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Today’s a special day. I’m introducing Maleka to my foot boy. She’s heard all about how well-trained he is, and now it’s time for him to prove it. We stretch out, let him kneel where he belongs, and give him clear, simple instructions: worship our feet. Every inch. Every toe. Every dirty little spot on our soles. We don’t rush him. He needs to show respect. Obedience. Devotion. This isn’t just foot worship, it’s a test. Can he handle two demanding women at once? Can he keep up? By the end, he’s done well enough to earn a reward… but stroking? That comes later. We’re just getting started. You were so eager to prove yourself in part one, worshipping our feet like the desperate little pet you are. And since you did such a good job, Maleka and I decided you’ve earned a reward… or so you think. We guide you with JOI, our voices dripping with control as we let you stroke for us. You get to make a sticky little mess all over our perfect feet, right where you’ve always dreamed. It’s fast. It’s filthy. It’s exactly what you’ve been craving. But of course, we’ve been holding back the real surprise. Because your reward? It doesn’t stop at making the mess. Oh no. Now you’re going to clean it. Every last drop. Off both of our soft, perfect soles. With your tongue. You made it, now you’re going to own it. And while you’re down there licking it up like a good little foot freak, we’ll be laughing, teasing, and humiliating you the entire time.