You’ve escaped the bustle of the party to find me sequestered away in a bedroom, lounging barefoot. The intimacy of being alone at last engulfs us. I have a question for you. We’ve been friends for a while… but what is it you really like? Me or my feet? I’ve always noticed you paying attention to them, ever since the first time we met. Why haven’t we been on a date yet? My guess is you’re too shy to ask me. I’ll give you a chance… BUT… since your love of feet is so obvious, you can only date me if you’ll lock yourself in chastity. I don’t want my man getting hard for my feet all the time. You need to learn to control yourself. I have a cage with me now that I’ll tuck you into myself. I keep it on me at all times for… emergencies and opportunities. Now you’re my locked foot slave. This is a privilege higher than a boyfriend because you get to worship me. You will always have to ask me for relief from now on because I will be holding your key, right here around my pretty ankle.
