she declares that there is, normally, sweet damn all he can do about her socks being hidden deep down inside her boots, for his role is merely to lick clean her outer footwear. The next time he is required to lick the street filth and mud off miss Reema’s bootleather – as he will no doubt be required to do again the same time tomorrow – he will have to do so in the frustrating knowledge that such sweet, ribbed, thick, ankle-length bootsocks (or very similar socks) are so near, and yet so far from his bootlicking mouth. He will have to resort to once again imagining the superior, young Pakistani woman’s socks inside her boots – to visualizing them in his mind’s eye; for sock-show day, sadly, comes but once a year, and today is that day!
Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal – and mistress Reema’s cream-coloured bootsocks will once again be hidden from his prurient eyes, deep inside the spacious confines of her muddy, calf-length boots!
Regular Customer - Miss Sally
The next mistress to grace slave Sockswain’s stand-up, public shoe and bootlick stand on sock-show day is mistress Sally – a 25 year old, slim and svelte, auburn-haired girl (she had recently dyed her hair from its natural blonde colour – in order, she said, to give herself more ‘gravitas’ in the workplace).
Mistress Sally never wore socks – always plain, black ballet flats on bare, white feet beneath her plain, navy-blue, office slacks.
But today, of course, was national sock-show day – and mistress Sally was graciously entering into the spirit of things. Today, as she merrily approached slave Sockswain’s festive, public shoelick stand from merrily on high, mistress Sally was, exceptionally, wearing a pair of sweet, navy-blue ankle socks inside her ubiquitous, black ballet flats – just for him!
And not just any old socks! They were clearly a deliberately-chosen pair of old socks – well-worn, and carefully selected by the mistress in order to both excite and humiliate the pathetic public footslave. For as the auburn-haired office-girl gaily presented her right foot on the wooden footblock beneath his suitably awestruck-face, slave Sockswain could see multitudinous little balls of dark blue sock-lint all over the cotton surface of the sock - a sure sign of well-worn sock!
Slave Sockswain wasn’t just awe-struck. He was dumb-struck! He would never have had mistress Sally down as a sock-girl in her spare time – a secret sock girl! He had always assumed that she just hated wearing socks, period – whether she was at work or at play! Some young women just don’t like the feeling of socks on their feet – and mistress Sally had always struck him as one such girl.
How wrong could he have been? These socks had clearly seen frequent wear on her soft, feminine feet!
God bless sock-show day! It is truly a revelation!
Miss Sally can see that the slave is suitably dumb-struck at the sight of her navy-blue and somewhat fuzzy, low-cut sneaker-sock inside her plain black ballet-flat, and accordingly, like the Pakistani girl before her, she laughs at him and mocks him:
‘Ha! Ha! Well, slave? What do you say? What do you have to say about my yummy socks? Do you like them? Do you? Do you? Mmm…yum yum!’
She mimics his evident enthusiasm for her socks, for it is written large on his gormless, footslave face, as well as in his slave-nickname!
Slave Sockswain himself comes back down to earth – back down from sock-heaven to the dirty, mundane ground of his wooden footblock – and tries to keep mistress Sally’s navy-blue anklesock, covering her arrogantly outstretched, right foot which is resting beneath his kneeling face on the wooden footblock, in some kind of perspective. For it is, after all, only a girl’s sock!
But it’s no use. It isn’t just any girl’s sock – it’s the divine mistress Sally’s sock, a sock he has not seen before!
Amidst his truly pathetic, sock-obsessed confusion he at least remembers his public-footslave manners, and answers the superior young auburn-haired woman’s question:
‘Oh pray mistress Sally, if it pleases you mistress Sally, truly this slave thinks your sock is awesome, if you would be so kind most beautiful and compassionate mistress Sally!’
She continues to laugh out loud at him, as well she might:
‘Ha! Ha! Happy sock-show day, sock-slut! Ha! Ha! You may kiss the top of my sock, and praise and bless me for wearing my socks for you today!’
