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Lana lies face down, legs crossed, her hot, damp soles reeking of salty sweat after a full day trapped in closed shoes--reserved solely for your pathetic little nose. She commands you to kneel, no touching, no licking, only deep, greedy inhales like an addict getting his first hit--your nose pressed hard against her skin, between her spread toes, sniffing until you're trembling and rock-hard without permission to touch yourself. She laughs scornfully as she watches you lose control, your nose digging relentlessly into her salty heels, her moist soles, then both feet pressing against your face, making you inhale until you're gasping for air. "You're nothing but a devoted foot toy," she whispers, "this scent will haunt you forever." It ends with one long final sniff, like a desperate last kiss, before she promises you can smell them again tomorrow... only if you kneel and beg like a complete pathetic wreck.