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You thought I'd let you worship my feet for free? Don't be ridiculous. My time is valuable, and so is every inch of me. So here are the rules: Every single lick will cost you $50, and I expect them to be slow, deliberate, and filled with devotion. As for kisses… each one is $10. You better make them count. Open that wallet before you open your mouth, or you can forget about getting anywhere near my toes again. Look at you, trembling just from my voice. You think I don't notice that pathetic look in your eyes? I can already tell your self-control is nonexistent, one whiff of my soles and you'll be emptying your bank account without a second thought. By the time we're done, you'll have spent over $1,000 just to taste my skin and press your desperate lips against my arches. And the best part? You’ll thank me for letting you go broke. Now, get on your knees and start licking, and remember to keep count. I expect every payment made on time, or there will be consequences. I can feel your tongue, warm and timid at first, gliding along the sole of my foot. It’s desperate, you try to make each lick last as long as possible to justify the price tag. And honestly? It feels like power. Every time your tongue makes contact, it's just another reminder that you'd give up anything for this. You're not just worshipping my feet, you're feeding my superiority with every swipe of your wet, obedient mouth. I can already tell you’re losing track of the cost… and that’s exactly how I want it.