The Company Of Her Socks

Ms Mukta madam often likes to torment me late at night in the town square stocks, sitting on the wooden crossbeam above me and manipulating my humble, confined head so that I am obliged to study her socktops. She even brings a cushion with her, so that she can torment me for hours whilst she is seated in relative comfort!

It truth be told, pathetically I am glad of her company – and the company of her socks!

Tormenting me for hours in the stocks - with her socks!

Ms Mukta manipulates my menial head so that I am obliged to study her plain grey socktops

I must study the various patterns in the grey stitching, including the elasticated uppers of the socks

I am NOT permitted to look at, or even think about, her bare ankle above the sock!

Her socktops are the limit of my lowly jurisdiction!

As the demeaning word emblazoned on my set of stocks declares, my world now revolves around socks...

...the socks of my betters...


...of my manipulative masters!

I make sure to stare at Ms Mukta madam's socks - absorbing every detail

At times of her choosing, she switches my humble head from one of her socks to the other!

I must study BOTH her socks...

...for they are equally my masters

My tormentors' socks are my life!

But especially Ms Mukta's socks!


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