Cindy

[Tabasco]

This is a taste of what my life was like when I first moved out of my parent's house and got a place of my own. It is also an experiment in a more narrative storytelling style. Instead of a series of descriptive action sequences (She did this and then I did this and then she did something else), I am actually putting a sincere effort into character development to give a strong impression and identity to both myself and Cindy. Yuck. What a silly disclaimer, but necessary because the story does pick up rather of slowly. But I assure you, your patience will be rewarded. I would personally love to hear if this narration style works well for the topics discussed on this board and am quite open to feedback of a constructive nature as well.

Please enjoy this wonderful slice of my life, with all my love and respect to the community.

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[Tabasco]

Cindy was an all-star high school gymnast. Her compact body was so muscular that she was able to pull off incredible tumbling and vaulting moves which had the college scouts raising eyebrows. I loved watching her compete. Her legs were thick, muscular and virtually flawless, her form was stiff, springy and her style was hard, high impact, fast and powerful. She was always a tomboy, even while we were growing up. Short as she was, I often found myself to be a willing ladder to get her into trees, on roofs, attics and fences. By the time we were 12, standing on my shoulders was second nature to her. She could put her hands on my shoulders, jump up, push herself up to her waist, then raise one foot after another into a squatting position and finally stand up without any help from me. She was quite proud of that trick and showed it off often. Once up on my shoulders, she was easily light enough to carry as long as she wanted to stay but rarely over a minute or so. She was easily distracted and once she spotted something from her “observation tower” she was off and running.

Her balance was cat-like and uncanny. Short legs and a low center of gravity gave her a flawless routine on the beam 9 out of 10 times. In short, she was on her way to becoming a contending gymnast. Even in high school, she could easily vault up on my shoulders. All I had to do was turn my back and squat down a bit. This usually helped her find people in a crowd at football games and pep rallies. We had been doing it for so long that it didn’t really seem strange to either of us and usually provided a good show for the people nearby.

She had stern, focused eyes, wider than most girls and a shallow brow. Her cheeks were high and sharp, jaw square and firm, nose a bit short and a cascading ponytail of jet black hair. Her mother was Korean and her father was Black. Best I could say is, she looked like a cat. And often moved like a cat. She didn’t smile often and found most high-school humor completely unworthy of her attention. This made most people uncomfortable and she acquired the badge of a “stuck up” bitch. Needless to say she didn’t have many friends and it didn’t surprise me. Most of the kids in school had nothing in common with her. I guess I was one of the lucky ones. Of course her standoffishness could do nothing for the hormone charged guys drooling over her lithe muscular form in gym class every day. Many had a secret crush on her and I couldn’t blame them one bit. That is why most of the girls showed open contempt for Cindy, jealous of her scholastic, gymnastic and social achievements which always seemed to come so easily and effortlessly.

Fortunately, Cindy’s goals were broader and far more ambitious than high-school popularity and social acceptance. She was a perfectionist, and had the test scores to prove it. Our senior year, my football team finally took the 4A championship. We were on the local news, and I even had my winning play (running a defensive interception into the zone for a touchdown) re-broadcast several times over the commentary. There was a big party and I wanted Cindy to share what up to that point had been the greatest night of my life. I knew it wasn’t her scene but she went for my sake and even stayed with me for most of the night.

The party was at a house by the University and actually hosted by our Quarter Backs older brother who was himself a defensive lineman on the University team. So, there was a mixture of high school and college kids including the big boys from the older brother’s team. Back when I felt like I was the biggest, most muscular kid in school, it was quite humbling to be dwarfed by the behemoths that made up that line. Several of them saw the game re-broadcast and actually congratulated me on a good play. This felt really great. I got a few beers into me and was actually talking to a college girl for a while. Then Allison (one of our cheerleaders) stopped by to personally congratulate me and when I was finally alone on the couch I realized that Cindy was missing. I spent the rest of the evening looking for her and got quite worried toward the end. I knew I was her ride home and couldn’t imagine her to be the type to go home with anyone she met at a party. It was getting late and most of the guests were gone. I was asking everyone if they had seen Cindy and finally someone mentioned she was outside.

