barefoot

Mistress Princess Bonny had made herself comfortable in her large armchair. With a satisfied sigh, she put her feet up, presenting you her old, well-worn Birkenstock sandals. The brown leather had darkened over the years, and the cork soles showed clear signs of heavy use.

“Come here,” she ordered in a soft but commanding voice. “Today you will lick my Birkenstock sandals clean. Show me how grateful you are.”

You immediately kneel before her. First, you press your tongue against the rough soles of the Birkenstock sandals. Dust, street dirt, and ground-in grime mix with the bitter taste of old cork and leather. Slowly and thoroughly, you lick every groove clean, feeling the rough texture under your tongue.

“Good boy. Now the inside,” she murmurs, holding one sandal directly in front of your face. You can clearly see the deep foot imprints — shaped by years of constant wear. The outlines of her toes, the ball of her foot, and her heel are perfectly molded into the leather like a personal map. The intense, pungent aroma of aged foot sweat fills your nose.

You lick reverently over the spots where her warm sweat has soaked in countless times. The salty, slightly sour taste of many years floods your mouth. Mistress Princess Bonny smiles with satisfaction.

“Well done. As a reward, you may now feel my bare, sweaty feet…”