Mistress Tess and I love to wear designer shoes. They are just perfect: the texture and color of luxurious leather, the shape of an enticing vamp, the lofty height of an elevated platform, and the thin pencil stealth of a towering stiletto heel. Our shoes are destined to be worshiped and adored, especially by the lowly chattel that's crawling like a worm at Our flawless heels. We sense his hunger to be closer to Our shoes, to touch them, kiss them, worship them, yet there is a steep price to pay for such a treasured privilege. Pain for pleasure is the levy he shall ante up. In fact, he will... Show more