He put an arm about her shoulders and felt her shaking with rage and grief.Below them, in what had been a scenic little valley, there used to be a tid... little village. Now, only smouldering ruins hugged the teal waters of the shallow bay. Fishing boats, which were moored in neat rows at the villages piers were just masts poking above the water, like banner poles, with tattered and burnt banners of creamy white, the remains of their sails.Even from almost a mile away, the stench of cooked meat. I looked up and asked if I can remove his socks. He nodded without a reply.I removed his socks and feasted on his white feet. Two or 3 hairs on his big toe. Perfectly cut nails. Not too short, no black or deformed nails either. It was just a perfect white feet of my master. I removed both the socks and again repeated the same process of kissing the soles and pressed my face hard against his soles. He moved his feet slightly as if he was massaging my face with his soles. I am sure he was also. More

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