Submissive Males Volume 2
1. Blame
Whenever mistress gets angry or upset, master gets equally angry and upset. And whenever master is upset - I get whipped, even if I am totally blameless with regard to the mistress's bad mood (today it was because she stubbed her big toe on a door frame!)
My humble attempt to kiss better her stubbed sneaker-toe…
…fails to assuage her young-womanly wrath:
…Or the righteous indignation of the whip wielding master-sir:
Pain and suffering at the hands of one’s betters just goes with the territory of being a lowly, household slave.
And rightly so!
2. Adjusting My Face
I am nothing more than a built-in, under-desk, facial footrest for my office-mistress's ballet-slippered feet beneath her office desk.
Every morning she adjusts the angle of my face (by kicking it) until her feet feel comfortable:
All I can smell is the musty, leathery aroma of her pretty shoesoles:
Even the aroma of her grey and white, stripy sock inside her shoe is beyond me - as well it might be, since it is the sock of a beautiful and superior, young woman, seated high above me at her desk!
I am not worthy to look at, or to smell, anything other than the dirty sole of her office ballet-flat!
3. Sniffsock
His job is to sniff his mistress’s stinky, black socks on her feet whilst she relaxes at night on the sofa - and his face must reflect his maleslave shame and consternation at what he must do:
To the smug satisfaction of the mistress:
4. A Student of Sock
Postgraduate mistress studies her textbook, whilst undergraduate slave studies her shoes and socks:
It is right that he should fill his dull, male head with the sight of her socks, whilst she fills her superior, pretty head with learning and education; for she is, self-evidently, his infinite better, being beautiful and female:
5. The Righteous Girl’s Personal Sockslave
My new mistress is transporting me home. She has just purchased me at auction, so I am her bonded property. Consequently, I must walk behind her horse and carriage, chained by the neck. I am deemed unworthy to sit beside or behind her - or even to sit at all in her superior, female presence.
What do I know of her, from my initial observations?
- That she is a mousy-blonde
- Mid twenties
- Petite
- Plain
- Cruel (she has already had her initials 'JF' branded into my sore right thigh)
- Married (I humbly overheard her mention a husband to the auctioneer)
- Tomboyish - her clothing consists of cropped, blue denim jeans and a skimpy, black T-shirt, with a pair of oversized, laced-up, brown leather ankleboots (scuffmarked - I have already been obliged to kneel and kiss them on the auction block)
- Semi-Righteous, for she wears the traditional bonnet of the Righteous (though she is evidently not 'High Church', judging by the remainder of her attire!)
As soon as we arrive at her modest, rundown farmstead, deep inside 'Righteous' country, she has her stable boy take me to the barn, strip me naked, hang me by the wrists from the rafters, and mercilessly whip me. 50 lashes in all - just to 'show me who's boss', as she puts it. Oh, and her name is 'Joanna' - 'mistress Joanna' to me!
She then has me fitted with an electronic concentrator device, attached to my brain, and she delights in informing me that it is set to her thick, grey bootsocks beneath her blue denim, jean hems. She goes on to explain to me, as I languish in lingering whip-pain at her scuff- booted feet, that I am to think about, and care about, nothing other than her socks from now on - their look; their texture; their stitching; and smell. I am to be her personal 'sockslave' - fit only to serve her socks on her dainty feet, inside her oversized, laced-up workboots.
I am to be her lowly status-symbol - for personal sockslaves are currently all the rage in the Gynarchy at the moment, and my sockmistress Joanna clearly likes to keep up with the trends!
I immediately kneel forward and sniff my hardworking, Righteous mistress on the grey bootsock-top – as a symbolic gesture of my enslavement to her socks:
And so I begin to psychologically attach myself to her thick, grey bootsocks - secretly and unobtrusively admiring the creases and folds in her socktops every time I kneel next to her booted feet at dinnertime, and, indeed, throughout the day. Wherever my mistress Joanna's socks go, I go. I follow on my hands and knees in their wake, and even whilst they sleep discarded on the floor of her secret lover in his studio flat in the nearby town.
Yes, I truly admire my mistress Joanna's adulterous socks, thanks to the painful tutelage of the fiendish concentrator device embedded inside my brain (and the ever-present threat of the whip!). I discreetly nose the girlsocks, and nuzzle them, whenever I get a chance throughout the working day - which is often. I shall never stray onto another woman's socks. I shall die with my mistress Joanna's socks on my face - hopefully after a reasonably long and contented life as her devoted and loyal sockservant!
As a reward for my enforced loyalty, she has the words ' Righteous Mistress Joanna's pathetic sockslave' ignominiously tattooed onto my forehead, to complement the brief, brand mark on my tender, inner thigh, and to clarify for everyone my truly humble station in life - that of a plain and ordinary, 30-something, Righteous-adulterous tomboy's stinky-bootsock slave, obsessed by his nominally Righteous-mistress's ubiquitous, thick, grey socks on her dainty, feminine feet inside her hefty, laced-up and farmstead-soiled ankleboots!
The whip and the concentrator have made me thus.
6. Red Lines
My mistress Amy’s white anklesocks contain red lines at the top – red lines which, she has explained to me, are a warning to me never to raise my gaze above.
For I am not worthy to look at her bare ankleflesh above the red socklines. If ever she does catch me looking above the red sockline, I can expect red lines to be cut across my bare back – courtesy of her whip!
A view of her pretty face and red hair – which is MOST DEFINITELY off limits to me:
I must only ever look down at her socks – and not up at her pretty face; for I am her footslave!
