Traffic Stop -- AAJones

[DeathXI]

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[DeathXI]

Prologue
“The decoding of the human genome was recently heralded as the culmination of the
greatest medical search of the twentieth century. But, what we see as a crowning
achievement, history will record as only a tiny spark, when compared to the size of the
forest fire it ignites. The next ten years will see a geometric explosion in genetic
knowledge and resulting world changes that cannot even be imagined today, and for
which the world is completely unprepared. Choosing a child’s (or even altering an
adult’s) intellect, strength, beauty and longevity will be commonplace. Public policy that
today seeks to restrict genetic endeavor will evaporate completely in the face of the
medical miracles and improvements to whole populations achieved by the countries that
undertake them. No government will be able to afford to restrict genetic enhancement
because to do so will make its population noncompetitive – even primitive -- compared to
the far more intelligent, healthier, more robust populations of participatory countries.
The result of the coming ‘eugenics race’ will be a world population of “super humans,”
each individual having most or all of the attributes of the most extreme members of
today’s society. The genetically enhanced humans of tomorrow will possess the sevenfoot
height of the tallest basketball players, but with the pure skin and perfect beauty of
the Nordics; they will have the intelligence of Einsteins, and the muscularity of
Schwartzneggers – literally!
This is absolutely the future and it is inevitable. The challenge of genetic advance is,
therefore, not to avoid or restrict it, but to proceed with measured care, making eugenics
available equally to all populations. The rush to knowledge, if done haphazardly, or
competitively, could result in minimizing the dangers of the ‘dark side’ of genetic
alteration; side effects that appear over time and become more pronounced with each
subsequent alteration.
If science does not proceed with restraint and balance; if we continue as we are, to rush
forward without any social safeguards; the spoils of genetic advantage will belong only
to the populations whose genes invite the easiest enhancement, leaving others behind.
Certain races, ethnic groups, even one of the sexes may find itself “favored” for genetic
enhancement, having few, if any, obstacles to rapid improvement. Research will
naturally concentrate on this group and will elevate them to super humans much more
quickly than other populations who are hampered by genes more resistant to change, or
whose economies do not possess the funds to compete in the race. The burden will then
be on the “unimproved” populations, who may find themselves looked upon, in short
order, as virtual children, by members of a new “master race” with the intellect and
strength to do whatever they will, and a rightly superior viewpoint that disdains lesser
humans.
H.G. Wells, in The Time Machine, envisioned a world where a superior aggressive
culture enslaves an inferior one because it loses the ability to see it as human. The
markers for the same genetic tendency in humanity are rife throughout history. If a true
master race does arise, there is little doubt it will not be able to curb its predisposition to
exploit its dominance, especially considering the vast resources it will need to thrive, as
its population expands, but rarely dies off. It will have almost no choice, but to justify
taking advantage of lesser cultures in providing it vast amounts of needed labor and
economic benefit, in order to maintain its quality of life. Soon after, any remaining moral
limitation on the treatment of other cultures will be overridden by the commonly held
view that they exist to serve the masters, as horses are used as beasts of burden today.
It behooves us as members of the world community to ensure this frightening scenario
doesn’t play out; that we keep the genie in the bottle, at least while we make friends with
him. There is no question we can live in a world where we are all equally super human;
but I increasingly fear we will instead create a world where only some of us will enjoy
that gift, at the expense of those less fortunate.”
---------- Dr. Wesley Pachek, Super Humans: The Coming Eugenics Crisis and the Rise
of the Master Race
Traffic Stop
He had noticed the police car well behind him, winding its way on the country highway
almost ten minutes ago. It had been slowly and lazily gaining on him, driving just a bit
faster than he was. But he didn’t want to go over the speed limit even one mile an hour
to stay well ahead of it. Hell, you didn’t even do that in the old days and he certainly
wasn’t going to do it now. Particularly today, the first day his wife, Kelly, had let him
drive with the new license. And, besides…he hadn’t done anything wrong….
As the cruiser pulled nearer, he made out the form of the blond female officer behind
dark sunglasses, looking straight forward – serious, but relaxed. His hands began to grip
the wheel just a little more tightly, and his eyes darted back and forth from the mirror to
the road to the speedometer. He laughed uncertainly at his own behavior. He hadn’t
done anything wrong and he just wouldn’t and the car would pass and everything would
be all right and he was worrying too much. A male orderly who had taken pity on him
when he was recovering from the male form of the Treatment, had told him there was a
slight paranoia gene implanted to keep him cautious while his strength degenerated and
he became accustomed to being dramatically weaker. That was probably why he was
feeling so apprehensive.
The cruiser pulled slowly alongside him in the left lane, all shiny black and white paint,
and high tech lights, “California Highway Patrol” on the door -- the cop ignoring him,
looking forward. He looked forward too. At the road. He had just started to relax as she
passed him, when he noticed the officer glance over at him, casually, then hold her gaze a
second too long. She was even more perfect than most women had become -- high
chiseled cheekbones, full lips, clear skin, a deep tan and, even from this vantage point,
athletic muscles. Obviously, one of the new Nordics he saw on the news now being
recruited for law enforcement in the U.S. (his wife had let him watch the news one night
last week). You DID NOT cross a Nordic, his wife had told him. They didn’t simply
consider men a lower class – they truly thought of them as insects. He shuddered
involuntarily.
He thought he noticed the slightest hint of a smirk on the cop’s face as she looked back
forward, continuing to pass him. Maybe she just hadn’t seen a man driving again
yet…Well, it was legal again now, and he had checked the restrictions and memorized
each one before his wife had given him the keys when he left her new house – or, his old
one, he reminded himself.
He had begun to relax even more as the cruiser had almost completely passed him, now,
when he noticed it had matched his speed. Then, ever so slowly, it began to fall back
alongside him! He swallowed hard and focused his gaze on the road, as his heart began
to thump hard in his chest! As the police car was again beside him, it held its position,
then began to lazily drift closer to his own car, toward his lane. He had a vice grip on the
wheel now, trying desperately to stay on the road, as the cop drifted casually into his
lane, so close to his door, he was certain she would bump it! To keep her from hitting
him, he moved out of his lane now, driving off the pavement a little, his right tires into
the berm, swirling dust to avoid getting bumped by the police car. Almost immediately,
the cruiser moved confidently back into its lane and dropped behind his car. Then its
lights lit up.
He began sweating all over! His hands were wet on the wheel and his heart was beating
so hard in his chest he almost hyperventilated! He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong!
He had tried so hard to not rock the boat since the Awakening – accepting his new role as
a consequence of things he could not control!
He slowed and pulled to the side of the road, his hands shaking a little, as he turned off
the engine. The policewoman stopped behind him, sitting in her car, in no hurry, it
seemed. He stared at the mirror, trying to calm down, when she opened her door and
stepped out.
He prayed he didn’t get a ticket. After all, how would he explain it to his wife, Kelly.
With the political tide turning against men – even dangerously – for a while, then the
Treatment and recovery, this was the first time he’d been out into the world in months.
He thanked God, he had such a wonderful wife. She truly loved him as he did her. She
was so young – 24 -- and energetic, her long hair always catching the sun as she looked at
him with those great brown eyes. She had always been attractive, a pretty brunette with
thick brown tussled hair. When the Treatment for Women had been discovered over two
years ago, before it was free to all women, he had worked extra hours at a second job to
make sure Kelly was one of the first to get the gene-splice. How could you not want your
wife to suddenly be healthier, stronger, more intelligent and free from all disease?! He
hadn’t anticipated how much more aggressive she would become, but Kelly loved him so
much, she rarely showed that side of her. When she grew three inches in the next four
months, he happily bought her a new wardrobe. He had never imagined how beautiful or
how intelligent she would become…or how strong. But, Kelly had taken it mostly in
stride. She still loved to sing as he played the piano, he, admittedly missing more notes
than he used to, now that his muscles were slower. She was learning to play it herself,
now, in a tenth the time it had taken him.
When she remembered things instantly or figured out how to do something or organize
something with seemingly no thought at all now, she deliberately didn’t make him feel
stupid. She would patiently listen to his ideas as you’d listen to a child’s – before
pointing out gently why he was wrong. She would even playfully pick him up with one
arm and ask him what he was gonna do now to make light of being three times as strong
as she used to be. When she was so hard on him during sex that he finally cried out and
she saw all the bruises, she had gone easier on him from then on.
But, she was also learning not to take ‘no’ for an answer. If she wanted something done,
it was becoming accepted in their house – her house – that he would do it. He had taken
over many of the household chores and she had taken to leaving without saying where
she was going and spending a lot of time at the gym, golf course or tennis club. But, that
was a small price to pay to have such a wonderful woman who loved him in this
changing world. In fact, it was Kelly that had fought to keep the changing world from
affecting him, too.
Nine months after the Treatment had been made available to every woman in most
countries, when the government moved to all female almost overnight because women
had become so intelligent, she didn’t make him feel worthless. Even when the tide began
turning against the men because of their newfound inferiority, she argued for equal rights
for men, even as the establishment sought to put them in a lower class. And, on a less
global scale, she protected him from the cruel fourteen year old who had kicked him in
the groin for taking too long to order at McDonalds, before she could hurt him more. (He
had laid on the ground for twenty minutes before he could move that day, thinking at the
time that the teenager’s violence and the boyfriend she had kept on a leash were isolated
“grunge things,” like her big biker boots. (He would never have believed that Kelly
would have such a leash by tomorrow afternoon).
In the end, though, Kelly couldn’t fight (or be unaffected) by the societal changes. It was
hard to go to the tennis club and watch her girlfriends from the sorority brutally slap
husbands they’d been married to for several years for talking out of turn or not wanting to
be the ball boy while they played tennis. Slaps that now brought them to their knees.
They would never have done that even two years ago. And playing golf, her friends all
used the same caddy – an 18-year-old boy she loved to flirt with and tease since he had
such an obvious case of puppy love for her. Only now, he carried five sets of clubs on
foot all day – which made her feel sorry for the poor boy. But she was getting used to it.
When one of her friends had told her to spike the kid one day for being too slow (after six
hours in 95 degree heat) -- just to be part of the crowd, (and even as he looked her with
total admiration in his eyes) she had forced him down and stepped on his fingers with her
golf spikes and smiled as she stood on him and he screamed in pain. She had even
twisted her foot to the side as she’d stepped off of him, her friends laughing as he rolled
around on the ground at their feet, clutching his mangled hand and crying like a baby.
Later, when she had seen what she’d done to his hand, she had felt terrible and tried to
convince herself she had had too much to drink. She had tried to go to him to apologize,
but he had run from her like a scared puppy, cradling his hand, now torn to shreds. She
hadn’t known he was only eighteen. But she never treated her husband like that.
When a different version of the Treatment – designed to weaken the men, not strengthen
them -- was required to be administered to “protect” the new world from male influence,
Kelly explained that it was the law and Peter would have to have it done. And, in fact,
she had pulled him hard by the hair alongside her when he wouldn’t go into the hospital
and held him down effortlessly while they administered the shots, her eyes tearing up as
his were. But, then she had nursed him through the pain, as his muscles dissolved and he
became weak, then kept his confidence up by saying that this could be a good thing,
since, when men weren’t perceived as a threat anymore, they would be allowed to do
things they’d had to give up – like being out after dark and driving a car. Sure enough,
men were allowed to get restricted driver’s licenses about two months ago and Kelly had
proudly taken him to get his. The only after-effect of the gene treatment (other than that
he could barely lift a grocery bag now) had been a general fatigue that set in by 8:00
every night.
Kelly would help him if she were here. But she wasn’t. So he was on his own by the
side of a lonely highway with a female cop -- and that was why his mouth had gone dry.
The CHP Officer stood up alongside her car, taller even than he expected, wearing the
khaki miniskirt uniform that the Highway Patrol had adopted after the Awakening, when
the patrol went to all females. She had long, perfectly straight, bright blond hair that was
blowing in the breeze, framing her perfect face. She walked up to his window, her long,
tan legs gracefully carrying her in her high boots, her gun catching the sunlight, a baton
on the other hip, a wicked looking whip, and other equipment he had not seen before.
The sway of her hips was mesmerizing. She stopped at his window and regarded him
with mock severity as if he should have known better. Her gun belt was tight around her
waist beneath large curvaceous breasts bursting from her blouse so much her badge was
not so visible from below as he looked up at her -- her muscular frame blocking the sun
by his window. She was a beautiful California blond with bright blue eyes he saw, as she
removed her Ray-Bans -- right out of the magazines! He felt so small next to her. ‘Calm
down, calm down, calm down, calm down….get it together….,’ he thought to himself.
“Good Afternoon, Sir, How’re ya doin’ today?” she said matter-of-factly, with a nice
smile. She had thick pouting lips. She was agonizingly beautiful, only about 28 years
old. Such a happy pleasant pretty face, and very tall – he had to look almost straight up
from the car window, squinting into the sun and her silhouette. “I just need to see your
license and registration real quick.” She was still smiling pleasantly and seemed to be in
a good mood – her face was like sunshine! She had sort of a fun, ditzy personality that
said she didn’t take life too seriously. This might not be so bad, he thought! He got the
brand new license out of his pocket and the registration from the visor with shivering
hands.
“Peter Cole,” she read from the driver’s license. “Is Cole your married name?”
He nodded, “I changed it a year ago as required.”
“You know why I pulled you over, right?” His mouth was dry. She continued, “You
went right of your lane. I’m afraid that’s a traffic violation,” she said pleasantly.
He stammered, “You were drifting into my….I…I…was afraid you’d…you were…so
close…”
She smiled broadly, seeming to understand. Maybe she was just messing around with
him. “Ohhh, okay,” she exclaimed. “That kinda stuff happens sometimes.” She asked,
“Do you have your pass, Sir?” He took the pass out of his pocket, hoping his wife’s
signature would count for something. As he handed it to the officer she dropped it into
his car, laughingly exclaiming, “Oops! Sorry!”
Without thinking, he reached down to pick it up for her. Instantly, the pretty blond
reached in and violently grabbed him by the throat in a vice grip and slammed his head
into the seat back behind him, stars springing up in front of his eyes! She squeezed his
throat so much he couldn’t talk, breathe or move, her long nails carving deep indentions
in his neck. He was stunned and the pain was coming in waves! My God, was she
strong! She stood calmly over him, still smiling sweetly, staring at him, pressing him
into the seat, and said, “For my safety, sir, you can’t make any sudden moves. I mean,
how do I know you’re not going for a weapon?” She smirked. His eyes were wide with
fear and pain. His wife had given him a pass to take the car. This couldn’t be legal. It
was getting out of hand. He didn’t want to cause trouble. If he could just explain….
“The thing is, you have committed a traffic violation, sir,” she said with the same nice
tone, like nothing at all had happened. “Pursuant to the Male Reintegration Act, you may
elect to pay the penalty through the arresting officer, which is me. Let’s see, if you
contest the violation, the court may triple the penalty if it finds you guilty. As an aside,
there have been no ‘not guilty’ findings since the law was passed. The penalty is fifteen
minutes. Oh, yeah, you are also permitted to know how much I weigh. I am six feet,
four inches tall – six-seven in my boots --and I weigh 188 pounds – 203 lbs. with my
equipment. Would you like me to handle the matter here, sir?”
He tried to think, but thinking was slower now. He didn’t know what to do. ‘Handle it
here,’ how? ‘Fifteen minutes’? She began working her sharp nails deeper into his neck,
watching his breath catch in his throat and his face begin to turn blue.
She continued, “If it helps you decide, I don’t have stilettos with me today, I’ll administer
the penalty in my duty boots. That’s a significant advantage for you, believe me,” she
said knowingly.

[DeathXI]

