There are boots here to be worshiped, sky high 8 inch platform chrome heel, buckles galore, soaring up the calf, to under the knee. Patent leather, you drool over, wishing it was you kneeling at My feet in worship. Panning camera angles, are so close it is as if you are there. The patent leather is slick under his tongue as I demand every inch of the boots to be spit shined. The mirrored chrome shines his reflection as he witnesses his own servitude. All My shoes and boots must be spit shined by the tongues of My supplicants. In his proper position his mind drops down further and further in... Show more