Pinned

Her voice is somewhat tonal – due to the clothes pin protecting her delicate, feminine nasal passages from the stench of her dirty laundry basket. But she is still speaking with a recognisably East European accent as she crouches down to mock me:

‘Ja! Ja! How you are liking, you the dirty slave? How you are liking smelling the dirty laundry of miss Lyubovka? Is it pleasant for you, the slave? Ja! Ja! You are liking her dirty socks in your face?’

I have not been given her formal female permission to respond, so I must assume these are a series of rhetorical questions. I think my face gives away my feelings on the matter anyway – but the simple fact is that I have no choice but to like it or lump it, since I am pinned in the stocks and at the mercy of her unwashed smalls!

Note how she has placed her dirty socks uppermost in the basket, even draping one of them over my head.


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