It’s an order, of course – not a proposal.
Even on sock-show day a mistress is still a mistress, and a slave is still a slave.
Having said that, slave Sockswain, the sock-slut, can hardly believe his luck – actually being ordered to kiss mistress Sally’s, well-worn sock; sock covering her bare, pale, and somewhat veiny bare feet; for he is very familiar with her bare feet, and has kissed those sweet feminine, bluish foot-veins many times before!
He wondered, as he lowered his lips to the fuzzy-with-lint, navy blue, cotton sock-material whether he would be able to feel miss Sally’s most prominent foot-vein through the material of her sock.
As it turned out he couldn’t – even though he knew exactly where on her right foot that beautiful, blue vein was located; although the feel of the soft sock-lint on his sensitive lips was more than enough by way of compensation for this minor disappointment.
As he kissed sock, he praised and blessed the pretty sock-wearer, just as he had been ordered to do:
‘Oh pray mistress Sally, God bless you mistress Sally! God bless you for wearing your cotton socks inside your ballet-flats today for the benefit of this humble, public foot-servant. Truly this slave is indebted to the mistress and her perfect socks, if it is so pleasing to you most sweet and kind mistress Sally!’
Mistress Sally then graciously permits him to repeat the mistress-praising and sock-worshipping process with her left sock. His lips lingered lovingly on his superior, auburn-haired customer-mistress’s left, navy-blue sock.
But there was more to come.
‘Ha! Ha! I have another little surprise for you, sock-slut!’ declares mistress Sally out of the blue.
Literally so, for suddenly – out of the blue of her sock – came pink sock, as she slid the back of her pretty, feminine heel out of her low-cut, black ballet-flat!
Yes - the heel area of the well-worn, navy blue girlsock was pink!
Not bright pink – just a pale pink; a worn pink – with evidence of some shoe-staining by way of little, black marks on it! But pink nevertheless!
Slave Sockswain thought his poor head was going to explode! The pink completely feminised the sock!
Mistress Sally laughed almost hysterically at slave Sockswain’s jaw-drooping reaction:
‘Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Sock-surprise, slave! Ha! Ha!... You weren’t expecting that, were you, sock-slut? Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain had to confess that the superior and clever young mistress had indeed caught him unawares with her deliciously pink-socked heel:
‘Oh pray mistress…Oh mistress Sally ….Truly the mistress has surprised the slave and caught him unawares! Oh mistress Sally! …Oh mistress!...Your sock! Oh the pink!’
Mistress Sally revelled in the slave’s pathetic sock-stupor for a few delicious seconds:
‘Well then! Go on! Kiss my pink heel, sock-flirt! Kiss the pink you admire so much! You know you want to! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain actually wanted to whip himself – just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming! Not only was the normally sockless mistress Sally wearing socks today; not only was she wearing delightful, short, navy blue, cotton socks with lots of fuzzy sock-lint on them; not only did her socks contain awe-inspiring pink areas on the heels; but he was now actually being invited, or rather ordered, to kiss the pink of her sock!’
Truly his footslave-cup ranneth over!
He was anxious to kiss while the sock was still hot:
‘Y…Yes mistress. At once mistress!’
In utter disbelief, he lowered his unworthy lips to delicious, feminine, pink-socked heel, and kissed.
It felt soft and rough at one and the same time - soft sock over hard-skinned heel.
But mistress Sally still hadn’t finished socking it to him on sock-show day!
She next slid her socked foot completely out of her left ballet-flat to reveal – yes, you’ve guessed it – a matching, pink, reinforced toe-area of the sock!
Slave Sockswain very nearly passed out – not from the smell, you understand – for the smell wasn’t all that bad; just a faint whiff of delicate, feminine foot-odour, although it has to be said mistress Sally did her level best to release as much of that odour as she humanly could by wriggling her sweaty, pink-socked toes directly underneath the kneeling footslave’s nose.