He looked up at her face; still smiling her beautiful California smile…almost
apologetically. His gaze flowed down her tall frame, over her long, strong legs and tan
thighs, and to her high leather boots, with their hard 3” block heels and brutal tread. He
swallowed hard, staring at them.
“If you could just decide, it’d really make it easier,” she said, tossing her beautiful hair.
“ ‘Cuz, I get off in, like, an hour and I’m supposed to go surfing with some friends of
mine before the sun goes down.”
His teeth began chattering, unable to stop. She tightened the grip on his throat, her nails
sinking in and drawing blood. He almost passed out. She screwed up her face in an
impish smile. “If you don’t decide, I have to arrest you and take you to jail -- sorry.”
“I’ll…take the penalty…. now,” he choked out. “Please, I’m very weak…I just had the
therapy three months ago. If you could…if you could just…. be…”
“Gentle?!” she finished. “Well…” she smiled. “The thing is, I have to implement the
penalty in accordance with the law, sir. My job is to make sure you pay more attention to
your driving in the future. I think…when I’ve finished -- you will! Reach up and open
your door with your right hand, okay?”
He reached up weakly and clicked the door latch, and was instantly and furiously yanked
from his car and slammed against it, his feet fully off the ground, by her arm strength
lifting him by his throat with her one hand! She held him facing her against his car, bent
backward a little, then, staring straight into his eyes, and without a word, she drove her
powerful bare thigh forward, her large knee smashing like a club into his groin! The
flood of pain was so overwhelming he lost his focus! She continued to hold him. Then,
almost as an afterthought, she knee’d him again, even harder, if that was possible. He fell
to the ground without enough air to even grunt – a rag doll! She let him fall face down
into the gravel, then dropped her knee on his neck, pressed it heavily into his spine. She
applied her full weight to her knee, bending his head against it, driving his face into the
hot gravel! He thought his neck would break! He felt it pop several times! She locked
his elbows expertly and painfully behind him and handcuffed him tightly. Bouncing a
couple of times on her knee, she watched him grunt in pain, and smiled. She removed an
auto hypo from her belt pouch, pressed it to his neck and pressed the activator, releasing
the drug.
“This is for both our safety, sir,” she said. “It will paralyze you while I administer the
penalty. One of its side effects is a much increased sensitivity to pain, unfortunately.”
She stood up beside him, towering over him now, as he curled into the fetal position, his
groin a mass of sick ache. She was a skyscraper of lithe, tanned muscle. His eyes flew
wide when she stepped almost against his nose with her boots, grinding the gravel
beneath them. He watched as a small cricket crawling across the gravel was smashed
horribly beneath her heel, half its little body crushed and half sticking out twitching
furiously as she unconsciously shifted her weight, never knowing it was there as it
crunched into paste!
He felt a flood of tingling overtake him now, his limbs getting very heavy and difficult to
move. In a matter of moments, he could not move at all, and his tongue was hanging
obscenely out of his mouth. He couldn’t seem to pull it back in and, embarrassingly, it
was dripping saliva on the ground in front of him.
She put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. “You should be ready now,” she
remarked. “I know I am!” she said brightly.
Peter laid helplessly at her feet, staring up at her towering form. He felt like an insect.
“What did you use to do for a living, sir?” she asked, as if she was just making
conversation.
He struggled to speak and it took him a moment. “I uthed tu be…..un conthert pianitht,”
he was embarrassed he couldn’t talk due to the drug.
“You used to be a concert pianist?” she repeated, her eyebrows raised. “Wow! That’s so
cool! I always wanted to play the piano! So, your hands are really your life, then, aren’t
they?” She picked up her boot and placed the heel ever so gently on his right hand.
“Oh, pleeath, pleeath, oh God, oh pleeath don’t…ith all I have, pleath…!” he cried. She
increased the pressure, then put most of her weight on her heel, bending his hand beneath
it, his knuckles cracking and his finger tips turning bright white, a wide smile forming on
her large lips, obviously enjoying the feeling of his hand compressing beneath her boot.
“My wife likth to thing with ne…pleeeeaaath…!”
She cocked her head, holding the severe pressure on his hand. He was gasping from the
crushing pain. “Your wife likes to sing while you play?” she asked. The female cop
considered it. “I’ll take it under advisement,” she answered.
She removed her boot from his hand, drew her long muscular leg back, and kicked him in
the side so hard his body spun onto his back. She placed the heavy boot on his chest.
“You know what I like most about this?” she asked. He just stared up at her, the hot
gravel burning his flesh. “I like the moment I transfer my full weight…. I put a lot of
weight down and a man’s eyes go wide because he can’t believe how heavy I am or how
much it hurts. But, the moment I like is that second I actually step up, when he realizes
there’s so much more weight than he ever thought, that he can’t comprehend it! His eyes
pop out of their sockets, his body – even his very bones – seem to buck and flatten
beneath me; then his legs, even his toes tense up and shoot straight out like a board and
his whole body becomes rigid, trying to take the crush. Finally, the air is forced out of
his lungs as his eyes start tearing up and I can tell he’s in so much pain he can’t even
speak. That’s what I like!” She gave him a model’s smile. He began to make small
whimpering sounds.
“So…are you ready for me, Pete?,” she asked coyly.
She placed her boot on the bottom center of his chest, looked at his eyes, now watering
freely -- and stepped on him! His whole chest bent into him, yielding instantly to her
weight; his entire rib cage literally curving and somehow flexing deeply beneath her as
she stepped up, driving every organ in his chest into the hard gravel beneath him! His
chest caved, his spine was driven straight down and his legs and head jumped up as she
smashed his midsection! His legs and feet shot out straight as a board, more tense than
they ever been in his life, trying to absorb her weight! “Like that! See what I mean?!”
she exclaimed.
She brought her other boot up and allowed the heels to take most of her weight, as she
began to twist back and forth, grinding them into him beneath incredible pressure. The
air was forced out of him in something like a horrible grunt and then he couldn’t scream.
She swayed back and forth, shifting her massive weight as he looked up at her tall legs as
she trampled him. “This always reminds me of surfing!” she exclaimed. “Did you used
to surf, Pete?”
As the drug fully took hold, Pete’s legs went limp and his body turned to paralyzed jelly!
He couldn’t even tense his stomach against her heavy, hard boots!
She positioned a boot heel on his nipple and twisted it hard, ripping the nipple open, then
stepped squarely on his throat, crushing it into the road as she stood on it, dangling her
other boot above his face, the cricket’s body still embedded in the tread! His mind would
not accept that this was happening to him!
“How we doin’ Pete?” she asked. “Gonna pay more attention to your driving?” She
placed the heel of her boot against his eye socket and stepped down, pressing his eye into
his head until the heel mashed into the bone around his socket and couldn’t go deeper.
She twisted the heel, giving Pete a wicked black bruise.
Pete had never experienced pain like this before! He could never describe it to someone
else! He felt someone must be able to hear him screaming in agony, then realized he still
had so little air, the only sound he was making was stuck in his throat, and the only sound
was the cracking of his own ribs as they sought to withstand the terrible crushing pressure
of this beautiful woman standing on him without the slightest thought what she was doing
to him! Still balancing on the heel on his eye, the cop bounced up and down and Pete
heard something in his face crack!
The officer then walked nonchalantly down his chest, each step a bone-grinding rib
bending, smash and stood on his stomach and began jumping in place, stomping heavily
on him, trampling around. Her boot heel caught his shirt as she twisted it into him,
tearing it open and exposing his bare skin to her heavy tread. “God, you’re not only
small, you’re really pale, too, aren’t you?!” she commented as she felt his body yield to
her and his bare skin began to bruise and mark with the imprint of her boots. She was
violently punishing him, and he could not even move to resist. She stepped over his
groin and walked down his legs, pausing to bounce on his ankles. On the second bounce
he felt both ankles snap and his whole body was racked with new pain flooding through
him! The policewoman now walked slowly and methodically up his soft body, able to
keep her balance because her feet sunk so deeply into him. She stopped at his upper
thighs, letting her weight sink into them between his soft muscles. Peter groaned with the
constant burning of her heels digging into his weak legs!
She looked at him severely. “Okay…stiff upper lip…Here we go, Pete!” she said. She
raised her left boot and held it above his groin, just long enough for him to realize what
was about to happen, before she smashed down on his organ and began jumping furiously
up and down on it, twisting every time she came down! Pete’s world erupted in pain! He
gasped with each new smash of her heavy boots, mashing his manhood! A disjointed
part of his mind wondered how such a tall woman could jump so high. Then even that
part of his mind shut down as her 6’4” athletic frame came down squarely on his
testicles, her thigh muscles rippling far above him as she mashed the organ that once
made him a man! His body buckled each time she smashed down, his torso flying up and
his legs popping to meet it, as her boots almost touched the asphalt, his organs beneath
them, a human trampoline…such was her power! Then his head would smash against the
gravel as her weight left him, just long enough that he could see her powerful body
coming straight down on him again, driving her cruel heavy boots! All the while she had
the most beautiful happy smile on her face!
His world was pain! He felt he was going to pass out as she ground his testicles
sadistically beneath her boot, gritting her teeth in concentration! She stopped and stood
stock still, her heel on the shaft of his member, her weight slowly pulverizing and
flattening it completely, then stepped up his chest again and walked on his face, somehow
missing his nose, but deeply gouging his upper lip with the heel of her boot! She had
stepped on his tongue, he realized, as it lolled outside his mouth and ground the guts of
the cricket into it as her foot twisted. The cop stood squarely on Peter’s face without
moving. The weight was incredible! Pete could see the finest detail of her tread above
his eyes, just a towering leg beyond. She allowed the tread of her boot to sink deeply into
Pete’s deformed face, now looking down, amused that he had a near perfect boot print on
his face now, the tread lines almost a quarter inch deep and forming welts in their pattern!
The cop stepped off Pete, bouncing massively, Pete’s face cracking as she did so.
The trampling stopped for a moment, as Pete groggily realized another police car had
pulled up. He weakly turned his head to the side. Everything hurt. Everything hurt more
than he had ever conceived! The other police car made a tight U-Turn and pulled in
about three feet from him, the tires crackling on the gravel. The driver’s door opened and
another female officer twisted around and dropped her long tan legs out onto the
pavement. Pete tried to swallow but couldn’t. All he could see was perfectly polished
toes in hard soled, open-toed platform stiletto heels at least six inches high and coming to
a point like a dull pencil at the bottom, tan legs above them. The second officer stood up,
her miniskirt straightening, her weight leaving the seat of the cruiser and her legs
straightened to reveal a stunning Amazon standing about seven feet high. Pete managed
to swallow…maybe the drug was wearing off a bit. The new officer was a tall brunette,
with haunting eyes and a model’s face. Her body was more lithe, more streamlined.
Maybe a lifeguard before the Awakening. She had the same strong legs as the first cop,
and a perfect ass, which revealed thong underwear beneath her miniskirt, which, itself,
was very, very short.
Pete began to thank God another officer had happened by and could stop this insanity!
She would put a stop to his torture, call an ambulance for him and the other officer would
face charges for what she’d done to him! Finally, it was over!
As the new officer stood up, her weight leaving the car seat, Pete thought he heard a
muffled moan. He could see into her cruiser through the open door. He stared
uncomprehendingly. The sight made his eyes tear up and he began freely crying! Until
this moment, he had believed what was happening to him was an aberration; that it was
one officer taking advantage of her power. Now, the truth overtook him like a wave! He
now realized Kelly had kept him from seeing what had truly happened to his world.
Strapped securely down against the bottom seat cushion of the driver’s seat of the new
police officer’s cruiser was visible the head and shoulders of a small middle-aged man,
his head, facing up, his face somehow deformed, flattened! His body stretched straight
through an opening at the bottom of the backrest, and was strapped tightly down against
the back seat of the cruiser, his legs wrapping up and over the backrest on the back seat.
The tall female officer had been driving around on patrol, nonchalantly -- while sitting on
his face in her miniskirt! The moan, Pete realized, was the man as the female officer’s
weight left his head and she twisted her ass to get out of the car. Pete wondered in horror
how many hours he had been suffering like that! Probably quite a few as his face was
purple and his cheeks looked something like a chipmunk’s, spread wide and flat, and his
nose and lips were bleeding! As first Pete thought he was crying, but it could have been
the sweat from the beautiful cop’s thighs.
As Pete looked at the man, the female officer that had left the cruiser planted her spike
heel on Pete’s head and rested it there. The sharp pain went into his scalp but she wasn’t
even looking down at him. This was just the weight of her leg. Slowly and painfully, the
tortured man in the cruiser tried to turn his head to look at Pete. Their eyes met and both
exchanged a silent moment of resignation – Pete’s head beneath a painful spiked heel on
a six-foot-plus woman, the man’s face flattened by hours of continuous mashing beneath
a powerful Amazon’s ass. It was a horrible, pathetic sight. Then the officer reached back
and closed the door and Pete couldn’t see the man anymore.
At first the two officers talked in muffled tones. Part of the time, the newer cop put her
heel in Pete’s ear and pressed down hard enough that the ringing kept him from hearing
their voices as his eardrum was forced into his head. But, then they grew louder,
ignoring his helplessness, talking among themselves.
“Who’s the ‘face sit’?” the first cop asked.
“A curfew violator out of Pasadena.” The other replied. “I think we may have lost the
paperwork because he was strapped there for my shift yesterday, and, after eight hours I
didn’t get a release order, so I turned the car over to the C-Shift officer and left him there.
She worked him for another eight hours at least – big girl, too! Then, when I came in
today, he was still strapped down, so, what the hell, I sat on him again today. Near as I
can figure it, he’s been continuously facesat for over 24 hours. And, of course, today was
especially hard on him since it’s been slow and I haven’t left the car at all in over six
hours. I was in a mood, so I spent some time driving on that mountain road with all the
big potholes and bumps…I like when my weight smashes down on him over and over. I
did try to get him some food…but I don’t think he can chew solids anymore. I’ll sit him
the rest of the shift and check his disposition if I remember it. It’s kinda fun to have
someone to talk to while I’m working. ‘Course, he isn’t talking much anymore,” she
laughed. “Who’s this?” she asked, looking down and twisting her heel in Pete’s ear. He
groaned.
“Ohhh, he, um…drifted off the road a little, as it were,” the first officer giggled, tossing
her long blond hair back in the sun and smiling, her blue eyes twinkling. “I’m about
halfway through his session.”
“You’re such a bitch, Toni. I love it! But, um, you can’t work a traffic penalty in duty
boots…you have to use stilettos. Seriously, you have to use departmental procedures.”
“I don’t have them with me.” Toni replied thinking. She glanced at her friend’s evil
spikes. “Wanna work him for me? In fact, since you’re a bonified Training Officer now,
why don’t you show me the newest techniques.”
“He’s only a traffic ticket, Toni. Are you really comfortable doing that to him?” Toni
glanced down at him, nudging Pete’s nose with her boot. “A traffic ticket now, a serious
criminal if he doesn’t learn his lesson. C’mon, show me, Michelle.”
“If you insist.”
Toni hopped a little and clapped her hands, “Yesss!”
Michelle removed her heel from Peter’s head and spoke down to him with mock severity.
“Sir, Officer Caleberra has not properly followed departmental policy by trampling you
in duty boots. I apologize for the way she has treated you. Procedure is for you to be
trampled in stiletto heels and that is what must be done. Additionally, it is obvious Toni,
er, Officer Caleberra, needs additional training in the full range of police interrogation
and penalty techniques for males, so I will need your cooperation to demonstrate these
techniques now. If you object, please so state right now and you will not be subjected to
this.”
Peter tried desperately to speak, but his tongue would only loll lazily about and his words
were unintelligible. “I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t understand you. Speak more clearly,” said
the new cop.” Peter tried desperately to form clear words…to save himself from what she
was about to do to him! He stuttered and gasped out more random syllables, his tongue
useless, hanging outside his mouth. Finally, as the female officer put her hands on her
hips and rolled her eyes looking down at him impatiently, he gave up, and began crying
quietly.
I don’t understand a specific objection, sir,” Michelle said. “So, I will begin. Thank you
for your cooperation.” She redirected her attention to the beautiful blond cop, then looked
back at Pete. “This is going to be extremely painful for you, I’m afraid.” She looked at
Officer Caliberra, now ignoring Peter’s pleas completely.
“One of the reasons platform heels are so effective is there is no give in the hard sole.
Every bit of weight you bring to bear is transferred to his body,” Michelle explained to
Toni. “And don’t forget how much weight a 6’5” athletic woman can bring to bear on a
soft, weak male against the hard ground.” Toni nodded. She remembered the way that
little 18-year-old’s whole ribcage had bent and broken beneath her – the cracking
sounding like bubble paper popping – completely yielding to her when she’d stepped on
him last week at that convenience store. It had surprised her how little resistance his body
offered to her weight. She couldn’t remember what he’d done, now – rode his bike on a
sidewalk she thought. She did remember his pleading face, and his eyes bulging out of
their sockets when he stepped on him. She loved it when they begged…
Michelle placed her sole on the side of Peter’s face and stepped down slowly, her dark
read polished toes spreading out in the shoe as she brought her weight to bear. Toni
heard Peter’s jaw crack along the side of his mouth! It seemed his skull actually
compressed beneath Michelle’s foot! He screamed in new pain! Michelle continued to
step onto his face, her increasing weight finally making his eyes roll back in his head as
he tried to endure the mind numbing pressure. He could look up and see her giant
platform sole, her huge toes sticking out just over the top of it and her toenails just visible
beyond the end of her toes, as his face gave in to the overwhelming crush! Then Peter’s
face felt her spike heels, as she brought her feet completely onto his face.
Nothing in life could have prepared him for the horror of having his face walked on by
spike heels, a tall woman’s towering frame atop them! He felt he was in a forest of sharp,
hard, full-size trees being continuously ground into his face beneath a giant! This is how
an insect had to feel when a woman stepped on it, without even a thought. It was like
having nails driven repeatedly and completely into your face without the benefit of
knowing where the next would land. All Peter could see as he looked up were the
towering heels filling his vision – even the platform soles seemed as high as a house as
they smashed down on him over and over again. The cop’s towering physique stretched
miles above them, her tall muscular legs and ass, then her tight torso and full breasts, and
finally, way above him, her stunningly beautiful face seemingly in the sky, ignoring him,
facing forward. The sheer violence of life beneath the female officer’s brutal spikes
belied her complete lack of attention to what she was doing to him! The cop was
casually talking to her friend as she subjected Peter to the horrible crunch and fury of
each step.
Though only several feet apart, they now lived in two different worlds; hers, a sunny
South California day, her thoughts wandering to the pretty scenery and talking to a
colleague as she walked in place in her sharp stiletto heels; his, a violent, furious
unstoppable cacophony of rage and violence and pain – every fiber of his being devoted
to surviving the horrible crush and continuous grinding and crunching of his bones! It
was like having his head placed in a mechanical crushing machine! There was no give,
no hesitation, no mercy and no holding back! Peter had become an insect -- part of a
world where his very existence was not even worthy of notice, except to be stepped on by
the cruel shoes of a female giant without a thought as to what it was like to be the little
insect -- full of terror and pain as your tiny body was mashed into the dirt without a care!
From his vantage point, Peter felt, even if he screamed as loud as he could, she would
never hear him, being so far above.
Where the officer felt she was just marching in place -- to Pete, each footfall was a
terrible stomping impact, followed by the cutting of her heels and then the huge crushing
pressure of her weight being brought fully atop her platform shoe, and then, finally, the
impaling heel as she balanced her weight neatly atop it, slightly wobbling side to side,
tearing and crushing his face.
Her heel would grind his lip into his teeth; then go straight into his mouth, tickling the
back of his throat, as he tasted the salt and grime from the side of her bare foot, as it sunk
past his teeth. Her other foot would drive its hard spike against the inside corner of his
eye, just missing blinding him. Then his eyebrow would be unceremoniously mashed,
the skin crackling, as she briefly lost her footing, her sharp spike ripping down the side of
his face. But, his cheeks got the worst pummeling. The cop’s spikes sunk so deeply into
them, he thought she must be penetrating his face!
His face was covered in her heel marks now, the tight rosy welts deep in his flesh. Her
heels cut and burned horribly as she shuffled around, digging into his cheeks and the side
of his nose as she shifted her weight. After she’d walked in place on his head for several
minutes, she slowly began grinding her foot back and forth, tearing his cheek and
rendering him semi-conscious. She was smiling.
“Notice I haven’t even used my spikes to their fullest yet,” she said. “Now I will.”
Michelle spent the next five minutes raking her heel over Peter’s chest, tearing deep
scratches in him, Peter bucking half unconscious with each slice. Then, after Toni had
rolled Peter onto his stomach by grabbing one of his legs and flipping him over, Michelle
positioned her powerful spike heel on his little finger, and stepped down and broke it
beneath her weight, her entire frame balanced on the tiny knuckle. Peter shot awake and
began screaming, “Oh God, Oh God, Nooooo! Please! Please! Don’t take that away!,”
as the pain flooded him and made him dizzy.
“He’s a concert pianist,” Toni mused.
“Not anymore,” replied Michelle.
She placed her stiletto carefully on his next finger and stepped on the fingertip, easily
smashing it to pulp. Peter screamed in abject terror! Ignoring his pleas, and enjoying his
helplessness, Michelle methodically crunched each of his fingers beneath her horrible
spikes in turn, breaking each of them, beneath her full weight. Some fingers, she stepped
on two or three times, breaking them in several places or crushing a joint or a fingernail,
taking her time before stepping off after they were crushed, letting the pain get fully
developed. She would rock from side to side on her heel and watch Peter’s face,
contorted and hyperventilating now from the damage she was doing.
The index fingers were toughest. Michelle bounced on them and twisted back and forth
until her spike had literally gone into Peter’s finger and she had to shake off his hand
when she picked up her foot when it stuck to her shoe. She then moved to the top of his
hand, which she simply stepped on heavily with her heels balancing her weight and
viciously trampled back and forth, her breasts bouncing with the effort. Peter was in a
state of pain he didn’t even know could exist! He could hear the crackling of the small
bones in his hand as her heels ground them into the dirt without mercy, but could not
move his hand even an inch to avoid Michelle’s wicked heels!
“Now, crushing the fingers is only part of it,” Michelle explained to Toni. “What really
matters is how you work them after you’ve crushed them. But, he has to be fully
immobilized for this. It’s too much for many males.” She took out her baton and slid it
along Peter’s gaping tongue to moisten it. Then the cop pulled down his pants and
paused, watching him, giving him time to absorb what she was about to do to him. Peter
tried to think of a happier time to take his mind off what was about to happen to him.
“This is going to be whole different kind of pain,” she told Peter.
Michelle carefully positioned the baton, then forced it inward slowly but forcefully. As
Michelle penetrated him, Peter’s breath caught in his throat and he became locked in
frozen shock. Michelle began to slowly work the baton deep into him, violating him,
pressing the baton firmly into him and twisting it as far as it would go. Toni could see it
took some effort. Peter’s eyes nearly came out of his head and he let out a loud
continuous almost animal-like moan as he felt the baton continue to relentlessly force its
way deeply into him! The slightest movement was impossible to conceive of! He was
now frozen, shivering in pure pain – immobilized!
Michelle now simply stood over him, smiled with satisfaction, and stepped on his broken
fingers with her hard sole, standing calmly on them, his hand bent and broken, fully
compressing beneath her foot. She stared at him as he whimpered. “You have to stand
fully on his hand without moving for a good five minutes. That’s when the pain becomes
debilitating.” She counted off the minutes on her watch as both women watched Peter’s
lower jaw begin to quiver uncontrollably. “Then, you grind his fingers into the dirt. It’s
horrible for him! Watch!”
Michelle began twisting and grinding Peter’s fingers beneath her platform shoe, her long,
lithe thigh muscles tensing with the pressure she applied. Peter came unglued, writhing
and shaking in mind searing pain! Toni stepped on his throat to hold him still and Peter’s
screaming was instantly changed to a funny-sounding gurgle that made Toni laugh out
loud! Michelle continued relentlessly, watching his fingers twist and bend as she ground
them into the gravel beneath her shoe – her foot pressing her weight into them, pressing
them almost completely flat against the ground. She wouldn’t stop anytime soon. She
would enjoy this a little while.
After fifteen minutes of nonstop finger-grinding, sometimes with both shoes together
twisting his hand beneath her weight, Michelle stepped off. Peter’s fingers looked like
they’d been put through a meat grinder. He was utterly and completely broken and
whimpering like a baby. He didn’t even know where he was anymore and his mind had
completely shut down!

