Ste Letto
01-27-2003, 9:07 AM
The girl dipped her foot and let the loafer fall, bouncing off Maurice's thigh. The girl sighed loudly and extended her right leg and foot. This caused her big toe to prod Maurice's cheek. He closed his eyes momentarily. The girl's toe scratched his cheek, then pulled back. He opened his eyes to see she had kicked off her left shoe and had both feet in the air. Those feet powered toward his immobilised face, hot soles first, until she pressed them to her human footcushion. Maurice's bruised face hurt with the pressure. His jaw screamed when her heels bumped it and pushed in. His skull complained as her feet compressed the bones and pressed them against the rear of the support.
The girl sighed again, and Maurice heard the tip tap of a computer keyboard. She was working, while soothing her aching feet on his helpless face. He began weeping. The combination of the physical and psychological punishment he had received became too much for him. The girl began wiping her feet all over his face, brushing her soles, toes and the ball of each foot all over. She reddened and chaffed his already hurting skin.
When she withdrew one foot, Maurice felt relief. This turned too fear moments later when he felt her toes prodding and probing at his ballsacs. He tried to scream, but couldn't. He tried to free himself, but it was impossible. The girl found his ballsacs with her toes and pushed her toes down into them, feeling them compress. Maurice felt a sickening ache building. The girl wobbled her foot side to side, using her thigh, calf and ankle to abuse his nuts. Maurice was crying freely. The girl brought her other foot down. Soon her two big toes were abusing his balls. Each big toe had one ballsac to abuse. The girl pressed hard, then alternated pressure, then just let her feet rest. Maurice's balls were slowly being flattened. He had never known a pain so insidious. It cut through him, dominating his being. He could only sit there and take it. The girl was effortlessly causing him agony, and all to ease her own feet and ease a little boredom. She raised both heels, pushed down hard with her toes, twisted her feet by turning them from the ankles, then pressed again, harder. Maurice feared his balls might burst. His head swam. His belly and groing pulsed with pain. He wanted to die, or pass out, but his neutraliser stopped him.
She sat like that for twenty minutes, working away, humming contentedly and sighing as she worked the tension from her toes, feet, calves and thighs. At one point she even raised herself up completely, putting all her weight on her toes, coming oh so close to bursting Maurice's straining sacs. He wanted to scream, the agony was pure and unstoppable.
This went on for another two hours. Then the girl slipped her loafers back on. Now she put one foot on top of his cock, and crossed the other leg over. She began pressing on his shaft. Maurice could only moan silently, inwardly, like a wounded animal. The girl tapped her shoe on his shaft, then pushed her gritty sole down hard. Maurice felt the nylon carpet below burning his flesh. The girl twisted her toe, her heel popping out slightly as she raised her ankle. Maurice could not see this, he could only feel it, and his inability to look only seemed to magnify his feelings of powerlessness and despair. His cock flattened beneath the pressure. It grew broader and flatter under her torturous foot. She stamped on his cock four times, each blow threatening to burst it like an ovefull sausage. Maurice was in a daze.
When he realised the girl had left the desk Maurice was in shock. He began thinking the ordeal was at an end, even if only a temporary one. Then the chair moved and a pair of white tights clad legs appeared, with white loafers. Maurice groaned inwardly. The new girl planted her shoe soles on his face, heels to his jaw, soles over eyes, toes on forehead. She rested comfortably as she worked.
The girl, Andrea, was 19 years of age. She worked in the administration branch. With her almond shaped eyes and her jet black hair she was incredibly beautiful. Her white shoes, tights and skirt were matched by her white shirt and tie. She had a cigarette between her lips. She liked to smoke as she worked. She kept her left foot pressed firmly to Maurice's face, and lowered her right to the floor. She found the pedal that rested under there in the rear corner and pressed it down firmly beneath the toe of her pretty little foot. Her feet were size 5s. The pedal was connected by a series of levers to a bracket in the mouth of her ashtray. David had been a computer programmer once. He had been well paid. Then his girlfriend reported him for hoarding pornography. He had a foot fetish. Andrea thought it funny how her feet could abuse and hurt him so easily.
Now David had neither arms or legs. His body was suspended inside a metal framework. Like the men who served as chairs, he was fed by nutrient pills, and what little waste his body produced was collected and disposed of automatically. His body was upright. His head was forced into a backward angle. The bracket in his mouth would force his jaw to open. This hurt like having his jaw broken. It felt like his jaw would dislocate, and his tendons were all tearing. When Andrea or any other girl released the pedal, his jaw would slam shut forcefully, driven by a powerful spring. Andrea extended her little right hand and hovered her cigarette over David's open mouth. With a brief glance, to make sure she wouldn't soil the carpet, the pretty girl used her index finger to tap off some ash from her cigarette. She released the pedal and David struggled to swallow the foul tasting waste.
Over the next ten minutes he received more and more of the burnt paper and tobacco until she was down to the butt. Andrea took a last drag, sighed, opened David's mouth with a sharp stamp on the pedal, and dropped the still burning fagend inside. David's tongue was already blackened and hardened from all the burning butts he'd received. He swallowed and fought the urge to throw up.
Andrea had three men suffering for her comfort. Maurice was under her desk, serving as her footrest. A man called John was inside her chair, and David was her ashtray. Andrea thought it only right and proper that these men should serve her and other women this way. To her mind, men were dumb brutes and needed controlling. She wiggled her hips, delighting in feeling them male face beneath her pert bottom. She slapped David's trapped face just for the hell of it, smiling to see his wince of pain and the imprint of her fingers arising. Then she plomped both shoe heels on Maurice's balls, and let the weight of her legs press down. She resolved to keep her heels there, unmoving, for the entirety of her shift. Smiling, she brought up some work and started tapping away at her keyboard. From time to time she would hum softly to herself, just because she loved her job so much.
