Ms Mukta and her husband master Simon sir watch on with
quiet satisfaction as their slave must kiss the musty-smelling and mud-stained,
faux-sheepskin boots of their esteemed guest whilst being ignominiously
confined in their back-garden stocks.
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| It's a chilly evening in suburbia, but the slave in the stocks has the recent sting-marks from his mistress's WHIP to keep his bare back warm... |
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| ...as he kiss-respects her and her husband's guest's feet |
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| Or, more accurately, her musty-smelling, faux sheepskin, mud-stained boots |
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| As the guest mistress switches her booted feet on the wooden crate beneath his confined face, the slave is acutely aware of her grey socks |
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| Oh how humbling, oh how humiliating for him - to feel his confined forehead brushing against a young woman's plain, grey bootsock-top! |
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| And hers aren't the only female boots and socks in his presence - his mistress Mukta's muddy boots are ominously nearby! |
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| The guest mistress is seemingly unimpressed at the confined footslave's humility... |
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| ...and a stern Ms Mukta watches her slave's performance with the dreaded WHIP still in her dainty, gloved hand! |
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| The dreaded WHIP - with its bulbous TIP! |
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| The boots and socks! |
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| Master Simon sir's loafers and socks, standing behind the whipped slave |
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| He too inspects the slave's puckered-lipped performance on the guest's boots! |
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| If the guest remains dissatisfied, the slave shall no doubt be whipped further! |
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| Boots, socks and the WHIP... |
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| ...Master Simon sir is so glad that he is not subject to the boots, socks and WHIPS of women! |
