My knees aren't made for cuddling, baby; they're made for standing in a pair of high heels while I teach you some manners. If you think you're a good boy, you're wrong. You're going to be mine, and I'm the mistress here, ruling over every filthy thought and whim you haven't even confessed yet. Forget pretty flowers—the only patterns I care about are the marks my heels leave on your skin, and the filth I leave on my leather cuffs. I live for the sound of your whimpering when my soles rub against your throat, or when I force you to worship my arch until you nearly cum. I want you kneeling, begging for my attention, letting me inspect your dirty mind with the same critical eye I use for my favourite little leather toys. I adore the way you get breathless when I drag my polished feet across your thighs, slow and deliberate, making sure every nerve ending is singing for more pain. I have plenty of rules for you, sweet boy, starting with the understanding that you don't get to make a single move without my permission, or the satisfying slap of my palm against your ass. You're going to learn that submitting to a woman like me is the filthiest, most glorious thing you'll ever do. Ready to submit to your Mistress? Come see exactly what kind of obedience I demand: Join my wild side! 😈✨