A reprehensible male, employed under my management, has been reported for inappropriate behavior towards his female colleagues’ footwear during their lunchtime. Instead of escalating this to Human Resources for sexual harassment, I have decided to discipline him personally. He can begin by polishing the dirt off my exquisite, leather boot soles with his tongue while I attend to important managerial tasks. Once he has completed this, I will require him to remove my boots so I may air out my refined, nylon-clad feet. Does he appreciate the aroma of a successful superior’s feet? I doubt he has the capacity to comprehend such a scent. In fact, I demand that he crawls beneath my desk, where my pungent soles will be better utilized to rest upon his face, rather than waste my time observing his insignificance.
The sensation of this office underling inhaling the scent of my nylons arouses me, prompting me to beckon him to rise to his knees and lavish my authoritative, premium vagina with his tongue. This region is not merely superior due to its managerial status, but because I, as a superior being, occupy it. I am his superior and surpass him in every aspect. Therefore, I command him to worship me on all fours, wretch. In fact, since he is already in that position, he may as well clean my anus with his tongue and continue to do so until it is spotless. At some point, I will invite my lover to the office so he may penetrate me anally while this inferior kisses my feet. Once he has fulfilled this task, I will order him to put my boots back on, you degenerate.
It is perfectly acceptable for me to receive pleasure, but not him, this insignificant male. Now, leave the women’s footwear and workspace alone and promptly vacate my office, you simpleton!