New Sockmistress

My new sockmistress is introducing me to her and her boyfriend's socks as she explains to me how my life of humble sock-servitude will be from now on:

'Slave, I am mistress Daniella, and this is my boyfriend Samuel - master Samuel sir to you! From now on you will be our personal sockslave, serving our socks both on and off our feet!

You will be responsible for the care and maintenance of our socks, including washing them, drying them, ironing them, putting them on and taking them off our feet, massaging them, nosing them, sniffing them and studying them. You will never look at either of us above our socks. Our socks are now your masters and you will show them slavish respect.

Similarly, you will only ever speak to us via our socks. If either of us asks you a question you will humbly respond to our socked feet - not to us directly, as we are your betters. Indeed, even our socks are better than you, but nevertheless you may address our socks as they are the lowliest things about us!

You will also show sockslavish respect for any guests in our home, and will serve our guests' socks in the same ways that you will be serving mine and your master Samuel's socks!

In a few moments, I will be introducing you to the contents of our respective sock drawers, and our joint dirty-sock basket, where you will kiss each and every one of our socks 1000 times, and really get to know them. I have more than 50 pairs of socks, and your master Samuel has about 20 pairs, so it will take you some time to get to know our socks individually. You will therefore be shown a brief period of grace when I shan't whip you for making any minor mistakes with regards to our socks - for example, choosing the wrong pair, or allowing our socks to become slightly creased on our feet.

But be under no illusions, slave, you shall be expected to learn your duties fast! Moreover, I am an excellent whipswoman, and have a Master's Degree in how to inflict pain and suffering on a male slave. I can see from the red marks on your back that you have been whipped before, but, believe me, you will not have experienced anything like the biting sting of my whip, and I shan't hesitate to apply my whip to your back if you show the slightest sign of disrespecting my, or anyone else's, socks!

Master Samuel sir also has my delegated authority to whip you!

Now kiss my socked feet and thank me for being such a kind and merciful sockmistress to you. You will then kiss master Samuel's socks, and pledge your troth to them also. Do it, slave!'

'Yes, mistress Daniella madam. At once, mistress Daniella madam. Thank you kindly for so kindly explaining my sock duties in this household, madam. I will be a good sock servant to you and the master sir, madam!'

There is a stony silence.

'What did I just say to you about never speaking to us directly and only via our socks, stupid slave?'

My heart sinks as I instantly recognise my sockslave faux-pas:

'Oh pray mistress Daniella madam's socks, oh pray forgive this stupid and impertinent slave, sock masters, for not approaching my mistress verbally via your good selves, socks. Oh socks! Oh socks! Pray have mercy on me and intercede for me with the mistress, most merciful socks!'

'Whip him, honey!' says a deep, manly voice - the voice of my seemingly unforgiving master-sir!

'Mmm... I'll think about it, Samuel darling. Let's see how well or otherwise he kisses our socked feet first. I might let him off - just this once - if he shows sufficient penitence and remorse for his impertinence towards us!'

Thank the goddesses this is a gynarchy household, where the woman is in charge! I proceed to kiss Ms Daniella's outstretched sock foot with genuine slavish fervour and gratitude for her sweet feminine mercy towards me, and then seek to ingratiate myself with master Samuel sir and his socks.

Phew! That was a close shave!


























P.S. Following my abject kissing of my master and mistress's socked feet in the living room, I was required to follow them into their bedroom on my hands and knees, to socked heel of course, in order to worship the contents of their respective sock drawers.

I then had to do the same for all their dirty socks in their joint sock basket - getting to know their unique and personal sock smells before having the humbling opportunity to taste their dirty socks for the first time as I was subsequently required to mouthwash them.

Being a happy couple's sockslave is going to be a truly degrading and humiliating experience. But I'm down for it - mindful of the constant threat of the WHIP hanging over me!

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