Your Dick Is the Same Flat as My Sandal

Ohhh, look at you, you pathetic little worm. On your knees already? Good boy. That’s exactly where a tiny-dicked loser like you belongs – groveling at the feet of a superior Goddess like me. Today, you’re going to worship my divine sandals. These aren’t just any sandals, beta. These are my dirty summer ones, caked in street grime, sweat from my perfect Goddess feet, and who knows what else I’ve stepped in while ignoring losers like you. Get your face down here, nose inches from the sole. Inhale deeply. Sniff that filthy leather, mixed with the salty tang of my foot sweat baked in from hours of walking. These straps? They’re hugging my flawless arches, the ones you’d beg to lick clean if I ever let a speck of dust from them touch your worthless tongue. But no – you’re only worthy of the bottom, where the real filth lives. Press your nose right into that tread pattern. Smell the dirt from the sidewalk, the gum wrappers I’ve crushed under my heel.