Her feet, soft and well-groomed, rest in front of you on the table. Smooth, tender skin shines from the layer of cream that you literally smeared on her feet five minutes ago. Bright pink toenails, like ripe sweet berries, shimmer with every barely perceptible movement of her toes, making you drool. You feel how the air is filled with the aroma of her feet - light notes of cream mix with the natural, enticing smell of female foot skin, which makes your head spin. She knows that you dream of touching these perfect curves with your lips, feeling the salty taste of her wrinkled, warm feet on your tongue... But her gaze - deep, powerful, piercing - reminds: "You can look... dream... but you will touch only when I allow it." And you freeze, caught between delight and submission, realizing - in front of you are not just feet... but the embodiment of power, before which all your desires are powerless. And she knows perfectly well that even without handcuffs and shackles you will obey her and fulfill all her orders and whims, because her feet are your shackles...