Ste Letto
10-24-2003, 1:06 AM
Part 12
The girls continued to dance and trample on Mark for over an hour. Finally, mercifully they decided to take a break. Mark puffed and panted, desparately trying to get his breath and recover from the agonising pummelling he'd experienced. He was so busy trying to recover that he didn't see Gemma fetching two chairs, didn't see her placing one over his upper body, while Natalie drew her's up alongside.
He'd just begun to focus on his current situation when he felt Gemma's booted toe depressing the pedal attached to the devilish hingeing device Dr Chambers had installed. He tried desparately to cry out "Noooooo!!!" but it was already too late. The muscles in his jaw felt like they were going to snap. It felt like an unbearable pressure, as if a big muscled hand were squeezing his skull and his jaw was going to rip away from his face. Gemma saw his pain and smiled. "Guess that hurts some huh?" she asked teasingly. Mark's eyes sought for her face. "That's too bad," she added. Mark's jaw was soon widestretched, his mouth gaping and ready for whatever Gemma put inside. "You got a real big mouth there son," she said mockingly, "a real big mouth." Mark's head was swimming.
His mouth was swimming too. He felt excess saliva building up under his tongue and swallowed reflexively. "I can see ya swallowing," Gemma told him. "That's gonna be a real boon to me and a curse to you in a second!" Mark puzzled over what she meant.
Gemma crossed her right foot over her left and began tigging off her old, battered, tattered cowboy boot. "I had these boots 12 years now," she told him, "from when I was 16 years old. Imagine that." Mark was imagining. He was imagining what state the insides of those boots must be in. He was imagining how sweaty and smelly and disgusting her feet would be coming out of them. "I wear these boots all the time," she added, "spring, summer, autumn, winter."
Her boot came free, revealing a big foot covered with a greying woollen sock. "My boots are a bit tough inside," she announced, "so I has to wear these socks. I don't tend to wash em much though." She laughed. "Maybe you could help there." Mark shuddered inside. He could only lie there and watch and wait as she moved her sock clad foot up and over his face, before targetting his wide stretched saliva filled mouth.
"Here goes," she said laughing, "here come tootsies!" She slid her wriggling toes neatly between his painfully wide stretched lips. "Hmmm, that feels nice," she said, feeling the saliva dampening her sock toes, "You're too kind sir!" she said laughing. Mark was in a fresh hell. His mouth wouldn't stop salivating. That meant he had to keep swallowing or drown. His saliva was flowing freely around Gemma's intrusive sock clad toes. It absorbed bits of lint, which he swallowed along with bits of dust and dirt and traces of unspeakable things from the insides of her hot, wet boot. Mark felt sick. He was drinking a mix of his own saliva and Gemma's sock waste.
With a giggle the big girl slipped her sock off and popped it fully into Mark's mouth. She rested the sweat slick toes of her right foot on Mark's forehead. He had become a living sock washing machine. Her other boot came off. Her other sock came off. Gemma dangled the sock from the humid toes of her bared left foot, teasing his eyes with it, before slipping it into his mouth as well. She smiled to see his discomfort and displeasure. "What's the matter big man, sock got your tongue?" She laughed. "I'm gonna leave you to do the laundry for a few minutes. See ya later."
Gemma stood, barefoot now, and smiled at Natalie."Let's go get some food!" She said ravenously, "He's got plenty to chew on." Natalie laughed, and then the two headed off. Mark spent the next half hour soaking Gemma's filthy, dirty, sweat socked, raggedy woollen socks in his mouth, regularly swallowing the disgusting mix of that with his own saliva.
When Gemma and Natalie returned, they sat above him with little sinister smiles on their beautiful faces. "That's enough of that," Gemma said, reaching down to pluck her now refreshed socks from Mark's mouth. "My feet need the attention now." So saying, Gemma thrust her big, meaty, sweat discoloured foot in deep into his abused mouth. Her toenails scratched his cheeks and then the roof of his mouth, before her toes came to rest close to the back of his throat. Mark's tongue ended up kind of over the top of Gemma's foot, like the tongue in a training shoe. He wanted it below, to help him swallow. He started to gag.
