Food For Thought

Civilians are encouraged to eat a sumptuous meal in front of the starving prisoner-slaves in their cells. At such times, rather than focussing on the smells of the delicious food wafting down towards their imprisoned noses, the slaves would do well to instead concentrate on the feet and footwear of their superiors eating above them.

Here, for example, we see one such hungry prisoner-slave studying the boots and socks of a gluttonous, young prison-visitor woman eating high above him. Because he is confined in the infamous kneeling stocks, he is forced to look downwards out of his wooden window towards her feet. What is he observing about her feet and footwear whilst she feasts?

·         Firstly, he focusses on her outer footwear – her boots. He notices that they are clumpy, and dirty – covered in grease and oil stains. Perhaps she works in a garage of some sort – as a mechanic? That’s pure conjecture on his humble part, of course, because he does not know this young woman from Eve, having never been blessed by her presence before. But one thing he can know with footslavish certainty is that she utterly despises him and holds him in contempt – that much is clear from the filthy nature of her footwear. She has made no attempt to clean up her boots prior to visiting him in his dingy cell – knowing full well that he would be compelled to stare at her boots whilst she eats. She clearly just doesn’t care – and rightly so; for he is just a slave

·         The lowly prisoner-slave can at least console himself with the thought that he can see where she has been walking – in the form of the outside dirt on her boot surfaces. It is his only view of the outside – and always will be, since he is confined for life in the dungeons

·         Even her boot laces are done up in a slovenly, devil-may-care manner – though he admires the pretty bows at the tops, and the fact that they are bright red somehow reminds him that these are female boots, despite their overall lack of femininity

·         Next he focuses on the history and provenance of her socks – tube style, thick weaved socks; nominally white, but again, very greasy and dirty looking, with a pink and white hoop at the top. And they are creased and slouched around her young-womanly ankles in a most slovenly manner. How contemptuous of him! This young woman is clearly making the statement that she doesn’t give the wellbeing of her socks a second thought (nor the wellbeing of the slave, incidentally). Her socks are just something she throws on of a morning, and are purely designed to absorb her footsweat throughout the day – thus becoming impure. She knows full well that other people, free people, will barely even register her socks in their superior brains. Only pathetic footslaves – like the prisoner-slave here before us – will take notice of her socks, since they loom large in a slave’s inferior consciousness

·         Ha! Ha! Right now the imprisoned and confined-in-wood footfool isn’t just ‘noticing’ her socks – he is studying the very weave of her arrogantly outstretched sock beneath his humble head, and in particular he is focussing on the dirt and grease stains trapped in that thick weave. How pathetic is that – when he has a beautiful, young woman seated in front of him whom he could be admiring? Or, at the very least he could be studying her soft, bare, feminine legflesh above the scrunched-down socktop. But no – this fool is instead ruminating on how those greasy dirt particles became trapped in her socks, and is wondering how moist or otherwise her socks may be around the, presumably discoloured, reinforced toe-areas of her socks, deep inside her workaday boots! Unfortunately for him, of course, he can’t smell the bright, young woman’s inner socks. He can barely even smell her musty bootleather above the strong aroma of her food! Ha! Ha! What a loser!

·         Finally, he is thinking about her bare feet inside her socks and boots. As the latter are dirty and greasy, presumably her bare feet are too – but a different kind of grease, perhaps? The natural, odorous grease that exudes from her female foot pores as she goes about her daily business. Yes, he imagines her soft, bare feet are quite clammy inside those dirty boots and socks – particularly around the toe areas. And her toes themselves are, presumably, unpedicured – with dirt stains underneath the toenails, and sock lint trapped beneath the cuticles? How he would like to be a piece of socklint trapped beneath her big toenail – not just because that would make him a superior thing to what he is now (since a girl’s socks are more valuable than a mere prisoner-slave), but because he could then feast on her salty, but bitter tasting, toejam – a meal fit for a footslave who is made of socklint.

Oh dear – he’s clearly hallucinating now; driven mad by hunger! Ha! Ha! Eat away, young lady. Eat with relish and gusto. Let the prisoner hear as well as smell what you are eating. For he is here to be punished and is not worthy of your superior, free-human food. He will get his meagre ration of dirty slave-mush later in the week. But you can eat fine food until your belly is full to overflowing. And when you have finished, pick out the food debris from your teeth with a toothpick, and flick it down casually onto the floor where the slave can see it, and yearn for it, but not reach it. Your toothpicked food debris is better than him, and he needs to be reminded of that!

Enjoy!