Viviana felt like a lamb led to slaughter. The man, easily twice her age with a cruel smirk, had her shucked down to her cotton panties in his worn leather armchair. His rich, boozy voice was a low hum in the dim light.

“First, pretty girl,” he ordered, untying his expensive loafers. “My feet are tired. Show them some respect.”

Viviana’s stomach clenched with humiliation. She kneeled, her bare knees pressing into the dusty rug. His pale, veiny feet smelled of leather and sweat, but a strange, tight heat already pooled in her pussy. She hated him, hated the obedience his eyes demanded. Her small hands trembled as she took one, pressing her soft lips to his calloused heel. She licked a hot, sloppy stripe from his arch to his toes, the salt hitting her tongue. “Open,” he grunted, and she had no choice. She sucked his big toe, swirling her tongue like she'd been doing it for years, feeling his wet skin glide between her lips. The bitter taste of him mingling with her own shame was intoxicating.

“Good little cocksucker in training.” He stood, unbuckling his belt. His dick, a thick, purplish log ridged with veins, sprang free. It was monstrous, a brutal tool of domination. “You’ll make this beautiful gash soak exactly like a proper slut’s.”

Viviana’s breath hitched. Her pussy was throbbing, a slick mess sticking to her thighs. He shoved her face-down onto the Oriental rug, her pussy