you need a little reminder of what your place in My life is going to be, and that how that makes you feel. No looking up. you don't get to look at My face. No. you get to keep your eyes looking down at My boots. My leather, grungy, combat boots. Keep your eyes staring at them, because your tongue is going to become intimately aware of every groove in the tread, every stitch, every curve, while I wipe them all over your tongue. you are now My boot bitch.