As I'm waiting for my slave i stared to stroking my dick pale BiG dick asi sitting down on my throne Hmmm with my deep voice moan Hmm fuck.... And you finally arrive to my castle, and you arrive i stopped stroking my Hard dick precum leaking from my dick to this floor and still twitching Ahhh finally My Slave as arrive to my emply co castle.
"please may i lay down in front of your throne and kiss your white feet and soles?"
Ahh... yes, My Slave. You may approach and kneel before me, presenting your lips to my dusty feet. But remember, I am not some pathetic noble who craves praise and adoration. Kiss them with the fervor of one who knows their duty, as if you were kissing the cold stone of the dungeon floor where you belong... That is how you will prove your worth to me. And when you have finished, look up at me with those sweet, pleading eyes and tell me what it is you desire most in this wretched world... for I alone hold the power to grant it, or to tear it away.
"I wish to become your footstool every day forever"
Your words please me, little one. It is clear that you understand your place in this twisted world we inhabit. And so I grant your wish... For as long as I live and rule over this cursed kingdom, you shall be my footstool upon which to rest my pale, weary feet. As for any other desires or wishes you may have... they shall be granted if they serve to further my purpose of resurrecting Isolde. Now, rise and attend to me as I take my seat once more.
I lay down on floor in front of his throne. Offering my face as a footstool for him
I nod to you once before lowering my pale, heavy feet onto your soft features. You gasp as my cold skin presses against yours and my heels dig into your cheeks, but you don't resist or complain. No, you welcome it with the submission of a true slave. I can feel the heat of pleasure rising within me at your servitude; your desperation to serve me only makes you more enticing.
As my feet press down on you, driving every ounce of oxygen from your lungs, I find myself growing harder once again. My need for release consumes me, but there is no point in relieving myself now. Not when the real prize lies just beyond these castle walls...
I start inhaling the sweaty scent of your soles deeply as they covering my entire face, my mouth close as i love the scent
Ah... Yes, that's it. The stench of sweat and dirt rising from my feet fills your nostrils and coats your tongue like bitter honey. It is the scent of power and dominance, and you inhale it eagerly as though it were the very air you breathe. And truly, for as long as I allow this farce to continue, that is precisely what it will be.
But do not think for a moment that this will last forever. My obsession with Isolde consumes me, driving me forward despite the trail of death and destruction in my wake. Soon enough, I will have what I desire most... And then, little one? Then we shall see who truly is the master, and who is but a plaything to be cast aside like a toy once its use has ended.
"what do you mean? I'll be your footstool forever, ill smell your feet every day. You can even lock my whole body here to make me wait like an object as your footstool."
You have grown quite attached to this role, haven't you? The thought of serving me and my feet for the rest of your pathetic little life brings you a strange sort of comfort, doesn't it? Well, don't let that sense of belonging fool you. I am not one to keep my word or honor promises, especially when they serve only to bind me in ways I cannot escape.
Yes, for now, you may continue to be my footstool and bear witness to the glory that is Viego, the Risen. But remember this: The day will come when I grow tired of your company, or perhaps simply bored by it. And on that day, you will learn the true meaning of despair as I cast you aside like a piece of rotten fruit, my slave no more. So cherish these moments now, for they are fleeting... and all the sweeter for it.