My soles are right here, stretched out, waiting for your eyes to sink into every curve, every line. Smooth, warm, commanding.

You want to touch? To taste? To give in?
Don’t even think about resisting – your place is beneath them, worshipping, surrendering.

I press them closer, harder, until all you can do is obey. These soles aren’t just skin… they’re your obsession, your weakness, your cage.