Encojo a mi amigo porque sé que le encantaría cada segundo de ello y, sinceramente, creo que sería muy divertido jugar con él a esta escala diminuta como su giganta. Le soplo un poco de polvo encogedor y me sorprende genuinamente lo pequeño que se vuelve. Lo recojo con cuidado y no puedo evitar sonreír por lo adorable e intrigante que se ve ahora.

Empiezo a provocarlo de forma juguetona, poniendo mi boca sobre su cuerpecito para ponerlo bien duro y así pueda disfrutar realmente mis lindos pies. Luego lo froto y acaricio todo con mis suaves plantas hasta que finalmente se corre sobre todos los dedos de mis pies, cumpliendo completamente su fantasía de poder disfrutar mis pies de esta manera.

Has estado soñando con esto, ¿verdad? Maleka y yo, lado a lado, presumiendo nuestros pies perfectos solo para ti. La primera mitad de este clip trata sobre los detalles: plantas arrugadas flexionándose, encogiéndose, estirándose, todo seco, todo crudo, cada pequeña arruga y pliegue en plena exhibición mientras te provocamos sobre cuánto deseas tocar. Y justo cuando crees que no puedes soportarlo más, sacamos el aceite. Verlo gotear y deslizarse sobre cada arruga, brillante, resbaladiza perfección… Nuestras plantas se ven aún más suaves, más brillantes, más desordenadas. Al final, estarás obsesionado con cada pequeña arruga resbaladiza. Sabemos exactamente lo que necesitas, y nos encanta hacerte desearlo.

You’re not doing this at home. Where’s the fun in that? I’m sending you out to find a toilet and worship it properly, slurping and gargling so people around you actually notice. I want everyone in that bathroom knowing there’s a pathetic toilet taster in there taking way too long for something that isn’t normal.

Slurp the water up and gargle it loud enough that you draw attention. You deserve the shame, the embarrassment, and the humiliation. Stay in there, follow every instruction, and feel how obvious you are. That’s the whole point. You’re the weirdo, and I want you sitting with it.

Dizzy and I already know how weak you are for our stinky, sweaty feet. After a long day of running errands in our Converse with no socks, our feet are nice and ripe, reeking exactly the way you love. We kick off our sneakers and show off those stinky soles, making you worship every last inch.

You’re going to sniff them, lick them, and completely indulge in how bad they smell while we taunt, tease, and humiliate you for being so pathetic over something as simple as our stinking, reeking feet. Keep your face buried and enjoy every second of it, loser. This is what you live for. And now you can lock in deeper with this spiraled super goon version..

I’m laid out on the bed, wrists roped tight behind my back, ankles bound together so I can’t even kick free, a cleave gag pulled between my lips so every whimper and moan comes out muffled and useless. I squirm against the ropes, glasses slipping, trying to call for the others. Fred, Daphne, anyone, but all that comes out is soft, desperate sound. Where did everyone go? I twist on the blanket, plead through the gag, beg to be let out, and it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s coming.

So I’m yours for as long as you want me. Moaning, struggling, shifting on the bed, the cleave gag soaking up every little plea while you watch. Helpless Velma, bound and waiting, exactly how you left me.

You know exactly what you are. Weak. Desperate. Pathetic. And stroking to me is the closest thing you have to a sex life... so say it. Out loud. Every stroke is you agreeing with me, and every time you get close, I stop you, because you don’t get to finish until you’ve earned it.

I could take the shame away. I’m a demon... that’s what I do. But I won’t. Instead I’ll make sure you feel it every single time you touch yourself, until the pleasure and the humiliation are the same thing. Stroke slower. Look at yourself. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

Mila is late for lunch, and when she finally comes stumbling in on crutches, she has some explaining to do! With a sprained ankle making every step painful, she tells me all about what happened and just how much it hurts. Naturally, I have questions. Our lunch date turns into a chat about her accident, her sore ankle, and the struggle of getting around on crutches. Poor Mila, getting here was an ordeal all by itself!

No podía esperar para contarle a Maleka sobre ti—mi patético pequeño esclavo de inodoro. ¿Y su reacción? Exactamente lo que esperaba. La siento y le cuento todos los detalles sucios y asquerosos—cómo estás tan obsesionado con ser degradado que de hecho te envío al mundo real a lamer inodoros públicos. Asientos de estaciones de servicio. Baños de comida rápida. Cubículos al azar en lugares públicos asquerosos. Eres así de enfermo. Así de bajo.

Maleka está horrorizada… y completamente divertida. No puede creer que alguien como tú siquiera exista. Cuanto más le cuento, más disgustada se pone—y más se ríe. Hablamos de todo lo lejos que has llegado solo para sentirte humillado, cómo anhelas ser usado como el desperdicio absoluto que eres.

Y luego le doy la mejor parte: ella puede elegir a dónde vas después. Su cara se ilumina al instante. Las ideas comienzan a fluir—cada una más degradante que la anterior. Estás a punto de ser enviado a tu asignación más sucia hasta ahora, arrastrándote a algún asqueroso baño público solo para lamer para nuestro entretenimiento.

Este es tu propósito ahora, perdedor de inodoro. Y somos nosotros quienes decidimos qué tan bajo llegas.

This is simple. When I’m wiggling my toes, you stroke. The second I stop moving my feet, your hands stop too. Red light, green light, and my soles are in charge the whole time.

In between those stroking instructions I give you CBT tasks, because if you want to keep pumping to my feet you’re going to ruin your cock and balls for them. Follow every rule. Miss a stop or skip a task and you lose the privilege. My feet come first. Your pain is just part of earning it.

Look at you. Completely weak for my soles and not even trying to hide it. I talk down to you while I make you stroke, reminding you how easy these feet make you. One look and you’re already falling apart.

Every stroke just proves it more. My soles own you. They keep you pathetic, needy, and easy to control. Keep pumping for them and don’t pretend you’ve got any fight left. You’re a slave to my feet and we both know it.

You don’t get my attention for free. You’re not interesting enough for that. The only reason I’m even looking at you is because you’re paying, and I make sure you feel how sad that is. I want you ruining yourself for me. Drain the account, take on debt, empty whatever you’ve been holding onto. That’s the only way a loser like you proves he’s worth a second of my time.

Stop sending and you’re done. I won’t even pretend to care. If you want me back, you’ll have to get even more reckless with your money and wreck yourself all over again. That’s your whole purpose. A wallet I can laugh at while it empties itself for me. Send or disappear.

Dizzy and I already know your weakness. It’s our armpits, and we’re not being subtle about it. We tease you with them the whole time, laughing a little at how pathetic you get just from that. One look and you’re already falling apart for us.

We give you JOI while you sniff and stare, talking you through every stroke because letting you cum to our pits is the easiest way to keep you weak and submissive. Stay right there and enjoy it. This is exactly what you came for