Sentenced to Socksniffing

Do you want to hear the bad news, or the good news, first?

The bad news is that I have been sentenced by the Female Courts to 6 months of continual socksniffing. The good news is that I am being permitted to serve my sentence in the female community – more specifically in a female-dominated office in the centre of town, under the supervision of miss Gray, one of the office-manageresses.

Miss Gray is a well-respected, if slightly plump, figure within the office; mid to late forties; dyed-blonde hair; and a firm believer in community sentencing of criminal-footslaves. She very much believes that the punishment should fit the crime, and since my crime was to steal a mistress’s dirty socks from her laundry basket in order to surreptitiously sniff them, miss Gray is of the correct opinion that being forced to smell young women’s socks in public is a fitting way to show the female world my male-footslave penitence and shame at my crime!

Hence her public-spiritedness in giving up her comfortable manageress’s post within her busy office, and volunteering not only to punish me within her office environment, but also to be my personal supervisor during the months of my public-socksniffing shame as decreed by the Female Courts.

I think she sees it as her way of giving something back to the community she loves – the community of the Gynarchy.

The irony is that miss Gray is not a sock-wearer herself; she always wears sheer, dark-coloured nylons with smart, low-heeled, black leather courts on her somewhat podgy, middle-aged legs and feet, usually with a somewhat frumpy, below-the-knee skirt. It is the younger women of the office whose socks I must legally sniff – but, my God, does miss Gray enjoy making me sniff the socks of others!

Please feel free to stay a while and watch myself and my mistress-supervisor doing our rounds:

Tickled Pink

‘Hi, Penny, how are you today?’ chirps my middle-aged, supervisor-mistress to her much more junior, office colleague – miss Penny from Admin.

‘Oh hi, miss Gray!’ responds the 19 year old redhead-ponytailed girl (everybody within the office seems to refer to my supervisor-mistress as ‘Miss Gray’. I’m not sure that anyone actually knows her first name. I think it’s very much a sign of their affection and respect for her – it certainly is on my part!)

‘Are you ready to have your socks sniffed, my dear?’ enquires my supervisor-mistress further.

I can clearly see the young-womanly socks in question from my humble, kneeling position behind miss Gray’s low-heeled, black courts and dark, nylon stockinged legs – they are a pair of ludicrously sweet, pink and black ballerina-socks worn, appropriately enough, with a fetching pair of rather scuffmarked, round-toed, plain black, office ballet-flats.

The pink of the girlsocks is confined to the heel and instep areas, but because miss Penny appears to have gotten dressed in a hurry this morning, her socks are somewhat wonky and twisted on her young-womanly feet beneath the hems of her slim-fit, black cotton, office trouserlegs – thereby revealing those supposed-to-be-hidden flashes of pink sock material.

It is mid-morning now, and yet miss Penny, it seems, still hasn’t stooped down in order to straighten her socks! Is she even bothered about them being twisted on her pretty feet inside her pretty, black, office ballet-flats?

Probably not – but it bothers me, for I know my supervisor-mistress, miss Gray, is sure to exploit this situation.

Meanwhile, the pretty, young, redheaded office-mistress responds to miss Gray’s polite enquiry about her readiness, or otherwise, to have her socks sniffed:

‘Oh, yes please, miss Gray!’, and with that she swivels round on her swivel-chair, and rests her two ballet-flated feet demurely on the floor in front of her, whilst thoughtfully hitching up the hems of her black cotton trouserlegs so that the elasticated tops of her pretty, below the ankle, pink and black, sneaker-style socks are clearly visible to me.

Still no sign of her stooping down in order to straighten her socks for herself though!

‘Ha! Ha! Great!’ exclaims my happy supervisor-mistress – and here’s what I mean about her exploiting the situation with regard to miss Penny’s wonky socks:

‘And which parts of your socks would you like me to make him sniff today, Penny my dear? The pink areas or the black areas?’

My supervisor-mistress is making mischief for me, for she knows full well what the young redhead will say!

I think we all do, don’t we?

‘Oh…the pink areas please! I think they must be the smelliest, since they cover my toes and insteps!’

‘Yes certainly, dear... no problem…YOU, THE SLAVE, YOU HEARD MISS PENNY. GET YOUR UGLY SLAVE-NOSE DOWN ONTO THE PINK AREAS OF HER SOCKS IMMEDIATELY AND SNIFF THEM OUT LOUD! OUT LOUD, BY GOD, OR I’LL BREAK YOUR BACK WITH MY WHIP!’

I should explain that the otherwise softly-spoken miss Gray always SHOUTS at me. It adds to her enjoyment and sense of power over me.

And the whip she is referring to is the office-owned, bulls-pizzle whip – a thick, stout, brown leather, single-tailed whip which hangs from the belt around my supervisor-mistress’s middle-aged waist. It is a whip which is never far from my bare back – not even when I am asleep, for I must sleep in my office-basement cell, on my bare stomach, with the whip resting on my back, as a reminder of my subjection to its all-conquering, female power.

