You exist to serve, nothing more. My flawless pink-polished toes rest on you, not out of kindness, but because you’re beneath me in every way. You’re not a man — you’re a surface, a thing, a living footrest for my comfort. These toes are royalty, and you’re the dirt they never touch. Your only value is in what you pay to keep me pleased. Now, tribute, worm… and remember your place under my feet