[DeathXI]

Toni removed the baton from Peter with a quick pull, eliciting a yelp, then a moan from
him as Michelle pushed him onto his back with the toe of her shoe and stepped on his
chest and invited Toni to join her. Toni stepped up with her and all of Peter’s ribs
cracked like a giant zipper; giving in to the roughly four hundred pounds of female
muscle. Both officers could feel their feet sinking deeply into Peter’s chest and noticed
he was completely unable to breathe and his eyes were bulging out of their sockets, his
mouth gaping in shock and disbelief. Michelle worked her heel between two ribs
allowing her weight to bear down on them. She calmly placed her other spike heel
against the inside corner of his eye, stepping down powerfully enough to hold him
motionless. She filled out the traffic citation as she stood on him then she and Toni
stepped off, using his face as a springboard, crushing his nose and stood next to him,
talking to each other, Michelle’s foot up against Peter’s face.
As his tongue began working again, Peter began licking Michelle’s dusty polished toes,
weakly. Michelle looked down at him piteously. “He’s not trying to cull my favor to not
torture him anymore you know,” she told Toni. “He’s thanking me for stopping the pain.
He’d do anything for me right now. I own him. It’s rather pathetic, isn’t it?” She let
Peter lick her toes in quiet amusement.
“Cool,” Toni replied. “I’ll use these new techniques…they seem to be really effective. I
especially like the welts the heel marks on his face are forming.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” replied Michelle. “Always leave a permanent mark for the next
officer to let her know he’s been cited.” Michelle positioned her stiletto heel in the center
of Peter’s forehead stepped up, her full weight on the single sharp heel. She tilted back to
a corner of the heel and began twisting back and forth, her full weight, carving a deep and
permanent circular scar right between Peter’s eyes – her permanent mark. Michelle
stepped down and they continued talking. At one point Michelle unconsciously stepped
back onto Peter’s other hand with her heel and stood on it for several minutes talking, but
it was not part of the penalty…she just never noticed.
Michelle strode off, glancing over her shoulder with the standard warning to Peter to
drive more carefully. She opened the door to her cruiser, looked balefully at the middleaged
man still strapped face up in her seat, full of fear and pain, turned and sat down on
his face heavily without a word. Peter thought he saw the man take a deep breath and his
eyes close in resignation as she sat down on him, her ass completely covering his face
and the seat groaning beneath her weight. She sat down rather hard on him and Peter saw
the rest of his body buck as his face took her weight. She wriggled her perfect ass to get
comfortable, fully enveloping him (there were more muffled moans), closed the
door…and drove off. Peter never saw the man again.
Officer Caliberra gave Peter a warning and told him she would have to contact his wife,
to pick him up, took his driver’s license and left him laying at the side of the road, a
bloody, crushed and broken mess.
As she was getting into her cruiser, a car full of screaming teenage girls came flying
down the highway, girls hanging out the skylight and the car swerving and speeding very
fast.
The cop walked to the side of the road and sternly motioned the car to pull over. The
girls complied and Officer Caliberra approached them and asked where they were going
in such a hurry. “The big concert – Allannis!” a nineteen year old college student replied.
We’re hoping it doesn’t get rained out.”
The tall cop remembered how it was to be a young girl going to a concert. “Look,” she
said to the driver. “Get out of the car and take a ten minute break to calm down a little
before you finish the drive, okay? Then go a little slower. And have fun at the concert!”
The girl smiled. “Okay…take five, girls!” And all the girls piled out of the car jabbering
and cracking open some beers. “It’s okay if we’re not driving, isn’t it?!” one asked. Toni
Caliberra just smiled, shook her head and got in her cruiser, her gorgeous legs against the
warm leather seat. They were all slightly buzzed, but what could you do? Girls will be
girls! She put the cruiser in gear, her boot on the pedal – a little blood on it, she noticed -
- and drove off.
It took a minute for the girls to notice Peter, still lying helpless beside his car. They
sauntered up as a group, standing around him, looking curiously at him. They were
wearing boots, high heels, and sandals and one with filthy bare feet. Ignoring his injuries
and torn clothes, a large framed blond with blue jeans and a halter-top on swigged her
beer, and casually nudged his lips with her dusty big toe, then gently forced her toe into
his mouth as he began to suck it. “And, who might you belong to?” she asked. “Wanna
go to a concert?”
Peter tasted the dust from the big girl’s toe, as it was dampened by the inside of his
mouth. It was big and meaty, as she was rather stocky, with big thick muscular thighs
below her Daisy Duke’s, like a bobsledder. The grime began to come loose against his
tongue. Her foot was almost black on the bottom, meaning she’d been walking barefoot
probably the whole day, he figured. But, compared to what he’d just endured at the
hands (or, rather, the feet) of the beautiful but cruel policewomen, he thought, this was
nothing to object to. He pondered that for a moment. This morning, if someone had told
him he’d be forced to take a beautiful woman’s filthy toes into his mouth and suck the
dirt from them, he would have been repulsed and mortified. He would have absolutely
refused and been completely confident no one could ever make him do such a vile thing.
Now, he was…he was….well, compliant…even…yes, even….grateful… to be able to
please this striking woman enough that she didn’t hurt him …didn’t step on him like a
roach. He was learning he was good for sucking her toes.
“I asked you if you wanted to go to a concert.”
Peter was still not able to talk with the damage done to his jaw when the cop’s heavy
boots stepped on it. He just kept quietly suckling the girl’s toe…and praying they would
leave him alone.
“Yeah, I think you want to go to a concert. You like Allannis?” The big girl reached
down, her dirty blond hair cascading over her full breasts, which were almost coming out
of her top. She grabbed Peter by the hair and began dragging him toward the car. Peter,
for his part, tried desperately to crawl, but couldn’t keep up, and finally went limp, which
didn’t even cause the woman to break stride, as she dragged his legs and lower torso
across the rough gravel, Peter’s head occasionally bumping against her powerful tan
thighs as she walked. At the car, she effortlessly tossed him by the belt onto the rear seat
and walked around the back of the car as three of the other girls got into the back from
the first side.
He knew what was coming even as surely as he knew he was powerless to resist it. He
could barely move after the cruelty the two female cops had meted out. He felt, well,
flattened completely – like a rug. And his insides seemed to have been completely
rearranged and ached like he couldn’t believe. How was it possible he was even alive
after what they’d done to him. It had only been thirty minutes since he had been pulled
over and it seemed like a lifetime. What had happened to his old life?! Where was
Kelly?! And how would she ever find him if he was taken away by these women?! He
was no more than a dog, picked up by a passing car; never to be seen again; his whole life
gone behind him forever, and no chance Kelly would ever find him in his new home.
He couldn’t believe he was so completely powerless to influence his fate. He had no
rights, no choices at all. And he didn’t understand any of this. Why would women who
now hated men want to take him to a concert so badly? He was filthy on the bright white
seats of their BMW1235i, a bigger car, now made for bigger drivers. Why would they
even let him in the car?! Even Kelly didn’t let him ride in the cabin of the car anymore.
She preferred him in the trunk. God, he hated that he couldn’t think or focus like he used
to! He felt like he did in college when he had pulled an all-nighter and just couldn’t
make his mind focus enough to remember the last line he’d read. Only he felt that way
all the time now.
He was about to be sat on. Sat…on! ‘Why would you sit on me?!’, he wanted to ask.
‘Why would you do that to someone?!’ Four girls. He’d never had such debilitating
weight on his chest before! The two cops, standing on him together had weighed almost
four hundred pounds and he’d thought he would never survive. But this might be worse.
Close to seven hundred pounds of female muscle pressing him into the seat beneath them
with no relief for almost two hours, if the concert was at the outdoor amphitheater in
Riverside. He had been a doormat; he would now be a seat cushion. He wondered what
it would be like – all that weight on him for so very long, never moving, never giving him
a reprieve. But he would be made to endure it. Why, he asked himself? Because, he
thought, because I am…nothing.
The first girl, Elena, a stunning brunette, about 6’3”wearing a tight red leather micro mini
skirt, and red leather bodice, dropped hard onto Peter’s stomach and groin, giving him a
satisfied look as he let out a pathetic, “WHOOOF!.” She was impossibly beautiful! That
someone like him could never have her was so obvious by her expression as she looked at
him amused that it just killed his soul. Her ass easily covered his midsection, knocking
the air out of him again, as she bounced a couple times for good measure, the springs in
the seat creaking beneath him, but her weight was spread out enough, that he thought he
could take it. Except that when she twisted around to talk to the girl next to her, she
ground his damaged manhood under her ass and that stopped his breathing instantly as
the ache flooded him. Peter’s body bowed up around Elena’s ass, as she pressed him
beneath her, like a soft worn couch cushion. Elena’s friend Carolyn, a short haired blond
in khaki shorts and a halter top, bursting with beautiful natural breasts and wearing heavy
tread wooden hiking sandals, then got in and sat on his chest without even looking at him,
spreading her long tan legs in front of her, giving him an eyeful of her perfect thighs and
calves. She had very long fingernails, Peter noticed, and some kind of grit beneath them.
The two of them were seriously heavy when their weight was combined and Peter found
he was making quite an effort even to take shallow breaths. Finally, Paula, a tall, lean
haunting vision with penetrating eyes and thick brown “breck girl” hair to her shoulders,
wearing tight jeans and high heeled cowgirl boots, then sat on his legs, right at his knees,
hyper extending them as her weight bent them the wrong way. Peter whimpered as his
knees buckled under her ass. He thought both his legs would snap right there. And it
seemed she looked over at him and shifted more between his legs, so the pressure wasn’t
so bad. He also thought she gave him a concerned look, but decided he must be
imagining things.
Peter’s unfocused mind was trying desperately to find a way to accept the crushing
weight; to somehow believe, as hard as it was to breathe, his whole body squashed deep
into the seat, that he would be able to handle the crush. That was when the door near his
head opened and he realized the big stocky girl, Denise, who had dragged him across the
gravel, had finally made her way around the back of the car. He’d forgotten about
Denise. There was only one place for her to sit on him and he knew she had deliberately
chosen it for maximum pain. He looked up at her thick smooth muscular bare thighs, as
she smiled down on him. She didn’t have to say a word. He knew what she was going to
do to him. It was the same smile the cop had given him. Slowly…luxuriantly…the six
foot three, stocky girl turned her ass toward his face, giving Peter a good view of the
thick hard seams of her jean shorts and the expansive curve of her rear. She lifted her
powerful tanned right leg into the floor of the back seat, the muscle looming above him
as it carried her weight. Looking down at him, over her shoulder with the same cruel
smile, she simply raised her eyebrows and asked, “Ready?”
Peter swallowed hard, and his lips quivered, which she saw. She smiled with even more
satisfaction at the fear in his eyes. The girl never took her eyes off Peter’s face, as she
ever so slowly lowered herself toward Peter’s head, the shadow of her tall muscular body
enveloping him. He saw the rough seams in her jean shorts expand to complete tautness
as the girl’s ass fully stretched them, as she descended squarely onto his nose, her thighs
like tree trunks. The last thing he felt was his teeth begin to chatter as the girl’s ass
completely covered his head, her weight enveloped him, then mashed his whole head
deeply into the springs inside the seat. Peter’s teeth stopped, unable to budge now
against her crushing bare thighs. He was in total darkness. She pressed his jaw
backward, then collapsed his nose into his upper mouth, as his face compressed. His
head sank so deeply into the seat, he could pick out the individual springs in it, poking
sharply against the back of his scalp, threatening to jab through the upholstery and into
him at any moment. He thought the weight would never stop increasing as she settled
herself onto him, then adjusted to get comfortable for the long ride. Finally, as he
realized he was now somehow bearing her full weight on his face, his cheeks pressed and
wrinkled like a Halloween mask, she began to grind herself back and forth, the seams
twisting brutally against is nose and twisting his cheeks obscenely. He gritted his teeth
and tensed his face as much as he could, wondering how Denise could be so sadistic, then
realized she wasn’t even paying him any attention – she was just sitting in for the ride.
He heard muffled laughter, as the car started and began driving out onto the highway,
taking Peter away from his wife’s car and away from the life he’d known…perhaps
forever.
The girl driving floored the accelerator and shot onto the highway, across the berm-side
drainage ditch, about three times as fast as she should have. The resounding crash, as the
car slammed hard against the deep bump lifted the girls in the back seat fully off Peter,
then sent them all simultaneously crashing down upon him, smashing his frail body fully
into the seat and against the floor of the car, the seat’s springs not sturdy enough to keep
him from being bounced hard against the floorboards. Peter heard his ribs crack anew
felt his body just flatten beneath the four girls’ heavy bodies, as he was pressed deep into
the soft seat, a spring jabbing at the back of his neck through the upholstery. The
highway was old, and every time the car hit a new bump, the girls’ weight would
simultaneously slam him deeper into the seat and crack every bone, from his legs to his
face, the women above him oblivious to the horrible crush they were bringing to bear as
they talked excitedly about the concert. He thought of the poor man the tall cop had
been sitting on in her cruiser. This was agony! He felt as if his very brain would collapse
beneath the weight! His skull would crack, and Denise would drive his broken facial
bones into his brain and what was left would be impaled on the spring that was even now
threatening to poke through and slice into the back of his head. And Denise probably
wouldn’t even notice. She’d get up in a couple of hours and see Peter’s face, looking like
a chipmunk’s – like the man in the cruiser’s had. And she’d laugh along with her friends
at him. Peter imagined the scene as his body was literally mashed beneath the four
women’s tight asses. Peter was “Flatman.”
The thought hit Peter like a lightning bolt as his cheeks burned and his nose was
smashed. The obliterating pressure was not his most immediate problem! Peter realized –
he hadn’t taken a breath! He had been so awestruck by the fear of what was about to
happen to him, he’d forgotten to breathe! Now, fully enveloped and broken beneath the
well-built woman, Denise, he couldn’t breathe at all. He sucked in, trying to get even a
little air, but it was completely futile, the hard denim against his lips. Even if his mouth
and nose were uncovered (and they surely had no chance of being so), the weight of
Carolyn and Elena on his chest would make it next to impossible to draw a full breath.
He tried to buck furiously to let the women know he couldn’t breath, but their weight
prevented that completely and his body couldn’t even jerk an inch. He grunted with the
little air he had, praying they would hear him. They just kept talking and laughing,
oblivious. Now, he panicked, as he felt the first wave of dizziness start to come over
him. Darkness tickled the edges of his brain. In complete desperation, and running out
of air, he managed to move one of his legs, since Paula was sitting more between them
than on them, but the girls just kept talking. As the darkness got worse and shiny spots
appeared before his eyes, he thought he felt Paula’s weight change a little – lean to one
side. He desperately moved a leg in what was almost a spasm, then shook it as much as
he could, pathetically. The girl on his face continued to grind him powerfully as she
talked about the concert. His nose was flattened completely, as he still heard them
talking unconcerned, the rustling of her jeans loud in his ears as she slid back and forth.
Then Paula, from a fog, almost casually, said, “Hey, Denise, did he take a breath?” Their
voices seemed to be getting farther away.
“What?” Peter felt he was floating down a dark tunnel.
“Did he catch a breath when you sat down? Because I think he’s spasming.” Peter’s
vision was collapsing into small dots, a million shiny dots against a night sky in his mind.
“I don’t know, I guess. I certainly gave him plenty of time, why wouldn’t he?” Denise
replied. The voices were still farther off now.
“I don’t know. I think he may not be an experienced slave and he may not know to. He’s
got a wedding ring on; maybe his wife doesn’t play with him. Some women are still kind
to them, you know,” Paula said sarcastically.

