Ms Mukta barks an order down at me from the sofa:
‘Straighten your master Simon’s sock on his right ankle,
sock slavey!’
‘Yes, mistress Mukta madam. At once, mistress Mukta
madam.’
I crawl over to where master Simon sir is sitting:
‘Permission to touch your sock, sir?’
‘Permission granted, sock slavey boy. But DON’T touch my skin!’
‘Yes, master Simon sir. I hear and obey you, sir.’
 |
| ‘Straighten your master Simon’s sock on his right ankle, sock slavey!’ |
 |
| ‘Yes, mistress Mukta madam. At once, mistress Mukta madam... Permission to touch your sock, sir?’ |
 |
| Master Simon sir kindly grants me his manly permission and I start to smooth out his sock creases |
 |
| He could, of course, easily straighten his own sock |
 |
| But why bother, when you have a sock slavey to do it for you? |
 |
| My masters watch intently my humiliation at master Simon's right sock... |
 |
| ...as I must straighten it on his manly ankle without touching the skin... |
 |
| ...on his hairy leg! |
 |
| His other sock, I'm pleased to say, already looks perfectly straight! |
 |
| The socks I would much rather be touching - the socks of my mistress Mukta! |
 |
| But slaves can't be choosers. Slaves must simply obey! |
 |
| Especially sock slaveys! |
