Opinions
Regular customer-mistress, mistress Mukta madam, has come to show off her new socks to me. She kindly explains, as she hitches up her jean hem in order to display her new sock to my face, that these socks were a gift to her from her husband Simon, and, having also informed me that she thinks they are wonderful, she graciously condescends to ask me for my slavish opinion of them, given that she knows I am a pathetic sock fancier.
In between my kisses to her dirty sneakers, I first of all thank the mistress for soliciting my opinion of her new socks, and then extol their virtues, saying that I too think they are the most wonderful pair of socks I have ever seen – truly a pair of socks fit for a goddess. I then go into humble detail as to precisely why I am so enamoured by her socks, focussing on not just the intricate, pink, white and grey, camouflage pattern in the sock, but also the overall texture of the sock, and the creases and folds in her sock as she stretches her foot out onto the footblock beneath my face.
Ms Mukta laughs at me, and then, having reminded me that my opinion actually counts for nothing, since I am but a slave, nevertheless enjoins me to praise and bless her husband, master Simon sir, for choosing such a nice pair of socks for her feet – socks which have clearly brightened up my pathetic, footslave day.
I duly extol the praises of my customer-mistress’s husband (even though he is not here) informing the mistress that I think he is a truly magnificent and intelligent man as evidenced by his choice of sock for her feet, and further praising and blessing him for allowing his pretty wife to show off her new socks to a being as lowly and insignificant as myself. Miss Mukta laughs out loud again and indicates that she might return later this evening with her husband so that I may praise and thank him in person. I thank the mistress kindly for her kind offer to do so, and spend the rest of the day yearning for that very thing to happen – though mainly, if I’m honest, so that I might catch another glimpse of Ms Mukta madam’s wonderful new socks on her sneakered feet!
True to her word, Ms Mukta does indeed return to my dark and dingy alleyway later that night, accompanied by her magnificent husband, master Simon sir – primarily so that they can both enjoy a post-cinema, pre-coital, cigarette (they live in a rundown apartment nearby), but also so that I might kiss master Simon sir’s feet and praise and bless him in person for his excellent choice of sockwear for his beautiful wife.
As he puffs mightily on his cigarette high above me, I therefore alternate between kissing his loafer shoes and once again extolling the virtues of his wife’s new socks – chosen and purchased by him – and explaining that, if he would be so kind and understanding to a lowly slave such as myself, whilst I truly do admire his own, black socks, particularly the thickness of the weave, and whilst I must acknowledge that they are the socks of a magnificent man, it is really the female sock that fills me with a sense of awe and wonderment, as it will inevitably be imbued with the dewy, feminine foot-moisture of a beautiful woman such as his wife, my regular customer-mistress mistress Mukta madam, and thus it is an inestimable honour for me to be so close to such a funky, female sock, if the master sir would be so kind and forgiving to an humble slave such as myself?
Master Simon sir and mistress Mukta madam both smokingly laugh at my dreadful obsequiousness, but master Simon sir feigns offence at my denigration of his own manly socks, and their sweat, in favour of his wife’s sweaty socks, and suggests to his beloved wife that they should report me to the authorities for insolence and insubordination, thus having me publicly whipped in the town square. He asks his wife what she thinks of that idea, and would she like to see me publicly flogged?
Ms Mukta madam confirms that she would, and the decision is therefore made to report me.
Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, and beyond the master sir’s black socks, in the distance I can just make out in the gloom those same, pink, white and grey female socks which I had been admiring earlier in the day on miss Mukta madam’s feet. The humbling thought occurs to me that those socks have now been on her soft, brown feet throughout the day, deep inside those selfsame sneakers. They must, therefore, be well imbued with the mistress’s precious, feminine footsweat – the same juices whose virtues I have just been extolling to the master sir and which, it seems, shall ultimately lead to my being publicly whipped in the town square. It’s just such a pity that Ms Mukta, being the modest and chaste young, Indian woman that she is, will not deign to remove her sneakers from her feet and permit me to smell her socks. She is, sadly for me, NOT some wanton sock-hussy who will just impose her socksmells on any old public footservant. Such intimate aromas are, no doubt, reserved for her personal sockservant back in the privacy of her own home which she shares with her husband, master Simon sir.
Still, at least I do get to see her nice new fancy socks on her feet again – albeit a somewhat fleeting glance.
Addendum
True to their word, master Simon sir and mistress Mukta madam did report me to the authorities for insolence and insubordination, accusing me of disrespecting master Simon sir’s socks at the expense of his wife’s socks – and I was temporarily taken out from my wall, and paraded on a wooden hobby-horse of shame through the streets of the Gynarchy as far as the town square, where I was duly placed in the whipping stocks and whipped by two uniformed Gynarchy police-officer mistresses in front of my two accusers who, mockingly, were wearing the very same pairs of socks on their feet which had proved to be my whipping downfall.
And rightly so – for a slave should NOT be expressing his opinions on his betters’ socks, not even if he is ordered to do so by the wearers of those selfsame socks, and in spite of the fact that any failure on his part to obey those orders and thus express his opinion would inevitably also lead to a public whipping in the town square!
What’s YOUR opinion on the matter, if I may be so bold?
