She is not a girlfriend. She is a floor rag and a pair of hands built to serve.
I come home and wipe my dirty boots on her naked body at the door. No hello. No eye contact. Just use. Then I clip the leash to her collar and drag her inside where she belongs.
On the floor she worships everything in order: boots, socks, then my bare, dirty feet. She licks, sucks and cleans them with her mouth before earning the “privilege” of giving me a full black pedicure like a silent little servant.
When my feet are ready, I use them on her. I stand on her tits, press her face, shove my toes into her mouth and between her legs. She gets kicked, prodded, slapped with my feet and then marked with my crop on her breasts, pussy and face.
It ends the only way it should: she drops into pet position at my feet, head on my lap, and I pet her like an obedient animal. No romance. Just ownership and service.
