Library Sockslave

This library sockslave knows his lowly place – and it is on his hands and knees on the floor, with his head sandwiched in between the student-mistress’s ankles, studying the texture and weave of her socks whilst she studies for her Science degree high above him.

The humble sockslave knows that he is fit only to study a girl’s socks, which is why he is employed as he is, and why he remains dutifully focussed on the sock currently in front of his feckless face. At the moment, he is fixated on the internal sideof her right sock and, even though it is a plain and ordinary, everyday grey cotton anklesock, there is still a lot for him to think about and fill his empty head with:

·     First of all, he must speculate as to the provenance of this young woman’s sock. Was it a gift from her boyfriend, or did she purchase this particular pair of socks herself?

·     How long has she had them?

·     Does she have a personal footslave at home and, if so, did she require him to put her socks on her feet this morning?

·     How long has she been wearing them inside her sneakers?

·     When were they last washed?

·     Will she require her personal slave (if she owns one) to mouth-wash her dirty socks later on?

·     How many stitches are there in each sock?

·     How absorbent are they when it comes to garnishing her precious foot perspiration?

·     What is the elasticity rate of the upper rims of her socks?

·     Are they comfortable on the mistress’s feet?

As for the sock in front of his face, he must focus on each and every crease and fold that appears and/or disappears in the student-mistress’s sock with each subliminal movement of her foot and ankle muscles. Such minute details may appear to be insignificant to a proper human being – to a free person – and are probably an irrelevance even to the pretty wearer of the sock who is herself blissfully unaware of her sock movements and creases. But to the pathetic footslave’s mind such events are of momentous significance, with all kinds of implications. For example, when a crease appears in the side of the young woman’s sock, just below her shapely anklebone, it means that a small slither of her sock material is no longer in direct contact with her bare footskin. That has significant implications as to the amount of footsweat that particular area of sock will have absorbed by the end of the day, since, unlike other areas of her sock, it has not been in uninterrupted contact with the mistress’s bare foot (or ankle) skin! It will therefore, presumably, be less smelly than those other areas of her sock which have been in constant contact with her skin.

Of course – even the dumb, library footslave understands that the dampest, sweatiest areas of a young woman’s sock will always be the reinforced toe areas – confined deep within her sneakers. And it frustrates him immensely not to be able to see, let alone sniff, those innermost, moist areas of sweaty, cotton sock. Plus, of course, he has the agony of not knowing whether those toe areas are, like the rest of her sock, plain grey in colour; or whether (as with many pairs of girls’ socks, in his humble experience) they might have pink, or green, or yellow reinforced cotton toe and heel areas – or any other colour of stitching for that matter! But he is realistic enough to know that a public-library sockslave like him is only ever going to be permitted to study the upperareas of a girl’s sock – above the shoe or boot line (unless she inadvertently heel-pops out of her shoes!).

And he is, if truth be told, thankful for small mercies. For the worst thing of all would be if the mistress’s socks were completely hidden from view, and he would then have to imaginewhat his customer’s socks looked like as she sat on the chair above him! At least he knows that this particular, studious young woman is wearing plain grey socks on her feet, and he can continue to study them at close range. If her foot remains at rest long enough, he will even start to count the individual stitches in the visible area of her sock – such is his thirst for knowledge concerning her sock.

Her sock, right now, you might say is his life. Nothing else matters to this pathetic, sock-obsessed footslave. It is the pathetic highlight of his day – being so close to a bright and intelligent, young woman’s plain grey anklesock, and filling his empty, vacant head with all these serious thoughts about her socks, whilst the superior wearer of the sock concentrates on cramming for her science exams.

Well, actually, she’s on the phone to one of her mates right now. But there is no doubt she is a very clever young woman, and the slave feels truly honoured to be a humble student of her socks today. He hopes she will sit in the same seat tomorrow and that she will be wearing another, different pair of socks on her pretty feet for him to study. Right now, though, it’s time for him to start silently counting multitudinous grey sock-stitches, starting at the top of the currently visible area of her sock just below her blue denim jean hem:

1,2,3,4,5…………………………………..86, 87, 88,89…

The mistress subconsciously twists her foot to one side for only a brief second, but it is enough to make the sockslave lose track of his sock-stitch count. There are those who would say he should be whipped for losing his place. What do you think?

One thing’s for sure – he must start the count all over again:

1,2,3,4,5,…………………………………….