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Alone in his sanctuary, a verified amateur indulges in his private rite, a ritual of feet. His long nails, a stark contrast to the soft skin of his soles, are his prized possessions. He trims them slowly, deliberately, each snip echoing in the silent room. As he works, he massages his feet, his touch reverent, his eyes closed in ecstasy, his body arching in response to his own touch, his feet, his worship.