Kind Thoughts
Regular sock-tease, customer mistress Ms Mukta madam, is explaining to me, as she holds the public-use whip over my bended back, that she is going out to a party later tonight with some friends. She asks me, as I lickshine her party sneakers, whether I would like to come along to the party with her, before ‘remembering’ that I’m just a slave, and that I am not permitted to go anywhere since I must lick peoples’ dirty shoes and boots 24/7, 365 days a year!
She laughs and says never mind – would I like her to return tomorrow with the purple, party socks she is wearing today, so that I might at least smell her enjoyment of the party on her socks? She opines that her feet will be sweating a lot inside her sneakers as she parties the night away, and that having her used socks to smell would be the next best thing for a slave like me to actually going to the party!
I wholeheartedly agree with customer-mistress Ms Mukta madam, and thank her kindly for her kind thought, confirming that I am fit only to smell the stale, stinky aroma of a girl’s used socks after she has been out partying all night. She laughs at me again and enjoins me to study her purple socks – the socks I shall be sniffing tomorrow morning – before she eventually climbs down from the public shoelick chair and walks off into the night, leaving me bereft of shoe and sock to lick or admire until, hopefully, the next customer comes along.
I also hope mocking customer-mistress Ms Mukta madam keeps her kind promise to let me smell her sweaty, discarded socks on the morrow!
Fortunately I don’t have too long to wait before another kind-minded customer mistress comes along – a bright, young businesswoman in a smart suit and with a smart pair of black leather ankleboots on her smart feet.
Unfortunately, however, she does not require me to lickshine her boots. Instead she points haughtily down to her grey bootsock-top and orders me to ‘nose’ it i.e. to run the tip of my big, ugly nose along the lines of stitching in her grey cotton sock-top.
I suppose I should be grateful, really, for it is a kind thought on her part – letting me touch her sock, albeit with just my nose. But my tongue is just itching to taste her boots – the taste of success, for she is clearly a very successful young woman to be wearing such fine clothes.
Sadly she doesn’t stay long – but I suppose it’s the thought that counts, and she kindly hadn’t even bothered to threaten me with the whip! Observe the smug grin on the stranger customer-mistress’s pretty face as she leaves me behind – a totally justifiable smirk, given that she has just compelled a man, albeit a weak and feeble old slave-man, to touch the top of her plain, grey bootsock with the tip of his nose, whilst she is still wearing the sock inside her boot!
I’m pleased to report that kindhearted Ms Mukta madam did indeed return with her used, worn party-socks the next day in order to make me smell them. She was now wearing grey, bobbled socks inside her sneakers, but she had donned a pair of surgical gloves to enable her to carry the soiled, purple party socks in her hands without getting any of her own sockstink onto her skin. Instead she leaned down and held the dirty socks one by one up to my kneeling nose.
She ordered me to describe the smell of her socks as I inhaled their aroma, and I politely, but humbly, described it as cheesy and vinegary – a smell fitting for the nostrils of a lowly, public footservant such as myself. She did not laugh this time, because she knows that imposing one’s sockstink on another human being, albeit an enslaved one, is a serious business. Instead she looked down on me with disgust – and rightly so.
However, because she had her gloved hands full with her socks, Ms Mukta madam, for once, did not grab hold of the public-use whip in order to chastise me. Perhaps she kindly thought that having to smell a girl’s stinky, used party socks was punishment enough?
