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In the dim glow of her room, she worships at the altar of her feet. Each toe, every ridge and curve, is lavished with attention. She dips her feet into warm, fragrant water, then dries them with silken strokes. She applies lotion, her touch firm yet tender, her eyes closed in concentration. Her feet, her secret weapon, her source of pleasure, are the center of her world tonight. She uses them, teases them, loves them, until she finds release, her body quivering, her mind blank.