No – he nearly passed out because he was now overdosing on the mere sight of such deliciously pink, feminine girlsock! If truth be told he was utterly mesmerized by the sight of the 25 year old office temp’s creasing and folding pink and navy-blue sock beneath his nose – too hypnotised to even notice the delicate, sweaty aroma emanating from the warm sock.
Feeling a little bit slighted by the public footslave’s lack of reaction to her supposedly stinky sock-smell, mistress Sally ordered him to openly sniff her socked toes:
‘Smell my sock, slave. Get your nose on the pink area covering my toes this instant, and breathe in through your nostrils. I want to hear you sniffing my sock-stink!’
‘Yes mistress. At once mistress!
Slave Sockswain was always happy to obey an order to sniff sweet, feminine sock – for he liked the smell of beautiful young women’s sweaty socks, and it was an order he didn’t receive often enough!
He therefore did his foot-level best to inhale warm, pink girlsock, before mistress Sally, her delicate socked foot starting to get cold in the cool, mid-Venus air, slid it back inside her nice and warm, black leather ballet-flat.
The Unknown Arab Girl
Slave Sockswain’s next customer on national sock-show day was not a mistress whom he was familiar with. Unlike her two predecessors that morning, she was not one of his regulars. She was ‘passing trade’, so to speak, although any young woman was welcome to become one of his regulars – especially such a beautiful and mysterious young woman as this!
Like the beautiful and slender miss Reema, she was in her late twenties or possibly early thirties, and dark-haired and swarthy-skinned – but more Arab than Pakistani in appearance. Maghrebi, probably. However, slave Sockswain quickly realised that any footslave-flirting with this particular, North African girl was out of the question, and that he would have to be on his very best footslave-behaviour – for unlike miss Reema, the young Maghrebi woman was wearing a traditional, black headscarf, and appeared to be in a much more serious mood.
The Arab girl did not strike him as being as fully ‘gynarchised’ as miss Reema, although interestingly the rest of the Arab mistress’s attire, apart from her traditional headscarf, was very European - a black, leather jacket over a modestly-cut, white blouse; black, denim jeans; and shiny, black patent leather, pointy-toed, spike heeled, zip-up ankle boots.
Unsmilingly, the beautiful, young, black-headscarfed Arab woman stretched forward her right foot onto the wooden footblock beneath slave Sockswain’s humble head:
‘Shine them up, infidel-slave!’ was all she said, in a strong, Arabic accent.
She sounded quite sullen. No ‘happy sock-show day’ greeting from this stranger-customer. Judging by her strong accent, she was definitely an out-of-towner; perhaps visiting Arab friends or family in the Gynarchy and therefore, perhaps, blissfully unaware of the significance of the 14th Venus throughout the Gynarchy! She had probably never even heard of sock-show day!
Slave Sockswain fervently hoped that he was wrong about this, for he was already intrigued to know just what make and style of socks – if any – this traditionally headscarfed, but partially westernised, young Arab woman was wearing inside her highly stylish and modern, patent black leather ankle boots!
And he had already taken the brave decision that, if necessary, he would have to invoke his sock-show day ‘right’ to request the Arab mistress to show him her socks, though he didn’t relish the thought of having to approach such a serious-minded and sullen-looking young Arab woman with such an outwardly impertinent supplication!
Be all that as it may, he first had some serious work to do on the serious young Arab mistress’s seriously impressive ankle-boots. He had been ordered to tongue-shine the beautiful boots, and tongue-shine them he jolly well would:
‘Yes Arab mistress. At once, Arab mistress!’
Slave Sockswain lowered his lips to a particularly muddy stain along the lower side of the dominant, Arab girl’s dominant ankle boot (her right boot) and began to lick muddy bootleather, much to her audible amusement:
‘Ha! Ha! That’s right, slave-boy! Clean the side of my boot! Ha! Ha! What a dork! What a cluck!’
She may have spoken with a strong, Arabic accent, but her command of English was well-nigh impeccable! More importantly, she clearly did have some sense of humour, despite her serious demeanour!