[DeathXI]

“Paula, you are so a bleeding heart!” laughed Denise.
“Just give him a quick breath, alright?” Paula asked, a little concern in her voice.
Peter thought he heard the big girl reply, but the darkness was closing in and the words
were lost. He began to drift and the sounds became distant mumblings. Then, amid a
strange loud sound of blood pumping feverishly in his ears, the pain in his nose began to
numb and, he felt…apathy. In fact, he slowly realized he really wasn’t really concerned
about anything. Couldn’t remember why he ever had been. Everything was going to be
just fine. And he was drifting into a flat darkness…and silence was upon him…and
finally he felt he was floating, lying on green grass…soft green grass, the pressure all but
gone.
Then the dream came of his wife, now a female giant, a hundred feet tall, in a short
sundress, looking down at him, now the size of an insect, laying among the now giant
blades of grass and smiling her beautiful smile, her eyes sparkling at him, as they always
did. And Peter smiled up at her in return, completely safe with her watching over him.
And then, she echoed down, “It’s alright honey. Don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be
fine, sweetheart…everything’s okay…you know why?” Peter wondered up at her,
smiling, her words a soft, safe caress to his ears. “Because you can pay the penalty
here!” she said sweetly.
And, as Peter looked up in growing dismay, his beautiful smiling wife lifted her massive
spike heeled foot high above him, and brought it slowly down over his little body to step
on him and grind him into the grass he was laying on. And, as she carefully placed her
stiletto heel over his crotch, Peter sitting up reflexively and grabbing in vein at the giant
spike, the size of a pillar taller than he was, she laughed as she effortlessly crushed into
the dirt those organs that once made him a man. She mashed his pelvic area completely
into the dirt as she stepped down on him. Then, as the horrible pain came, and a terrible
scream rose in his throat, and he saw her cruel platform sole descending upon him as it
brought a shadow over his entire body. Finally, he saw her, high above, begin to shift her
weight forward. The world went dark, the hard sole pressed into his tiny body, cracking
his ribs and arm bones, forcing the air out of him in a microsecond; and he felt her
crushing him into the ground with her hard sole, and he felt himself being mashed deeply
into the earth, his bones cracking and yielding completely now and the edges of the dirt
rising around him as she pressed him into his own shallow grave, becoming part of her
deep footprint in the soft grass. Then, his organs filled his throat; just before they burst
out his mouth and his body, exploding like a grape, burst a giant splash of blood across
both his arms, as she squashed him completely flat beneath her massive foot, like a pulpy
insect. The last thing he thought was that the weight was incredible…
Peter’s eyes shot open as a terrible burning rush of air filled his lungs and he heard his
own throat desperately taking in massive gulps of oxygen. He wasn’t on the grass…he
was riding…in…a car. ‘Why was he in a car?’ He managed to focus on the big girl
above him, now holding her weight fully off of him, as the other girls were also doing,
but still smiling her satisfied smile. He looked down and…Paula…yes, her name was
Paula…was staring at him with a genuine motherly look. “Are you okay?” she mouthed.
And, as Peter regained consciousness, the memory of the horror he was living flooded
back into him with the desperately needed air. He tried to speak, but no words came out.
He just gaped in stupid disbelief. His chest and especially his jaw were so sore and his
eyes were watering profusely.
Before Peter could gather the energy to answer, Elena called out, “He’s fine,” and then
calmly dropped hard on his stomach again and resumed the conversation as if nothing
had happened, once again, crushing the air out of Peter’s lungs. She crossed one thigh
over the other, revealing a wicked red stiletto heel, the sharp nail worn through the spike,
as she concentrated her weight on his intestines. Her skirt rode high up her toned thighs
and Peter found he couldn’t take his eyes off of them no matter how much pain they
brought him. Denise was poised to drop herself back onto Peter’s face, Peter looking up
at her giant form in terror, when Paula asked if they could just put him on the floor for a
while until he regained full consciousness. Paula was like his wife, Kelly, Peter thought,
as he began to be able to think again. She was…kind.
Muttering objections, the other girls lifted up and rolled Peter unceremoniously onto the
floor, lifting their feet onto his soft body. Elena’s heels were incredibly sharp and she
wasn’t restrained with them, as she rested one deliberately on his groin, then again
crossed her leg over that leg, pressing the heel in even more cruelly, then rocking her foot
back onto it, as she lit a cigarette. Paula placed her boots on Peter’s knees and the hard
heels and soles ground heavily against his weak joints as time went by, but Peter was
convinced she didn’t know how much just the weight of her legs hurt him. Denise, again,
was the cruelest. She calmly placed one giant foot heavily on Peter’s throat and the other
into his mouth, turning his head forcefully toward her and driving her big, thick, filthy
toes – all her toes – between his lips, spreading them obscenely and threatening to split
them. Then, she looked down at him, simply saying to him, “Lick!”
He didn’t have to be told twice. Peter began voraciously licking all over her toes, then
between them, and then the black filthy sole of her foot. The sweat and dirt from her foot
and the jam between her toes, was vile in his mouth, but he kept on. Occasionally she
ground her big meaty foot against his face, but mostly she just ignored him as he worked
away diligently, while she talking to the other girls. After forty minutes, both Denise’s
feet were spotless, Peter having swallowed the dirt she’d stepped in all day. Peter’s
tongue was numb and it wouldn’t even move right anymore. Denise hadn’t even looked
at him in over twenty minutes and he thought maybe she would be too distracted to notice
if he slowed, then stopped, content to have her foot resting in his warm mouth as long as
she liked.
But, when he slowed, then stopped licking her, she instantly yanked her foot out of his
mouth and clubbed him with it, without even breaking conversation; as if restarting the
foot licker was something she was used to doing. Peter’s head bounced off the floor, his
head exploded with stars, and he once again dutifully returned to licking the filth from
Denise’s feet - willing his tongue to continue - as he moaned. She seemed to like the
vibrations of his moans against her foot.
It was ten minutes later, after Paula had made an offhanded comment about the fact that
they just should have left Peter where they found him, when Elena clapped her hands
delightedly, saying, “I know! Let’s do an experiment! See if we can hold him so still he
can’t even get my cigarette to roll off of him!” The other girls laughed. Peter barely had
time to whimper, as Elena drove her high heels into his flesh so hard, he thought he’d die,
gritting her teeth as she did so. Then Denise joined in, pinning Peter’s face to the floor
under her huge bare feet. Paula pressed her boots hard into his legs, but somewhat
halfheartedly, it seemed; and the fourth girl, Carolyn, wearing the hiking sandals, ripped
them across Peter’s chest, as she pressed. When Elena leaned down and carefully placed
the lit cigarette on Peter’s bare chest, he almost went out of his mind! He tried to buck
furiously but Elena’s heels had sunk to bone and Denise was driving her bare foot with
her full power into his throat, crushing his windpipe. Just as if on a resting on a counter
top, Elena’s cigarette laid on his stomach calmly burning him with the hot ash, as Peter
couldn’t move a muscle.
Peter screamed as the searing pain rocketed across his body, but Denise squeezed his
throat with her toes and cut off his air. Finally, after an eternity, Paula placed the heel of
her boot on the cigarette and ground it out on him, saying, “Alright, that’s enough.” The
pain of the cigarette being ground into his flesh under Paula’s heel was too much. A
white hot flash shot through Peter’s brain, his head lolled to the side, and he passed out
fully this time…..
He didn’t know how long he’d been blessedly unconscious, when he awoke to a rush of
air, as the girls had opened the sky roof. Carolyn was the first to stand up on Peter’s
chest, crushing the air out of him, and bending his ribcage into him, as she stuck her head
outside, shuffling around with the heavy waffle tread of her wooden hiking sandals, then
placing them at the sides of Peter’s chest and deliberately sliding off his sides over and
over again. Her weight scraping his flesh, raking it with the rough tread, she ripped it
with her shoes. Elena joined her and the needle heels she’d driven into his groin now
carried her full frame atop them, as they impaled him, bending him backward against the
hump in the floor of the car, as Peter screamed, looking up at Elena’s strong legs dancing
on him and rocking side to side on the heels as his ribs cracked audibly beneath them and
they threatened to puncture his stretched-taut skin between his ribs. Now standing on
Peter’s chest, which was inclined over the floor hump, she kept sliding toward his throat,
her heels ripping his flesh open to his groans, when he could breathe enough air to groan.
It took some encouragement, but Paula eventually joined them, carefully avoiding
stepping on Peter. He saw her look down at him with compassion, as she brought her
cruel boot over his face but didn’t step on him with it. His chest was a mass of bruises
and gouges from the girls’ shoes. Paula carefully placed her boots just astride his arms
and stood out the sky roof and yelled with the other girls. But on the next curve, the car
hit a pothole and Paula momentarily lost her balance, stepping squarely on Peter’s face
with her hard heel, then regaining her footing on the floor. Only this time, she wasn’t
really standing on the floor; she was stepping all over Peter’s arms at the crook of his
elbow, as Peter yelped and jumped. But, with the weight of the two other women on him,
he could hardly move. Since Paula never looked down, she had no idea, and
consequently stepped all over the soft flesh with her hard block heels without a care in
the world. Peter watched the cruel boots cutting and crushing his arms until his eyes
watered so badly, he couldn’t see anymore, then focused on the beautiful blue sky above
the sunroof, and the towering shape of Paula’s lithe body as she rhythmically danced over
him, swaying back and forth in time to the music, as he slowly went out of his mind!
When Peter finally felt the car slow and turn into what he assumed was a gravel parking
lot, he felt he had become part of the grit on the floor. Spasms of pain racked him and an
ache he’d never known filled him. The girls in back had ceased standing on him, and
where now sleeping from the pre-concert drinks they’d had on the way down. Denise’s
bare heel was planted firmly in Peter’s mouth, which he dared not move for fear of
waking her, Carolyn’s brutal hiking tread was on his throat and Elena’s stilettos pierced
his groin as they had the whole drive when she wasn’t stepping on him with them. Only
Paula had kept her boots from his more tender spots. That he could be in so much pain
when the women were sound asleep was terrifying!
The car came to a stop, and Allison, the driver, a luscious blond, but very young looking,
woke the other girls. Denise stepped onto Peter’s mouth with her bare heel, before
twisting it to the side as she opened the door and stepped out of the car, her full weight on
Peter’s teeth. Carolyn was no less gentle, not even looking at Peter as she stood on his
throat with her hiking sandals and left a footprint on his face as she stepped over him.
Elena did look at him, Peter noticed. She smiled sadistically as she put her spike heel
into his sack and stood up, pinning the thin flesh to the floor under her stiletto and
twisting it beneath her weight. Peter screamed loud enough for half the concert to hear
him and Elena laughed out loud.
Paula reached over and actually helped Peter out, giving him a sorrowful look, as if she
knew what was going to happen to him and she wished she could save him from it. Peter
started to try to stand up, but Paula firmly drove him to the ground, whispering, “Don’t
even think about it!” Peter realized standing up would have brought serious retribution
from the other girls. He was still trying to learn the rules. The parking lot WAS gravel;
made of large rocks, each about the size of a fist. Peter’s knees hurt as he fell on all fours
and the rocks dug into them, and he prayed they didn’t make him crawl into the venue.
And once again, as had been true all night, the truth was much worse than his fears.
“Can we all get on him in a row or do we do two on the other two’s shoulders?” asked
Denise.
“Let’s do shoulders,” replied Elena. Peter looked balefully at Paula, silently begging her
to intercede.
Paula half-heartedly said, “You know, I don’t think he has calluses on his hands and
knees.”
“Well, then, we’ll give him some! It’s not our fault he’s not a proper slave!” Paula met
Peter’s gaze, and then, sadly, looked away. Apparently she only had so much sway with
this group. He prayed for strength, as Denise was the first to throw her heavy leg over his
back and drop her weight onto him. He bent beneath her, but not nearly as much as when
Paula climbed onto her shoulders. Then the pressure was debilitating. Then Elena got
into position behind Denise and Carolyn climbed onto her. Peter’s knees cried out for
relief, then Allison, the driver stepped onto his hips in her tennis shoes and stood erect
behind Elena. Finally, the front seat passenger who the other girls had called Sandy
approached him and stood over him, giving Peter a good view of her black, hard soled,
high-heeled, thigh high leather boots. Sandy had a pronounced British accent and wore a
black and white spandex mini skirt jumper that came down to about two inches above her
boots.
She was a six-foot-four Icelandic goddess! Perfect skin, a perky nose and perfectly
straight glowing blond hair that hung around her electric blue eyes. Sandy hadn’t even
acknowledged Peter during the ride. Now she stared at him, her hands on her hips and
watched his face in obvious pain, his arms shaking from the weight of five girls on his
back and smiled. “I’m so glad we came across you,” she said, with her clipped accent. “I
thought I was gonna have to use these on a stranger!” She lifted the sole of her right boot
to show Peter the cluster of sharp little nails that covered the bottom of the sole.
“They’re new. They’re called ‘ Mikayla Aerators’. We’re going to get to know each
other real proper later,” she chided. Peter’s eyes welled up at the thought, and he begged
them, “Please, please no more! Please let me go home!” Sandy said to the rest, “I love it
when they beg.”
She snapped a choke leash around Peter’s neck, turned and walked forward, yanking it
hard. The cord tightened and Peter had no choice but to crawl forward if he wanted to
keep breathing. There was no time, as Sandy was walking quickly forward, pulling him
along, to test his way through the sharp rocks. So, every movement forward with the 900
pounds of girls on him was an event of pain he had never conceived of. The sharp rocks
drove into his knees and damaged hands, bloodying them, scarring him for life and
making him cry out loud with every step. His back had bent to the degree he thought it
would break in half, as he watched mesmerized by the movement of Sandy’s tight ass
above him as she walked confidently forward, yanking on the choke leash with every
step. Her mini skirt flashed back and forth above her thigh high boots, just a couple of
inches of flesh between the two. She never turned to his cries and the girls riding him
ignored him completely, as if this was the sound the men always made when they rode
them across the parking lot.
Peter had no chance of making it. He managed almost a hundred yards, his knees
bleeding freely, when his spastic arms gave out and he collapsed forward onto his face,
the women sliding forward onto the back of his neck. This did get their attention because
they weren’t used to riding a man who collapsed before they’d even reached the concert
lawn. Sandy whirled on him and he had only a second to anticipate her brutal kick to his
face. She caught him just below the eye with the point of her thigh high boot, kicking
him hard enough to send a football into the end zone. Her long, strong leg wound up for
a second kick and this time she got him squarely in the eye. Peter began crying freely
now, begging, pleading for it to stop. Sandy walked up to him and placed her boot sole
on the side of his face rather gently and said sternly, gritting her teeth, “Get up…or get
aerated.” Peter felt the razor sharp points of the tack nails on the bottom of her boot
pressing against his face. He knew what she could do to him. But, he simply couldn’t
make his arms lift the weight, as the other girls continued to sit on him, waiting for him to
see the light. He strained against the weight, crying out in anguish, but his arms wouldn’t
move.
Sandy waited only a moment more, then shook her head. “All right, we’ll get to know
each other NOW!” She shifted all her weight forward, and stepped onto his face with the
sole of her boot, driving the tacks straight through his cheek. Peter screamed anew, but
found any movement of his jaw at all, caused the wicked nails to rip him to shreds.
Sandy gazed down on him, lifting her other boot off the ground to concentrate her weight
on his cheek. Peter clawed frantically at the rocks, Sandy above him, placing her hands
on her hips and flexing her leg muscles for effect, doing calf raises, bouncing on his face.
“Are you going to get moving, pack mule?!” she asked, looking down at him cruelly,
eyebrows raised.
White-hot knives shot through Peter’s face. Sandy was rocking the nails on her sole in
and out of his face, shredding his flesh over and over again. He felt them slide in like
needles, then out; then press and puncture all at once again as his cheek yielded to
Sandy’s crush. Not only was his face being stood on by a woman wearing thigh high
boots, concentrating incredible pressure on his jaw which he felt actually bending, then
driving his head into the rocky ground; the nails in her soles were cutting viciously into
his flesh, puncturing him repeatedly and covering his face in bloody dots. Still, Peter
couldn’t move his arms with the weight of all the women on his neck, who still sat
amused, crushing his spine under hundreds of pounds.
It was luck that finally saved him. He knew Sandy would have stood on his face with the
nail boots until there was nothing left but pulp, but suddenly the lights in the venue
flashed and the girls realized it was almost time for the concert. Sandy grudgingly ripped
the sole of her boot out of Peter’s face, showing Peter the bloody tacks as she turned to
walk into the amphitheater, saying, “You are SO lucky!” The girls all got up from
Peter’s neck, Denise bouncing brutally on his neck, causing it to crack as she stood.
Stepping on Peter’s head with her bare foot, she got in front of him and grabbed him by
the hair and began dragging him again. “What’s WRONG WITH YOU?!” Denise
screamed at him. “It’s like you’ve never DONE THIS before!”
Peter found he could no longer speak. The holes in his cheek combined with the
wreckage that was his jaw made it impossible. He tried to keep up and was half dragged,
half crawled into the amphitheater, then dropped hard on the ground as the girls reached
the ticket window. The girls were buying tickets when the ticket taker looked down and
saw Peter on the ground at their feet.
“Are you bringing him in?” she asked.
“Yeah,” replied Elena, “he’s ours.”
“He’s not wearing pink undies,” she said.
“Yeah, we know. We didn’t know he was coming until the last minute,” replied Denise.
The ticket vendor looked at Peter’s condition doubtfully. “He looks like he’s already
been to a concert tonight! All right, he can go in with you, but you can’t toss him unless
he’s in pink. And he’s not allowed above waist high, unless one of you is riding him.”
“That’s fine,” said Paula. She gave Peter an encouraging glance.
The crowd formed thickly around the girls and Peter as they approached the entry to the
concert. Peter, on all fours again, found himself in a sea of strong tanned female legs,
crushing in around his head, squeezing him between their thighs. Numerous women
stepped on Peter’s fingers and the bottoms of his bare feet with their heels, boots, and
hiking treads, grinding them into the hard ground. The pain was excruciating after what
the cops had done to his hands, but not one girl even looked down at what she had
crushed under her foot. A couple of girls knee’d him in the side when they bumped into
him, jamming him out of their way.
After an eternity, they reached the concert grass and Sandy dragged Peter on the leash to
a spot halfway to the front on the aisle and set him on the ground. All the girls sat on
Peter’s chest and stomach, dropping heavily on him and pressing him into the ground,
getting beers from their cooler. Even Paula sat on Peter, not out of cruelty it seemed, but
just because she, too, needed a cushion. Peter was utterly spent. He couldn’t tense his
muscles to save himself from the crush anymore, so he just relaxed and let the six girls’
weight press his whole body into the ground beneath them.
The crowd grew quickly until it was a thick mass all around the girls and Peter. The girls
occasionally knew someone who happened by and said ‘hi’ but usually didn’t even
mention the human being lying humiliated under their collective asses. Peter saw,
looking through the blades of grass his head was pressed into that this was because many,
many women had males they were using in similar fashion. Many of the males were
small and many were wearing pink underwear and nothing else. Some moaned, holding
their ribs, and were summarily slapped in the face very hard. Peter thought the ones
wearing pink looked particularly fearful, but he didn’t know why. He decided the best
thing was to try to become so inconspicuous, all the girls forgot about him. Suddenly, the
girls stood up from Peter’s back as they saw a friend, and he found himself so grateful,
just for a full breath of air. Peter was able to look around and saw a stunning brunette,
about nineteen, very tall and well-endowed, wearing tight wrangler riding jeans and a
halter top; and riding in a saddle on the bare back of a very small, pale, emaciated
teenager, his spindly arms shaking from her weight as Peter’s had been earlier; his face a
contorted image of pain. A steel bit in his mouth was tied to the reins the woman held in
her hand. The guy looked so innocent. He couldn’t have been more than five feet tall
and a hundred and twenty pounds and the girl just dwarfed him with her large frame. It
reminded Peter of how Gabriella Reece would look riding a German Shepard. He
noticed the striking brunette wore spurs on her high-heeled boots, the spinners of which
were especially wicked. He shuddered involuntarily, as they approached, the lad
lumbering slowly beneath her, utterly exhausted from his load.
“Oh my God! Celia!” Carolyn happily exclaimed. “And…is that…Kevin?!” she said,
looking down at the young man. “Ohmigod, he’s so small now! You guys are
together?!” The tall brunette’s eyes dropped to the back of the guys’s head calmly as she
tossed her thick hair to one side, the saddle creaking as she shifted her weight. “Well,
sure,” she replied, sitting back tall in her saddle. “Isn’t the head cheerleader always
supposed to hang with the quarterback of the high school football team?” Then, to her
steed, “Though you hardly have the muscles to throw a football anymore, do you
honey?!” she added. She yanked hard on the bit and Kevin’s head snapped back as he
yelped in obvious pain, the bit grinding and clicking painfully against his teeth. The girl
didn’t release the tension immediately. She continued to hold the reins tight, holding
Kevin’s head stretched back against his own spine as she sat on him and he groaned.
“I thought he broke up with you sophomore year in high school, before – well --
Before…,” said Elena, walking forward so her creamy thighs were directly in front of
Kevin’s upturned face, her red leather micro skirt barely covering them. She noticed
even though Celia was giving him a lot of pain, he looked at her legs longingly. Elena
smiled. She liked teasing them.
“Oh he did break up with me,” replied Celia. “He’s since told me he REALLY REGRETS
that particular decision, don’t you, sweetie? You see, as it turns out, after the Treatment, I
decided I didn’t like Kevin breaking up with me. As it turns out, I was rather; let’s
say…ummmm…MIFFED – yes, ‘miffed’ is good. “Anyway,” she continued, “you know
how Kevin’s dad was raising him alone? No mom around, too-bad-so-sad? Well, I
thought Kevin and me should spend a lot more time together – let him get to know me
like he’s NEVER KNOWN ME BEFORE! You know, so I could thank him PROPERLY
for treating me like shit?!” She shouted the last word angrily directly into Kevin’s ear.
“So, I decided to go over to his house a few months ago after cheerleading practice and
sweetly ask his dad to sign Kevin’s custody over to me. I was really impressed with
Kevin’s dad! It took six really hard kicks with my tennis shoes to his sciatic to get him to
sign the papers, but then he came around. I’d never used a man’s sciatic, had just learned
about it a few days before, but, ewe, does it work! Daddo shot across the room like he
was on coming out of a cannon! And they used to say men don’t cry! YEAH, RIGHT!”
she laughed.
She remembered the vision of Kevin’s dad, a short, balding, pudgy, middle-aged man,
groveling and pleading on the floor; licking, as commanded, at the gritty turf shoes of the
teenage cheerleader he’d used to fix Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches for along with
his son, after school when she used to visit him. His little girlfriend! Now, she was over
a foot and a half taller, breathtakingly beautiful, and had ten times the strength and
cruelty of her former self. “Please, Celia….please…he’s my SON!” he had begged her.
And she’d stood over him, humiliating the little man in front of his son, as she’d stepped
forward and stood on his hand with the hard rubber soles of her trainers, his fingers
cracking against his kitchen floor as she slowly twisted her foot back and forth and he
wailed pitifully. Then, she’d stepped on his poor potbelly, squishing it to the floor (he
was soooo out of shape), and watched his moaning stop and his eyes bug out of his head,
as his face turned blue and his hands grabbed feebly at her strong legs. And daddy cried
and cried and pleaded as his bones cracked and his organs squished under her….
And yes, she knew she could just walk over and step on Kevin’s little fingers -- or,
better, his little Willie (THAT would be fun) -- and daddy would do anything when his
son started screaming. But, she’d wanted daddy to break. She wanted him to know it
was his fault his son spent his future days in pain. So, she’d decided to do a cheer,
standing on daddy’s body. A nice high-jumping cheer. “WE WILL, WE WILL STOMP
YOU!” WE WILL, WE WILL STOMP YOU!” She’d jumped up and down on his body
from his legs to his face, yelling at the top of her lungs, just like she’d done at football
games, her pom-poms whishing excitedly out, then to the sides as she stomped and
jumped and twisted in her cheerleading outfit, hanging in the air in a high jump, before
smashing downward, squishing Kevin’s dad into the floor as his head bounced against it
from her impacts. Kevin had laid in the corner crying,
“NOOO…PLEEAASSEE…DADDYYYY….,” like a little baby! It was a total rush!
When she was out of breath, she’d stood with both shoes on daddy’s face and twisted the
hard rubber soles back and forth brutally twisting his features and ripping and breaking
his lips and nose. Then, she’d dropped hard onto daddy’s broken chest in her
cheerleading skirt, kneeling on him, then “walked” on his face on her knees, which, um,
REALLY seemed to hurt him (she’d have to remember that one). Then, tired, and her
ears ringing from all his screaming, she held her face close to his to watch his every
pained expression; then she’d used her long nails on his face, concentrating hard to really
make it hurt, as he begged and moaned and she studied him. Occasionally, she’d lick his
ear, before biting down hard on it. But he STILL wouldn’t sign the papers! It was, like,
sooo unbelievable! She’d gotten an ice tray from the freezer, taken out the bladed part
and set it on his head and stood on it, driving it into his scalp, but even that hadn’t done
the trick! Then she’d remembered the sciatic! She’d flipped Kevin’s dad over and
delivered a kick with all her power, right into him where she’d been shown in Social
Relationships 110, and he had cart wheeled across the floor like he’d been hit with one of
those electric cattle prods! Celia was so amazed, she’d kicked him around the room five
more times before she’d even allowed him time to recover enough to speak. Then, she’d
stood over him again as he laid on his back, letting him look at her tall, lithe, teenage
frame in her short cheerleading skirt, her cleavage bursting from her tight top. She’d
stood over him, hands on her hips, and asked politely, “Shall I continue, Mr. Phillips?”
And Kevin’s dad had looked at his son, tears in his eyes and still racked with spasms of
sharp debilitating pain, his legs and arms spasming at random and said, “Son…son…I’m
so sorry….I can’t….,” and Celia had placed the dirty, gritty sole of her shoe over his
mouth, cutting off his speech, and pressed down hard, as she dropped the custody papers
onto his chest, thanking herself she’d left him one good hand to sign with.
Kevin had cried nonstop as Celia had put him on a leash, swung her leg over his back and
dropped her weight onto him, riding him down the hot asphalt street, his hands and bare
knees being burned on the pavement, and whipping him with her cat o’ nine tails, as his
dad crawled feebly onto the front lawn crying and pleading with her to just let him say
goodbye. Celia let him hear her telling Kevin she was going to buy some spurs and a
saddle and train him to take pain he couldn’t even imagine now. And Kevin, whimpering
beneath her and calling for his dad, had carried her on his back, the sixteen blocks to her
house, where her mom had invited her cheerleader friends later, to initiate the former
quarterback. And, oh, had they initiated him! Even her mom had joined in, with her
secretary pumps! She hadn’t liked Kevin breaking up with her daughter either! Celia
snapped back to the present. “Yeah, his daddy really didn’t wanna give him up!” she said
cheerfully.

