He kneels before Me, knowing he’s here to learn, but not yet knowing exactly what I expect from him. I take My time, watching, deciding how far I’ll let him go. I make him show proper respect first. He bows, kisses My shoes, and waits for permission to continue. When he’s allowed to remove them, I watch closely. The moment he steps out of line, I correct him immediately. A sharp reminder of his place, making it clear that he doesn’t take anything without My approval. Only then do I begin to teach him. I guide him, showing him exactly how I want My feet to be treated, correcting every mistake, setting the standard he is expected to meet. When I’m satisfied enough to test him, I lean back, eyes closed, giving him just enough freedom to prove himself. He is close enough to notice My scent, to be aware of it, but nothing more is allowed. His focus stays exactly where I want it, on serving, on learning, on doing it right. At the end, I decide if he’s done well enough. Only then does he earn anything at all. If he meets My standards, I allow him beneath Me once more, worshipping My feet as his final reward.