When I found her, she didn’t look right. There was something wrong with her face, which I later learned to be shock. When I asked if she was allright, she looked at me like she had just been run over. She wouldn’t say a word.

I drove her to the hospital because I knew something was wrong. I explained to the emergency room attendant what I could, the next thing I know, the sheriff arrived to take a statement. Nobody would tell me what was going on or what was wrong with her, but I had a sinking suspicion. Then the sheriff questioned me at length and I was asked to consent to an exam (in which the doctor took pictures of my private area) and checked for bruising and traces of blood. She was raped at the party and she refused to identify the scumbag. I remember yelling at her to tell me who it was. This was perhaps the only time in my life I was completely ready to kill someone and face the consequences. I think I even had the sheriff convinced as he spent some time reassuring me that the scumbag who did this isn’t worth me throwing my life away.

Cindy never did talk about that night. It took her about a month before she returned to school. While she was off, she asked that I stay away, I think her parents held me responsible in part for what happened. She would have never gone to that stupid party if I hadn’t dragged her there. I learned eventually that she was attending some counseling and therapy. I sent her cards and flowers, which was really the only way I could let her know I was still there for her.

When she finally did get back to school, I was very protective. I lost a lot of friends that year and got into a lot of fights. I wouldn’t let a single snide comment slide by. If anyone spoke negatively of Cindy while she wasn’t around I would lose control and get into fights sometimes taking on 2 or 3 guys at a time. Everyone and anyone could have the dark shadowy face of the rapist having their way with my Cindy by brute force. The nightmares I had didn’t stop for a year.

So we settled into our roles. Unconsciously, I became her bulldog, her butler and her slave. It helped temper the guilt I felt over what happened, and she was more than happy to accept her role as my mistress. It was funny because that summer, after graduation we were finally able to joke about how serious I took my job. More often than not, I was simply an embarrassment to her but she put up with it for my sake.

Well, after she came back to school, she stopped training in gymnastics and even put on a little weight. Her entire look changed to sweats and casual shoes. She kept herself clean but didn’t do much with her hair or makeup. Overall she became a chameleon, blending in, visually, to the rest of the crowd.

A friend of mine from the gym, himself a competitive power-lifter, finally introduced Cindy to freeweights, and she took to them like a fish to water. Her short arms and legs gave her added leverage and she had high density muscle mass which developed rapidly. Cindy was going to be a powerlifter. And I was going to be her training partner.

I found her to be the most motivated in the gym. She always pushed her limits and trusted me to keep her safe. I really enjoyed that trust but the time we spent together did make it difficult for me to have a real girlfriend.

As we started college, our schedules diverged and we were only able to train together on weekends. Still, she continued to make exemplary progress, reaching her first plateau within a year. My cute, diminuitive little Cindy of 98 lbs who was the shining star of her gymnastics team had exploded into a 148 lb densely compact powerlifter with round muscular shoulders, pistons for legs and rock hard arms. Since I watched her change gradually and was there from the beginning I didn’t realize just how drastic her change really was until after one of our workouts, I smacked her cute little ass and it felt like hitting a brick wall.

“What are you on?” I asked jokingly.
“120 mg/ week anavar.”
“Oxandrolone?” I smiled.
“And 200 mg / week Nandrolone” She added matter-of-factly.
“That’s great!” I said uncertainly. We all knew steroids were part of the picture, but this was the first time we openly talked about it. “It looks good on you.”
“Thanks!” She smiled.

Her biggest boost of confidence I guess, came from watching the lifts some of the guys at the gym were doing and then moving to their element and adding on a couple of plates just to see the expression on their faces. Her obsessive perfectionism was completely focused on her training, diet and supplementation. Of course, the obligatory snickering and smirking followed her at a respectable distance, but I honestly think she relished that kind of attention. She loved intimidating men. She still looked sexy, but in a more exotic, forbidden sort of way. Her face was just as pretty, but she had cut her hair short. The cute cat of a girl had now become a powerful, graceful tigress. Even her voice deepened. I loved showing her off in public when we hung out together. I still considered myself a lucky man.

