My soles. Your misery. That tiny pickle of yours? I'll stomp it into nothing the second you disappoint me. Worship. Serve. Beg.
Before you even think about my soles, you'll complete your first task. Message me. Now. Tell me exactly why you belong beneath my feet and don't hold back. Grovel like the worm you are. And if you're smart enough to send payment right away, you'll skip the line and become my priority.
