Socks Inquisition

Regular customer-mistress and local goddess, Ms Mukta madam, has kindly decided to conduct an inquisition of me by her socks, and as she anticipates spending at least 3 hours sock-examining me, she has cleverly brought along some equipment to facilitate her in her endeavours, namely:

A chair for her to sit on
Some refreshments (for herself; not for me - the slave being quizzed)
A cruel and painful 'sock-concentrator' device, which is manually operated and by means of which she can deliver a cruel and excruciatingly painful electric shock to my brain (via my confined temples) should any of my answers prove to be displeasing to her or her socks, or should she deem my menial mind to be wandering off the subject of her socks (there are nowadays many more modern 'automatic' such concentrator-devices, powered by artificial intelligence and which can read a slave's brain and deliver punishment to it without any need for the slave's master or mistress to manually operate it, but Ms Mukta explains that she prefers to be the one delivering the shocks personally since it gives her a cheap thrill to inflict pain upon a helpless sockieboy-slave at her feet!)

And so we begin, with Ms Mukta demanding that I first express my initial slavish thoughts about her socks, including expressing my admiration for them, and my slavish sense of awe and wonderment with regard to her socks. I duly express such admiration, describing her white socks as being the socks of a goddess, and the best socks I have ever seen (and I see a lot of socks, given my lowly position as a permanent, public footslave!) as they are her socks, on her feet, begging her female pardon and forgiveness for my sock-forwardness, and indeed the forgivenesses of her socks themselves, praise be unto them please don't have me shocked, socks?

Unfortunately for me, Ms Mukta's socks are 'offended' by my plea not to be shocked by them, as they do not believe it is my place, as a lowly sockslave, to 'demand' clemency and mercy, and so, on her apparent socks' request, she delivers the first intensely painful shock to my temples with her manual sock-concentrator device:

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

It's quite a sharp, short shock, but it is nevertheless long enough to cause truly excruciating pain to my lowly brain, and to teach me a valuable lesson in not presuming to dictate to my mistress's superior socks how they should behave, and whether or not they should impose punishment upon me!

Again, after my unmanly screams of artificially-induced agony have died down, and the pain in my brain has subsided, I beg Ms Mukta's white socks' forgiveness, and she laughs at me. Her socks simultaneously crease up with laughter.

Ms Mukta, and her socks, then 'throw open themselves' to any questions I might have about them, and I realise this is a gracious opportunity being afforded to me to find out more about a pair of goddess-socks, albeit an opportunity that is constantly laced with the threat of extraordinary pain!

I therefore waste no time in humbly enquiring of goddess-mistress Mukta as to the provenance of her socks? Their history on her feet? How long has she had them? How did she come about them? Did she purchase them herself, or were they perchance a gift purchased for her by a friend or relative - her magnificent and mighty husband master Simon sir, perhaps, a man whose own socks I have had the slavish privilege of observing on the many occasions he has accompanied his beautiful wife to my feckless, feetkissing face?

Ms Mukta kindly answers all my impertinent questions, explaining that she has had this particular pair of socks for over three years now, that she purchased them herself in a discount store, and that they were part of a pack of three, but, despite being a cheap pair of socks, they have lasted really well, given she wears them at least once a week, every week, when she plays badminton with her husband at their local badminton club.

Ms Mukta goes on to deliver a painful buzz to my brain, however, because of my perceived disrespect in mentioning her husband's socks and thus, momentarily, taking my menial mind off her socks, even if it was out of respect for another person's socks, namely the socks of her manly beloved husband:

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

Again I cry out in unbelievable pain, my cries echoing through the empty alcove.

Once I have again apologised directly to customer-mistress Ms Mukta's socks, she goes on to ask me what her socks mean to me, and I humbly and blubberingly confirm that her socks are my life, and that my lowly life is meaningless without her socks, begging her female pardon and forgiveness? I explain that the visits of her socks to my face are the highlights of my day, even though I never (or rarely) get to touch them. Just looking at her socks, whilst I am either kiss-respecting or lickshining her goddess boots, shoes or sneakers, is an inestimable honour for an helpless and humble, pathetic sockieboy-slave such as myself, if she and her socks would be so kind and understanding?

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

PAIN! Once the terrible pain has subsided Ms Mukta kindly explains that she had shocked me because of my 'shocking' desire to actually touch her socks with my menial mouth, something, she explains, that only a qualified personal sockservant should ever be allowed to do! A mere public footservant such as myself should only ever be allowed to look at her socks, and if she has seen fit to ever, out of the goodness and kindness of her female heart, permit me to actually touch her socks, I should never mention it, out of a sense of slavish unworthiness to touch her socks!

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz

She then, angrily, gives me another buzz of excruciating PAIN courtesy of the sock-concentrator device as her white socks once again crease up with laughter in front of my face.

And so it continues, for several hours, as I timidly and pathetically extol the virtues of customer-mistress Ms Mukta's superb socks in a desperate attempt to avoid the pain of the sock-concentrator device. Needless to say, I am only partially successful, as we have already established that Ms Mukta madam, and her socks, enjoy making me suffer!