Soreface





























'Yo, you down there! Soreface! You gotta name?'

'Oh pray, mistress, if it pleases you mistress, this slave is known by his betters as 'sockieboy', since he is enslaved to his customers' socks, and must admire them, madam, begging your kindness and kissing your feet, miss.'

'Sockieboy, eh? Well, sockieboy, what do you think of my socks?'

'Oh mistress! Oh bliss, mistress! Oh your socks, madam! Your socks are wonderful madam, as are you madam, begging your pardon madam.'

I actually prefer the slave-nickname 'soreface', since everyone can see I have a sore face, thanks to the many kicks and blows I receive from disgruntled customers. Whereas my enslavement to my customers' socks is perhaps less immediately obvious! Then again, what's not to like about this particular customer's socks? Red; strong; towering over my humble head; and with sufficient creases in them to remind me that these are a pair of living, breathing socks on a living, breathing customer-mistress!

As she turns to triumphantly walk away from me, I feel like thanking her for my new, alternative slave-nickname. But I dare not say anything as a slave must only speak when spoken to - unless he wishes to have an even more sore face!

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