The sound of ripping fishnets is your starting pistol, worm. My light blue pedicure is now on full display, a sacred altar for your unworthy release. This isn't a request; it's a command.

You will watch, you will stroke, and you will be granted the singular honor of covering my perfect feet with your pathetic load.

This is a privilege you've earned through your devotion. Now, prove you know how to obey. Are you ready to make a mess for your Goddess?