I am at a social gathering with my companions, enjoying ourselves through dance, laughter, and amusing conversation. The venue, reminiscent of Roman design, is truly unique. Overcome by exhaustion and heat, we opt to take a break and enjoy a cocktail at the upper staircase’s outdoor bar. As we converse and sip, I begin to notice a slight discomfort in my feet and glance down at my boots. The soles are dirty from all the places they have tread upon. They require a thorough cleaning, I muse. My gaze then falls upon a throne situated at the base of the staircase… I inform the women that I will be away for a few moments and, taking a seat on the throne, I summon the slave who had been patiently awaiting his Mistress in the kennel. After affixing his leash, I command him to meticulously clean the soles with his tongue. The result is a stunning black hue. Curious onlookers pass by, casting glances… I revel in the humiliation I inflict upon this inferior being. My boots are now immaculate, and I am eager to rejoin my friends on the dance floor. As I walk away, I cannot help but smile and sway my whip…