It reminded slave Sockswain that he must never jump to conclusions about his mistress-customers. He should know better than to think he can know his betters!
Meanwhile, the now-smiling, young Arab mistress quickly changed feet on the footblock underneath slave Sockswain’s face without, apparently, feeling the need to verbally order him to lick her left boot. She was correct, of course. Her requirement to have her left boot licked clean did not need to be verbalised, either in English or in Arabic. It was obvious what the pathetic, public bootlicker had to do.
He therefore licked Arab-girl left boot until – all too soon – having somewhat disdainfully and dismissively inspected her freshly-tongued boots, she was about to just walk away from the public bootlick-stand without so much as a by-your-leave, when slave Sockswain knew he had to act, or forever hold his peace:
‘Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you Arab mistress, please be so kind as to show this dirty slave your socks on this sock-show day before you depart from his humble presence, if you would be so kind to a common and unworthy public footslave, mistress-madam!’
‘What?’ replied the young woman, her demeanour now serious again.
Slave Sockswain gulped. Although he was immune from prosecution for putting such an impertinent request to a mistress on sock-show day, any other day of the year he would likely as not be whipped for such seeming insolence towards a superior mistress-customer. And if this young Arab visitor to the Gynarchy really was ignorant of the strange, festive tradition of sock-show day, he might well be in big trouble right now! For he sensed that this was a young woman who whipped first, and asked questions later!
He hurriedly rushed to explain his slavish impertinence further:
‘Oh pray mistress, if it pleases you most beautiful and respected Arab mistress, please don’t be angry with this prone and vulnerable slave who prostrates himself at your feet and throws himself on your sweet, feminine mercy, mistress. But today is national sock-show day, sweet mistress, when a slave is permitted to humbly ask his superior mistresses to show him their socks, if you would be so kind and understanding most gracious, Arab mistress. And this slave, being truly enamoured by the mistress’s great beauty, would truly deem it an honour if the mistress would reveal her socks to the pathetic slave, most sweet and kind mistress. Oh pray mistress! Oh pray!’
It was a moment of great tension, broken, thankfully, by the young Arab mistress’s mocking laughter:
‘Ha! Ha! You mean I should show my socks to you, infidel?’
‘Oh pray mistress. Yes please mistress. If it is pleasing to you, superior mistress!’
Slave Sockswain’s gamble appeared to be paying off. It looked like he was going to see Arab-girl bootsock!
The young Arab woman laughingly placed her freshly-shined, ankle-booted, right foot back onto the recently-vacated, wooden footblock beneath his petitioning face and graciously gave him the order he had been eagerly anticipating since the moment he first set eyes on her patent black leather ankle-boots:
‘Very well, infidel-slave! You may unzip the side of my boot with your infidel-teeth and look at my sock!’
Slave Sockswain’s heart was pounding. He was eternally grateful for this small mercy by the liberal-minded, but traditionally-headscarfed, Arab mistress, for she did not have to conform to the Gynarchy’s idiosyncratic ways, despite his pathetic pleas for her to do so!
Without further ado he moved his unworthy mouth up to the young, Arab woman’s boot-zipper on the inner side of her shiny, black leather ankle boot, and slowly and gently pulled it down with his ‘infidel-teeth’. Although, if truth be told, he is not an unbeliever. He believes, very much, that the Arab mistress is wearing socks inside her boots.
The descending zip in the believer-footslave’s mouth soon reveals that his faith was fully justified, for a delightful slither of thin, black, ankle-length, cotton bootsock – black to match the beautiful young Arab woman’s traditional headscarf – miraculously manifests itself before his very eyes, and what’s more the black sock is all creased and folded over the enigmatic, Arab mistress’s shapely and exotic, Maghrebi ankle-bone.
Slave Sockswain is completely bewitched – bewitched and entranced by the sweet, black-socked, Arab-female anklebone now resting directly in front of his humbly bowed face.
