Ms Mukta The Volunteer Prison Visitor

In her spare time Ms Mukta is a volunteer prison-visitor, visiting male prisoner-slaves throughout the Gynarchy in order to tease and torment them with her dirty sneakers. Here we see her visiting one of the Gynarchy’s desolate foothole dungeons, where male prisoners are confined for life with no prospect of remission.

Points to note about this scene are that:

Ø  The prisoner-slave is confined not just in an isolation cell, but an isolation corridor

Ø  He therefore has no company whatsoever apart from the black uniform shoes and socks of his female prison-guards – and, of course, the civilian footwear of the occasional kindly prison-visitor mistress, such as Ms Mukta

Ø  We can therefore surmise that the visit of Ms Mukta’s sneakers to his face must be the highlight of his day – if not his whole week

Ø  Note how he is very much focussed on studying Ms Mukta’s purple sock as she presents her right, sneakered foot to him for respectful kissing

Ø  That’s because her purple sock is brightening up his day – being such a change from the plain, black socks of his female prison guards

Ø  It’s only when we get up close and personal with her sock – like him – that we can see it is actually a purple spotty sock

Ø  Do you think he has the brains and intelligence to be able to count the spots whilst he is mouth-kissing her dirty sneaker-toe?

Ø  I would say probably not – he is probably too distracted by tasting where Ms Mukta madam has been walking from the surface of her shoe (and desperately trying to supplement his meagre, prison diet of tasteless and bland slave mush with some dirt and detritus from the streets outside – dirt and detritus which Ms Mukta has casually walked in)

Ø  It should come as no surprise that the prisoner-slave in the foothole dungeon is perpetually hungry. The whole cell block is clearly unkempt and uncared for – as is he. That’s because prisoner-slaves in the foothole dungeons are utterly despised by both female society in general, and the female prison-guards alike – being mere prisoner-slaves for life and unfit to serve superior females in polite Gynarchy society on the outside. As far as female society is concerned he can rot down here in his lonely, underground dungeon!

Ø  Note how seriously Ms Mukta takes her prison-visitor responsibilities. To her, it is a serious business having her feet respected and kissed by a lowlife prisoner-slave. She will have his respect and humility! (though, it is equally noticeable how the pretty prison-guard has a knowing smirk on her beautiful face, as she knows just how desperatethis lonely prisoner-slave is for female foot-company!)

Ø  Note too how the prison authorities have given Ms Mukta the loan of a prison baton with which to beat the prisoner about the face should he fail to satisfy her

Ø  Finally, I would draw your attention to the very limited neck movements available to the prisoner-slave – thanks to his head being permanently wedged between the bars of his cell and the heavy, iron neck-collar around his scrawny neck. Ha! Ha! He has no choice but to look at the feet and footwear of his betters out in the dungeon corridor, whether he wants to or not!

Having said that, I think we can be fairly certain that he does want to look at female shoes and socks, for observe how, as the two bright and intelligent, young Asian women turn to leave him, he strains his cruelly confined neck for one last fleeting glimpse of the backs of their shoes and socks – and particularly the purple spotted socks of the civilian visitor-mistress.

And listen also to how the pretty prison-guard mistress is explaining to Ms Mukta that the slave shall not be fed again – food or feet – for at least another three days, as her own run of shifts is coming to an end whilst her colleague is still on leave. So the fool will just have to suffer his hunger pangs – and sock withdrawal symptoms – in abject solitude. Ha! Ha! No wonder Ms Mukta is laughing at his plight. He will have to make the lingering taste of her sneakers on his lips, and the sweet memory of her purple spotty socks, last for three whole days before he experiences any human foot-company again! Ha! Ha! If that isn’t a definition of ‘rotting away’ I don’t know what is!