Kneel before your empress, servant, and massage my privileged, upper class feet. Per your 'peasant job description,' you are to serve the soles of the noble ranking ladies, while they relax in high society comfort. Rule number one, lowly peon: when kneeling at the royal feet of an empress, do not speak unless spoken to. Being a 'full service foot salon for the feminine elite,' you will service my duchess feet in any way I desire: massage, kiss, breath the enchanting scent, and clean them with your menial tongue. Tasting the sweat of my noble feet is the only way you will EVER experience an upper class lady. Understood, heel toiler? Indeed, since living a life of 'foot poverty' and born into the lowest ranking class of foot serfs, and I; a member of the majestic, feminine aristocracy--it is required by monarch law that you extend forth your lower class tongue and lick the filth and slime that dwells on the bottom of my 'high born' sandals. Accept my articulate, verbal ridicule as your form of payment, toe toiler--and then away with you! Crawl back to the dirt and muck until another noble lady commands you to service her out ranking feet!
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