You always liked to play games. Sometimes sweet, sometimes spicy.
One day, we stood in the kitchen talking about your kink for tasty toes. You often joked that you would love to set your feet on fire. I thought you were being a bit creative.
One evening, as we sit casually in the lounge room, you bring me the toaster. There’s a weird look on your face. I ask you ever so casually, “What are you doing?“
“I’m determined to understand the fire of feet…“
“What the…? You better not turn it on! No! Wait! Don’t you dare put my toes in there! I shall kill you!”
“I won’t turn it on, I promise.“
“…You’re so weird… My poor feet. They cry in terror at the thought…”
“I would roast my toes for you, baby.“
“No, you won’t.“
Suddenly, his toes are in the toaster.
“Please don’t turn it on!“