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You begged for this, loser.... This type of denial.... My soles and toes are all you’ll ever get..... No tits, no pussy, no real touch..... just my arches, my wrinkles, my toes teasing you into obedience while you watch and ache.... Kneel. Breathe. Repeat my mantras. Your weak beta brain gets rewired around my feet.. This is a long ritual.... I tell you when to edge, when to taste, when to swallow, and you pay for every humiliating permission. You’ll lick pixels, beg for permission, and prove you belong to my soles..... My feet flex, spread, and curl, each wrinkle a rule, each toe a trigger, every pixel a reminder that you’ll never be more than what I decide.... You’ll pay. You’ll swallow. You’ll come back. You’re mine now.