Office-Mistress Inga's At-Desk Footslave

Here you see my beautiful, blonde office-mistress Inga busy at her computer. Observe as I dutifully kneel beneath her office desk at her feet, and study her exposed, thick grey cotton bootsock-tops.

That’s because I am her office 'at-desk footslave', and my humble role is to kneel and admire her bootsock-tops – to study in silent and unobtrusive detail the texture of her elasticated socktops; the moisture in them (if any); the pattern of the stitching; the living and breathing creases and folds in her socktops, as she subliminally flexes her shapely, feminine foot and ankle muscles. I am not permitted to think of her above the sock – beautiful though she is. For I am not her lover; or even her office colleague. I am just a slave – beneath her, and fit only to look her in the sock.

Of course, what I really aspire to be is her household sockservant – authorised to nose-massage and sniff-nuzzle her sweaty, grey socks on her feet once she has kicked off her boots after her long, hard day at the office! But that is not to be. Instead I must make do with just the sight of her socktops inside her boots.

Nevertheless, I consider myself enormously privileged and lucky to be assigned as the office bootsock-slave of such a stunningly attractive and superior, young woman!