From Strait to Gay Reprogramming 7 Stranger Feet Worship

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"I've a new challenge for you, darling," I say, my voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. I see you stiffen, your eyes darting around nervously. You've come to know that my sweet voice often masks the most mortifying orders. That's the beauty of this, isn't it? How I can keep you on your toes, guessing and dreading, and yet, eager for whatever cruel task I've devised. "See that man over there?" I gesture casually towards a tanned, athletic figure lounging on a nearby beach chair. "I want you to go and offer to lick his feet." I can see the blush spreading over your face, a delightful mix of embarrassment and arousal. I know how much you dread this, the utter humiliation of it all, the public spectacle. But that's the point, isn't it? To push you out of your comfort zone, to force you to confront your desires in the harsh light of day. "Look at you, squirming," I chuckle, savoring your discomfort. "It's so pathetic, so incredibly amusing. And the best part? You're going to do it.

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