Bound at the ankles, Huby's husband is made to understand his place. His wife, towering above, presents her boots, caked with mud and grime from her day out. "Clean them," she commands, her voice stern. He complies, his tongue tracing the contours of the leather, tasting the dirt, feeling the humiliation wash over him. His wife's boots, her symbol of power, are his to serve, his to worship, his to clean with his own tongue.