The sad reality of being a sockieboy slave to my mistress Mukta
is that I must attend to her socks, be they on or off her feet, 24/7, 365 days
a year. My menial mind must always be on her socks, and how to serve
them. I am not permitted to even think about my mistress above the socks,
and her socks are the only part of her I am allowed to touch.
The only exceptions are when I am given specific
permission to attend to or to focus on another person’s socks, and even then I
must keep my own mistress’s socks in the back of my mind, since her socks own
me!
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Humbly massaging my mistress's socked feet as she relaxes on the sofa in the arms of her manly husband |
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The socks feel warm, sweaty and moist to the touch |
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Then again, they have been on her feet all day. I know that because I put them there! |
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You see, my sole sad duty is to attend to my mistress's SOCKS! |
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Her husband, master Simon sir, takes care of all her other needs... |
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...leaving her SOCKS to my humble jurisdiction! |
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It amuses my mistress Mukta to have her own, personal sockslave |
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She regards me with the contempt I so richly deserve! |
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I am owned by her SOCKS! |
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I am forbidden to ever look away from her socks... |
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...unless I am specifically ordered to attend to another's socks, such as the socks of her husband! |
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Either way, my menial mind must be full of SOCKS! |
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The SOCKS of my betters! |
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I admire the creases in my mistress's socks as I rub her socked toes |
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SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS!... All is SOCKS! |
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I overhear my master sir reassuring his wife: 'Remember darling, if sockieboy slave ever displeases you or your socks, I'll have him sorely WHIPPED!' |