[DeathXI]

“But, alas, now, little Kevin’s mine and I’m getting to share how I really feel being with
him, or, umm, ON him, you might say -- all the time! Today, for example, I shared how I
felt on the three-mile crawl over here on his back. I only had to whip him three or four
times to get him to keep moving! Isn’t that right, sweetie?” Kevin groaned again as she
pulled the bit even harder, yanking his head so far back Peter feared it might snap off. He
could see Kevin’s eyes watering a bit and his arms still spasming from Celia’s weight.
There were dark stains in his jeans where his knees pressed against the ground. Peter
closed his eyes and prayed for release from the nightmare he was living.
“Like the ads used to say,” she continued, ‘Gene therapy will change your life.’ I don’t
think Kevin realized how much it would change his! I’ve put him through the Male
Treatment three times now. I’ve had the Fem version twice. Each time he gets smaller,
weaker, paler; and I get taller, stronger and -- let’s say it together, honey – heavier!
Sometimes we look at pictures of the nice body he used to have, don’t we, honey? Not
much left of it that I can see. Not much at all, I’m afraid,” she said mockingly. Kevin
dropped his eyes in humiliation. “I send his dad pictures of Kevin every so often to show
him how his son is holding up in my care,” Celia added. “I’m sure Papa’s a little worried
with some of the poses of me standing on his son’s naked body in my spiked boots – or
sometimes in my roller blades -- but I wanted to show him what a tough kid he has. I
even figured out how to roller blade over Kevin’s throat and make a sort of choker tattoo
for him out of roller blade marks! It’s like ‘designer scarring!’” she said. Sure enough,
Peter could see what looked like a line of purple links of a chain around Kevin’s throat,
made by Celia’s roller blade wheels. “Only thing is, I don’t really have a good place to
keep him anymore, because my mom tends to get carried away with him when I leave
him at home and she gets in a mood – especially when she’s just bought a bunch of new
heels at the mall! I’ve gotta remind her Kevin’s dad lives alone now. Maybe she’d like
to play with him…though he wouldn’t last very long. She’s a true nymphomaniac, I
swear. My dad’s still got four more days in the hospital from the last time they did it –
or, the last time she did it to him, I mean!”
“You’re lucky, Cee,” said Elena. “We found Peter here by the side of the road on the
way in and he couldn’t even make it across the parking lot! Oh, wait, there were five of
us on him, I forgot about that! So, I guess you can’t really compare!” she laughed. Peter
just sulked, too humiliated to meet the women’s gazes.
“Maybe you should get a saddle,” remarked Celia.
“I don’t like them, they always slide off, unless you strap them to the genitals, and even
then, they don’t feel too secure,” Elena replied.
“Oh, no, not anymore! Get one of these!” said Celia. She released Kevin’s bit and stood
over Kevin’s back, as Kevin’s eyes closed softly in gratitude for her weight leaving him.
Then, she reached down to the side of the saddle and lifted it from Kevin’s back. Kevin
suddenly screamed like a child, as the saddle came up with a noise something like a
zipper, or bubble paper popping, Peter thought, scrunching his eyes shut.
The girls crowded around to look at the saddle. Just as on Sandy’s boots, the bottom of
the saddle was covered in hundreds of sharp little half-inch tacks. Peter cringed as he
saw Kevin’s bare back. It looked like he’d been skinned, with raw flesh ripped and torn,
then healed over, and hundreds of perfect little evenly spaced red blood dots from Celia’s
latest ride, where the saddle tacks had penetrated his skin. Celia smiled. “It stays
perfectly attached to him, so no matter which way you lean, you don’t fall off. And you
only use the genital straps as a back up,” she said brightly
“Cool,” replied Elena.
“Only thing is, I usually use a ball gag because it’s hard to keep him quiet when you’re
riding him, especially when you squeeze his ribs with your legs. It’s sort of hard on him,
I guess,” said Celia, casually stroking Kevin’s hair, “but he’s a little trooper, aren’t you,
honey?” she said sweetly. “Oh, also, you’ve got to pour alcohol over his back after you
take the saddle off keep him from getting infected every night. It’s kind of a drag.” She
seemed not to notice or care what she’d done to his flesh. Peter saw a ripple go through
Kevin’s entire body at the mention of the alcohol and Celia noticed, too. “Oh, that’s
right. He definitely doesn’t like the alcohol! You know what honey? I won’t use the
alcohol tonight! Tonight, we’ll try Tabasco Sauce! Okay?” Kevin’s teeth began
chattering, which made Celia give him a satisfied grin. “Anyway, if you want one, the
saddle’s only $840, and Kevin was able to earn that in one hard week laying in Wild Pair
at the mall.”
Celia dropped the saddle back on Kevin’s back, which made him grunt. But he yelped,
then screamed, and began moaning loudly, as Celia dropped her weight hard onto his
back again. “It’s easier when you drop real hard so all the nails can puncture him at
once,” she explained. “You need a good, strong bond.” Little rivulets of blood slid down
Kevin’s sides as he bucked his head back and forth repeatedly, trying to endure the
consuming pain. He kept the pathetic head motion going long after Peter thought the
initial pain should have subsided. Then he noticed Celia was sliding her weight back and
forth and side to side, making sure all the tacks were firmly embedded in him. “Geez,
Kevin, have a cow! He always does that!” Celia laughed. “Stop his head, okay? It’s
annoying!”
Elena stepped forward and straddled Kevin’s head with her strong tanned thighs. “Do
you like my legs, Kevin?” she asked cruelly. “I saw you yearning for them.” She
brought her legs closer to the sides of Kevin’s head, which was still careening side to side
absorbing Celia’s weight shifting (which she was continuing, even though it was obvious
the tacks should be set in him by now). Then Elena simply clamped her thighs tightly
around Kevin’s ears, stopping all movement completely. She put her hands on her hips
and stared down at him, squeezing his neck between her thigh muscles strongly. You
couldn’t even tell Kevin was a living being, thought Peter. He couldn’t move a muscle,
even though Celia was still sliding around on his back and the pain must have been
excruciating.
Elena clamped down even harder. Kevin’s arms began to go limp, then hung uselessly
over the ground. But Elena’s legs were clamped so tightly around his neck, she was
holding him up, even with Celia’s weight on his back. The two girls continued to talk
casually, as Peter saw Kevin’s head had completely disappeared into Elena’s muscular
legs. She seemed to be releasing some of the pressure in a practiced motion to let just
enough blood in to keep him conscious. Then, she would clamp down hard again, there’d
be a muffled groan from between her thighs, then silence as she stood over him.
Finally, Peter saw Kevin’s body begin to relax and Celia began to sink toward the
ground. She looked at him and evaluated for a moment, before saying, “Okay, that
should be enough…he’s going limp.”
Elena seemed a little disappointed, and hesitated for a moment, before stepping one leg
sideways, allowing Kevin’s head to fall from between her thighs and onto the ground
between her heels. She smiled satisfied. “Have a good sleep, Kevin?” she mused.
It didn’t appear Kevin was even fully aware again yet, when Celia yanked the bit so hard,
his head shot up on pure adrenaline and Peter could hear the bit grind into his teeth. He
groaned a horrible, woeful groan. “Yep, need a ball gag,” said Celia.
“Have you seen anyone else we know?” asked Denise. She lifted her bare foot onto the
back of Kevin’s neck, then absent-mindedly drove his face straight into the mud with it,
holding it pressed in the dirt for a moment, causing Celia to lean back automatically to
keep from sliding forward. Denise removed her big foot and Celia yanked the bit and
Kevin shot up, only to have Denise step on his neck again and slam his face into the
muddy ground. Neither girl talked about this amusing game, just as you might start
playing catch while you talked and not discuss it. They talked for a few minutes, Denise
absent-mindedly slamming Kevin’s face to the dirt, grinding it in, and Celia yanking him
up again.
“I saw Jennifer over there a while ago. Now where did she go?” Celia said. “Lemme get
a better look.” Celia smiled straight down at Kevin’s bare hips as she said, “Have I told
you how much you mean to me lately Kevin?” Then, making even Peter cry out in
anguish, she simultaneously slammed both her spurs as hard as she could into the flesh at
the sides of Kevin’s rump, driving the spinners fully through his skin, cutting it horribly,
as they penetrated into his flesh and up to the hilt as if they were cutting through butter.
The spinners disappeared completely into him as Kevin screamed through the bit so
loudly that several women around them turned to look, then smiled at him. “Would you
anchor him down in front?” asked Celia. “I’m gonna stand up and look around.” Kevin
began screaming, pleading unintelligibly through the steel bit in his mouth, as Celia
looked down at him as he began bleeding and smiled a wide contented smile. “Hell hath
no fury, Kevin…” she said, mostly to herself.
Elena stepped forward once again, this time stepping on Kevin’s hands with her stiletto
heels. He screamed anew. His hands bent in a depression beneath the cruel spikes as
they dug in firmly with Elena’s weight directly over the top of them. Kevin moaned and
Elena smiled. No way was he going to be able to buck when Celia stood up.
Then, when Kevin was obviously anchored, she did. Peter watched in horror as, with the
spurs still impaling his flanks and their spinners fully inside him, Celia slowly pressed
down and raised herself, standing fully, as one would stand in stirrups…only her stirrups
were the spurs embedded in Kevin’s flesh. Kevin’s head flew back and he tried to leap
backward, letting out a terrible, “YYYYEAA! YYYYEEAAAAA!
YYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”, but Elena’s spikes held his hands
fast to the ground. Kevin screamed and cried, as Celia stood erect, bringing her weight
fully to bear, as she looked around the concert venue. She towered over him, now rising
to almost eight feet above the ground! Her spurs now supported her full-figured weight
and she was even rocking her weight from side to side a little with her thick legs, tearing
his flesh like raw meat. Kevin moaned piteously, tossing his head side to side violently,
flecks of saliva flying from the bit as he suffered the excruciating pain. A nearby woman
rolled her eyes and put earplugs in her ears to shield herself from the screaming. Celia,
looking down at him, had an idea. “Here, take my camera and take Kevin’s picture for
his dad,” she asked Allison. Allison took the camera and spent some minutes setting it,
as Kevin screamed, from the constant torture. Then, she took the picture of Kevin
suffering beneath the tall teenage woman’s crushing weight, his face beat red and
spouting tears, his eyes wild, and his body sweating, torn and bleeding. Then, she handed
the camera back to Celia. Celia looked down at him once and smiled. Then she went
back to looking for people she knew.
Elena also watched Kevin’s face intently, her ruby lips pressed into a pout and her liquid
brown eyes penetrating him. She ran her tongue over her teeth, savoring Kevin’s
expressions. Her low cut red leather corset squeaked around her perfect breasts as she
shifted her weight from one of his hands to the other, watching her red toenails spread in
the straps of her red high heels as she pressed his hands flat beneath them. ‘It was so
amazing the variety of faces they made when they were in pain,’ she thought. Like
snowflakes – no two facial expressions exactly alike! And she liked giving them pain,
she mused. Oh yes, she liked that a lot! We all like giving them pain, she thought. So
much drama! So much entertainment! Every time you stepped on them; every time you
kicked them; every single time you tore their skin or broke a bone or raked their genitals
with your fingernails and made them bleed; no matter how many times you did it to them,
they always gave you a show! They were so much fun to watch! All the thrashing back
and forth, and the begging, and the whimpering and moaning…she really liked the
moaning! It was so forlorn…so hopeless…so pathetic, she mused with a slight smile!
She felt herself getting wet.
And, god was it easy! I mean, they were so weak! You just picked a spot and squeezed
or crushed and they’d come apart! Use your thighs and you could crush the very marrow
out of them! She loved humiliating them, abusing them, toying with them – breaking
their spirits – then watching as they lost their own identity and then lost all hope. And
she especially loved using her beauty. She knew what it did to them to look at her. She
saw the longing in their eyes at the sight of her perfect body, her toned legs and flawless
face, with her pouting lips and haunting eyes; the despair on their faces as they gazed at
her in something like her red leather mini skirt and corset and knew they could never
have her.
She loved to turn them on -- to brush by them with her bare thighs, or stroke them
casually with her nails as she sat and talked to a friend letting them look at her legs
stretched out in front of her. If she was really in a mood, and had some time, she’d play
her favorite game with one of them. She’d be so sweet to him! Treat him with such
kindness! Tell him she would never ever hurt him to gain his trust. Then, she’d take him
out on a leash to a loud, crowded club or someplace wearing her highest spike heels, find
a dark corner where she promised no one would step on him, and ask him nicely to lay
down behind her and rest his head on the ground. Then, a few minutes later, after he’d
relaxed (it took a few minutes for them to relax staring at her heels so close to their faces)
she’d “accidentally” step back onto the side of his nose with her heel and just drive her
full weight down on it and stand there, listening to the club music covering his screams.
A nose would flatten so much she wouldn’t even feel it under her heel! Oh, but the guy
would feel it! Oh, yeah, he definitely would! Then after ten minutes or so, when she
thought he’d had enough, she’d casually glance down and be “horrified” that she hadn’t
known she was standing on his nose, pinning his head to the ground.
She’d kiss him all over and apologize up and down. It was amazing how many of them
were so eager to forgive and trust her again! Then, promising to make it up to him, she’d
take him home and seduce him. She’d dreamily remove the chastity cup that kept them
from ever touching themselves and granting themselves release. That, in itself gave them
a rager, because they’d been assured no woman would ever let them out of the cup and
they’d never experience release again as long as they lived! The desire and gratitude on a
man’s face would almost be palpable! He’d thank her and thank her again and again for
removing the cup! Then, looking into his eyes, she’d turn him on like he’d never been
turned on before – like only she could. She’d caress him and talk dirty to him, gently
taking him in her hand and massage him, sometimes even stroking him with her tongue
or wrapping her mouth around him for a split second (just enough to let him know what
he was missing) always with the promise of granting him release. But she’d never give it
to him.
She’d take him to the point of ecstasy, touching him fondling him; but then she’d keep
her lips just out of reach of his as he bucked against the restraints and tried desperately to
lift his lips to hers. She’d hold her tongue just barely not quite touching the tip of his
member (and she made him look at how close it was) or even, on occasion, she’d hold
herself moist and naked, just above him, letting him feel the hot dampness – so near, and
yet so far -- then, when she knew he was about to release – for the first time in probably
two or three years – she’d suddenly clamp her hand around him at the base, and squeeze
him in her strongest vise grip, preventing him from releasing! She’d say she just wasn’t
ready yet and she wanted to have more fun! And, sure enough, he would believe her,
though he’d now be going out of his mind with frustration and pain! And, then, she’d do
it all over again…and again after that!
After several times preventing him, he would look like he was going to have a heart
attack…or perhaps go insane! That was when she’d tell him this was the time! This was
what he’d been waiting for! This time, he was going to be allowed to go out of his mind
with pleasure! And she’d begin again, slowly teasing him, taking him higher and higher,
until she’d feel it about to happen; until he was writhing in the restraints begging her
please…PLEEASSSEEEE! And then she’d look him in the eyes (she always like their
eyes when she did this) and run her tongue sensually over her lips, and lower her mouth
directly toward his shaft as she looked up into his eyes, breathing her hot breath directly
onto his shaft. Then, without warning, she’d grab his member in her vice grip, but this
time she’d squeeze her sharp red fingernails straight into his shaft, digging them deep
into it -- like the armrest of a chair in a horror flick! She’d squeeze and squeeze and then
rip him to the side, pulling him along with her hand in directions he wasn’t made to go.
She’d grit her teeth almost pull his member off! Then, with her other hand, she’d reach
in and squeeze and twist his testicles with her nails the same way! Twisting and pulling
and crushing him, she’d watch him go insane with the pain! And, then as she denied him
release and instead gave him pain, she would find her own release. Her screams of
pleasure would mix with his of pain, and she would collapse on the bed, totally spent and
satisfied, and stare into his eyes, seeing the tears and hurt and the trust betrayed. Then,
knowing even after the pain, how completely sexually frustrated he was after what she’d
put him through, she’d get up and slowly replace the chastity cup, leaving him in that
condition, restrained on the bed. Then, she’d walk out of the room, swaying her ass
provocatively as he writhed in frustration and she glanced back at him and smiled.
Elena snapped back to reality and Kevin’s hands beneath her spikes. She’d always loved
high heels. But before the Treatment, she’d never been aware of the awesome power for
crushing and causing pain they possessed. She glanced down at the Kevin’s hands, now
covered in her heel marks, and wondered of she still knew the bones of the male hand
well enough to go four for four. She began shifting her weight back and forth, each time
adjusting her spikes directly over where she thought one of the small bones of the hand
would be. She shifted left and felt a small crack and Kevin screamed (one); then right,
another crack (and a yelp this time) (two), a slight stiletto adjustment and weight shift,
and another bone snapped (three), then finally a fourth, as she dropped her weight onto
her other heel again. “Yeah, four for four!” she said out loud.
Paula gave her an irritated look. Paula had been her friend forever, but, honestly, some of
her ideas were really out there! Like, ‘go easy on the men.’ ‘Don’t give them so much
pain.’ I mean, what the hell were you supposed to do with them? What the hell were
they here for?! And why would you care – even notice – what you were doing to a male?
Once, in a dance club, Paula had leaned over and asked her to ‘give the guy a break.’
Elena had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Then, she finally looked down
and noticed she was standing on a face and figured it out. She’d had enough of Paula’s
nagging! Pissed off, without a word, she’d looked Paula squarely in the eye, lifted her
spike and driven it straight through the man’s eyes, one after the other to teach Paula to
stop nagging her. Then, she’d stepped off his face and let him thrash about before
pouring her drink over him and walking onto another man’s face, her spikes poised
threateningly above his eyes. She’d look at Paula and raised her eyebrows, and asked,
“Want me to do this one, too?”
Since then, Paula had gotten the message and stopped trying to preach to the other girls.
But, Elena still occasionally saw her look sympathetically at the men; like she actually,
well…cared about them or something. Like they were a hobby! It was pretty messed up.
She was glad none of her other friends had Paula’s hang-up. I mean what would they all
do when they got together?! How would they get off?! What did they do before the
Treatment? She honestly couldn’t even remember! How many parties had rocked only
because they’d had the right doormat? Or a caged male to drip hot wax on?
Paula was so a minority! Since the Treatment, a whole industry had sprang up with
devices for male pain and restraint, CD’s full of techniques to train and domesticate men,
and charts of nerve locations where a high heel or kick could make them go out of their
minds! Elena returned to staring at the broken guy beneath her spikes.
Peter was dizzy with grief, watching the tall nineteen-year-old stand on her spurs, her
long hair blowing in the wind as she ignored the screaming teenager beneath her and
Elena, stepping on his hands with her high heels. He was just so…small! Finally, Celia
dropped heavily onto Kevin’s back again, from her standing position, easily collapsing
him into the dirt, ripping her spurs out of him, then yanking him up by the reins again.
Peter knew the saddle tacks had just been driven into him again, but could see anything
was better than Celia’s weight on her viciously sharp spurs tearing deep holes in his
flanks.
“I’m gonna find a better place to watch. It was good seeing you guys!” Celia said, as she
dug her spurs into Kevin’s side, not impaling him this time, and whipped him in the face
with the reins to get him to slowly lumber down the hill, still crying, as she squeezed the
sides of the saddle into him with her heavy thighs. “You are such a big baby! We’re
gonna put a lot of alcohol on those tonight! Oh, that’s right…I promised you Tabasco!”
he heard Celia exclaim as she rode him away.
Paula turned to see Elena squatting down next to Peter, her legs in front of his eyes and
her ample breasts bursting from her corset and hanging over his face. She was reaching
out to touch his crotch. “Peter!” she said. “Peter, you’re not wearing a chastity cup!”
She gave his crotch a vicious squeeze to make sure and Peter almost went unconscious
from pain. Elena continued to knead his balls in her closed fist for a few moments, as
Peter suffered in absolute agony. “Who the hell do you think you are, not wearing a cup,
Peter?! Do you think you’re allowed to just touch yourself whenever you want?!!!”
Peter stuttered, hardly able to breath. He felt as if he’d been hit in the stomach a hundred
times. “What’s….what’s a…chastity…cup?”, he asked meekly. “My wife hasn’t made
me…hasn’t…told me about…”
“You’re wife?!!!,” exclaimed Elena, stopping the ball-squeezing completely, her hand
still hovering near his crotch.
“Told you he was married – AND sheltered,” said Paula. “That’s why he didn’t have
knee calluses. A chastity cup keeps you from getting off, Peter. Men aren’t allowed to
get off anymore, without permission. And they almost never get permission, unless we
take one of them for our pleasure” said Paula.
“Do you want me to take you for my pleasure, Peter?” asked Elena coyly. “Is that why
you’re not wearing a cup?”
The question was clearly rhetorical and Peter should never have answered. But, the fear
on his face when Elena asked intrigued her.
“But, I would never…” said Peter softly, hesitatingly. “I’m…promised to my wife. I
love her so much. I’ve never, in all the time I’ve loved her, ever…another woman’s
never touched me…it would kill me to even think about…another woman…to face Kelly
after I’d…” Peter’s voice trailed off. “I don’t think I even could…”
“You think you could resist another woman’s touch, Peter? Do you love your wife that
much?”, asked Elena. “You think you could resist mine?”
“Don’t do that to him, Elena,” Paula said quietly. “He loves his wife. Don’t do it.”
“Oh, well, if he loves his wife, he shouldn’t have any problem resisting my touch,”
replied Elena. She began tracing soft circles on him with her long fingers, teasing him.
“You just remember how much you love your wife, Peter. You just ignore what my
fingers are doing,” teased Elena. She leaned down giving Peter a look at her perfect
cleavage in her corset.
“Oh, no…please…I…took a vow…my wife...Kelly…”, Even as damaged as he was now,
and still in a lot of pain, Peter felt himself responding to Elena’s coy touch, electricity
rocketing through him like he’d never known was possible. He willed himself to stop.
He screwed his eyes shut, swallowed, and willed himself to ignore what she was doing.
But, then, Elena seductively slipped her hand inside Peter’s trousers and found him. And
when her fingers touched him, started playing him, it was like she knew how to do things
to him he’d never imagined before. The way she touched him, the rhythmic softness of
her teasing caress was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Women must have learned
as much about pleasure as pain. Because the waves of arousal that drifted over Peter
under Elena’s touch were like nothing he could begin to control.
“Stop it,” said Paula. “Don’t humiliate him like that!”
“Peter…you’re getting…hard,” chided Elena. “I thought you were promised to your
wife.”
Her hand began to softly squeeze him, as she rubbed and caressed him. He was coming
alive and he couldn’t stop it. And it was wrong – it was WRONG! But he couldn’t stop
it! There was something she knew how to do to a man; something she had learned that
he’d never experienced before and he felt powerless against the tides of pleasure that
rolled over him, quaked across his body. Peter shuddered. “Please…STOP…” he cried.
“Please…don’t make me….I can’t….”
“Are you going to cheat on your wife?!” cooed Elena. “You’re not going to cheat on her,
are you, Peter?”
“Nooooo…..” moaned Peter, now thrashing around on the ground, Elena’s touch driving
him wild with pleasure. “Noooo…don’t make me….”
“You’re almost there, Peter…” clucked Elena, letting Peter take in her luscious lips, as
she licked her teeth. “You’re wife loves you and you’re going to let loose in another
woman’s hands – such a shame!” Her hand was moving faster now, flitting over him,
making him crazy, unable to stop – punishing him with pleasure.
Finally, “ADULTERY IS A SIN PETER!” Elena yelled at him, as she stroked him one
final time, the way they’d taught her a man couldn’t resist. Peter screamed, “Oh, god,
Oh, god, nnnnnoooooooooooo!” as he exploded, his back arching, his breath catching in
his throat and waves of intensity, then sobs, rocking him, as Elena slowed, then calmly
removed her hand and held it up in front of him. “Look what you’ve done, Peter.
You’ve shared yourself with another woman! You’ve cheated on your wife! You didn’t
even love her enough to keep yourself from releasing! I bet you loved every second!
You’re pathetic! How will you ever forgive yourself for what you’ve done?! How will
you ever look your wife in the eye again?!” Elena smiled broadly. She couldn’t get
enough of this!
She watched as Peter’s spirit was broken completely and he buried his head and cried
softly against the soft lawn. “Kelly…oh, Kelly…” Peter’s body was racked with sobs.
He rolled over and cried, knowing he would never get over what he had just done. He
had no will to resist, and no fight left in him! Sobs racked Peter’s body. He was a
broken man, he realized, with no hope, as he cried softly, in shame.
Paula knew where this would go…what Elena would do to him in the end. She would
destroy his will utterly, then his body and finally his mind…and he had no defense.
Paula was almost certain Peter had had little experience out in the world in some time.
But, if she tried to stop Elena from toying with him Elena might suffocate Peter with her
hands right now in spite, or kill him any number of ways, and that would be a shame. If
only she could get Peter alone to help him cope; to give him the true picture of what the
world had become for him and how he could survive it. But here was no way for her to
get him alone…unless….unless…
“I want ride him!” said Paula brightly, bounding up to them. Elena looked up.
“You wanna what?!” Elena said.
“I haven’t had a shoulder ride in a long time and I want to ride him up to the food tent,”
replied Paula.
“But, you never want to ride them! You never kick them, you never stomp them! What
gives?!” asked Elena.
“Well, maybe I’m changing,” said Paula. “Might be fun to feel a man’s shoulders
buckling beneath me.”
“Well, that’s more like it!” “Get us all some burgers and pizza,” said Elena.
Paula lifted Peter under the arms like a child and stood him up, then showed him to cup
his hands and stepped into them with her boot, telling him to stop crying and concentrate.
The first time, she simply drove his hands into the ground as he bent to her weight and all
the girls laughed. But, somehow, the second time, he was able to stay upright, his back
nearly breaking, and she mounted him, swinging her other leg over his shoulders in a
practiced motion (she hadn’t always not ridden them) and dropped her ass onto his
shoulders. In the old days, she knew, Peter could have carried her without much problem
– at least for a while. But, Peter was dramatically weaker and more frail (all the men
were) and girls like Paula were now four or five inches taller and thirty pounds of muscle
heavier. It would be like Peter trying to carry a 275-pound woman in the old days, and
she felt his shoulders suffering under her weight accordingly.
Paula slammed her thighs against Peter’s ears and kicked her boot heels against his chest
to get him moving and she felt him try unsteadily to take a step with her on top of him.
She prayed he wouldn’t fall over, and he didn’t. He just took one step at a time as she
tried to keep her weight directly over his collarbones so she didn’t pull him over.
For Peter’s part, he couldn’t understand. The woman who had been so cruel to him was
pleasuring him – even if to humiliate him – when the only one of them he’d actually
trusted had interrupted and insisted on riding him like a mule. Now, with Paula’s sixfoot-
four lithe frame on his shoulders in her tight jeans, he thought he might collapse
from the effort of every step! She’d kicked him with her heels so hard, one slamming
right into his nipple and she hadn’t cared. Then she’d smashed his head between her
thighs and was now holding under his jaws as she rode him, her fingernails digging
painfully into the skin under his face. Her weight was so powerful, so overwhelming!
His shoulders ached with the effort of supporting her as she nonchalantly rode him. Each
step was such an effort with such a tall woman on his back. Each time he lifted a leg he
was sure he would collapse beneath her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, when he had carried her away from the other girls. “I know how
much I’m hurting you. I know what my weight must be like for you to endure, and, yes, I
know I kicked you very hard back there, but you have to believe me, the alternative
would have been worse. I have to talk to you. Carry me to that low wall over there
where you can sit with me on top of you.” Paula unconsciously dug her nails on that side
of his jaw into Peter and he winced, “Oh sorry, it’s how we direct guys we’re riding, just
carry me over there.”
As they moved through the crowd, each step a monumental effort for Peter, Paula
occasionally kicked him with her boot heels, dug her nails into his jaw and squeezed his
head between her legs, once slapping him hard on the back and cruelly yelling, “Get
moving…mule!,” for the crowd’s benefit.
The wall came closer and Peter sighed with relief when he could turn his back to it and sit
down, Paula still sitting regally on his shoulders, her weight pressing heavily on his small
back.
“Peter,” she began, “Do you want to go home? Do you want to make it out of this?”
Peter started to reply, but she cut him off. “Quiet! Just listen! I had a boyfriend a few
years ago. Before everything happened. Before the Treatment. I don’t know what
became of him. He just went for the Treatment one day and never came back. Most of
the women became apathetic about men after the Treatment, but I missed Todd, I don’t
really know why. You remind me of him a little. Your eyes are like his, but you’re a
little bit sadder. Of course, he’s probably sadder today wherever he is, too.” She paused
a moment, finally deciding. “ I’m going to help you, Peter. I can’t help all of you. But I
can help you, so I guess it’s just your luck. You’re my project for tonight.”
“Like Elena helped me?” Peter asked softly, daring sarcasm for the first time.
Paula yanked his head back hard, as two girls walked by, as if she was disciplining him.
She began to whisper, looking directly into his eyes with her agonizing beauty.
“Peter, listen up. Because I’m the only one who didn’t hurt you in the car, because I don’t
enjoy it like other women do. Sometimes I do it, but I don’t enjoy it! I’m going to tell
you what’s in your future if you don’t trust me and do what I say. Even though I’m the
one crushing your shoulders right now, I guarantee you I am absolutely your only friend,
so you better get it right the first time! Because, if you don’t, you’ll never see home
again!”
“I figured when we found you by the side of the road without a mistress, you must have
been driving the car the cop pulled over alone. Since there’s no way you have a car, your
wife or something must have let you use hers. Men just started being allowed to drive
again so they could run errands for us, right? So, maybe you have a permanent
home…maybe you really do have a wife who still loves you that you want to get back to.
But, as it stands now, unless you trust me, one of the girls in our group is going to claim
you after the concert. She’s going to take you home as her property and use you as she
sees fit.
Maybe you’ll go home with Denise, to be her face chair, or Elena, who likes to wind men
into a sexual frenzy, then squeeze their privates to shreds with her nails or her stilettos. Is
that what you want?!”