That’s another one of miss Gray’s innovations!

The threat of the back-breaking whip spurs me into some diligent, girlsock-sniffing action:

‘Yes, miss Gray. At once, miss Gray!’

I hear the redheaded-girl giggle above me as my terrified and gormless face quickly descends down over her demurely-positioned, still-ballet-flated feet until my nose is brushing against a flash of twisted, but pure pink, cotton sock running along the otherwise black-socked instep of her dainty, right foot.

I sniff – out loud, as I have been directed to do.

But it’s apparently not loud enough for my supervisor-mistress, miss Gray! She swiftly unhooks her thick-girthed, bulls-pizzle whip from her waist belt, and promptly brings it thudding down onto my right shoulder-blade. I gasp with the pain.

‘OUT LOUD I SAID, SLAVE! INHALE HARDER! LOUDER! SMELL ALL ALONG THE PINK INSTEP OF MISS PENNY’S SOCK FOR ALL YOU ARE WORTH, YOU DIRTY, INCOMPETENT FOOL OF A PRISONER-SLAVE!’

I can hear miss Penny laughing above me, tickled pink, no doubt, not just by the feel of my nose on her pink-socked instep, but also by the sight of my own pink stripe developing over my right shoulder-blade thanks to the diligent, supervisory attentions of miss Gray!

I somehow manage to sniff harder, and louder, although, disappointingly, miss Penny’s sock does not appear to be all that sweaty or stinky, for a young woman. I suppose it’s still a bit too early in the day for a sweet and kind, young woman’s socks to smell if they were fresh on her feet this morning, which they appear to have been – and even if she hasn’t showered or bathed her feet this morning.

The most prominent smell, if I’m honest, is of musty, black leather ballet-flat as she still hasn’t taken off her shoes.

I know I can rely on the whip-wielding miss Gray to soon rectify that:

‘Penny dear, would it not be more humiliating for the prisoner-slave if you took off your shoes? That way he can gain access to the sweaty, pink toe areas of your socks!’

‘Oh yes, miss Gray! Of course, miss Gray!’

And with that, off come the shoes, to reveal a delightful couple of faded-pink, reinforced toe-areas of young-womanly sock – just ripe for the sniffing.

Literally ripe, for at last I catch a whiff of sweet, young-womanly foot-odour – that demeaning, degrading smell which it is my misfortune to be all too familiar with these days, thanks to the wishes of the Female Court.

Or should that be, fortune to be all too familiar with? After all, I do like to sniff ladies’ dirty socks; that’s how I ended up before the Female Courts, and crawling behind miss Gray’s courts, in the first place!

I bury my footslave-prisoner nose straight into the exposed sock-toes on miss Penny’s right foot. It feels damp and moist as the pink-cotton sock material encompasses my humbly-kneeling nostrils.

Again the bruising, bulls-pizzle whip encourages me to breathe in harder through my girlsock-engulfed nasal passage:

‘BREATHE HARDER, SLAVE! BREATHE IN ONLY THROUGH YOUR NOSE – NOT THROUGH YOUR MOUTH! INHALE ALL OF MISS PENNY’S FOOT-STINK, YOU DIRTY, STINKING SOCK-WHORE OF A FOOTSLAVE!’

I must say, the normally staid-looking and frumpy miss Gray can become quite animated when wielding a whip and supervising my public-socksniffing!

I feel miss Penny deliberately wrapping her pink-socked toes around my nose in a no doubt compassionate, but giggling, young-womanly gesture of authority designed to facilitate me in satisfying my strict supervisor-mistress’s demands. I am truly grateful to the young woman, and start to revel in her sweaty, pink sock smell whilst focusing my eyes on the black of her upper sock area.

My face soon stinks of miss Penny’s moist sock-perspiration as she slips her ballet-flat shoes back onto her pretty feet and my supervisor-mistress drags me over to the next female-office desk.

Bow – You!

It is the desk of miss Penny’s administrative-assistant colleague, 20 year old miss Bao-Yu.

Miss Bao-Yu is a truly beautiful, although somewhat cold-hearted and overly serious, young dark-haired Chinese woman who originates from Hong Kong – always smartly dressed in her grey-pinstriped trouser suit and black, patent leather, high-heeled, pointy-toed, zip-up ankleboots.

I love sniffing her boots and socks – always plain, black anklesocks, the elasticated tops of which will always just be visible inside her upper ankleboot-rims. And they call this punishment?!

Miss Gray knows that Chinese modesty will not permit miss Bao-Yu to unzip her boots and impose her oriental sock-smell on all and sundry in the office, but the young Chinese secondee from Hong Kong is clearly prepared to impose her stinky bootsock-smell on me – in the interests of sweet, feminine justice, of course.

Once again, my highly respected, middle-aged supervisor-mistress greets her Chinese colleague:

‘Good morning, Bao-Yu! It’s your turn to have the dirty sock-sniffer at your feet again, my dear!’