She had a pair of jack boots she wore quite often, she loved training in them too. They were natural, unfinished leather with steel toe and shank. They looked great on her and I often wondered how I could get my hands on them just for a few minutes to inhale the soft, saturated leather.

[Tabasco]

In early spring, there was a local “KINK” festival sponsored by a classy fetish boutique which had a strong name and presence in the community. Through artful ads, public events and promotion, they had become the premier adult sex-toy and novelty shop in the state. The kinkfest was an annual affair with the chance for the local alternative scene to come out of the woodwork. One of our stripper friends we met at the gym gave us a couple of free passes to the event and I found it hard to conceal my eagerness to attend, and possibly even get trampled. Cindy still struck me as being a bit conservative so I was pleasantly surprised when I asked her to come along and she agreed.

Most of the convention was held in a warehouse converted into several sections among which were a dungeon, a vagina-shaped hot tub, two stages and lots of booths and tables. Several porn stars made guest appearances and signed autographs at their respective tables. There were many tables with various sex toys and fetish gear. An older looking Indian woman was seated at a table weaving a flogger while a cute blonde salesgirl dressed in a secretary/bitch ensemble casually swung a cat-o-nine tails. We stopped at their table and the little blonde forced a smile.

“Look Cindy! Whips!” I exclaimed gleefully.
“You folks interested in whips?” The blonde with the ‘Shelley’ name taginquired.
“Does it hurt?” Cindy asked innocently.
“Well that depends.” I replied.
“What do you mean?”
“Depends on who’s in control.” I said.
“Want to try it out?” Shelley asked looking at Cindy.
“Show me how it works.” Cindy answered cutely.

Shelley took a few practice whacks at a dummy post but then I jumped in. “Can I try?”
“Sure.” Shelley said extending the cat, but I was smarter than that. I put my palms on the cross and arched my back, then turned around and said “OK, ready!” My heart was racing so hard, I could feel my pulse in my neck. Ashley said something I couldn’t hear and I felt a light stroke on my ass. It felt good but I wanted more pain. “Can you go a little harder, please?” I smiled, “I want to see how that feels.”

I guess, in the back of my mind, I knew that Ashley was giving a few basic instructions while demonstrating various types of strokes. I felt them getting progressively harder but nothing harsh enough to call pain. Finally Cindy took the cat and called out to me “Are you ready?” I nodded, and heard the sharp hissing of air followed by a resounding smack. A split second later the pain welled up with the tears in my eyes and my whole face must have turned red. Just as I unclenched my cheeks, another sharp hissing sound followed by a smack and an incredible burning sensation in the same exact spot as the previous shot. Holy shit that hurt!
“Want to try a single-tail?” I heard Ashley ask. “It’s a bit trickier but a lot sharper and more precise.”
“Sure!” Cindy replied so casually she could have been shopping for shoes.

Overall, she tried about 3 different whips on me but didn’t seem too interested in any of them. I was soaked with sweat and didn’t want to even think about what my back and my ass looked like. Just the pain of my shirt and trousers rubbing against my raw, blistering skin made me physically sick. I couldn’t sit down. Cindy seemed completely passive and didn’t show much interest in the rest of the fair. There was a fetish boutique with some incredibly sexy shoes and we stopped there for a few minutes as I was feeling a bit lightheaded.