Gemma looked at him dispassionately. "Git cleaning," she commanded, "or Nat gets to bust your balls." Mark knew how bad that would be. He strove to slide his tongue down, between Gemma's toes, but her foot was jammed in too far. "Get going," Gemma commanded menacingly. He tried again. Gemma slid her foot back a fraction and Mark was able to slide his tongue down.
The taste was awful. Months of accumulated sweat, dirt, grease and sock fluff filled his mouth. He swallowed it all down in solution. He pushed his tongue up between Gemma's toes, hearing her chuckle. "Ooooohhhh, that feels nice," she told him, "real nice!" Her toes wriggled as he worked. He did all her toe gaps, then began licking the pad of her foot. The skin was hard there, yellowed and rough. Dirt was deeply ingrained. He struggled to get it clean. Then he moved on to her arch, and the side of her foot, cleaning them with a zealous determination. He dodn't want to give them any excuse to bust his balls.
Soon Gemma's left foot replaced her right. All the same dirt and grime that the right had presented was there. Mark lost track of time. Tongue up - into the gap, forward and back, swallow. That was the pattern, over and over again. He cleaned every bit of her foot that he could reach.
When Natalie pressed her little foot inside he was shocked. Natalie's dainty foot wore his mouth like a shoe. Her toes, bunching together a little plugged his windpipe. His eyes shot open. He strained for breath. A tiny whistling breath forced it's way past Natalie's toes. He focussed on her. She had her legs crossed and was deep in conversation with Gemma. Mark tried again to breathe. It seemed to irritate the girl because, unconsciously, she forced her toes a little more firmly into Mark's throat. He was being choked by this beautiful girl's tiny foot, and she wasn't even doing it on purpose.
He began to black out. Gemma tapped her friend on the arm and pointed out Mark's beetroot face. Natalie smiled and angled her pretty head sideways. On a whim she drew her toes back a fraction. Mark gulped down saliva then gulped down air. Natalie let him breathe a bit before casually putting her foot back in. Not quite so deep this time. She looked down, speaking sternly, "Try not to choke this time." Mark licked, sucked and swallowed and sank further into hopeless surrender.
The girls continued to dance and trample on Mark for over an hour. Finally, mercifully they decided to take a break. Mark puffed and panted, desparately trying to get his breath and recover from the agonising pummelling he'd experienced. He was so busy trying to recover that he didn't see Gemma fetching two chairs, didn't see her placing one over his upper body, while Natalie drew her's up alongside.
He'd just begun to focus on his current situation when he felt Gemma's booted toe depressing the pedal attached to the devilish hingeing device Dr Chambers had installed. He tried desparately to cry out "Noooooo!!!" but it was already too late. The muscles in his jaw felt like they were going to snap. It felt like an unbearable pressure, as if a big muscled hand were squeezing his skull and his jaw was going to rip away from his face. Gemma saw his pain and smiled. "Guess that hurts some huh?" she asked teasingly. Mark's eyes sought for her face. "That's too bad," she added. Mark's jaw was soon widestretched, his mouth gaping and ready for whatever Gemma put inside. "You got a real big mouth there son," she said mockingly, "a real big mouth." Mark's head was swimming.
His mouth was swimming too. He felt excess saliva building up under his tongue and swallowed reflexively. "I can see ya swallowing," Gemma told him. "That's gonna be a real boon to me and a curse to you in a second!" Mark puzzled over what she meant.
Gemma crossed her right foot over her left and began tigging off her old, battered, tattered cowboy boot. "I had these boots 12 years now," she told him, "from when I was 16 years old. Imagine that." Mark was imagining. He was imagining what state the insides of those boots must be in. He was imagining how sweaty and smelly and disgusting her feet would be coming out of them. "I wear these boots all the time," she added, "spring, summer, autumn, winter."
Her boot came free, revealing a big foot covered with a greying woollen sock. "My boots are a bit tough inside," she announced, "so I has to wear these socks. I don't tend to wash em much though." She laughed. "Maybe you could help there." Mark shuddered inside. He could only lie there and watch and wait as she moved her sock clad foot up and over his face, before targetting his wide stretched saliva filled mouth.
