Masters & Mistresses (ii)
1. Humble Sockwasher
As I kneel handwashing my master’s dirty socks in the tub, his beautiful girlfriend crouches down and mockingly asks me if I wouldn’t much rather be washing her bare feet?
I humbly and respectfully reply to the mocking mistress-madam that, whilst it would be truly an honour for me to wash her most beautiful feet, it is not my place as a slave to choose whom I serve, or the nature of that servitude.
She laughs at me, and calls me ‘another man’s pathetic sockwasher’:
Later, as my master and his beautiful girlfriend embrace passionately above me, I kneel obediently behind my master’s socks and dream of what might have been:
3. Thanking You Kindly
‘Kindly kiss my boyfriend’s foot, public footslave!’
‘Yes, mistress madam. Yes, master sir. Thanking you kindly, master and mistress.’
Mocking Laughter
3. Showing Off
Master likes to show off his manliness in front of his girlfriends, by first whipping me:
…and then having me kiss his slippered feet:
…followed by their fully-shod feet!
…much to their great joy and amusement!
5. Homework
Master and mistress are going out clubbing for the evening.
As I kiss their feet temporarily goodbye in the basement dungeon where they are leaving me for an anticipated 12 hours without any food or water, the master instructs me that I must write a 650 word essay eulogising a pair of his wife's thick, grey bootsocks (i.e. the ones she has on now) as I humbly await their return.
As the mistress cruelly, but kindly, holds one of her thick-grey-socked feet up to my kneeling nose for sniffing, her husband explains that his beautiful wife has graciously deigned to leave her sweaty, grey bootsocks with me all weekend (as she will shortly be changing into her clubbing stilettos), so that I can garner inspiration for my essay.
He further warns me that the essay must:
- Be written in fancy, but humble slave speak
- Be hugely respectful of his wife's socks
- Praise his wife's socks
- Conclude that I am not worthy to serve his wife's socks, and that I am worth less than his wife's socks
If I score less than full marks for my handwritten essay, which he will read and mark on their return in the morning, I shall be sorely whipped.
I humbly kiss the master-sir’s outstretched boot, and seek to assure him that I shall give all sue diligence to my essay-writing efforts, and shall endeavour to truly eulogise his wife’s discarded, grey bootsocks in the manner in which he has commanded:
Here is that handwritten essay:
Oh pray master-sir; if it pleases you, master-sir. Truly this slave is eternally grateful to the mighty and strong master-sir for arranging the opportunity for this dirty, weak slave to spend some time with the master’s wife’s socks, and then to eulogise them for the master-sir in the form of an essay.
Truly this slave is not worthy of such an inestimable honour, sir!
Oh pray, master; oh pray! The first thing this slave notices wen it is alone with your wife’s sweaty, grey bootsocks, is the marvellous texture of the mistress’s thick, grey, woollen bootsocks – made all the more tender by the precious moisture from the mistress’s feet, master-sir. Truly the stitches in the thick material of the mistress’s socks absorb her divine footpore-excretions, capturing them and fermenting them to make the fine bouquet of your beautiful wife’s socksweat, master sir, thanking you kindly master-sir.
Oh master, I dare not sniff on the mistress’s socks too hard, lest I inadvertently diminish their piquant aroma, which I know must last me a full two days, master-sir. And that just would not do – for it is truly an honour for the likes of me to live and breathe in the pungent atmosphere of your pretty wife’s discarded and used bootsocks, master-sir. The plain, grey bootsocks of a goddess, master!
Oh master, if it pleases you most powerful and mighty master-sir (please don’t beat me, master!) the aroma of your wife’s socks is particularly sharp in and around the sweaty, reinforced toe-areas of your wife’s socks, master.
Pray don’t get me wrong, master! Every inch of your wife’s socks encaptures your wife’s precious footsweat-DNA, and is equally respected and admired by this kneeling slave. Oh but master-sir, if you will be so kind and understanding master sir, the aroma around the toe-areas of the mistress’s socks is, quite simply, overwhelming. Tart and vinegary, master sir – a smell fit for a footslave!
I sniff , master, knowing that the piquant stink shall reside inside my nostrils for many an hour – a truly humble reminder to me of my lowly and despised position in life; that of your wife’s socksniffer, master sir – al thanks to the magnanimity of the master sir, who hath purchased this slave as part of his dowry to the mistress. Praise be to you, most generous master sir!
Master, this slave is acutely aware of not just the stink of the mistress’s socks, but also of his own worthlessness vis-Ã -vis the socks, since he is their servant, master sir. Truly this slave must not be spared if ever a decision must be made by the master and mistress as to whether or not to retain the slave, or the socks. In such an unhappy event, pray sacrifice me master sir, for it is more important that thy wife’s socks liveth!
This slave would have but one request, master sir – on the eventual wearing away and disposal of the mistress’s socks, pray bury them on top of this slave’s upturned face – that all may know he was the subservient slave of the socks, and shall remain so for all eternity, master sir!
Oh master, this slave doth have an humble confession to make – it hath spotted a loose stitch in one of the toe areas of the mistress’s socks. Oh master – pray don’t beat me for this imperfection, master-sir, though this slave fully deserveth to be beaten, for is he not the supposed carer and protector of your wife’s socks, master sir?
Oh master, pray do not apply the sting of thy mighty whip to my back for this failing on my part. This slave promises that he will monitor the loose stitch in the mistress’s sock, and ensure by means of his mouth that any necessary repair is forthcoming – such as the nibbling away, and swallowing, of the diseased stitch, master-sir.
Long live your wife’s socks, master sir! Long may they reign over me, and have dominion over me!
Upon the happy couple’s return from their night out clubbing, the master sir, true to his manly word, duly did read and mark my essay.
He marked me down for arrogance; bad grammar; bad spelling; and for writing more than the stipulated amount of words (659) – meaning that I subsequently received some 25 stinging lashes of the whip whilst I was kneeling again at his wife’s, hastily re-socked, feet.
And rightly so, for a disobedient, disrespectful and incompetent sockslave must be punished!
6. Pimping Him Out
She earns her living by pimping out her footslave to straight freemales on the mean backstreets of the Gynarchy:
Often in the presence of their wives and girlfriends!
Often to their great amusement:
Though others just despise him:
Of course, the slave – being a straight man himself – would much rather be kowtowing to the high-heel sandalled feet of the man’s pretty girlfriend; or to the sneakered and socked feet of his ‘pimp mistress’.
But Gynarchy beggars can’t be choosers!
