Get on your knees and start cleaning—my feet are filthy, and your tongue is the only tool I allow. Every speck of dirt, every drop of sweat, you’ll lick it off without question. But don’t worry, there’s a reward waiting: the honor of being crushed beneath me. Trampling isn’t a punishment—it’s a gift, and you’ll beg for it once you’ve proven your worth as my filthy foot cleaner. Obey, suffer, and earn your place under my soles.
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