‌

I make it very clear from the start that you are not the kind of man who gets to enjoy my feet. You are the kind of loser who exists to suffer for them. I tell you exactly how worthless you are while I demonstrate the treatment someone like you truly deserves. I lift my leg slowly at first, letting you think you might earn a glimpse of pleasure, then I laugh and show you precisely how I would smash your balls under my heel without a second thought. I describe how I would dig my nails into your dick just to watch you gasp, how I would slap you hard and make you take it, how I would stomp you into the floor every time you dared to look at me with hope. You’re reminded again and again that you are beneath me and that any pain I give you, is still more attention than you deserve. Pleasure is something you will never receive from my feet. That’s for men who actually matter. You’re here to be punished, to be used, to be broken down until you remember your place. And your place is suffering for my feet, taking every bit of the pain I decide to give you, grateful that a pathetic thing like you even gets that much from me.