Mistress Austria surveys her domain, her slaves lined up on the floor, eyes downcast. She steps onto the first brat, her sharp heels sinking into his flesh. She walks across their bodies, their moans music to her ears. She reaches the last brat, who looks up, pleading. "Please, Mistress," he begs. She smirks, lifting her foot, and brings it crashing down on his face. He gasps, but she's already moving on, her bare feet now, softer but no less dominating. She grinds her heels into their backs, their asses, their thighs, leaving no part of them untouched, until they're a writhing mass beneath her, begging for her mercy.