A tranquil weekend at my mountain retreat, with my human doormat prepared for trampling. I’m eager to try on my newly sharpened heels, beginning with these ankle boots. The slave is positioned near the fireplace, which I utilize to boost myself onto him. His cries of agony are consistent and excruciating, yet warranted by the marks my heels leave on his punctured abdomen. Moments of respite are taken solely to admire myself and my heels, the same ones causing him immense pain. Midway through the shoe change, we transition from ankle boots to these red shoes, equally sharp, leading him to submit amidst cries – ironic, considering it was he who encouraged me to purchase them.