The female wearer of the black bootsock – his ultimate better – laughs at his pathetic, footslave-consternation:
‘Ha! Ha! I think you like it, infidel! I think you like what you see, yes? Ha! Ha! It’s as if your eyes are glued to my sock! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain is almost lost for words, faced as he is with such a mysterious and exotic sock-beauty!
Almost – but not quite:
‘Oh pray mistress. Oh pray! Truly this slave does indeed admire the mistress’s sock on her foot, and all its creases and folds, if you would be so kind and understanding most respected, Arab mistress!’
The young Arab woman smiles smugly to herself as she readjusts her black headscarf round her pretty, Maghrebi face. She then continues to talk down to him:
‘Ha! Ha! Show me how much you like my dirty bootsock, slave! Nuzzle the side of my creased sock like a dirty dog! Bury your ugly pig-nose in the creases all along the outer side of my sock. Ha! Ha! Show the world that you are nothing but a superior Arab woman’s dirty sock-nuzzler!’
Pig or dog, slave Sockswain was more than happy to comply – for this was an extra-special treat; an extra-special treat for a humble, public shoelick on a day of special treats.
He buried his nose in mysterious, Arab-girl, black bootsock and immersed himself in its exotic, North-African aroma.
A Happy Couple
Next up were a young, courting couple in their early twenties – strangers to him, but both clearly very much in love with each other, for they were locked in a seemingly endless embrace as the young woman, almost subconsciously, placed her right, knee-length booted foot onto the recently vacated wooden footblock beneath slave Sockswain’s humbly-bowed face.
It was another pointy-toed, high-heeled boot, but this time of the stretch-boot variety, and made of red, suede leather. The female wearer of the boot was a white girl, brunette – and she was wearing a fetching red miniskirt to go with her revealing, pink blouse and red, knee-high, suede-leather boots.
It was the young man who barked down their orders at the humble footslave:
‘Clean my girlfriend’s dirty boots, slave!’
The girl giggled, and the happy couple then resumed their snogging above the inconsequential slave.
‘Yes master sir. At once master sir.’
Slave Sockswain knew he was required to verbally kow-tow and submit to the free man in such humiliating circumstances, since the young man would wish to look all macho in front of his besotted girlfriend.
As he obediently lowered his slave-tongue to the scuff-marked toe of the young woman’s outstretched, suede-leather, stretch-boot, however, all he could think about was how he could get that boot off the beautiful and amorous, young woman’s leg in order to see her sock!
He assumed she would be wearing socks inside her boots – red socks to match her red miniskirt; or possibly pink to match her partially-unbuttoned, pink blouse. She certainly wasn’t wearing any tights or stockings on her legs, and she surely must be wearing some form of hosiery inside her delicious boots on national sock-show day?
As the free man sucked on his girlfriend’s eager and willing tongue, slave Sockswain’s equally eager and willing tongue did its best to clean the soft, suede leather of the young woman’s right boot – never an easy task since it is not possible to ‘shine’ suede in the way one can tongue-shine ordinary leather.
Not that the enamoured young, brunette woman appeared all that bothered, as she nonchalantly changed feet on the footblock beneath her without even bothering to inspect slave Sockswain’s diligent efforts on her right boot. She was much too preoccupied with her boyfriend’s mouth.
Eventually, the dominant couple stopped kissing above him, and the free man invited his girlfriend to inspect her red boots and to mark the public bootlick’s humble work out of ten.
She gave him an ‘8’ – which was sufficient for the young man not to feel obliged to whip the slave.
Normally that would be the end of the transaction, and the couple would be at liberty to just walk away.
They still were, of course, and that’s just what they made to do.
But today was national sock-show day, and slave Sockswain – emboldened by the slavish tradition of asking to see a mistress’s socks – was determined to do just that. He was determined to see brunette-girl red socks inside her freshly-licked, red boots!
