Look at my feet in these used white flats and lose your composure. The way they dangle, the faint dirt at the edges, the scent of real wear—everything about them makes you harder and more helpless. My voice will coax you deeper into foot-centered submission, each instruction tightening the leash around your brain.
Imagine waiting next to me in public, pretending to be normal while the memory of these flats rips through your control. How will you hide that aching cock if you catch a glimpse of them again? I’ll make you crave that moment, every dangle feeding the addiction until you’re desperate and obedient.