Intensive Sock Study







































As my Asian mistress relaxes on the concrete steps, my humble task is to intently study her socks – and in particular the sock that is closest to my kneeling face. I must try to understand the complexity of her short black sock within her sneaker – with all its humidity, moisture and funk. I must, of course, equally remain mindful of the superiority of her sock over me, since it has an intimate connection to my pretty mistress’s foot that I could only ever dream of! The superior sock is well and truly saturated in her feminine foot-DNA, having been on her shapely foot inside her sneaker all day (I know, because I put it there), whereas I am just a sock-outsider, looking on! 

I must also have particular regard to any emerging creases or folds in her sock, caused by sock slippage – since I shall doubtless be held accountable for all such slippages later this evening when my mistress removes her sneakers from her sweaty feet. And please don’t be fooled by my Asian mistress’s seeming coyness. She is an expert with the whip, and whips her slaves with relish (as you can possibly tell from the residual whip marks on my bare back, some of which are still smarting in the chilly, night air!)

And speaking of the whip, I am most definitely NOT, under pain of the aforementioned whip, permitted to look at her soft, bare, Asian ankleflesh above the sock. Her sock represents the limits of my footslave boundaries. Indeed, anything and everything above the sock is none of my damn business! I must focus only on the sock, the whole sock, and what is within, and immediately without, the sock. That’s because I am my mistress Wei-Ling’s personal foot, sneaker and sock slave – nothing more. I must obliterate everything else from my menial mind, and ensure I have her sneakers and socks on my brain. It’s the only way of avoiding the angry, red sting of her whip!

And so I study intently all the creases; and the individual stitches; and the overall texture of the sock. Nothing else in the world matters to me other than studying and pleasing my mistress’s socks – my masters; my betters; my gods.

Or should that be ‘goddesses’?

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