Shopping For Stocks
My mistress Anya and her fiancé, master Robert sir, are looking around the ‘Stocks & Cangues Showroom’ for a set of kneeling-stocks for their new, soon-to-be-marital home. The wooden stocks will be set in concrete in their back yard – and I, mistress Anya’s personal footslave, will be set in the stocks every night, and/or whenever I have displeased the master or mistress.
They will be my place of punishment, as well as my place of sleep.
The showroom assistant – a bubbly, blonde girl in a stocks-showroom corporate uniform consisting of a navy-blue jacket over a white blouse; a knee-length, navy-blue skirt; finest-denier, tan-nylon stockings; and smart, two-inch-heeled, navy-blue pumps – is enthusiastically showing off her company’s cruel wares to my mistress and master, whilst I kneel, for the moment, behind my mistress Anya’s chunky-heeled and round-toed, black leather ankleboots beneath her elasticated tracksuit-bottom hems. The fact that her tracksuit bottoms are elasticated at the hems means that I can also see just a hint of plain, black cotton socks atop her boots (thanks largely to the interference of her boot-straps with said elasticated hems at her backs of her boots).
I follow my mistress’s boots and socks over to the first design of stocks the enthusiastic, tan-nyloned and blue-court-shoed assistant wishes to show the happy couple:
‘And this is our basic model, sir and madam. As you can see, they have no frills – but then, many people would argue that a set of stocks should be basic! Would you like your slave to try them out for size?’
Needless to say, my mistress and master would like to try me out for size in the stocks, because:
a) They want to see what I look like in the stocks; do they suit me?
b) It is important to make sure a set of stocks are an uncomfortable fit for a slave – since he will be spending so much of his time in them
c) They enjoy watching me suffer (as is their perfect right!)
The blonde assistant-mistress invites me to crawl forwards behind her navy-blue pumps, and, for a few precious seconds my vision is filled with the sight of finely-wrinkled, tan-nyloned heels as opposed to black boot and navy-blue tracksuit-bottom (with just a hint of black sock) – but only until we reach the back of the set of stocks, where the bright and bubbly assistant-mistress smilingly raises the wooden crossbeam and indicates with a nod of her head that I am to place my own head down onto the wooden base of the central hole. My wrists are then to be placed into the smaller holes on each side. (It is, technically, a pillory, rather than a set of stocks – but ‘stocks’ is the word that has passed into common parlance here in the Gynarchy – probably due to the popular saying ‘in the stocks, looking at socks!’ Even the name of the manufacturing company is ‘Stocks-Are-Us’, I notice from a little logo on the side!)
As soon as I’m in, the blonde assistant lowers the wooden crossbeam down onto my neck, and I feel my Adam’s apple being somewhat compressed. I then hear the crossbar being padlocked, and the young woman moves round to join my master and mistress who are standing in front of me.
All three of them are now looking down at me as I kneel entrapped in the stocks by my neck and my wrists; and all three of them laugh at me:
‘Ha! Ha! As you can see, they may be a basic set of stocks – but they totally do the job, holding the prisoner-slave firmly in place! Indeed, we see quite a few of this basic range to local Gynarchy town councils, for use in their town squares. They do represent great value for money!’
My mistress Anya, however, is not, it seems, totally convinced:
‘Slave, try moving your neck!’
I have quite a scrawny neck – being kept half-starved by my master and mistress – and, as a result, I manage to move my neck an inch or so inside my ignominious wooden window.
Seeing this, the court-shoed shop-assistant hastily says:
‘Of course, being able to move his neck a bit isn’t necessarily a bad thing – if you wanted him to strain forwards and kiss your boots, for example?’
My mistress’s fiancé, master Robert-sir, intervenes:
‘Mmm… we were hoping for a set of stocks that would totally immobilise him, as we want him to suffer painful neck cramps and not to have any respite whatsoever whilst he is languishing overnight in the stocks. Isn’t that right, honey?’
‘Yes, darling! I don’t really like the fact that he can move his neck at all,’ reply the boots and socks. ‘I’d much rather he was confined in a set which had his head firmly secured at boot and sock-kissing level, so that he can be made to kiss my socks and boot-tops without being able to move his head!’
‘No problem, ma’am!’ interjects the sales-assistant hastily. ‘Let me show you one of our medium range sets of stocks!’
