Contempt & Awe
Miss Hanishree looks down on the anonymous prisoner-slave in the stocks with utter contempt writ large on her pretty face. She is so glad that she is not the one confined and paralysed in the ignominious contraption, forced to stare down at people’s feet through a rough, wooden window.
She considers each of the words in turn, written in big, bold red letters and surrounding the slave’s kneeling neck, which are festooned all over the public punishment device and are designed each to emphasise a certain aspect of his lowly and contemptible existence:
Ø Pain – he certainly looks to be in pain! Ha! Ha! Forced to kneel on the cobbled stones of the public courtyard, with a bent over back and a stiff neck. Unable to move, except, perhaps, for the occasional neck muscle in reaction to a blow from the whip across his bare back; or in order to kiss the proffered foot of one of his betters. Miss Hanishree has no intention of presenting her feet to him for kissing, however. She regards him as not even being worthy to kiss her shoes. In her pretty eyes he is beneathcontempt, because he’s a slave who is physically unable to work, to perform hard labour. He is, therefore, nothing but a lazy slave! A good for nothing layabout; or rather kneelabout!
Ø Lick – Oh yes, the wretch would undoubtedly like to lick her shoedirt; to taste where she has been, whilst at the same time filling his empty stomach with some good honest Gynarchy streetdirt. But, again, she won’t give him the satisfaction. He can look at her shoedirt, but not touch it, for it is dirt made holy and sanctified by virtue of being attached to her superior shoes. It is dirt that is therefore worth more than him for, unlike him, it is ‘pure’ dirt; whereas he is just plain dirt!
Ø Feet – She recognises that feet must loom large in his pathetic existence. Other people’s feet, that is. Throughout the day (and sometimes perhaps even at night) he must be surrounded by feet – the feet of his betters. He is unable to look the superior beings around him in the eye – only in the foot, thanks to the heavy wood confining his neck. And rightly so, for a slave should always bow the neck before his masters and betters. People like her!
Ø Shame – He certainly ought to feel shame. Slaves aren’t placed into the punishment stocks for no good reason. Well, actually, on reflection, sometimes they are! But that’s still no excuse for an indolent slave in the stocks not to feel shame. He shouldbe toiling. He should be serving his betters – not lounging around in the public kneeling stocks all day. God, how she despises him! An inactive, bone-idle imbecile, deemed unfit even to lickshine the dirty streets on which his betters, including miss Hanishree herself, must walk. Shame on him! The scoundrel!
Ø Impotent – Ha! Ha! She’s guessing that’s a reference to his being sexuallyimpotent. I mean, he’s not exactly in a position to initiate sexual intercourse with anyone, is he? Not that anyone in their right mind, least of all she, would want to have sex with the likes of him – a weak, down in the dirt, ugly and impotent footslave, fit only to lick feet. Mind you, she supposes that somehappy couples might derive foreplay-pleasure out of humiliating him with their dirty shoes, socks and feet, so perhaps the word ‘impotent’ is referring to the fact that he is unable to experience any sexual pleasure himself, though it wouldn’t surprise her if a footfool like this actually did get turned on by kissing and worshipping other people’s dirty feet! Ha! Ha! At least he can’t do anything to satiate his lusts, so if he does experience any degree of sexual stimulation it must only add to his frustration and suffering. Ha! Ha! She’s glad about that. Perhaps, however, she is viewing the word ‘impotent’ too narrowly as it relates to the prisoner-slave? Perhaps it is just a reference to his general impotence and powerlessness – to his being at the mercy of all and sundry? Either way, it reminds him he is far from being a real man; a free man; for he is a man in the stocks. Or, rather, he is a male slave in the stocks; the word ‘man’ hardly seems apposite when describing such a lowly creature as this!
Ø Socks – Hah hah! So, there’s a clue as to why the fool might be in here! He’s a socks fancier. A ‘sock fancy’ in common parlance – a footslave who is obsessed by socks to the point where he is unable to perform his other footslavish duties to a satisfactory level! If that’s the case, he deserves all he gets! Miss Hanishree despisessock fancies – especially since she always wears socks with her shoes (she suffers from dermatitis on her legs, and tights or stockings tend to irritate her skin!). But she most definitely does notlike the thought of her socks providing any kind of pleasure to a slave. Honestly, male slaves are so stupid! Fancy being turned on by the mere sight of a girl’s socks! What a wimp! What a fool! He’s probably even lusting after her black and white chequered socks right now! Tch! Moron! Sock moron! Again, she won’t give him the satisfaction of touching her socks. He can study them from his wooden window, but her socks shall never brush against his face, let alone his mouth! What a stupid sockbrain!
