Laetitia deserves foot service

Laetitia has had a brutal day. She kicks off her boots the moment she’s home, brings her feet to her nose to assess the damage, and reaches a verdict: they need attention.

Her footslave is summoned. He smells the boots, smells the socks,
removes them under her casual authority, and then gets to work,  kissing those small, perfect, well-earned soles.

Laetitia watches, checks her phone, extends a toe for emphasis. This is not a request. This is a service she has earned, and she is going to enjoy every minute of it.