Surrender to the Sole

The room is dim, the air thick with anticipation. A man, bound at the wrists, kneels before his Mistress, her feet mere inches from his face. She lifts one foot, pressing her sole against his lips, commanding, "Worship." He complies, his tongue tracing her foot's contour, his breath hot on her skin. She shifts, offering her heel, her toes curling as he takes them into his mouth, one by one, her power growing with each suck.

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