Teaching The Sock-Fancying Slave A Lesson

‘Yo, footboy! Does you fancy my girlfriend’s socks?’

‘Yes indeed, master sir, begging your pardon master sir, if you will forgive me, master?
I’m just a queer sock-fancying slave, sir!’

‘Haha! Beat him, Devan honey. Beat the living cr*p out of him! Use your stick. Teach him a lesson, an’ make him suffer for fancying your woman’s socks, an’ that!’

‘You betcha, honey! I’m gonna bust his ass!’

‘Oh pray masters! Oh pray! Please don’t beat me masters. I’m frightened of you masters!’

Needless to say, my pathetic whining does me no good, and the mighty master-sir does indeed ‘bust my ass’; or rather ‘my face’ – for the crime of fancying his pretty ladyfriend’s pink socks.

And rightly so – for it is not my place to fancy my customers’ socks. Rather, I should be respecting them!












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