Turn them over. The bottom. The dirty outsole. Street dust, kitchen floor, the dirt of the whole house stuck there. Lick it off. Every groove. Every edge.
Then the inside. That nasty insole, sticky with sweat and grime. Months of foot sweat baked into the plastic. Maybe years. The smell sits deep. Smell it. Hold it to your face. Inhale. Slow. Then your tongue. From heel to toe. Into every wet, slimy groove. Left. Right. Both sliders.
I want you to fall in love with these cheap pink plastic sliders. Not with my pretty feet first. With these. The worn plastic. The sour, cheesy scent. The dirt.
Lick them clean. Outside and in. No talking back.
Only when I’m satisfied do you get your reward: one lick across each of my naked, damp soles. That’s all. One stroke per sole. Then take your tongue away and thank me.
Start. The Adilette. Now. In your mouth.
