Female Domination - 3 DOMMES FOOT AND SANDALS DOMINATING MALE SLAVE MUTE SMITH FULL EDITION

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Female Domination - 3 DOMMES FOOT AND SANDALS DOMINATING MALE SLAVE MUTE SMITH FULL EDITION

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3 DOMMES FOOT AND SANDALS DOMINATING MALE SLAVE MUTE SMITH FULL EDITION

The air was thick with anticipation as the three femme fatales, Manuela Albertini, Sasha Gudz, and Mibby, took their seats on the plush red velvet throne. Their male slave, Mute Smith, knelt before them, his heart pounding in his chest. They were clad in their finest lingerie, their high heels and sandals glinting in the dim light.



Manuela, the undisputed leader of the trio, leaned forward, her crimson manicured nails tapping against the cold marble floor. "Mute Smith," she purred, her voice like velvet over steel. "You have been summoned to serve us."



Sasha, the blonde beauty with a penchant for sadism, smiled cruelly. "And serve us you will, slave," she hissed. "Kiss our feet."



Mute Smith's lips trembled as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the cool leather of their boots. The scent of their perfume and sweat filled his nostrils, making him lightheaded with desire.



"That's it, slave," Manuela said, her voice still calm but commanding. "Now, worship our feet."



Mute Smith's hands shook as he began to caress their feet through their stockings, his tongue trailing lustfully over the tops of their shoes. Each woman watched him intently, a predatory gleam in their eyes.



"You're doing well, slave," Mibby, the brunette with eyes as cold as ice, said. "Now, let's see if you can handle more."



She slipped off her stiletto sandal, revealing her perfect, manicured foot. Mute Smith's gaze locked onto it, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. Sasha followed suit, her foot just as perfect as Mibby's.



"Worship our feet, slave," Manuela commanded.



Mute Smith's hands shook as he began to massage their feet, his tongue lapping at their toes like a hungry dog. The power dynamic was exhilarating, and he couldn't help but feel both humiliated and aroused.



As the session progressed, the women grew bolder, pushing their slave further and further. They ordered him to suck on their toes, slide his tongue between their soles, and even lick the sweat from their feet. Each command sent shivers down Mute Smith's spine, and he found himself willing to do anything to please them.



Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the women rose from their throne, their feet still clad in their sweaty, stinky socks. Mute Smith watched as they filed out of the room, leaving him alone to clean up the mess he'd made.



But even as he scrubbed their feet with a toothbrush, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. For in that room, he was nothing but a slave to their every whim—and he loved it.

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