The girl sighed again, and Maurice heard the tip tap of a computer keyboard. She was working, while soothing her aching feet on his helpless face. He began weeping. The combination of the physical and psychological punishment he had received became too much for him. The girl began wiping her feet all over his face, brushing her soles, toes and the ball of each foot all over. She reddened and chaffed his already hurting skin.
When she withdrew one foot, Maurice felt relief. This turned too fear moments later when he felt her toes prodding and probing at his ballsacs. He tried to scream, but couldn't. He tried to free himself, but it was impossible. The girl found his ballsacs with her toes and pushed her toes down into them, feeling them compress. Maurice felt a sickening ache building. The girl wobbled her foot side to side, using her thigh, calf and ankle to abuse his nuts. Maurice was crying freely. The girl brought her other foot down. Soon her two big toes were abusing his balls. Each big toe had one ballsac to abuse. The girl pressed hard, then alternated pressure, then just let her feet rest. Maurice's balls were slowly being flattened. He had never known a pain so insidious. It cut through him, dominating his being. He could only sit there and take it. The girl was effortlessly causing him agony, and all to ease her own feet and ease a little boredom. She raised both heels, pushed down hard with her toes, twisted her feet by turning them from the ankles, then pressed again, harder. Maurice feared his balls might burst. His head swam. His belly and groing pulsed with pain. He wanted to die, or pass out, but his neutraliser stopped him.
She sat like that for twenty minutes, working away, humming contentedly and sighing as she worked the tension from her toes, feet, calves and thighs. At one point she even raised herself up completely, putting all her weight on her toes, coming oh so close to bursting Maurice's straining sacs. He wanted to scream, the agony was pure and unstoppable.
This went on for another two hours. Then the girl slipped her loafers back on. Now she put one foot on top of his cock, and crossed the other leg over. She began pressing on his shaft. Maurice could only moan silently, inwardly, like a wounded animal. The girl tapped her shoe on his shaft, then pushed her gritty sole down hard. Maurice felt the nylon carpet below burning his flesh. The girl twisted her toe, her heel popping out slightly as she raised her ankle. Maurice could not see this, he could only feel it, and his inability to look only seemed to magnify his feelings of powerlessness and despair. His cock flattened beneath the pressure. It grew broader and flatter under her torturous foot. She stamped on his cock four times, each blow threatening to burst it like an ovefull sausage. Maurice was in a daze.
When he realised the girl had left the desk Maurice was in shock. He began thinking the ordeal was at an end, even if only a temporary one. Then the chair moved and a pair of white tights clad legs appeared, with white loafers. Maurice groaned inwardly. The new girl planted her shoe soles on his face, heels to his jaw, soles over eyes, toes on forehead. She rested comfortably as she worked.
The girl, Andrea, was 19 years of age. She worked in the administration branch. With her almond shaped eyes and her jet black hair she was incredibly beautiful. Her white shoes, tights and skirt were matched by her white shirt and tie. She had a cigarette between her lips. She liked to smoke as she worked. She kept her left foot pressed firmly to Maurice's face, and lowered her right to the floor. She found the pedal that rested under there in the rear corner and pressed it down firmly beneath the toe of her pretty little foot. Her feet were size 5s. The pedal was connected by a series of levers to a bracket in the mouth of her ashtray. David had been a computer programmer once. He had been well paid. Then his girlfriend reported him for hoarding pornography. He had a foot fetish. Andrea thought it funny how her feet could abuse and hurt him so easily.
Now David had neither arms or legs. His body was suspended inside a metal framework. Like the men who served as chairs, he was fed by nutrient pills, and what little waste his body produced was collected and disposed of automatically. His body was upright. His head was forced into a backward angle. The bracket in his mouth would force his jaw to open. This hurt like having his jaw broken. It felt like his jaw would dislocate, and his tendons were all tearing. When Andrea or any other girl released the pedal, his jaw would slam shut forcefully, driven by a powerful spring. Andrea extended her little right hand and hovered her cigarette over David's open mouth. With a brief glance, to make sure she wouldn't soil the carpet, the pretty girl used her index finger to tap off some ash from her cigarette. She released the pedal and David struggled to swallow the foul tasting waste.
Over the next ten minutes he received more and more of the burnt paper and tobacco until she was down to the butt. Andrea took a last drag, sighed, opened David's mouth with a sharp stamp on the pedal, and dropped the still burning fagend inside. David's tongue was already blackened and hardened from all the burning butts he'd received. He swallowed and fought the urge to throw up.
Andrea had three men suffering for her comfort. Maurice was under her desk, serving as her footrest. A man called John was inside her chair, and David was her ashtray. Andrea thought it only right and proper that these men should serve her and other women this way. To her mind, men were dumb brutes and needed controlling. She wiggled her hips, delighting in feeling them male face beneath her pert bottom. She slapped David's trapped face just for the hell of it, smiling to see his wince of pain and the imprint of her fingers arising. Then she plomped both shoe heels on Maurice's balls, and let the weight of her legs press down. She resolved to keep her heels there, unmoving, for the entirety of her shift. Smiling, she brought up some work and started tapping away at her keyboard. From time to time she would hum softly to herself, just because she loved her job so much.