21:11
These feet are huge, sweaty, and unforgiving — and her sandals? Worn to filth, soaked in summers of dirt and skin. She plants them in your face like a throne, commanding you to lick every inch: the cracked soles, the grime-stained straps, the sweat that’s long dried into the leather. You’re not here to question. You’re here to serve, to gag on the taste of her power, and to prove your worth with your tongue. Her old sandals are holy — and you are nothing but their cleaner.
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