Copping A Load

Regular visitor to my humble head, Ms Mukta madam, mocks me as she enjoys a late-night cigarette:

‘Yo sock slavey, how’s your day been? Seen lots of nice sockies?’

I am legally obliged to dignify her sarcastic question with a truthful and obsequious response:

‘Oh pray, Ms Mukta madam, thanking you kindly, Ms Mukta madam, this pathetic sock slavey has indeed been privileged to witness many fabulous socks on the ankles of his esteemed customers throughout the day, madam, as he has been kiss-respecting their feet in accordance with the Law, mistress madam, if it pleases you mistress madam and if you will be so kind and understanding, miss Mukta madam?’

She laughs out loud at me. Even from my lowly position at her feet, I can smell her stale smoker’s breath.

‘Cop a load of these honies, slavey-boy!’ she giggles as she holds her right, sneakered foot up to my face and twists her shapely ankle around to give me an ultra close-up view of her plain grey SOCK. ‘How do you like them apples, slavey?’

Ms Mukta is clearly inviting me to comment on her SOCKS, and so, again as I am required to be by Law – the Laws governing a sock slavey – I must humbly and respectfully praise and adulate her SOCKS; SOCKS which, no doubt, will have been on her feet all day inside those very same sneakers!

‘Oh pray, Ms Mukta madam, if it pleases you, Ms Mukta madam, praise be unto you and your SOCK madam! Oh the beauty of your grey SOCK, miss! The STITCHING! The CREASES! The BOBBLING! Truly this is the most fantastic SOCK I have seen all day, miss?’

I say that to all my customers’ SOCKS!

Ms Mukta knowingly laughs at me again, before unceremoniously shoving her right foot onto my menial, municipal mouth:

‘Kiss my foot, slavey! And study my SOCK in more detail as you are doing so. DON’T take your eyes off my SOCK, and think about how lucky you are to have such a close-up view of it, given that my SOCK is better than you!’

‘Yes, mistress madam, I obey you, mistress madam miss.’

I humbly kiss her outstretched, dirty sneaker-toe, and inwardly admire her creased, grey SOCK, as I have been ordered to do and in a manner befitting a public sock slavey!

‘Yo sock slavey, how’s your day been? Seen lots of nice sockies?’

Ms Mukta's question is mocking and designed to humiliate me. She doesn't really give a damn about my day!

‘Oh pray, Ms Mukta madam this pathetic sock slavey has indeed been privileged to witness many fabulous socks, miss.'

'Cop a load of these honies, slavey-boy!’ 

She holds her SOCKED right ankle up to my face!

I now have an ultra close-up view of her SOCK on her ankle, to the extent that I can make out the individual STITCHES!

I must verbally praise the SOCK!

Oh pray, Ms Mukta madam, if it pleases you, Ms Mukta madam, praise be unto you and your SOCK madam!... 

...Oh the beauty of your grey SOCK, miss!'

‘Kiss my foot, slavey! And study my SOCK in more detail as you are doing so.'

I obey customer-mistress Ms Mukta's commandments, to the letter!

I cop a load of her plain grey SOCK and make sure my eyes remain glued to it as my lips are glued to her sneaker-toe

It is an undoubted honour for a public sock-slavey like me to be explicitly ordered to study SOCK!

No need to surreptitiously or discreetly do so!

Oh how my lowly life as a footslave is dominated by SOCKS - other people's SOCKS!

The SOCKS of my betters - like Ms Mukta madam...

...of SMOKERS!

SOCKS and CIGARETTES - what a fantastic combination to have to serve!

I'm just a SOCK SLAVEY!

A SOCK-SILLY!

A SOCK-SLUT!

I live for, and look up to, my betters' SOCKS!

Just as they look down on me, with mocking contempt!


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