Unreachable Plate

January 12, 2026

A magnificent and handsome master-sir out promenading with his pretty girlfriend spots my humble head on the street. Seeing the sign above my head which ignominiously declares me to be a ‘Sockieboy Footslave’, the happy couple proceed to mercilessly mock me, with the master-sir taking the lead.

He begins by holding his loafered and socked ankle up to my confined face and asking me if I like his white socks, to which I reply that I like them very much sir, thanking you kindly for your kind question sir? He then has me describe in detail the STITCHING in his SOCK, before ordering me to kiss it, which I most humbly and reverentially do.

The magnificent master-sir then turns my attention to his pretty girlfriend’s SOCKS. He faux-apologises for the fact that she is wearing stylishly long boots, but says that if I raise my humble head and stretch my 'scrawny' neck up as far as it can go, I should be able to kiss her white socktops? I humbly confirm to the master-sir that I can indeed just about see the mistress’s beautiful, white socktops but that, begging his kindness and pardon, sir, and that of the most beautiful mistress madam, I cannot physically reach her socktops in order to kiss them no matter how high I strain my nugatory neck, master, please forgive me masters and please don't have me beaten, masters? The girl giggles as her boyfriend then feigns manly outrage at my pathetic excuses and as he mockingly enquires of me whether I am ‘too high and mighty’ to kiss a beautiful young woman’s socktops?

I sincerely apologise once again to the master-sir and mistress-madam for my inability to reach her socktops with my menial mouth, and the master sir sarcastically then asks me whether his girlfriend should kneel down in order to afford my mouth access to her white socktop? It’s an immensely witty remark on the part of the master-sir, of course, because a young woman should never have to kneel in the presence of a mere slave like me!

All I can do is sob and beg for mercy and apologise yet again to the master-sir and mistress-madam for my unforgivable inability to reach her socks. This makes them laugh out loud even more at me, and the master-sir then holds his foot up to my face once more and orders me to kiss his much more accessible sock again, before the happy couple turn to continue on their merry way.

As they leave me to rot behind them, their raucous laughter echoes down the alleyway as I humbly and respectfully follow their socks with my sad sockieboy-slave eyes and with a sense of great sockieboy regret and despondency at my abject failure to kiss such a lovely pair of female SOCKS when they had so kindly been offered to me, as it were, on an unreachable plate!