She walks over towards me, and I notice her tan-nylons crease and fold most fetchingly around the fronts of her ankles as she crouches down to undo the padlock and raise the wooden bar off the top of my neck and wrists.
My mistress and master can say what they like – but, wriggle-room or not, I already sense a great feeling of relief after being released from just a few minutes of confinement in this set of cheap stocks; the relief on my Adam’s apple in particular is palpable.
I crawl behind the shop assistant’s nylon-stockinged heels over towards a nearby set of ‘medium range’ stocks. For once, my master and mistress are walking behind me!
‘This is a very popular choice with our customers,’ explains the blonde sales-assistant, enthusiastic about, and clearly a great believer in, all her company’s products! ‘As you can see, this set of stocks is made from much heavier wood, and they have a jagged edge on the inside of the apertures, causing the prisoner-slave that extra discomfort you were talking about sir. Furthermore, the jagged edges are adjustable with a simple twist of the screws on either side, meaning that you can adjust the apertures to fit the size of your slave’s neck. Ha! Ha! You can really make the edges dig into his neck, even to the point of making it difficult for him to swallow, if you wish! All our mid and deluxe ranges of stocks have adjustable apertures!’, she adds proudly.
Again, I am, of course, once again required to try out the stocks (to be fair, there would have been no point in my master and mistress bringing me to the showroom if they hadn’t wanted to try me out for size in their proposed purchase! They do say that, next to a house and a car, a set of slave-stocks is the most expensive item a young, married couple are likely to have to buy – so it makes perfect sense for them to try them out on me first!)
The shop-assistant is not only pretty; she is right! The wood is palpably much heavier on my neck than the first set of stocks, and it is jagged and rough. I can feel the jags prodding into my throat muscles – and even more so as she deftly turns the screw next to the main neck-hole. God, that’s tight! I even start to find it difficult to swallow!
Imagine having to spend the whole night in these stocks (soon I might not have to imagine it!)
‘Would you like to try out your boots on him, madam? See if his neck is confined at precisely the right level? If not, we can adjust that too!’
My mistress Anya willingly steps forwards so that her boots are directly beneath my kneeling, and borderline choking, face. When she stretches her right ankleboot forwards my lips are conveniently at her exposed socktop-level – which is just what she wants. She sounds pleased:
‘Ha! Ha! Yes – that’s just what we’re looking for, isn’t it Robert darling?... Slave, kiss my sock!’
I pucker my imprisoned lips and feel a brush of familiar, black cotton sock on them.
‘Ha! Ha! Yes dear – his mouth is now well and truly level with your sock, and I like the way he is being forced to look down at your bootleather whilst he is obliged to kiss you on the top of your exposed sock!’
It is nice for me to be on a par with my mistress Anya’s sock.
The sales-assistant too is pleased at her customers’ reactions (she doesn’t give a damn, of course, as to whether I like the stocks; she cares only for the opinions of my owners – since they are the ones with the money, and I’m just a dirty slave!). She points out to my mistress Anya that I am obliged to kiss her sock without being able to move my neck even one millimetre, thanks to the tightening screws!
My master-sir opines that he might even be able to make the screws even tighter, and the sales-assistant happily agrees, not wishing to cast aspersions on his strength and manliness.
Meanwhile, my mistress Anya switches anklebooted feet beneath me – just to make sure I am able to kiss her on the left sock as uncomfortably as on the right!
But the sales-assistant has one further push to make for an even better sale:
‘Would you like to try out one of our deluxe ranges, sir and madam?’
‘Ha! Ha! Why not?’ laughs my master-sir – confident in the knowledge that, as a free man and the sexual partner of a free woman, he shall never experience the ignominy and discomfort of being confined in the kneeling stocks, and having to kiss sweaty, female bootsock!
The sales assistant mercifully releases me from the jagged edges of the throat-digging, medium range set of stocks and steers me to heel over towards a deluxe model:
‘As you can see, sir and madam, this deluxe model is similar in design to the medium range your slave has just tried out, but has some additional features – most noticeably the derogatory words written on the crossbeam – ‘Fool’; ‘Whipped’; & ‘Broken’.
I must stress that all our deluxe range come with three complementary words of your own choice, so you could, if you prefer madam, have words such as – ‘Bootboy’; ‘Sockslave’; or ‘Pain’ written on them; basically any three words which you think sum up your slave’s miserable existence, and would bring added shame to him. Additional words are only 5 Fems each, up to a maximum of 9 letters per word; additional letters for longer words are then 2 Fems each – but they are all skilfully engraved by hand into the wood by our master-craftsmen, as you can see!
