They're Back!

February 11, 2017

They’re back! Regular customers mistress Mukta madam, and her magnificent husband master Simon sir, are back home from their 2 week vacation. Needless to say I am delightedto be able to serve them both gain as their local footslave, and I am particularly enamoured by the sight of miss Mukta’s pale blue and white, spotty socks inside her sneakers – one of my favourite pairs of her socks!

I am, however, somewhat less enamoured by the sight of miss Mukta’s brown leather whip, the stinging tip of which is dangling down next to both her sock and my head! It seems that miss Mukta has brought her whip for a purpose – to punish me if I get the answers wrong when she questions me about the socks she was wearing when she visited me immediately prior to heading off on her Indian vacation with master Simon sir. If you remember (and how could I possibly forget!), she was wearing a pair of her plain, black, thick lattice-stitched socks inside her dirty sneakers whilst I was licking them on that occasion, and she had ordered me to study her black socks intently so that I could mentally visualise and concentrate on them whilst she and her husband were away on holiday?

Now, it seems, she’s going to test me on my memory abilities, for she begins by asking me if I have been obedient to her wishes, and have thought about nothing other than her black socks whilst she has been away?

I humbly confirm, in the language of humble slavespeak that is appropriate for a lowly slave, that, if she would be so kind and understanding, I have indeed been concentrating on her black socks in her absence, visualising them in my mind and imagining them creasing and folding on her ankles as she went about her superior business in the company of the most esteemed master sir.

She laughs at my obsequiousness, and then asks me whether I had really studied her plain, black socks in intimate detail the last time she was here. I humbly confirmed that I had done, if it would be so pleasing to her – at which point miss Mukta madam, clever young woman that she is, dropped the killer question: in that case, how many stitches were visible in her right sock that day between her lower jean hem and the top of her sneaker. She says I should know the answer if I had been studying her socks properly, and would have memorised such an important figure.

I have no choice, really, but to guess he number of aforementioned sock stitches in her right sock, and so I humbly hazard a guess at 604. Miss Mukta, however, angrily declares that my answer is wrong (without saying what the correct answer would be), and proceeds to belabour me about the face with her leather whip!

Her husband, master Simon sir, is equally incandescent with rage, urging his pretty wife to beat me harder, and asking me who do I think I am? Do I think I am too high and mighty to study his wife’s black socks before she goes away on holiday, and then to answer correctly a couple of simple questions on them?

I apologise profusely to the master and mistress in between the whip blows. Suffice it to say, my face is red with sting and shame by the time miss Mukta and master Simon leave me – and rightly so. For I have failed in my duty as a footslave!