Vitoria stands tall, her high heels clicking on the cold floor. Her ashtray, a mere pawn in her game of dominance, kneels before her. She spits, the wetness landing on his forehead, sliding down his nose. He licks it off, his tongue darting out like a snake's. Vitoria's feet, encased in sheer stockings, are her weapons. She presses them into his face, her heels digging into his eyes. He groans in pleasure, his body writhing in submission.