The foot bitch can’t get enough. He needs to worship what he craves. So the foot bitch is going to beg me to take complete control over him with my feet.
He kneels before and watches as I strip off my socks and shoes, my feet dominating his mind. Being owned by my feet means I make the rules for you. The foot bitch earns his keep.
The million dollar view, the view the old man can’t get out of his head. So moist, so gummy and I haven’t even given you the dripping sloppy view yet. Watch me slather them up. You can imagine yourself inside them old man, but we both know you couldn’t handle it. My wrinkled, oiled soled would absolutely be the end of you.
So attracted to feet. Why does the scent of a woman’s foot turn you on? Why do you need her socks, pay for foot worshipping sessions? What do you think it truly is about feet that you can’t resist?
And not just anybodies feet but MY feet.
He’s on the phone and you’re at the foot of my bed. Don’t worry he’ll be home in an hour… but you’re not allowed to touch my feet until your master arrives. You listen to me describe what we plan to do with you at the foot of our bed until I hang up and let you come ever so close to my feet, waiting for master.
