The slave kneels naked and submissive on the floor, eager to kiss my shoes as a form of greeting. However, today I am in a peculiar mood, prone to sudden shifts in temperament that he will soon feel in his vulnerable areas. I begin by delivering playful kicks, smiling as he winces from the impact and crumples to the ground. I allow him to remove my shoes, but my mood quickly sours, and I strike him more fiercely as he remains kneeling before me. My blows grow increasingly harsh, causing him genuine pain, and then, with feigned concern and compassion, I help him to his feet, ensuring he is unharmed before resuming my assault with renewed vigor. Eventually, I grow weary of the charade and simply take pleasure in the final blows, watching with detached amusement as he collapses, too weak to do anything but beg for mercy and adore the feet that have tormented him.