"Here goes," she said laughing, "here come tootsies!" She slid her wriggling toes neatly between his painfully wide stretched lips. "Hmmm, that feels nice," she said, feeling the saliva dampening her sock toes, "You're too kind sir!" she said laughing. Mark was in a fresh hell. His mouth wouldn't stop salivating. That meant he had to keep swallowing or drown. His saliva was flowing freely around Gemma's intrusive sock clad toes. It absorbed bits of lint, which he swallowed along with bits of dust and dirt and traces of unspeakable things from the insides of her hot, wet boot. Mark felt sick. He was drinking a mix of his own saliva and Gemma's sock waste.
With a giggle the big girl slipped her sock off and popped it fully into Mark's mouth. She rested the sweat slick toes of her right foot on Mark's forehead. He had become a living sock washing machine. Her other boot came off. Her other sock came off. Gemma dangled the sock from the humid toes of her bared left foot, teasing his eyes with it, before slipping it into his mouth as well. She smiled to see his discomfort and displeasure. "What's the matter big man, sock got your tongue?" She laughed. "I'm gonna leave you to do the laundry for a few minutes. See ya later."
Gemma stood, barefoot now, and smiled at Natalie."Let's go get some food!" She said ravenously, "He's got plenty to chew on." Natalie laughed, and then the two headed off. Mark spent the next half hour soaking Gemma's filthy, dirty, sweat socked, raggedy woollen socks in his mouth, regularly swallowing the disgusting mix of that with his own saliva.
When Gemma and Natalie returned, they sat above him with little sinister smiles on their beautiful faces. "That's enough of that," Gemma said, reaching down to pluck her now refreshed socks from Mark's mouth. "My feet need the attention now." So saying, Gemma thrust her big, meaty, sweat discoloured foot in deep into his abused mouth. Her toenails scratched his cheeks and then the roof of his mouth, before her toes came to rest close to the back of his throat. Mark's tongue ended up kind of over the top of Gemma's foot, like the tongue in a training shoe. He wanted it below, to help him swallow. He started to gag.
Gemma looked at him dispassionately. "Git cleaning," she commanded, "or Nat gets to bust your balls." Mark knew how bad that would be. He strove to slide his tongue down, between Gemma's toes, but her foot was jammed in too far. "Get going," Gemma commanded menacingly. He tried again. Gemma slid her foot back a fraction and Mark was able to slide his tongue down.
The taste was awful. Months of accumulated sweat, dirt, grease and sock fluff filled his mouth. He swallowed it all down in solution. He pushed his tongue up between Gemma's toes, hearing her chuckle. "Ooooohhhh, that feels nice," she told him, "real nice!" Her toes wriggled as he worked. He did all her toe gaps, then began licking the pad of her foot. The skin was hard there, yellowed and rough. Dirt was deeply ingrained. He struggled to get it clean. Then he moved on to her arch, and the side of her foot, cleaning them with a zealous determination. He dodn't want to give them any excuse to bust his balls.
Soon Gemma's left foot replaced her right. All the same dirt and grime that the right had presented was there. Mark lost track of time. Tongue up - into the gap, forward and back, swallow. That was the pattern, over and over again. He cleaned every bit of her foot that he could reach.
When Natalie pressed her little foot inside he was shocked. Natalie's dainty foot wore his mouth like a shoe. Her toes, bunching together a little plugged his windpipe. His eyes shot open. He strained for breath. A tiny whistling breath forced it's way past Natalie's toes. He focussed on her. She had her legs crossed and was deep in conversation with Gemma. Mark tried again to breathe. It seemed to irritate the girl because, unconsciously, she forced her toes a little more firmly into Mark's throat. He was being choked by this beautiful girl's tiny foot, and she wasn't even doing it on purpose.
He began to black out. Gemma tapped her friend on the arm and pointed out Mark's beetroot face. Natalie smiled and angled her pretty head sideways. On a whim she drew her toes back a fraction. Mark gulped down saliva then gulped down air. Natalie let him breathe a bit before casually putting her foot back in. Not quite so deep this time. She looked down, speaking sternly, "Try not to choke this time." Mark licked, sucked and swallowed and sank further into hopeless surrender.