Leather garments and bare feet
You’re kneeling where you belong - eyes locked on my bare feet, so close to your worthless face that you could taste my skin if I allowed it. I’m draped in tight, gleaming black leather - my forearms and breasts completely covered, completely forbidden - because you don’t deserve to see them, let alone touch them. Not yet. Not ever.
Right now, the only part of my divine body you’re allowed to worship is these perfect, bare feet. This is your entire purpose. I’ll tease you with my arches, flex my toes over your lips, and make you beg just to feel the weight of my sole on your tongue. And still, I won’t let you speak unless I command it.
You will follow every instruction. You will lick where I tell you. You will suck my toes like your pathetic existence depends on it — because in this moment, it does. This is my domination. My game. My rules. Now open your mouth. Let’s see if you’re even capable of being useful.
...
Right now, the only part of my divine body you’re allowed to worship is these perfect, bare feet. This is your entire purpose. I’ll tease you with my arches, flex my toes over your lips, and make you beg just to feel the weight of my sole on your tongue. And still, I won’t let you speak unless I command it.
You will follow every instruction. You will lick where I tell you. You will suck my toes like your pathetic existence depends on it — because in this moment, it does. This is my domination. My game. My rules. Now open your mouth. Let’s see if you’re even capable of being useful.
...
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