Socks Tauntress

 A pretty customer-mistress taunts me with her socks:

‘Don’t you wish you could be my personal sock slavey, slave? Instead of just looking at my socks, you’d be able to touch them, and feel them and smell them?’

‘Oh pray, pretty mistress madam, if it pleases you, pretty mistress madam, yes indeed, pretty mistress madam. But madam, this slave is not worthy or skilled enough to be your personal sock slavey, miss, begging your female pardon and forgiveness, miss? I’m garbage, miss!’

‘Haha, that’s true! And in any case, why would I want an ugly old man like you as my sockslave? Haha, you’re trash!’

‘Yes, miss. Thanking you kindly, miss.’

‘Don’t you wish you could be my personal sock slavey, slave? ...

 ...Instead of just looking at my socks, you’d be able to touch them, and feel them and smell them?’

‘Oh pray, pretty mistress madam, this slave is not worthy or skilled enough to be your personal sock slavey, miss.'

'I’m garbage, miss!’

Ain't that the truth! As a mere public footservant, I have not been trained in the art of personal sock servitude

More's the pity - for I do admire all my customers' SOCKS!

And the thought of actually being the slave of a pair of SOCKS, such as these, thrills me to the core!

But both the taunting socks-mistress, and myself, know that can never be!

As she gigglingly turns her back on me to leave...

...twiddling her hair triumphantly...

...and knowing that she has just successfully added to my sense of sockieboy frustration and impotence...

...all I can do is look yearningly at the backs of her departing SOCKS...

...and dream about what might have been!

I really am a pathetic piece of garbage, worth less than this girl's SOCKS!

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