Killing Two Birds With One Stone

Regular prison-visitor Ms Mukta madam, and her handsome husband master Simon sir, have called in to my underground dungeon cell on their way out to dinner to kindly ask me if I would like to accompany them to the restaurant?

Mockingly resting her sneakered foot on the swinging, concrete footblock attached to my kneeling neck, Ms Mukta madam explains that it is her husband Simon’s birthday, and she was therefore wondering if I would like to join them both in his birthday celebrations, since he is such a magnificent man and much better than me? She clarifies, of course, that I would not be permitted to actually partake in the meal itself, since I am just a slave, but I could kneel on the floor of the restaurant next to her feet and study her socks whilst she ate. And she points out that at least I would get to smell the delicious food wafting down over the aroma of her dirty sneakers?

I thank the mistress and master kindly for their kind invitation to a lowly prisoner-slave like me, and humbly and heartily congratulate the watching master-sir on the occasion of his birthday, but explain that I must respectfully, and regretfully, decline their kind offer to accompany them to the restaurant, since I am due to be soundly whipped with the red rubber prison-whip tonight and must therefore remain in my bondage.

Stern-faced prison-guard mistress Ms Khadija madam confirms this to Ms Mukta madam. The latter laughs and says that’s a great pity because:

a)       She would have liked to stay and watch me being whipped; and
b)      She points out that she is wearing her stripy, green socks tonight, and suggests there would be much for me to study and admire in her socks whilst she is tucking in to her tasty meal in the restaurant.

She then comes up with a bright idea as to how to ‘kill two birds with one stone’, so to speak. She orders me to study her socks for 5 minutes now, and requires me to calculate in my head how many stitches there must be in total in her socks? She kindly counsels me to focus on one of the shaded, stripy green areas in her right sock (the one currently adorning her outstretched foot which is resting on the footblock close to my face) since I only have 5 minutes, and to quickly count all the stitches in that. Then, ‘all’ I have to do is guess the total number of thick, green stripes in her socks and multiply the two figures together! She says that should bring me to the correct total, but I can use the time she spends in the restaurant with her husband master Simon sir to do the maths properly in my head. She says that trying to work out the number of stitches in her green socks might even help to take my mind off some of the pain when I am being whipped with the red-rubber, prison whip?

She and her husband Simon, she says, will then return to my dungeon cell after their slap up meal, firstly in order to finger my new rubber-whip wounds, but also to test me on my answer as to the number of stitches in her stripy green socks. She warns me, however, that she and her husband already know the correct answer, as it was written on the packaging the socks came in. So, if I give the wrong answer she shall have me whipped all over again by whatever number my answer is out - be it plus or minus!

Stern-faced, prison-guard mistress Ms Khadija madam confirms that arrangement will be fine, and Ms Mukta madam claps her pretty hands with glee as I get down to the serious business of desperately trying to count the number of stitches in one of her thick, green sock-stripes whilst endeavouring not to be distracted by the sight of her soft, brown, feminine ankle-pores beneath the thick, cotton sock stitching…




















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