You live to serve my feet and legs, completely and endlessly. I push my spike-covered platform heels in your face, and you obediently kiss the dirty hearts on the soles. The hearts are like you, happy to be underfoot, delirious with pleasure at the thought of being crushed by my weight. I slip off first one soft suede spike and then the other. You wait patiently to do exactly as I ask, licking the metal spikes as a ripple of euphoria washes over you. You hope against hope I'm going to let you gain release at the end. Maybe I will. But maybe there's a catch