Overnight Suckwasher

It’s late at night and regular customer Ms Mukta madam has changed out of her running gear and has returned to my confined face with a pair of her husband’s DIRTY SOCKS for me to suckwash. She’s wearing gloves so as not to contaminate her hands with the DIRTY SOCKS!

She begins by asking me if I have seen lots of nice ‘sockies’ throughout the day, by which she means the SOCKS of my customers? I humbly and politely confirm that I have indeed been blessed with sights of many superb SOCKS as I have been kissing my customers’ feet, though none of them as nice as her SOCKS on her FEET, thanking her kindly for her kind question madam?

She laughs at me and says that she hopes I like the taste of SWEATY SOCKS also, as she has brought a pair of her husband’s STINKY SOCKS for me suckwash throughout the night. She explains that her husband Simon (’master Simon sir’ to me) couldn’t be bothered to put his DIRTY SOCKS into the wash, and had therefore politely asked his wife if she wouldn’t mind arranging for the public SOCK SLAVEY (i.e. me!) to clean them inside my mouth overnight?

Ms Mukta then asks me mockingly if I wouldn’t mind suckwashing her husband’s DIRTY SOCKS overnight, to which I am legally bound to respond that it would be my honour and privilege to suck-clean her husband’s SOXKS, begging her and her husband’s pardon and forgiveness, madam?

She laughs at me and deposits the DIRTY MALE SOCKS on the ground in front of my face, before showing me a dirty pair of sneaker heels as she heads back to the apartment she shares with her husband, promising to return and collect the SOCKS first thing in the morning. I continue to thank Ms Mukta kindly, before getting down to my lowly and degrading overnight task – that of suckwashing another man’s SOCKS, the SOCKS of a much better man than me; the SOCKS of my esteemed customer’s husband-sir.

I begin by ‘sniff-cleaning’ the SWEATY SOCKS, endeavouring to hoover up as much of the SOCKSWEAT through my nose before I am obliged to taste the residual manly footsweat – a salty taste which will no doubt dominate my menial mouth for the next several hours!

Ms Mukta, who has kindly brought along with her a pair of her husband's DIRTY SOCKS for me to suckwash overnight...

...begins by mockingly asking me if I have observed lots of nice 'SOCKIES' on my customers' feet throughout the day?

As I obsequiously confirm that I have, my menial mind focuses anxiously on the pair of DIRTY MANSOCKS hovering over my humble head!

I am, at least, gratified to note that Ms Mukta has changed out of her RED RUNNING SOCKS from this morning

If truth be told, I would much rather be about to suckwash those red SOCKS...

...or even the grey SOCKS Ms Mukta has on now... 

...than her husband's SWEATY, USED SOCKS, much as I hold Ms Mukta's husband in the highest esteem!

Truly this local couple's SOCKS dominate my lowly life!

Their SOCKS are seemingly never far from my face, mouth and mind!

Ms Mukta gigglingly deposits her husband's DIRTY SOCKS in a crumpled mass on the ground directly in front of my face!

She sarcastically wishes me 'bon appetit', before promising to return to collect the suckwashed SOCKS first thing in the morning!

She then turns her back on me and walks away, leaving me to my demeaning and degrading task!

She is rightly proud of her and her husband's SOCK HUMILIATION of me!

I lower my humble head and bury it in the SWEATY SOCKS...

...seeking to get to know the TART and SWEATY AROMA of the SOCKS...

...by sniffcleaning them...

...prior to suckwashing them! My only regret is that master Simon sir isn't wearing them at the time!