My Owner decided to bring me a gift. He thought it was about time I unleashed my Brat ways on a proper chew toy. A slave “for Roxy to torment and hone your lurking sadism into something a bit more refined, and proper.” I’ve spent enough time on the bottom to know how to start. “You’re not a slave, you’re merely a footstool. Stuff you into the bondage sack and now you’re just a thing to rest my pretty little Brat feet on.” It’s clear footstool wants more and I can feel a hardon start to form underneath my arches. Such an eager toy. I take slave’s cock out, exposed and vulnerable while stuck under my heels. I play with it and stroke my cute little socks up and down, all over slave’s cock. I keep imagining one of those door stop springs whenever I strike it, reverberating against the side of my foot. I press down on slave’s balls, and hear that little moan as I flick the other foot against the top of his cock. I like finding these little keys, these things that make slave more excited, just so much easier to make slave prey. I know exactly what this slave wants, but has this pathetic object under my foot earned it? No, my Owner taught me better than that.