Look at you, groveling at my feet like the pathetic little loser you are. my soles are covered in someone else's mess, and now it's your job to clean them—tongue first. every lick is a reminder of your place beneath me, serving not only my desires but cleaning up what others have left behind. you’ll humiliate yourself as you worship my feet, tasting the proof that you’re nothing but an afterthought—a toy to be degraded and used. i mock you every step of the way, making sure you understand just how low you’ve sunk. my feet are perfection, and your shame only makes this even more fun for me.