[DeathXI]

Peter swallowed, knowing instinctively everything she said was true. He started to speak,
but Paula yanked backward even harder on his hair and he remained silent.
“Or…or…you might go home with Sandy and be a doormat for her aerator boots for the
rest of your life; she’s got a big house, and lots of rich cruel girlfriends and she has lots of
parties for them and they all wear high heels and thigh high boots! Or Allison, I hear, is
looking for a new step aerobics bench to exercise on every day. She does two-hour
workouts jumping on your torso in her tennis shoes, then she lets any woman in the gym
where she’s a Personal Trainer, use you at will. When she teaches step aerobics, she’ll
jump on one end of you while her client exercises on the other. And she’s really
muscular. You wouldn’t believe how high she can jump! You will be jumped on
continuously for eleven hours -- every day – by her, or someone in her gym -- for the rest
of your life.
Or, ya know what, Peter? You could get really lucky..…Do you know why Carolyn, the
girl with the hikers and the huge tits who looks like Brittany Spears, hasn’t paid you
much attention yet? Because she doesn’t have any of her implements with her here. I’m
afraid Carolyn just doesn’t get a rush out of giving pain unless she’s using the latest and
greatest steel or leather devices. I’ll leave it up to your imagination the variety of hooks
and straps and whips and clamps she keeps on hand. And the shoes! Oh, she’s got shoes
that can do anything to you beneath her weight; while you try to breath just enough to
scream one more time. You know crampons, the boots they use to kick into ice walls and
walk on glaciers? Well, Carolyn’s got four pairs of those, and she’s never been ice
climbing! Are you getting this Peter? Is it sinking in?!” She looked at Peter intently.
Peter’s lips began quivering.
“Carolyn goes through men like there’s no tomorrow. And I don’t mean she gets tired of
them. I mean she destroys them. She’s always experimenting with how she can exact a
little more pain, just a little louder scream. You haven’t lived ‘til you’ve been at a party
where the hostess keeps a bowl full of earplugs at the top of the basement steps so your
hearing isn’t damaged by the screaming of the men during one of her “demonstrations”
for her friends using her clamps or her pliers or a boot with broken glass on the sole. She
might have fifteen women dance on you on a bed of nails, or blindfold them, put stilettos
on them and ask them to guess what part of you they’re stepping on by how it squishes
under their heels. And, when you’re in your cage between sessions? She lowers the cage
into the floor and makes you put your fingers up through the wire. Then, she stands on
your fingers in hard platform heels and cracks them, while she drips hot wax onto you
from above and you squirm but can’t get away. I know, I’ve stood on a few fingers in
my boots to be part of the crowd. Imagine me standing on your fingers in my boots,
Peter! Imagine what would happen to you!” Peter looked down at Paula’s boots and
imagined her weight on the high block heels on his fingers…and shuddered.
“Carolyn has a fingernail scratching party next week and something she’s calling a,
‘Love Bite’ party the week after. She keeps a slave under her desk chair, with clamps
applied to the more sensitive parts of his naked body. She’s attached thick drill bits to the
legs of the chair she sits in. And she sets it on the poor guys’s chest – or maybe his groin
-- and she sits down on it and works at her computer for hours while the drill bits dig into
his flesh under her weight. It’s a real treat to see what his flesh looks like after a few
weeks of that! If not for the gag she stuffs in his mouth, I don’t know how she’d get any
work done with his moaning! And, do you know how I know, Peter? Do you want to
hear a story that really brings it home?” Peter’s hair was pulling away from his scalp in
her strong grip, though he knew she didn’t know how powerful she was.
“Carolyn asked me to fix her computer once, so I had to sit in her chair on the guy’s
chest. And I’m a bit heavier than she is…as you can probably tell by the way your
shoulders feel right now. I tried to put my weight down gently, but about two minutes in,
I felt the chair’s legs crush into his flesh, penetrating him. First one, then the other. And
I felt him scream through the gag when it happened -- and I still had an hour of work to
do. Carolyn didn’t even look over at him. I tried to appear nonchalant because I can’t
give away that I actually care, but I will never get the look on his face out of my mind,
knowing I was putting him in such terrible pain beneath my full weight. My ass must
have dominated his entire field of view and been the only thing in his world right then.”
“Carolyn left the room and I looked down at him and told him how sorry I was. That’s
when he asked me to release him…not from the restraints…from everything – from
living. I removed his gag and let him speak. He strained telling me he’d suffered like
this for months and that he couldn’t describe the things she did to him. And that there
would be no end. I was barefoot, and he looked at my foot and then looked at me. And I
stood and walked around the chair, standing over him…and he nodded. I lifted my foot,
and placed it gently on his face, over his nose and mouth and pressed my weight down
onto him and watched him begin to struggle for air. When he began violently spasming, I
put my full weight down and stepped up onto his throat with the other foot, until his eyes
went wide and he’d finally stopped breathing and went limp – and it took a bit of time --
then I stepped off him and prayed Carolyn didn’t notice the huge footprint I’d left on his
face. She never did. She just replaced him the next day with a new slave.”
“It isn’t just some women, Peter. It’s all of us! Even the few of us that don’t particularly
get off on giving pain – and there are very few – will use you as we need to anytime,
anywhere. Because it’s not possible to live in this world without using a man in this
fashion. Everybody does it and you’re considered weird if you don’t. If it rains, a
shopping mall puts down men for the entire crowd of women at the mall to walk on; and
we walk on them without even breaking conversation. There is simply nowhere else to
walk.”
“Tomorrow I’m taking a karate class. I’m going to kick a restrained male in the stomach
one hundred times in a row with my shin as hard as I can in the first drill. And I’m going
to judge how well I’m kicking him by how his body reverberates off the wall. And I
guarantee you I’m not going to think for a second about what I’m doing to him, only
about how my kicks are going. So understand Peter, this is the world now. And no one
is going to take you home.”
“I’m not telling you all this to terrify you, Peter. But if you haven’t been out in the world
since the Awakening and the Treatment, you need a fast education because you need to
know what the stakes are. You think you’ve seen what we do to men now. You haven’t.
You’re going to see some things tonight that will rock you to the core. Don’t cry for the
other males. You can’t help them. Just concentrate on surviving yourself. It’s all any of
you can do.”
Now listen. As long as you’re carrying me on your shoulders, you’re allowed to remain
standing. And that’s the only way to avoid being trampled the entire evening by a
thousand women, half of whom won’t even notice you under their feet, and the other half,
who will seek it. And just so you know what those feet will do to you over time if you
end up down there, I’m going to show you something to motivate you. Now, carry me
over to the food tent.” Before Peter could respond, Paula threw his head forward, slapped
him and kicked her heels into him again, and Peter, his mind reeling and his eyes filled
with tears, lifted her weight as he stood and began the torturous walk toward the food
tent.
‘Why aren’t I dead?’ Peter thought idly, as he struggled under Paula’s weight. “Why
aren’t I dead?” he asked aloud.
“What are you talking about?” asked Paula.
“I’ve been knee’d in the groin by a seven foot tall police woman, knelt on, stepped on,
jumped on with boots and high heels, had my face walked on, been sat on for two hours,
then ridden like a horse by eight women across a rocky parking lot. I’ve had nails ground
into my face under a woman’s boot, I’ve had my hands crushed by spike heels….why
haven’t I died?”
“Peter…the Treatment protects you from dying. Sure, it makes you incredibly weak and
small, and your bones get somewhat more brittle and easy to break, but your organs are
almost as tough now as ours. We could easily suffocate you under our weight, I mean,
you still need air, but the damage we do to your organs begins to heal almost
immediately. Your bones in your hands were almost crushed to powder when we found
you…but, I bet now, you just have a few broken hand bones there. The pain is real, but
the Treatment is designed so it’s difficult to actually kill a male if a woman gets carried
away. You just continue to suffer, and we can use pain to our heart’s content. So don’t
worry about dying. At your age, it’s not nearly as easy to be killed as you might think.
Of course, it can happen, if the punishment is severe enough, but you shouldn’t worry
about it. It’s probably not going to happen…unless you’re…well, we’ll get to that in a
few minutes.”
Peter’s mind was reeling. He wouldn’t die? He’d just…continue to endure
this…forever?! ‘Unless you’re…what?’ he asked himself. He was going to ask, but
Paula shifted her weight and he had to concentrate on carrying her without falling over.
Peter was getting so tired.
They worked their way through the crowd and got in line, men on leashes all around
them. In front of them stood a man who was more bones than man. He was about sixty
or seventy years old, Peter judged, and his arms were tied tightly behind his back. He
wore only white briefs and was filthy with mud. And, atop his withering shoulders sat a
giant of a woman. She reminded Peter of Anna Nichole from the old show. She was
fully three hundred pounds and wearing way too much makeup, chewing gum and
shouting at the top of her lungs. She was drunk out of her mind! She was dressed in
cheap body hugging spandex and she had on black platform heels that she was
absentmindedly raking down his chest as he held her giant body on his bony shoulders.
His shrunken chest was covered in deep gouges where she had ripped it open with her
heels and he was almost catatonic with pain, tensing up and making ‘gggggggggggg’
sounds through his gritted teeth every time she’d lift one of her big legs, jam her heel into
him and scrape it down his tender bare skin. His bony legs were shaking horribly from
the effort of carrying this huge woman, but she wasn’t even looking at him. She was
whipping him even though there no space to move up in line, scoring his back as badly as
his chest with a cat o’ nine tails, while she shouted at him to pay attention and “take me
to the pizza!”
Paula looked down at the little man with a sullen expression, and the woman noticed and
yelled over to her, “He’s a rental. Sucks, doesn’t it?!” Paula just looked away. All of a
sudden someone farther up in line let go of a balloon, which drifted over the top of them.
The women saw it, clamped her huge thighs tightly around the little man’s head and
threw herself backward to try to catch it. The little man tried mightily to hold his
balance, but he had absolutely no chance. His legs gave out as she threw her weight
backwards and he was yanked to the ground with her, her thighs still tightly enclosing his
small head. The woman was furious! Without releasing the little man from between her
legs, she started screaming at him for being so clumsy. Then she squeezed her thighs
together as hard as she could and rolled over to get up, forgetting, it seemed, that he was
between them. Peter heard a sickening crack, as the man’s head and neck snapped, as his
torso was folded backwards, as she rolled upright, and the man’s body went limp.
His neck was broken but he was still conscious, as ‘Anna Nichole’ knelt on his shoulder
blades for a few seconds, cracking both of them, seeming unaware he was beneath her,
then woozily stood up on his thin little back in her heavy platforms and began to jump up
and down furiously, now looking up in the sky screaming, “I want that balloon!
Someone get me that balloon!” Her heels came down on his body and didn’t even slow
as they punched straight through him, fully into his flesh right up to the sole of her feet
each time she slammed down on him. Peter heard the man’s back crack each time the
girl came down on it, saw his hands vainly grabbing fistfuls of dirt as Anna stomped tens
of deep holes in him with the shafts of her heels. It only took a few hard jumps before his
hands relaxed and his body went limp again -- for the last time. The woman continued to
make hundreds of holes in him as she stepped around on him, until she finally stopped,
standing on what was left of him, looked around vaguely, and walked off looking for a
beer.
The line of women laughed at her for being so drunk, but didn’t even look down when
they added their own footprints to the little man’s body as the line moved forward. Paula
leaned down to Peter and said, “I guess I should have mentioned; some men are too old
and weak already to need the Treatment. They become undesirables and are thrown out
on the street. Some, like this one, end up as ‘rental slaves.’ They have no resiliency, so
they usually don’t last long.” Peter didn’t reply.
Paula’s weight was crushing down on Peter’s shoulders massively now, but they were
almost at the Food Tent, and she’d promised she would give him a break there since he
wasn’t allowed inside. After five more minutes, they’d reached the front of the line and
Paula told Peter to bend forward. As soon as he tried, Paula’s weight dropped him to a
ninety-degree angle as she landed on her feet, his head still between her legs. She held
him there as she put on lipstick, while she waited for the crowd in the tent to thin enough
for her to be allowed inside. When the attendant signaled for her and several others to go
ahead, she took Peter by the hair roughly and pulled him with her just beyond the flap
and stepped to the side with him. “This is what I wanted you to see, Peter,” she said.
“Take a good look.” Paula moved to stand beside him, absent-mindedly pressing him to
all fours, now that she wasn’t riding him.
At first, Peter didn’t know what he was supposed to look at. The tent was very large and
there were hundreds of beautiful women inside, walking back and forth with food in their
hands, or waiting in various lines for different items at the McDonald’s counter, or
Subway. It looked like any concert venue he’d seen in the past. The hissing of the air
conditioner was quite loud, but…then, as a group of women in front of him momentarily
moved away, and the flap behind him closed, allowing his eyes to adjust, he thought he
saw the floor…move! Paula watched him as his mind processed what he was seeing.
The floor moved again! In fact, the whole floor across the whole tent was moving –
undulating a little. And then the image resolved itself – and he saw them.! Hundreds of
them! Lying on the floor, writhing like serpents in a snake pit.!
Across the floor of the whole tent area, young men had been laid down to make a human
floor for the women to walk on. A large tight net of very thin but strong filaments, and
attached low to the walls, had been stretched across them from one wall to the other to
keep them flat, and they were trapped there, suffering under the hundreds of women that
walked over them without a thought. His eyes welled up. Every one of them Peter could
see had been damaged. Most had deep heel marks in their bodies, bruises, welts and
scratches. Many were hardly moving anymore, while a few were desperately trying to
claw their way through the net as they writhed in pain. All of them were also filthy, as
the old man had been. Hundreds of women had tracked mud over them as they stepped
on them with every conceivable type of footwear and bare feet. Only their eyes shown
through all the mud cleanly.
The males on the edges had the least damage and were the most active. The ones in the
lines had taken the most punishment and were barely moving, even as multiple young
women were now stepping them on. In fact, Peter saw, like areas of carpet that are
overly worn from heavy traffic, the packs of men in this human floor near where the food
lines formed, or the main corridor where the women walked in and out, were much more
depressed, much flatter, than the lesser used areas. The men under the four lines leading
to the food counter had formed wide “furrows” as they were flattened by the crush of
women there; their bodies broken and broken further by the impossible pressure.
Occasionally, Peter saw, a woman would step directly on someone’s face and they would
jerk in vein as she walked over them, her heel grinding into their lips or cheeks, but most
just suffered in silence as they were stood on in thick rubber sandals, or biker boots, flat
leather sandals or bare feet. One barefoot girl Peter saw was absentmindedly pressing a
teenager’s eye into his head with her dirty big toe as she talked to her friend while
standing on his chest. She pressed it so deep into his skull, her toe disappeared into his
face also. The teenager was clawing frantically at the net, but couldn’t begin to break
through it. As the girl burst out laughing at her friend, she pressed the guy’s eye
completely into his head, mashing it like a grape with her toe.
Ten women, all in heels and short skirts were standing together for a picture in the corner.
Every time the girl with the camera asked them to get closer together, more high heels
concentrated on the prostrate body of the middle aged man beneath them. His body
accepted the combined weight of the ten stunning girls as they all stepped around on him