“Are you alright?” She asked.
“Umm.. I don’t know.”
“Whipped?” She winked.
“Maybe,” I sighed “it’s hard to gage the force from just holding the handle, I guess.”
”Why didn’t you say something, dude?”
“It didn’t really start kicking in until a few minutes ago.” I lied.
“Sorry, man.” She shrugged. “I guess I don’t know my own strength. Let me see your back.”
“No, that’s ok. You can look at it when we get home. I’ll be ok.” Then grabbing a pair of sexy clear vinyl platform stilettos off the shelf I asked “What do you think of these?”
“Looks painful.” She smiled.
“Want to try them on?”
“Nah.”
“Come on.” I chided, “I want to see how they look on you. I’ve never seen you in heels before.”
“I’ll look like an idiot.”
“Just try them on. If they work out, I’ll buy them for you.”
“Fine.” She sighed sitting down, “Here, you do it.” She lifted her left boot and placed it squarely on my right thigh. Her boot came off, and I pulled down her sock as she looked at me quizzically. Then I slipped on the stiletto while catching just a faint hint of scent from her freshly unshod foot. Seeing her muscular calves peaked and her dainty toes through the shoe gave me a relentless woody. I fumbled with the laces from her other boot while she sat watching people walk by, then slipped it off along with her sock and affixed the other piece of erotic footwear to her right foot. The sight was very intense. I asked her to walk around a bit and she resigned to humor me with her excellent balance, her bulging, muscular calves and white creamy soles and toes, I was transfixed in awe. At that moment, had she asked me to do anything at all for her, I would have done it without a second thought.

I laid down on my back, completely oblivious to the painful aftertaste of the whipping and placed one of her feet on my chest.

“What do you think?” I asked.
“Should I beat my chest in victory or something?” She replied seemingly unamused, but didn’t remove her foot.
“I think at this point you could probably do whatever you wanted.” I winked.
She poked me with the heel a few times and said “I bet there are guys out there who really enjoy this.”
“Girls too,” I added.
“Why?” She had the weight of her right leg resting on her heel on my chest.
“God I wish I knew.” I replied, “Maybe it just feels good. Like a massage or something. Want to try it?”
”Now?”
“Sure.” I replied. “I want to see if I can hold your weight in those.”
“Dude, you are so whacked?” She scowled.
“You’ll know if you’re hurting me.” I replied
“How?”
“Screaming.” I said, “Screaming is a good indication of pain.”
She seemed to shrug and stepped right up. I tried to hold back the tears as long as possible but there was no stopping them. The sharp heels did their job all too well, and she made no effort to spare me the misery by shifting her weight on her toes. I admired the perfect balance with which she dominated me. I could almost catch the mild scent of her toes just a few inches off my chest. Then she shifted her weight slightly to one foot and the heel scraped and traveled an inch or so off my ribs. I belted out an abrupt yelp and she stepped off.
“There. How was that?” She asked.
“Fine.” I smiled, “Was it good for you?”
“You’re such a freak!” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s grab some food and go home. I feel like I need a shower.”
“Want to take those shoes home?” I asked, hopefully optimistic.
She thought for a few seconds then said, “I think I’ll pass on the shoes, but thanks for offering.”

We stopped at a drive through, but the stinging, burning welts on my back and buttocks made it very hard to concentrate on food or driving or keeping a conversation. I still couldn’t drop the incessant woody as it seemed to have a will of it’s own. I was dazed and I think in mild, blissful shock.

Back at my place, she wasted no time locking herself in the bathroom for a quick shower. When she was done, she came out wrapped in a towel stretching from just above her nipple to just below her ass. She never felt self-conscious around me, nor should she with a body like that. Then it was my turn. I got into the bathroom and slowly peeled off my t-shirt, turned and stared at the earthworm-sized welts on my back in utter disbelief. Then I turned to see the pinhole bruises and the scrape Cindy left from her trample stomp. I felt guilty for using her to fulfill my fantasy but I couldn’t help myself. It took a while to find a water temperature that was comfortable and I slowly rinsed my aching body, damped it with a towel and wrapped the towel around my waist. There was no avoiding the fact that she was going to see my welts. Covering them up would be very suspicious after a shower.
I took a deep breath, and stepped out of the bathroom, came downstairs where she was joyfully eating a burrito and flipping through channels on the TV. I sat down next to her, grabbed my food and we spent the next 10 minutes arguing over what to watch. We finally settled on a Sumo Basho as we both adored the sport.

She got up to grab a drink and as she was coming back, she gasped. “Jessus Christ, dude… Have you seen your back?”
“Nah.” I blew it off, “Is it bad?”
“Wow.” She moved closer. “You should check this out.” She poked me and I winced. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I didn’t realize you were so fragile.”
“Hey, why don’t I put on a pair of heels and stomp all over you?” I snapped jokingly.
“It was your idea.”
“Well, I must admit, it did feel good at the time. Kind of like that active release seminar we took last year. Lots of endorphins.”
“You want me to rub some lotion on you or something?”
“Sure.”

