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You’re so easy to control when it comes to my perfect feet. I know exactly what you want—and I know exactly how to drag it out. I make you stroke to the rhythm I give you, teasing you with my gorgeous soles, curling toes, and bratty smirk. Every time you get close, I make you stop. You don’t get to cum just because you’re desperate. You stop when I say. You edge when I say. I own your cock now. I keep your eyes locked on my feet, making you worship them with your gaze. Every wrinkle, every flex, every inch. I taunt you, I mock you, I make you whimper like the foot loser you are. And just when you think you can’t take any more, I start counting. Slowly. Seductively. Ten… nine… eight… until you’re begging for release. By the time I get to one, you’re bursting to explode for my perfect, bratty feet, and you do, like the pathetic little foot toy I knew you are.