Then I begin jumping from the couch. He stays still, absorbing every moment. I don't look down to check. I know he's there. Where else would he be?

"Don't flinch." "Stay down." "You're not here to enjoy it. You're here because I enjoy it."

And when I'm finished walking and jumping all over his body, I move to his face. "Tongue out," I demand. My soles grind into his mouth. A few well-placed strikes from my boots remind him what his face is for.

The final moments are still, cold, and absolute. One boot pins his throat. He stays quiet; not out of discipline, but because my presence has removed the need to speak.

This is not p*in. This is privilege. And privilege never asks for permission.

26:T5cf,

There's no conversation. Just control.

23 minutes of unapologetic trampling; refined, ruthless, and uninterrupted. I wear tight brown leather riding pants, polished riding boots, and a strict bun. My movements are deliberate; my balance perfect. Beneath me lies exactly what belongs there: a man flattened into function.

I step, I stamp, I press deep into his flesh. The sound of leather, the shifting of weight, his muffled groans; this is how service sounds. He asked for my attention, and now he gets the full weight of it.

My voice stays composed and detached as I say things like: "This is the closest you will ever get to worshiping me." "Your body was made to carry me." "You wanted purpose; this is it."

Then I begin jumping from the couch. He stays still, absorbing every moment. I don't look down to check. I know he's there. Where else would he be?

"Don't flinch." "Stay down." "You're not here to enjoy it. You're here because I enjoy it."

And when I'm finished walking and jumping all over his body, I move to his face. "Tongue out," I demand. My soles grind into his mouth. A few well-placed strikes from my boots remind him what his face is for.

The final moments are still, cold, and absolute. One boot pins his throat

Trampling Female Domination Foot Fetish Crushed for Purpose - 4K with C4s.com