with their heels, trying to find just the right arrangement for a picture. If he was able to
move, Peter knew it didn’t matter. The girls’ weight would be much too overwhelming
for him to even twitch against the crush. One girl put her heel into his eye as he watched,
and just slid it back out unconsciously and placed it on his forehead, where it was more
solid.
The worst off, were, or course, the men who had the misfortune to be by the door, some
feet in front of Peter. None of them were moving anymore, though Peter thought he saw
an arm twitch a little. Every girl in and out of the tent all day had to walk over the three
or four men laying here. And the damage they had done was incredible! The men’s
bodies here were literally flattened to only inches deep. It appeared virtually all the
men’s bones were broken, their flesh torn and crushed beyond recognition, and their
faces had been flattened by perhaps thousands of shoes, making them resemble rubber
masks. They were muddied and cut to ribbons and one had had a mat placed over him, as
it seemed the girls were slipping on him like a banana peel.
Peter noticed in all the tent, not one girl ever looked down at the men they were standing
on. They laughed and talked, walked to and fro, stood eating pizza, and gave the men no
more consideration than any other floor they’d walk on. But the violence for the men
was no less real. High school girls and college women everywhere were treading on
them in pairs and threesomes, puncturing them with heels and boots, ripping their faces
with twisting rubber shoes, grinding them beneath their bare feet; dropping cigarettes on
them and crushing them out. And all the women were tall. Peter didn’t see one less than
5’10” and most were well over six feet – some closer to seven feet tall! He couldn’t
understand how the men, especially the younger teenagers, suffered so much pain in
silence. They should be screaming; going out of their minds! And then it dawned on him
that tents didn’t have -- air conditioners. So the hissing sound was…was…he looked at
Paula, unable to accept the thought without help. She seemed to read his mind. “Yes,”
she said, looking down at him, “they’ve had their vocal cords spray-frozen so the
screaming and pleading doesn’t become irritating.”
Peter looked across the floor, as his eyes welled up with tears. They were screaming…all
suffering horribly; it’s just that no one could hear it. The hissing was their collective
screams, chemically remade into a whisper.
Peter then saw two men bleeding terribly in the face in the other corner. But they weren’t
bleeding. It took him a second to realize they were beneath the condiment racks and
what he thought was blood, was in reality quite a few packets of ketchup and mustard
that had fallen on them and then been crushed into their faces by the girls getting napkins
and condiments as they stepped around on them.
As Peter took it all in, Paula leaned down and said, “I promised the girls some food.
You wait here.” She started to turn, when Peter pleaded, “But you’ll have to…walk over
them.”
Paula turned back to Peter. “This is what I tried to tell you. Sometimes there’s no other
way. Yes, I’m going to walk on them. Be thankful it’s not you I’m walking on. These
men don’t have a chance, you still do.”
“Do you let them go…after the concert?” asked Peter.
“Peter, it’s going to pour tonight,” she replied, waiting to see if he understood. “When it
begins raining every woman that possibly can will come from all over the lawn and cram
into this tent to stay dry. They’ll be packed in like sardines. And they’ll stay here until
the rain stops. None of the men will survive that. It’s just the way it is.”
Paula turned and stepped squarely between the shoulders of a teenager in her path. Peter
was taken aback by how deeply the heel of her boot sunk into him, as his body was
crushed beneath her weight and his head flew up and he made a pathetic hissing sound as
her weight went over him. Her next step landed directly on the side of his head, which
she smashed unceremoniously into the ground as she twisted her boot slightly, damaging
his ear. Peter watched her walk over other men in the floor, their bodies yielding
instantly to the crush of her hard soled boots. He saw a few men look up at her in fear as
they saw her boots coming toward them, her towering above them. Then they would feel
her heavy step and their ribs would bend beneath her as she carried her weight over them,
not trying to be kind; he guessed there were just too many of them.
Paula got to the front of the burger line and stood on a man’s bladder as she decided on
her order. The man valiantly tried to absorb the pressure, sweating and whipping his
head from side to side. But then, as she leaned forward to place her order, she stepped
hard on the man’s groin with her heel and sunk halfway to the floor, her heel
disappearing completely as it depressed his groin as his soft flesh gave way to her boot.
The man clawed at the net with his hands but Paula never looked down. From the man’s
point of view, Paula probably seemed as tall as a building as she stood on him, her weight
fully on the boot on his groin.
Paula waited a few minutes as her order was made. She deeply gouged the man beneath
her with her hard high heel, and once kicked him accidentally with the pointed toe of her
boot, right in the jaw. The man’s head crashed into the floor and he kept trying to get his
hands to his face to protect it, but the net was too tight over him. She got her order, and
turned and began walking back toward Peter, stepping hard on hands, wrists, chests and
faces as she left her heavy boot prints.
Halfway back, some French fries slipped from a small hole in the bag she was carrying
and fell on a younger man’s face in the floor. He was off to the side of the aisle and
hadn’t been damaged too much. It seemed he was trying to open his mouth to eat the
fries when he saw two high school girls behind Paula, walking in his general direction.
Both were well over six and a half feet tall, wearing jeans and halter-tops, smooth tan
bellies above the low beltlines of their “hip-hugger” jeans. And each had on everyday
leather flat sandals, with low block heels and brown leather straps over their pink toes.
A flash of recognition crossed the younger man’s face and he was suddenly as ecstatic as
a prisoner in solitary who sees a friend, as he recognized the two girls. He lifted his head
up and down and made a guttural sound in his throat, trying desperately to get them to
notice him. He shook his head from side to side, jerking to get their attention, clawing at
the net that held him down. When the taller of the girls, this one almost 6’7” and
breathtakingly beautiful, pointed to him and they changed direction toward him, he
reacted like a rescue plane had spotted the lost hiker. He was literally beaming, so
grateful was he to see someone he knew in this fearful place…to have someone just
acknowledge him.
The girls didn’t seem to know who he was as it was difficult to make out his features
below the net at their distance. As they walked steadily toward him, the girl on the left
finally recognized him. She looked down on him as he beamed up at her, grateful just to
be noticed, and, without a touch of interest or change of expression, and without breaking
stride, she said, “Oh, Hi, Robbie,” as she stepped squarely onto his stomach, instantly
forcing the air out of him in a massive “OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!” and sinking
halfway into him, almost to the floor, as his body gave under her sandals. She stopped
there, her brutal weight on his little belly, her feet covering his whole chest. The young
man’s eyes were bugging out of his head, Peter noticed, starting to water, and his mouth
was just hanging open in a kind of surprised expression of pain and disbelief, his head
tilted back in pain. It was the last thing he expected the girl to do. He seemed to be
asking, “But…why?!” The tall teen continued to stand on him, while she ate an ice cream
cone and stared at him uncaring.
It was obvious the young man couldn’t speak as the girl’s friend stepped onto Robbie’s
legs and groin, sinking into them like they were inflatable. His head shot back farther as
his legs cried out under the pressure! He couldn’t even breathe! And the pain in his body
seemed to Peter as bad as the pain in his eyes! The two girls calmly stood on him and
talked to him as if it were just another conversation. “What do you want, Robbie?” asked
the first girl with complete disinterest, as she stood on his stomach, flexing on her toes,
pressing them deep into him. Robbie’s face turned upward, contorted and pleading, as
she concentrated her weight on her toes. It was obvious he couldn’t breathe, and he was
beginning to turn blue!
“PPPPPLLLLLLEEEEEAAAAASSSSSSEEEE!” he whispered hoarsely.
“Please, what?” asked the tall girl, raising her eyebrows. Her ice cream cone dripped goo
on Robbie’s face. “Oh, am I heavy? Yeah, I guess I would be to a little guy like you!
You’ll be okay, sport! You’ve got three or four more shades of purple to go before
you’re REALLY in trouble!” she laughed.
The other girl looked down at Robbie’s discolored face and asked with disgust, “Geez,
Kathy, how do you know him?!”
“Oh, he was my kid sister’s friend; used to play with toys with her over at our house
when I was just starting to date. BEFORE. They also made him a cleat cleaner at the
high school. AFTER.” She tossed her long blond hair to the side as she looked down at
the struggling kid.
“A ‘cleat-cleaner’?” the other girl asked.
“You know. The soccer girls would finish practice and they’d line up to stand on his
face in their cleats while he chewed the dirt from between them in the locker room,”
replied the first girl. “That’s why his teeth are all chipped and he’s got all those pock
marks on his face. My little sis Amanda was on the team.”
“Oh, yeah,” replied the second girl. “Hey, Kathy! You’ve got dried mud caked all over
your feet from when you were barefoot, and I’ve got this gum that’s been stuck to my
sole! What are the odds we’d find a honest to god professional cleat-cleaner here?!”
“Omigod! You’re so right!” the tall girl answered. “Robbie, sweetie, could you help us
out?” Kathy asked with a pout. “Be a dear, would you?” She slipped her foot out of her
sandal and placed it on Robbie’s face, rubbing it very hard, with most of her weight, over
his contorted features. “Tongue, Robbie!” she said. Robbie’s tongue dutifully came out
of his mouth and began to lick the cold clammy, filthy sole of the girl’s foot, wriggling
up between her toes and getting the dirt there. His face was almost purple now and flecks
of saliva were drooling from the corners of his mouth as he endured all her weight on her
foot on his stomach. Finally, the girl placed her foot on Robbie’s face, then stepped fully
on his head, causing it to sink into the mud, as she slipped out of the other sandal on his
stomach. Now stepping on Robbie’s face roughly with both of her huge clammy bare
feet, she began to walk in place on his face, padding heavily, then twisting back and
forth, mashing her polished toes into his contorted features and grinding them hard back
and forth, letting them scrape down the sides of his face from his nose with her weight on
them. “Even with his tongue, I can’t scrape all the dried mud off my feet!” the tall
teenager pouted. She began to grind them even harder, trying to get the mud off.
Robbie’s face was deforming under her giant feet with every twist she made back and
forth. She dwarfed his head with her huge size 14’s. “Hold your head still, Robbie!
Can’t you help me a little?! I’ve got MUD ON MY FOOT! And this can’t be as bad as
cleats!” she barked down at him.
Robbie’s hands were clawing frantically at the net, expressing the pain he was in. The
other girl noticed and stepped on his left hand with her hard-soled sandal. Robbie’s
fingers, clawing at the net, were doubled up into his palm under her shoe as she stepped
down hard, and, even at this distance, Peter thought he heard all of them break at the
knuckles, as she crushed them into themselves. Robbie’s body began twisting violently
where it wasn’t pinned to the ground – at his head and his hand. “Why do they DO
THAT?” asked the second girl.
“They’re just being theatrical…trying to get attention. She paused to look at her feet,
lifting them one at a time from Robbie’s face. Well, that’s most of it, anyway,” remarked
Kathy. “Do you want him to get the gum?”
“He can try, but it’s really stuck on there! I’ve been walking on it for days,” the other
girl replied. Kathy twisted harshly on Robbie’s face, then stepped down on his stomach
again, while the other girl began grinding and scraping her hard rough sole over his face,
still standing on his hand with her other foot. She was trying to use Robbie’s eye socket
and eyebrow to scrape the hardened gum off her shoe, as she bore down on it with her
full weight now and ripped her sole across his face, trying to pull the gum away. “Try his
teeth,”, said Kathy. The other girl placed the sole of her shoe over Robbie’s mouth and
hooked the gum on his lower teeth. She pulled her shoe toward her hard, trying to scrape
the gum free, pulling Robbie’s mouth open until Peter was sure his jaw would break from
being pulled open too far. Robbie reminded Peter of a dental patient in pain, who can’t
close his mouth to tell anyone. Not that his pleading would make a difference, but his
mouth was being pulled open impossibly wide! Still, the gum held on. “No, I’m hearing
his jaw crack and the gum’s still stuck,” said the frustrated girl.
You need to soften the gum first,” said Kathy, watching her friend’s foot, the gum
hooked under Robbie’s teeth.
“Tongue, Robbie!” the other girl called, lifting her foot momentarily. This time, when
Robbie tentatively stuck his tongue out to lick her sole, she stepped down on it hard,
trapping it under her foot and against his lower lip and chin. The gum blob was directly
on top of his tongue. Robbie’s whole body jerked with the pain of his tongue being
smashed, as he began to taste the rotted chewing gum on her shoe. She stood in place,
bearing down fully on Robbie’s squashed tongue, and allowing its moisture to squish out
of it like a sponge and begin to soften the gum. “Give me some more saliva,” she said,
not to Robbie (for he couldn’t just make more saliva) but, to Kathy. Kathy once again
stood on her tiptoes on Robbie’s stomach, and then began kneading them, grabbing
toefuls of his flesh and squeezing and pinching it as she shifted her weight, which made
him gasp. The strength of her toes to pull his skin apart was unbearable! Robbie’s eyes
welled up even more – and, as she expected – more saliva flowed through his tongue to
soften the gum.
After about a minute, the gum had softened enough that Robbie began to painfully chew
it away from the girl’s foot with his front teeth. Peter could tell he could barely move his
jaw now. He got most of the gum in his mouth, the rest pulling away in long gummy
black strands from the girl’s shoe, as she scraped the remainder all over Robbie’s face,
laughing at the way he now looked; his nose mashed flat, his eyes blackened, his cheeks
red and rug burned, and marks from the brutal corners of the girl’s low heel all over his
face. All of the damage was covered in strands of sticky black gum, as Robbie tried to
continue to chew the gum from the girl’s shoe in his mouth.
“Good seeing ya, Robbie, and thanks for the cleaning! I’ll tell Amanda you said hi!” said
the girl on Robbie’s stomach. Then, Peter watched as if in slow motion, she lifted her
huge sandaled foot from his body, swung her long leg forward and brought it down on
Robbie’s upturned face, mashing Robbie’s nose flat as her massive foot spread out in her
flat sandal beneath the powerful crush of her body. She walked over Robbie’s face
without any care, mashing the French fries into it, as her foot splayed out wide in her
sandal, her pink toenails pressing her toes white, bringing her full weight onto him,
utterly crushing his nose beneath her sole. Peter saw the bare heel widen in her shoe as
she brought her weight to bear on it, and Robbie’s face pressed beneath it, his hands
flying against the net, trying in vain to defend himself. Then, as she walked over him,
she raised her heel and twisted her sole a little as she continued over him, ripping his
smashed nose to the side and further smashing the fries to pulp on his face. The other
girl, following exactly in her friend’s footsteps, finishing what was left of Robbie’s nose,
said to her, “He really went to school with us at one time?” “Pretty fucked up, huh,” the
first girl replied. “Anyway, forget him -- he’s nothing.” They continued out of the tent
as Robbie groaned in agony, his body broken beneath the two girls crush.
Peter’s eyes went back to Paula, who was walking toward him now. He thought he was
going to have a nervous breakdown after what he was witnessing. When Paula stepped
on the face of one of the men nearest the door, there was no resistance at all. With a loud
crack, her boot collapsed his face utterly beneath her, leaving a clear boot print and a very
well defined heel print right across what used to be his nose and left eye. Road kill.
They would have to scrape him off the ground, thought Peter. Paula reached Peter, and
he cupped his hands without being asked, trying to maintain control. Paula stepped into
them and Peter noticed the soft, wet matter on her soles and heels that betrayed the horror
of the crush beneath her boots that the men had been forced to endure as she walked on
them. Pieces of the men she’d stepped on. She swung her leg over Peter’s neck and
dropped her ass onto his shoulders, making him quake with her impact. Then she kicked
him and clamped her thighs around his head and he began carrying her, looking down at
her boots and imagining what it was like – the world beneath her boots -- his mind
reeling.

