Egalitarian Devotion To Their Socks

Three wise masters stop to tease and torment me with their socks. Ms Mukta madam asks me whose socks are the best – her socks? Her husband Simon’s socks? Or their friend Kurt’s socks?

I know it’s a trap of course, and respond in the only obsequiously appropriate manner that a humble slave can to such an impossible question:

‘Oh pray mistress Mukta madam, if you will forgive me most esteemed mistress Mukta madam, this slave honours and respects all his betters’ socks, and will slavishly afford each pair of socks all appropriate obedience and respect as and when their most esteemed wearers present their feet to him, mistress, and without fear or favour, madam, if you will forgive my slavish impotence in the face of such a collection of fabulous socks, madam, please don’t have me beaten miss?...Oh masters, your socks are my life, masters!’

The threesome laugh heartily at me and at my egalitarian devotion to their socks!

'Whose socks are the best, slave?'

‘Oh pray mistress Mukta madam, if you will forgive me most esteemed mistress Mukta madam, this slave honours and respects all his betters’ socks.'

I am addressing Ms Mukta's socks...

...since they are the ones that posed the impossible question!

But I am equally conscious of master Kurt sir's socks...

...and their stitching

Just as I am of master Simon sir's socks...

...waiting in the wings

Truly it is not possible for a slave like me to choose between his masters' socks!

Be they female...

...or male...

...I am afraid of all their socks, and what they might do to me if I displease them!

 

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