Miss Bao-Yu speaks very good English, albeit with a strong Chinese accent:

‘I happy have queer sock-sniffer sniff top of my socks!’ she confirms, and with that she too, like the redhead before her, swivels round from her desk, rests her two spike-heeled, shiny black leather, anklebooted feet side by side on the office carpet in front of my kneeling face, and promptly hitches up the hems of her bootcut trouserlegs to reveal the tops of her fully-zipped-up, ankle-length boots.

Miss Gray once again does the honours, with her whip and her voice:

‘SLAVE, DO AS MISS BAO-YU SAYS AND BURY YOUR PIG-UGLY NOSE DOWN THE TOP OF HER RIGHT ANKLEBOOT. SNIFF AT THE TOP OF HER SOCK AND INHALE THE AROMA FROM THE INSIDE OF HER BOOT. DON’T TOUCH HER SOCK WITH YOUR NOSE UNLESS SHE ORDERS YOU TO!’

Actually, touching miss Bao-Yu’s black anklesock with the tip of my nose would be quite difficult this morning, since the sock, inside her right boot at any rate, is quite uneven and twisted, and has therefore slipped down an inch or so inside the top of her black leather boot.

I can still just about see it, however – and, thankfully, smell it – or, at least, I can smell the warm, sweaty aroma of moist, inner, Hong-Kong-Chinese girlboot, an aroma to which her oriental sock must surely be contributing, at least in part? But to actually reach down with my face and touch the precious, elasticated top of her black cotton sock with my nose would prove very difficult!

So miss Gray – and indeed miss Bao-Yu – need not worry on that score!

Not that you would know it from the amount of precautionary whip-blows I am dealt across my kneeling back!

I feel honoured and privileged to observe, and smell, the normally hidden contents of the warm insides of the otherwise cold, Chinese girl’s, officewear ankleboots.

Something Borrowed; Something Blue

Next on our list is the delectable miss Thuraya – a middle-aged, Pakistani-Muslim woman, complete with pure white, dupatta-style headscarf covering her dyed-black hair, and black and white, traditional Pakistani shalwar-kameez trouser suit covering her beautiful, brown-skinned body.

On her feet she is wearing a pair of chunky-heeled, double-strapped pair of black leather, mary-jane-style shoes and a pair of bright blue socks with a red cartoon character on the sides.

Hardly the type of socks one would expect to see on a middle-aged, traditionally-dressed, Pakistani woman in her mid forties, but nice nonetheless – for again the gaily patterned socks give my supervisor-mistress, miss Gray, the opportunity to direct my socksniffing of her middle-aged office colleague’s funny socks:

‘Morning, Thuraya! Are you ready for the socksniffing-queer?’

Miss Thuraya laughs and swivels round on her chair, coyly adjusting her loose, white headscarf around her pretty, black-haired head:

‘Ha! Ha! I am most definitely being ready – I am being wearing my stinkiest, smelliest socks for the queer, isn’t it? Ha! Ha! They are being the blue socks of my twenty year old daughter, Shabnam, after she is being wearing them to an all night rave! I am thinking to be wearing them today just so that the queer sock-sniffer can be smelling my daughter’s footsmell also on my feet, isn’t it?’

Both myself, and my supervisor-mistress miss Gray, are highly impressed by mistress Thuraya’s thoughtfulness and devotion to justice in imposing her 20-year-old daughter’s sweaty socks upon me, mixed in with her own, middle-aged Pakistani-woman footsmell!

Needless to say I am ordered by my supervisor-mistress to focus my nose on the bright red cartoon character adorning mistress Thuraya’s outer, blue-socked anklebone on her left foot, since this, apparently, is where the normal owner of the sock, miss Shabnam, slipped and turned over on her anklebone in some mud last night.

Drunkenly, I’m guessing.

I can certainly see the offending mud on the side of the fun sock-logo.

I dutifully sniff it, and experience the heady, but fundamentally unpleasant, concoction of dried-in sock-mud; stale, 20-year-old-Pakistani-girl socksweat; middle-aged Pakistani woman musty, black leather shoe; and fresh middle-aged Pakistani-woman anklesweat – all in one intoxicating inhalation, and even before the black leather, mary-jane-style shoes are unbuckled and come off the Pakistani office-mistress’s sweaty, blue-socked feet!

But this is my fate – decreed by the Female Courts; to live on my hands and knees sniffing arrogant office-women’s dirty socks, under pain of the bulls-pizzle-whip, as a fitting punishment for my outlandish, criminal behaviour.

I have been sentenced to the humiliating punishment of public socksniffing, and must just take it on the chin – or, rather, up the nose!

And, though it’s not officially part of my punishment, I shall have equally no choice but to sniff the stinky, nyloned toes of my supervisor-mistress, miss Gray, at the end of my long, working day, since she, understandably, doesn’t like to miss out on the feel of a helpless maleslave-prisoner’s nose on her own sweaty, damp hosiery!

She can build up quite a footsweat whipping me the way she does!

The End