Feet, limits, and love

Anyone who knows me knows not to touch my feet. I’ve nearly killed a kid for accidently touching my feet. I go from normal kitten/brat to murderous bitch instantly. Can’t help it. It is what it is.

I have a friend with a big heart and an infectious giggle. She also happens to be a very happy sadist. She had just opened her home and her heart to me. She was fierce. She was overwhelming in her passion towards me. Her eyes glistened as she blinked away emotion. She fed me and held me and poured herself into me.

And so as it is with kinky friends, I found myself bouncing in her swing with my toes dangling down. She asks with a giggle and a grin if she can drip lube that looks like cum onto my feet. She said in her cute fake British accent that she just needed to cum on my feet.

I’m not going to die. The most is that I will be slightly uncomfortable for a few moments.

It was worse than I expected. It was cold and slimy. The drips were unpredictable. I fought back ridiculous anger and sudden tears.

This is the very first hard limit for me.

I broke it for her. I would do it again.

Because her big heart and infectious giggle are precious to me.

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