gti
01-04-2003, 4:07 PM
He followed her down the polished stair case in the direction of the basement. She wore an elegant dress which hugged her figure before flowing over her hips and down her long legs, the hem just too high to conceal her shapely ankles and well toned calves. Her progress was announced by the staccato tap of her leather court shoes on the wooden steps and the sound echoed in the room below, then silence as she stepped onto the carpet, turned and took him by the hand.
With it's faint smell of fresh paint, the room was sparsely but elegantly furnished: The walls were light in colour and several art deco lights were mounted around them, their beams fanning along the surface and imbuing the atmosphere with a warm and slightly subdued glow. The furniture was expensive polished mahogany chaise-lounge and chairs sitting on a luxuriant carpet. The carpet itself was fitted up to the skirting and framed a section of the floor in the center of the room which was polished wood, closer examination of which revealed flush metal fittings in neatly carved recesses.
She pulled gently on his hand and he stepped down from the last step onto the carpet so that he was facing her; at over six feet in height she was taller than he and her eyes looked down slightly to meet his gaze and burn themselves into his consciousness. "So", she said eventually "you are the one who wants to be trampled?" He nodded in affirmation and an amused smile flickered across her cupid's - bow lips. "And you think that you are able to take a sane but severe level" she laughed, repeating the words he had said to her over the telephone. He nodded again and before he knew it she had turned away from him and was leading him to the polished wooden floor in the center of the room. "You tell me," she said "that you would prefer me to trample upon you without shoes." "Yes, Miss Antoinette" he said with a calmness in his voice which surprised him. "And yet", she continued "you say that you will place yourself entirely at my mercy?" He nodded once more and tried to speak, but the calmness had deserted his speech and he found that only a strange cracked sound would escape his mouth. Her face had taken on a predatory look and he felt himself shake. "Good", she said simply "kindly lay down on the floor please."
The floor was cold against his naked body and it's unyielding hardness seemed somehow to proffer him upwards towards her cold mercy; and then the clack of her high heels as she walked up to where he lay. The toe of her shoe came towards his face and lifted it slightly, insinuating itself beneath his lips. Without thinking he kissed and heard a light sigh from above. The shoe brushed over his head, the heel grazing his cheek and she was stood facing away from him, his vision filled by the back of her shoes as she rested her weight on one foot and stood the other on its toe. The floorboards creaked beneath her weight as he was presented with the sole of her shoe. After kissing the creased and well worn leather of her upper, after breathing in the faint smell of her perspiration, the scuffed sole came as no surprise. He sensed her testing him, knew she wondered whether he would dare to kiss the sole, knew she was finding how much of himself he would volunteer, and before he could think any further he had reached out his tongue and touched the sole of her shoe. Absorbed as he was, it seemed to speak to him of the person who was wearing it: He saw her elegant stockinged legs crossed beneath a table in a coffee house, the shoe dangling from one foot; he saw the dance floor as she moved across it in a whirl of poise and motion, the rainy street as she dashed for shelter, spattering water with her heavy steps. And he saw the cruel smile on her face as she jabbed the pointed toe into the solar plexus of a prone man.
"I think that it's time for your trampling to begin" she intoned softly, and the shoes were gone from his vision as he felt the insistent kicking of her feet against his body, turning him onto his back. She towered over him in her statuesque and voluptuous beauty and he knew that his heart was reaching through the mists of his fear and extending a welcome to the overwhelming force of her being. She lowered herself with one knee on his chest, pressing into his ribs, overwhelming his senses with a brush of nylon stocking, and the faint smell of expensive perfume; before he knew it his wrists were secured above his head to the flush fastenings which she had pulled out of the floor. She turned to fasten his ankles apart and he knew that he was undone.
"I believe" she said kindly, "that you would have tried so very hard to stay still for me to trample upon you. But I honestly don't think that you could have ever succeeded without some help....."
...to be continued....
With it's faint smell of fresh paint, the room was sparsely but elegantly furnished: The walls were light in colour and several art deco lights were mounted around them, their beams fanning along the surface and imbuing the atmosphere with a warm and slightly subdued glow. The furniture was expensive polished mahogany chaise-lounge and chairs sitting on a luxuriant carpet. The carpet itself was fitted up to the skirting and framed a section of the floor in the center of the room which was polished wood, closer examination of which revealed flush metal fittings in neatly carved recesses.
She pulled gently on his hand and he stepped down from the last step onto the carpet so that he was facing her; at over six feet in height she was taller than he and her eyes looked down slightly to meet his gaze and burn themselves into his consciousness. "So", she said eventually "you are the one who wants to be trampled?" He nodded in affirmation and an amused smile flickered across her cupid's - bow lips. "And you think that you are able to take a sane but severe level" she laughed, repeating the words he had said to her over the telephone. He nodded again and before he knew it she had turned away from him and was leading him to the polished wooden floor in the center of the room. "You tell me," she said "that you would prefer me to trample upon you without shoes." "Yes, Miss Antoinette" he said with a calmness in his voice which surprised him. "And yet", she continued "you say that you will place yourself entirely at my mercy?" He nodded once more and tried to speak, but the calmness had deserted his speech and he found that only a strange cracked sound would escape his mouth. Her face had taken on a predatory look and he felt himself shake. "Good", she said simply "kindly lay down on the floor please."
The floor was cold against his naked body and it's unyielding hardness seemed somehow to proffer him upwards towards her cold mercy; and then the clack of her high heels as she walked up to where he lay. The toe of her shoe came towards his face and lifted it slightly, insinuating itself beneath his lips. Without thinking he kissed and heard a light sigh from above. The shoe brushed over his head, the heel grazing his cheek and she was stood facing away from him, his vision filled by the back of her shoes as she rested her weight on one foot and stood the other on its toe. The floorboards creaked beneath her weight as he was presented with the sole of her shoe. After kissing the creased and well worn leather of her upper, after breathing in the faint smell of her perspiration, the scuffed sole came as no surprise. He sensed her testing him, knew she wondered whether he would dare to kiss the sole, knew she was finding how much of himself he would volunteer, and before he could think any further he had reached out his tongue and touched the sole of her shoe. Absorbed as he was, it seemed to speak to him of the person who was wearing it: He saw her elegant stockinged legs crossed beneath a table in a coffee house, the shoe dangling from one foot; he saw the dance floor as she moved across it in a whirl of poise and motion, the rainy street as she dashed for shelter, spattering water with her heavy steps. And he saw the cruel smile on her face as she jabbed the pointed toe into the solar plexus of a prone man.
"I think that it's time for your trampling to begin" she intoned softly, and the shoes were gone from his vision as he felt the insistent kicking of her feet against his body, turning him onto his back. She towered over him in her statuesque and voluptuous beauty and he knew that his heart was reaching through the mists of his fear and extending a welcome to the overwhelming force of her being. She lowered herself with one knee on his chest, pressing into his ribs, overwhelming his senses with a brush of nylon stocking, and the faint smell of expensive perfume; before he knew it his wrists were secured above his head to the flush fastenings which she had pulled out of the floor. She turned to fasten his ankles apart and he knew that he was undone.
"I believe" she said kindly, "that you would have tried so very hard to stay still for me to trample upon you. But I honestly don't think that you could have ever succeeded without some help....."
...to be continued....