Ø Whipped – He should be! And she’s glad to observe that he has been! Vivid, red weals all over his confined back. Weals she fully intends to add to with her trusty, rattan cane. Miss Hanishree carries it everywhere with her. She finds it earns her respect – especially from slaves! And she personally prefers the splatting sound of a swishy cane on a slave’s back, rather than the sharp crack of a leather whip. It’s just her personal preference, though she has no idea which the slaves would prefer. She doesn’t care about what they want. She is the mistress, and she will decide what implements of punishment to use on them. They are, after all, at her mercy!
Ø Slave – The final word surrounding the slave’s head; and the largest; and it’s strategically placed where he can always see it – directly below his face. Ha! Ha! A constant reminder to him of his lowly status in life. He is nothing but a slave– owned by everyone. Their property. Herproperty – even though she doesn’t know him from Adam. He represents everything she is better than, and he is thus obliged by law to respect and obey her. Ha! Ha! She loves her sense of power over him. She can do whatever she wants to him. He’s just a slave!
Meanwhile, whilst these contemptuous thoughts are spinning around inside miss Hanishree’s pretty, and clever, head, the prisoner-slave’s own stupid brain is contemplating her shoes and socks. He is pondering how:
Ø Her flat, black leather loafers are greasy and dirty from everyday street dirt. How he would dearly love to taste them and line his empty male stomach with some sweet feminine shoedirt. For he is so hungry right now! The Gynarchy authorities aren’t always very reliable when it comes to feeding prisoner-slaves in the stocks, since other public slaves take priority as they are at least providing a menial service to the general populace, be it shoeshining or street cleaning or whatever! But a prisoner-slave in the stocks is just being publicly punished, and there is always the suspicion that a lack of food is seen as an unofficial part of that punishment, even if the Female Courts made no mention of it when passing down sentence. Whatever the reason, the prisoner-slave has not been fed (or watered) in over three days – though some kindly members of the public have permitted him to lick their shoemud or even suck their socksweat during that period. Not this young woman, though, or so it would seem!
Ø With her, it seems, he can look but not touch as she stands directly over and in front of him. And so he does look – very much so. He studies her shoes and socks, with a painful crick in his neck, but also with a sense of awe. For they are truly a beautiful pair of shoes and socks!
Ø The socks particularly intrigue him for, yes, he is indeed a ‘sock fancy’. But what has particularly tickled his fancy about them is the black and white chequered pattern in the socks. He can’t work out (because he is so stupid) whether they are black socks with white checks; or white socks with black checks. And the consternation is doing his humble head in! He suspects the only way he could find out for sure which it is, would be to see the reinforced heel and toe areas of the bright young woman’s socks. If those areas of sock are black, it would indicate that the fundament of the socks is black. Or vice versa if they are white. But, sadly for the sock fancying slave, there is no way this haughty and beautiful, young woman is showing any signs of taking off her shoes in order to show him her innermost socks. He knows he should just be grateful that she is wearing her trouser-hems at half mast, and low cut loafers, thereby enabling him to at least see her sock uppers! But the not knowing whether her socks are fundamentally black or white is doing his nut in!
Ø As for the weave in the stitching of her socks, he is having much more luck there. It is truly awesome – thickset lines of black and white stitching, with finer stitches in between. And twisted! The socks are cotton, but almost have the consistency of wool. They must surely be sweat-absorbing? Freakin’ awesome!
Ø And that’s to say nothing of the creases and folds in her socks! Her right foot, in particular, is slightly, albeit subliminally, twisted on the ground, leading to a particularly nice crease round the back of her shapely, socked ankle.
Ø The ankle-crease suddenly accentuates as she moves to walk around him, but the sock fancy’s excitement is short-lived when he suddenly realises the reason why this bright and beautiful, young woman is moving behind him – she’s going to cane him across his already sore and raw, bare back! And with a decidedly whippy looking cane, at that!
For the next few moments he forgets about her socks as they are out of sight and therefore out of mind! His mind, such as it is, is now preoccupied by pain – the pain of several fresh stripes across his bare back and shoulders courtesy of the young woman’s whippy, rattan cane! The irony is, of course, if he could only bring himself to concentrate on her socks it might help to take his stupid mind off the pain – especially as her socks are creasing and folding with every swish of the cane!
But her socks only enter his consciousness again as he observes the backs of them walking away from him, amidst the lingering smart in his own back. Oh how he yearns for those socks to come back and comfort him; to permit him to bury his nose in them and sob. For they are the truly awesome, black and white (or is it white and black?) chequered socks of a bright and intelligent young woman who has just expertly caned his back. They are, therefore, socks to be worshipped and admired! Oh pray, dear socks! Come Back! Oh pity pray, socks! Oh pity pray!
Meanwhile the owner and wearer of those socks is oblivious to the slave’s silent pleas. She is pleased with herself, however. And rightly so.
