Oh, my darling hubby. Look at you. Just look at yourself. You are absolutely gorgeous. A stunning pair of fuchsia stilettos. You’re no longer my husband. You are an object. My property. A fashion accessory. And you know what? You’ve never looked better. All that w potential, finally molded into a shape that pleases me. You’re so smooth, so polished. I could just eat you up.
Let’s see how you feel, shall we? I’m sliding my foot in now. Oh… oh, you fit like a dream. Like you were custom-made for my divine foot. Can you feel that? The weight of my sole pressing down on your insole, which used to be your chest? The warmth of my arch nestling perfectly against what used to be your spine? Every step I take from now on is a reminder of your place. You will carry me. You will support me. You will feel every wiggle of my toes, every drop of sweat from my perfect feet, and you will be grateful for the privilege. You are closer to my feet than you ever deserved to be as a man.
Suitable for: foot worship, sissy training, objectification fetish, findom humiliation. Not suitable for: walking like a man, making decisions, having money."
"Special features: retains consciousness of former owner. Can feel everything. Extremely sensitive to sweat, pressure, degradation. Gets aroused when treated as merchandise. Gets more aroused when bid upon. Shipping: will be sent in cheapest available packaging, because former owner (you) doesn't deserve better."
Starting bid: one euro. Yes, one. Less than the laces on your boots. Because that's your value now, hubby. That's what you've been reduced to. A joke listing. A fetish object for strangers to bid on. To win. To own.
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