My friend came over to hang out not too long ago. And by "friend" I mean "slave". And by "hang out" I mean "got down on his knees and praised by perfect feet". Addressing me only as "Princess", my new slave set to work rubbing the stress out of my tired toes, and did such a good job I rewarded him by allowing a few light kisses on my feet before making him continue. Though, honestly, most of the time I'm just focused on my book. The massage was nice, but I didn't really need to pay any attention to him; he was to be felt after all, not seen or heard.