Letters and answers

You sent me a message: "Miss Lottie, I love those beautiful white sandals that adorn your sexy feet. I love the way your soles arch into them. I can see myself beneath them, the heel pressing into my back as you use me as a footrest. What can I do to be used by you?"

I like that idea. I like the thought of me, sitting in my throne, reading my book whilst you crouch beneath my heel. I groan at the thought of pressing my toes into your backside, the heel scraping over you as you beg for more. I love the image of you, topless, and curled at my feet like the dog that you are.

I'd like to walk over you in these gorgeous heels. I'd like to lie you flat, and press over every inch of your flesh. I'd like to leave indentations on your skin, a reminder that you are mine to control. You are my pet. You are my foot slave.

I'd like to walk around town in these heels, with you behind me, brandishing your wallet, ready for me to rinse. And then, once we are back in my palace, you would lick my soles clean. I would allow you to remove the shoes, releasing my feet, one strap at a time. I would allow you to rub at my aching soles and heels. I expect only the best when it comes to foot rubs, so you'd better be good or you will lose my attention.

If I'm happy with you, I may allow you to lie on the ground while I force my toes into your open mouth. You can swirl your tongue between my toes, tasting the delicious salt that has built up over the day. You can place your lips against my heels. You can kiss them. You can admire them. You can admire them.

I would love to do all of this. But you have yet to prove that you are worth my attention at all. So you will admire me from afar. You will sit with your phone in one hand, and cock in the other, jerking off to an image, a figment of your imagination, and the picture of my stunning, beautiful feet in these shoes that you will never get to touch.