Femdom Oddities Vol 2
1. The Whip-Watchers
My betters have come to watch me being publicly flogged in the town square.
As they line up, I must respectfully kiss their feet and thank them for being the witnesses to my judicial whipping…
…followed by the feet of my soon-to-be whipper, of course!
2. The Photo Opportunity
One of the most humbling aspects of the modern stocks is the ability of one’s tormentors to take photos of one’s suffering and humiliation, thereby perpetuating it on their social media pages for all eternity.
But it’s nothing less than I deserve!
3. The Sock-Archivist
When she first took me on some twenty years ago, my then new mistress Karen explained from the outset that my sole function was to be her personal sockservant. I was to serve her socks, her whole socks, and nothing but her socks.
Hence I was required to follow her to socked heel throughout the day, and would repose at night in my ‘sock-cell’ in her basement – a bare, concrete room surrounded by her sweaty, unwashed socks (until such time as I was permitted to suck the sweat out of her socks, ready for them to be re-worn on her pretty, feminine feet!)
When she deigns to speak to me, it will only ever be with regard to her socks; and likewise I must only ever speak to her about her socks – when spoken to. My every waking thought must be about her socks, and since I am physiologically unable to only ever dreamabout her socks whilst sleeping at night (despite being surrounded by them and their smell), I shall be regularly whipped as a punishment for NOT concentrating my mind on her socks 24/7.
When her socks are no longer fit for purpose – i.e. the purpose of beautifying and protecting her precious feet inside her boots (my mistress Karen tends to wear full-length, thick cotton, sweat-retentive anklesocks inside her ubiquitous, chunky-heeled, zip-up or lace-up, black leather ankleboots, though she does also own some lighter, thinner, sneaker-style, cotton anklesocks which she wears with her sneakers and gym shoes) – they are ‘archived’ in my sock-cell.
That means I must log them, and worship them regularly on a rotational basis. At least 4 hours per day is set aside for my sock-archive duties, when I must not only respectfully kiss-worship the old, disused pairs of my mistress’s dirty socks (they are only ever archived without being washed), but also think about and recall any memories connected with each specific pair e.g.
- Perhaps a former painful whipping, when she wore that particular pair of formerly active socks whilst whipping me
- Or my feelings of powerlessness and inadequacy as she wore the socks whilst out on a date with her boyfriend (now her husband) master Peter sir
- Or the way that particular pair of thick, archived socks used to capture her foot-SNA stink
- Or the way they creased attractively around her shapely ankles
My mistress Karen favours plain and unfrivolous socks, so to an outsider they all look pretty much the same – grey, white or black, and ‘boring’! But to me they are all very distinctive and exciting pairs of socks, and instantly recognisable by their stitching-patterns and occasional flaws –such as the areas of wearing and thinning; or the specific areas of sweat-staining; or a permanent toe-imprint; or the location of certain little loose stitches (remember, all of these archived socks are deemed by my mistress to be no longer fit for purpose on her feet, and are therefore indelibly flawed in some way or other, though they are too good to throw out since they are still perfectly fit for the likes of me, a lowly sockservant, to mouth and nose worship!)
Every quarter, I must present a paper on my mistress’s archived socks to her and the master-sir, by reading it out loud, This must be a minimum 40 page essay extoling the virtues of my mistress’s socks, and recounting my fond memories of them. I must NEVER repeat a memory, and must come up with fresh material for my eulogies every quarter – otherwise I am whipped. Such eulogies are taken very seriously by my mistress-madam and master-sir, and must not be treated lightly – for, as my master-sir is mockingly wont to say, ‘every sock tells a story’!
My mistress and master are now in their forties, and I am in my sixties. Eventually, of course, I shall be buried with my mistress Karen’s archived socks, and my basement sock-cell will become my concrete sock-tomb. I expect that sometime in the verydistant future my sock-surrounded, skeletal remains shall be unearthed by a female archaeologist, and I shall be put on display in a glass cabinet in the Gynarchy museum for future generations of men and women to laugh and gawp at – the 21st Century sock-archivist, who lived and died with his mistress’s dirty socks!
4. Cleaner-Mistress
I very much admire all the customer-mistresses who deign to utilise my shoe-kissing face in the public restroom, after they have performed their ablutions.
But I especially admire the late-night cleaner mistress, miss Hua, as she mops the dirty floor around my face – and particularly her black, slip on sneakers and plain grey socks…
…since they are the hardworking sneakers and socks of a truly beautiful and wonderful young woman, who is my infinite better…
Her sense of smug superiority is writ large on her pretty face:
And rightly so!
5. Chatty
The chatty, Chinese customer-mistress in my friendly footoire-booth insists on showing me her happy honeymoon snaps…
6. The Sweaty-Sock Nuzzler
My mistress Stephanie has kicked off her boots and is relaxing in her living room with her sweaty-socked feet up on the ottoman.
At such times – in my humble capacity as her personal, household footslave – I am required to bury my nose in her sweaty, grey socks and nuzzle them, as a demonstration of my undying respect and admiration for my superior mistress.
Of course, having been inside her heavy, brown boots all day, her thick grey bootsocks are damp and odorous, but, as the whip marks on my back bear eloquent testimony to, my mistress Stephanie is swift to employ the whip if ever I stint in my smelly task, and so I bury my face in her socks with all due diligence – the sweaty, grey socks of a beautiful and strong goddess:
