Padrona Eleonora, elegant and commanding, rules her chamber with an iron will and a tender foot. Her slave, a quivering mess at her feet, worships her every step, his eyes locked onto her exquisite heels. Eleonora, a cruel smile playing on her lips, presses her soles onto his face, smothering him in her divine scent. She orders him to lick, to kiss, to adore, each command punctuated by the sharp crack of the frusta, leaving his back a canvas of red welts.