Notice also the little, detachable hooks around the main aperture where you can hang little cups of water or attach portions of tasty-smelling food which always be just out of reach of the slave’s mouth, thus tormenting him even further during his unhappy time in the stocks! You can even, if you prefer, hang unpleasantries next to his face – such as your sweaty, used socks; or a container full of your toejam and dead toenail-clippings.
If you wish to sit on top of your slave, the wooden crossbeam makes for a comfortable, polished seating area for you, with optional leather upholstery and an attachable back support at no extra cost, so that you can spend literally hours seated with your ankles wrapped around your slave’s imprisoned head if you wish – forcing him to look down at the tops of your socks and boots, madam, whilst you read a book or surf the internet above him on your tablet PC!
Plus, to crown it all, the kneeling-base is cobblestoned, meaning that your slave must kneel on agonizingly lumpy ground all the while he is confined in the stocks! Ha! Ha! ’
I had noticed the ‘Stocks & Cangues’ company logo on the base of the ‘deluxe’ set of stocks – so I’m guessing the bubbly sales-assistant will be on a commission if she manages to persuade my impecunious master-sir and mistress-madam (both students) with some extra cash for such a deluxe set of slave-stocks!
Of course, as she has just gleefully explained, ‘deluxe’ doesn’t mean ‘luxurious’ – not for the poor prisoner-slave trapped inside them – as I soon find out! If anything the wood is even heavier on my neck, the edges even more jagged, and the aperture even tighter once the crouching, nylon-stockinged sales-assistant has tightened the neck and wrist screws as far as she can make them go. And, as if that wasn’t enough, immediately my kneecaps feel shot to pieces as the rough cobblestones dig into my soft knee-cartilage!
Once again my mistress Anya tries out my lips on her black socktops, and once again my head proves to be positioned perfectly for kissing the tops of her pretty ankleboots and socks. Furthermore, I can sense that she loves the extra humiliation of the cup and food hooks, and the derogatory words on the wooden crossbeam!
Even though I can’t really see the disparaging words engraved in the heavy wood surrounding me (apart from the one on the bottom half of the thick, wooden crossbeam below my face – ‘Broken’), I do somehow feel the added burden and humiliation of being branded as a ‘Fool’ and ‘Whipped’ and ‘Broken’. I would certainly find it an extra degradation to have to sleep surrounded by the words ‘Bootboy’, ‘Sockslave’ and ‘Pain’, as suggested by the uncaring sales-assistant mistress.
The master-sir suggests that his fiancée try out the seating arrangement, and the perky, blonde sales-assistant helpfully ably demonstrates how to attach and adjust the leather upholstery and back rest to the wooden crossbeam – thereby making a comfy seat for my mistress whilst my own back experiences anything but muscle rest!
My mistress Anya clearly likes the seat – and I must confess I quite like the downwards view of her boots and socks. I can see a good two inches of black bootsock from this unusual angle!
The master-sir has a technical question, though:
‘How much would this set of deluxe stocks cost to have fitted in our back yard?’
Typical master-sir – always thinking of the purse strings!
‘If you want us to fit them for you, sir – and we do recommend that, since our master fitters make sure they are professionally secured in a permanent, concrete base, and are completely immovable – we would charge a flat fee of 5000 Fems. The deluxe set of stocks itself normally costs 4,500 Fems, but this week we have it on special offer at just 3,500 Fems, plus the additional costs I mentioned for any bespoke wording you may wish to have engraved on it. A bargain, sir and madam, if you feel you can stretch to the deluxe model!’
I really do think the innocent, young, blonde-haired saleswoman can’t even see the irony in her use of the word ‘stretch’ in such circumstances – what wouldn’t I give for a nice stretch right now, even after just 5 minutes in these agonising stocks!
My mistress’s boots and socks turn coyly towards the master-sir, and they embrace and whisper to one another above me. I know (and I suspect the feminine-wily sales-assistant mistress knows) that my mistress Anya is in the process of persuading her fiancé to part with his hard-earned cash for the deluxe model!
She succeeds.
And the bespoke words they chose for my set of kneeling stocks?
‘Socksniffer’; ‘Bootlicker’; ‘Whipped’.
