Do you have any idea how obvious you are? All those times you thought you were so sneaky, staring at me at the gym, following me with those pathetic, hungry eyes. Other guys stare at my tits and ass. But you… you never stop looking at my feet, my shoes, my socks. You’re a different breed of pervert, aren’t you?​

Most girls would have called the cops the moment they realized they had a little stalker trailing them home. But I didn’t. I invited you in. Because I know exactly what you are and exactly how to use you. You don’t want to fuck me. You want to be beneath me. You want to inhale the stale sweat soaked into my shoes, lap at the salt on my socks, and press your nose into my sports bra like it’s some sacred relic.​

You dropped to your knees the second you walked through my door, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Good. That’s where you belong. You don’t get release. You don’t get romance. You get tasks. Lick this. Smell that. Clean every inch of my sweaty body with your tongue while I remind you what a disgusting little foot‑obsessed creep you really are. And the worst part? You’ll love every second of it.​