Listen up, my pathetic l*ttle sl*ve. I'm Goddess Anitta, and today, you're going to worship every inch of my divine leather boots like the desperate worm you are.

Kneel before me now. That's right, drop to your f*cking knees and stare at these boots that could crush your worthless b*lls in an instant. I've got them laced up tight, the leather hugging my legs like a second skin, and I know you're already leaking precum just from the sight.

Feel that ache in your c*ck? Good. You're not allowed to touch it yet. Instead, lean in closer and inhale the scent of my boots—leather mixed with the power of your Goddess. L*ck your lips, you filthy sl*t, because I'm going to make you clean them with your tongue. Start at the tip, where my heel digs into the ground like it's ready to pierce your soul.

Now, extend your tongue and taste the leather. Drag it slowly up the shaft of my boot, feeling the ridges under your pathetic mouth. I want to see you drool all over it, polishing it with your saliva until it gleams. But remember, you're mine to control—if I catch you rushing, I'll stomp that tiny d*ck of yours.

You're getting harder, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes, that desperate bulge straining against your pants. Too bad—you don't get to stroke yet. Instead, I'm going to grind my boot sole against your face, smearing your cheeks with the dirt I've collected from walking over lesser beings like you. Feel the pressure as I press down, marking you as my boot-l*cking b*tch.

Beg for more, sl*ve. Tell me how much you crave my boots wrapped around your neck or crushing your b*lls. "Please, Goddess Anitta, let me worship you," you whimper. And maybe, just maybe, I'll allow it. But first, strip naked and present that pathetic c*ck to me.

Look at you, exposed and trembling. Now, place your c*ck against the cold leather of my boot and hump it like the pig you are. Slow and steady—don't you dare c*m without permission. Feel the friction as your shaft rubs against the material, your pre-c*m leaving a sticky trail. I'm laughing at you, watching you debase yourself for my amusement.

Faster now, sl*ve. Grind harder, but remember, if you edge too close, I'll stop and leave you hanging. Your b*lls are swelling, aching for release, but I'm in control. Worship me properly, and maybe I'll let you explode. But only if you scream my name—Goddess Anitta—as you c*m all over my boot.

That's enough, you greedy pig. Pull back and watch as I wipe your mess off with my hand, then smear it back on your face. You're dismissed, but remember—this is just the beginning of your devotion to me.

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