Cindy grabbed some hand lotion from her backpack. “OK, lie down.”
I was on the floor and she straddled my ass, and fixed her towel. Then I heard the spurt of the lotion bottle and her hard calloused hands went to work on my tender swollen back. I can’t say I enjoyed the sensation as her strokes were not at all nurturing or soothing. But they were efficient and before I had a chance to say I had enough, she was done.

Hmm…

“My turn.” I said suddenly grabbing the lotion bottle and spurting some on my hand before she had a chance to shoot me down.

[Tabasco]

“I’m ok, thanks. That’s only good for my hands.” She replied sitting back in the couch, grabbing the remote and putting her feet up on my coffee table.
“Too late, my hand is full…” Then with a wry smile I added “of lotion.”
I sat on the coffee table facing her, next to her feet, grabbed her left one and put it in my lap. She didn’t raise much of an objection apparently distracted by the TV. I started rubbing the lotion on her hard, muscular thighs and slowly moved down to her calves and shins. Saving the best for last, her feet. This was where all my masterful artistry would be pushed to the limit. I gave her right foot, the foot-rub of a lifetime with the lotion and caressed and pampered her foot like it was the most precious thing in the world to me. This lasted for a good 5 minutes with no response from her except the occasional reaction to the TV show she was watching. Finally, I moved on to her left foot and was almost ready to give up when I finally heard a soft moan.

Yes!

I looked up briefly and her eyes were closed and she had a shallow smile on her face.
“That feels nice.” She finally said, sinking deeper into the couch. Suddenly my cock was rock hard.

I worked her left foot with everything I had and she was beginning to break, melting, relaxing, allowing herself to enjoy. She put her right foot back into my lap and grabbed my nipple with her toes and squeezed it playfully. “This one now!” She commanded. I complied.

15 minutes of diligent devotion to her feet and finally, my resolve was spent. Almost instinctively, without any conscious awareness, I kissed her toe and a chain of electricity erupted down my spine. Next thing I knew, I was sucking her toes with such passion, I could feel her whole leg stiffen up.

I looked up briefly to see the look of shock on her face slowly dissolve into a knowing smile. I had her! Finally! The feet I had coveted since I was 12 were finally in my mouth and though they tasted like lotion, they were still the very same feet of the very same Cindy I had a crush on for most of my life. I took my next big chance and lied down on the floor, face up, and placed both of her feet on my face. Then I began to lick ravenously heel to toe, left right. I could hear her giggling and finally she relaxed. CLICK, the TV channel changed and some trashy talk show came on. I couldn’t tell what was going on, but she laughed a bit seemingly forgetting all about me.

I grabbed my cock and started jerking it. She was watching tv so she probably wouldn’t see, but even if she did, I didn’t care. There was no past, there was no future, there was only this moment which would live in my mind forever. It didn’t take me long to come. Maybe 30 seconds or so as I was already on the verge. Luckly, I caught most of it in my towel and even after the momentary solace dissolved back to reality, her feet were still firmly planted on my face.

“Hey are you done?” She tapped my nose with her toes.
“Good as new!” I smiled.
“Good, because I need to get going.” She stood up and grabbed her backpack and clothes.
I just lay there, on the floor, soaking up the bliss, recording the moment, pretending to watch TV. She let herself out and said. “See you tomorrow!”

When I got up, I could easily see the small puddle of warm semen I couldn’t feel earlier rolling off my belly. I’m assuming to this day, that so did she.

[crushed1]

Thanks for posting this story. You have got talent and I am looking forward to more stories from you. Especially if future stories realy more of this relationship with Cindy!

Crushed1

[faceup]

Nice story - sensitively written.

Good luck!

Faceup

[footcleaner83]

A very nice story indeed. I like this style of writing! Thanks!

[humble freak]

Wonderfully, very well written story! I just love it!:p
Is there more?

Thanks