You might think that I am in a privileged position (for a slave) - lying on the dirty floor of a bus with my humble head well and truly trapped in between my pretty mistress's shapely-socked ankles and street-soiled sneakers? But you'd be wrong! For, despite being able to feel my mistress's right sock digging softly into my temple, I cannot, in my demeaning position, actually see her dark grey socks - which, for a sockieboy-slave like me, is a complete disaster!
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| A privileged position that any slave worth their salt would surely give their eye teeth for? |
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| Actually, not wishing to complain, but I don't feel all that privileged! |
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| For, in this ignominious position, with my temples trapped between my pretty mistress's socked ankles, I can't actually see her socks... |
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| ...not even out of the corners of my lowly eyes! |
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| To add insult to slavish injury, I can feel one of her socks - her right sock - brushing against my temple |
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| I can even sense the creases in her right sock... |
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| ...so cotton soft and malleable! |
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| But I can't see the sock - or its rows of stitching! |
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| Meanwhile, the pretty wearer of the dark grey socks is oblivious to my sock-suffering beneath her! |
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| She has much more important things on her pretty mind - such as what to have for her tea tonight |
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| But my menial mind, by way of contrast, is wondering what her socks must currently look like on her well-turned ankles! |
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| Her socks!...Oh her SOCKS!... |
