Pre-Whipping Socks

It’s now the morning of the day of my public whipping for being a ‘socks fancier’, and I haven’t slept a wink all night as I am so frightened by the prospect of the immense pain to come.

Another of my regular customer-mistresses – miss Mukta madam  – is kindly visiting me prior to my being extracted from the wall. Not to comfort me, but to assure me that she, and her husband master Simon sir, will be eagerly watching my whipping in the town square, even though I shan’t be able to see them, as they shall be standing behind me. She explains that she knows most people prefer to stand or sit in front of a slave who is being flogged at the whipping post, so that they can observe the pain reactions on his face, but that she and her husband actually prefer to witness the red and purple stripes appearing on a slave’s back – hence they tend to always stand behindthe whipping post in order to get a ‘whip-wielder’s view’, so to speak!

I thank the mistress Mukta madam for explaining this to me, and for her kind ‘support’ in witnessing my forthcoming whipping. She laughs at me and says she wouldn’t miss it for the world! She then points out that it’s quite a breezy day, and says it must be a strange feeling, having the coolness of the breeze interspersed with the heat of the whip on one’s naked back (not that she will ever experience such a cruel contrast, of course, since she herself will never be whipped in her life – being a free, first class (i.e. female) citizen of the Gynarchy!)

I observe that Ms Mukta madam is wearing black, sombre socks on her pretty feet and ankles this morning, inside her ubiquitous red, white and blue, scruffy sneakers, and I make so bold as to enquire of the mistress whether she is wearing such dark socks to match the sobriety of the occasion? Again she laughs at me, and questions why on earth she would regard the occasion of my public whipping as being a ‘sombre’ affair? Ha! Ha! After all, she and her husband Simon are very much looking forward to seeing me suffer and writhe under the whip! No – she is wearing black socks simply because they just happened to be the first pair she could find in her sock drawer this morning. She reminds me that not everyone is obsessed by socks and that, for most normal people, socks are just something you throw onto your feet without a second thought. They are a humble garment merely designed to garnish the wearer’s footsweat inside their shoes, and thus make them more comfortable. Only a public footslave like me is obsessed by socks, which is precisely why I must be whipped – to remind me how despised I am for being a ‘sock-fancy’!

I apologise to Ms Mukta madam for my stupidity, and nevertheless study the diamond-patterned weave of her sock in great detail as I kiss-worship her outstretched, mocking sneaker. Unlike Ms Arabella madam – another of my regular customer-mistresses who visited me yesterday – I note that Ms Mukta madam has not given me permission to focus on her socks during my whipping in an effort to alleviate my pain. Indeed, as she has so kindly explained, I won’t even be able to see her black socks during my whipping. But, just between you and me, these pre-whipping, black socks shall certainly be at the back of my mind throughout the rest of the day, particularly as each individual diamond shape in the weave would be just the right size for my puckered lips to kiss – should Ms Mukta madam ever be disposed to kindly permit me to kiss her socks.

As she turns to walk away from me and head off to the town square to meet up with her husband, master Simon sir, she gives me a cheery wave and shouts ‘see you later, slave!’. She is supremely happy and clearly looking forward to her day. That’s because sheis not about to be whipped!