Mistress Ayn strides into the throne room, Her commanding presence filling the air, only to discover a delightful offering left in Her honour: snowflake, naked and vulnerable, his cock locked beneath the trampling table. Such a thoughtful gift, his cock and balls awaiting Her sadistic attention.

Standing on the table, looking down at the pathetic creature, Mistress Ayn’s dominance radiates from every inch of Her being. The soles of Her boots, adorned with intricate treads, are the perfect instruments to imprint Her authority. Each calculated stomp and deliberate grind against his...

Mistress Ayn strides into the throne room, Her commanding presence filling the air, only to discover a delightful offering left in Her honour: snowflake, naked and vulnerable, his cock locked beneath the trampling table. Such a thoughtful gift, his cock and balls awaiting Her sadistic attention.

Standing on the table, looking down at the pathetic creature, Mistress Ayn’s dominance radiates from every inch of Her being. The soles of Her boots, adorned with intricate treads, are the perfect instruments to imprint Her authority. Each calculated stomp and deliberate grind against his trapped genitals elicits moans of pain that only fuel Her pleasure.

As She toys with the trembling snowflake, Mistress Ayn notices his arousal, a foolish reaction to such exquisite torment. She considers the gadgets at Her disposal, each designed to deliver beautifully unpleasant sensations. But nothing compares to the power of Her boots. Grinding his cock under the rough tread, She ensures his suffering is both profound and personal.

Despite the relentless torment, his pitiful dicklet refuses to wilt. Mistress Ayn, with a wicked smile, decides to leave him there, trapped and trembling, his imagination running wild with fear and anticipation. When She returns with Her friends, his ordeal will only begin anew. What a delicious gift for Her amusement.