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Beneath My Heels, You Worship You don't get eye contact. You get the view from the floor— up my legs, to the curve of my hips, as I tower above you in heels that could crush you without a second thou

Beneath My Heels, You Worship You don't get eye contact. You get the view from the floor— up my legs, to the curve of my hips, as I tower above you in heels that could crush you without a second thought. You stroke while staring at my soles. You ache while I ignore you. And you love it. Because you know: this is your place. At my feet. Under my heels. Below me.