He therefore spoke up for himself on the only day of the year he was permitted to do so:
‘Oh pray master sir! Oh pray mistress madam! God bless you both, master and mistress. Oh pray master and mistress, pray show this dirty slave the mistress’s socks on this festive sock-show day? Oh pity pray?’
The couple looked at each other with some initial degree of shock at the public footslave’s seeming impertinence. They had clearly forgotten that it was national sock-show day! Hardly surprising, perhaps, given that they only had eyes for each other!
Then the man laughed:
‘Ha! Ha! Of course, honey! Today is sock-show day! You’re supposed to let the dumbass slave see your socks! Ha! Ha!’
The young woman now laughs out loud also:
‘Ha! Ha! Yeah – I forgot! Ha! Ha! Oh well, we mustn’t disappoint a poor slave on sock-show day, must we?’
She steps back towards the footblock and stretches her right booted foot back out onto the wood beneath the supplicant-slave’s humbly kneeling face:
‘Very well, slave. You may pull off my boot and admire my sock, since it’s sock-show day! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain actually panics momentarily! Having begged for the honour of seeing the sweet and kind young, brunette mistress’s socks, he now has the problem of how to remove her red, knee-length stretch boot from her pretty, white leg – for there is no zipper on the side of this boot!
Fortunately, however, and most magnanimously, the young man – her suitor – moves over so that the young woman can balance on his manly arm whilst the pathetic slave pulls the extended boot off her lower leg. The man is clearly not jealous of what slave Sockswain is about to do – since it is only his girlfriend’s dirty socks that he is about to reveal to the humble slave-man. It’s not like he is about to show him her red knickers!
Slave Sockswain keeps his head respectfully bowed as he reaches up with both hands to pull down the red boot. It comes off with a whoosh – and a revelation of short, white, below-the-ankle sneaker sock!
He was wrong! Slave Sockswain’s sock instincts had been wrong! The young woman was not wearing red bootsocks to match her scarlet-red miniskirt, or pink socks to match her seductively-pink blouse – but short, white sneaker-socks!
And the short, white sock on her right foot did look decidedly grubby! There were obvious, brown sweat-stains on the toe and instep areas! Yet it was still a pure, feminine sock in slave Sockswain’s slavishly naïve eyes – pure to match the purity of the superior mistress, for she must still, surely, be a virgin, being unmarried and in her early twenties!
She is still courting after all – and is clearly not a scarlet woman, despite her revealing attire! She is a white-sneaker-socked beauty, and slave Sockswain was truly grateful to her for showing him her grubby, white sock on national sock-show day; short, white sneaker-sock which, on any other day of the year, he would have had no chance of seeing inside such a knee-high, red suede boot!
He expressed his gratitude through the medium of humble slavespeak:
‘Oh pray mistress madam! Oh pray master sir! Such beautiful, white sock! God bless you, master, for allowing the mistress to show it to me!’
The freeman laughed at the bondsman:
‘Ha! Ha! What a sock-dork! What a chump! Ha! Ha! Why don’t you give him a cheap thrill, honey? Make him sniff your dirty sock! Make him sniff it out loud! Ha! Ha!’
The young woman likes her manly boyfriend’s slave-humiliating idea, and suddenly shoves her grubby, white-socked foot into the humble footslave’s face:
‘Ha! Ha! You heard my boyfriend, sock-lover! Sniff my stinky sock! Smell it out loud! Ha! Ha! I want to hear my sock-stink going up your ugly, slave nose! Ha! Ha!’
Slave Sockswain is, of course, only too happy to oblige – so everyone is happy. The slave gets to smell stinky, sweaty girlsock; the master and mistress get to laugh at him and mock him; and you get to read all about it!
Truly slave Sockswain loves national sock-show day, and wishes it could be every day! He buries his nose in the brown-stained sock folds beneath the mocking, young, brunette woman’s wriggling toes – and audibly sniffs.
Spring is in the air, and so is this beautiful and magnanimous, young brunette woman’s grubby, white sock.
Ha! Ha! Have a stinky sock-show day, slave Sockswain!
The End
