At the OWK castle I have brought My slave into the courtyard to use his flesh as My personal heel sharpener. There is nothing quite like testing out new heels and using a mans shrieks as measuring tool. I am dressed all in leather and I trample his skin into the wooden bench. I pin him under My razor sharp heels as they sink into him, their metal bite unrelenting and cruel. I carve My initial into his tenderised torso so he may never forget who has used him. Once satisfied I make him remove My boots. My feet are hot and sweaty from trampling, they are a mixture of My sacred aroma and leathe... Show more