[DeathXI]

Peter found he couldn’t take his eyes of her boots. They still had detritus hanging from
them…and stains on the bottoms, splashes on the sides. She noticed him looking down at
them. “Look straight ahead, Peter,” she said. “Don’t think about it.”
But, Peter couldn’t contain it any longer. His mind had been screaming in terror all
night, and he couldn’t stop the horror from streaming from his lips. He couldn’t even
process this nightmare that had seemed to afflict his world overnight. He remembered
the movie, “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” and felt he was suddenly in a world of
monsters that didn’t somehow realize what they had become. He began sobbing, and
crying out and hyperventilating. “But…but…those poor men…what you did to them!
What you did to them with your boots! What they must have felt! You…you just….
walked on them! You don’t know….you can’t imagine what it’s like to be walked on!
How much it hurts to have your body broken under a woman’s boots! The women all
were just…just -- no one even LOOKED AT THEM!”
He was becoming upset, talking louder, and some of the women were beginning to
notice. Paula knew she would have to put a stop to this right now, before they took
matters into their own hands. And she didn’t like that he didn’t seem to be listening to
her – that he was – DISOBEYING her! “Yes, Peter,” she hissed, “I walked on them. I
had to walk on the floor to get food, and they were the floor. And I can’t help what my
boots do to a man beneath me, and I know it’s cruel and I don’t necessarily enjoy it! I
feel their bodies squish beneath me, I feel their little ribs break, I feel them groan as I sink
into their organs and mash their noses into their faces. I feel it all! But sometimes, it’s
necessary. And like I said, ‘Be glad it’s not you and take solace in the fact that they’ll all
be put out of their misery when it starts raining.”
“Those girls smashed food into that guy’s face,” moaned Peter. “They walked on his
face!”
Paula was becoming upset. Men didn’t ACT LIKE THIS anymore. Men didn’t
DISOBEY! Men were not PERMITTED to DISOBEY! She couldn’t remember when
she’d even had to deal with a man who’d truly disobeyed her! This was entirely new for
her! “Peter stop right here and close your eyes and calm down,” ordered Paula, breathing
harder. “Stop looking at my boots! You cannot continue talking like this! I know this is
difficult, but if you don’t control yourself, I won’t be able to stop what happens!” She
noticed now she was breathing hard and her hands were clenching and unclenching over
and over again, which was curious. They didn’t usually do that and she didn’t really
understand it. But, it was irritating when she was trying to help him that he wasn’t
listening!
“They were so big. They were giants! Their feet were bigger than his whole head!”
“Close your eyes, Peter,” she said icily. She needed to bring him back to earth right now.
She needed to calm him down (and herself too). “Peter, I said close your eyes!” Peter
continued sobbing. “Peter…don’t…DISOBEY ME…”
Peter didn’t move, and continued to sob…..
And MDR423 awoke.
The combination of thoughts, emotions and frustration affiliated with being flagrantly
DISOBEYED, was slightly different than any other neuro-emotional cascade in a
woman’s mind. And the Master Disobey Receptor (MDR423) -- lying dormant since the
Treatment in a deep corner of Paula’s brain – sensed the emotional cascade for only the
second time since it was implanted. MDR423 was fifty times as powerful as any other of
the new emotional “helper-genes.” Where most of the new receptors would
“compromise” and “negotiate” with the emotional triggers to, say, allow the woman her
own latitude for how harshly she treated a valuable male -- letting the woman control her
urges if she chose – the receptor for being DISOBEYED was different. MDR423 had
been deliberately designed to overwhelm any mitigating response. MDR423 was a
genetic ‘killing machine.’ It would not be “reasoned with.”
The Master Disobey Receptor waited only a microsecond to make sure the emotional
cascade was continuing. Then, certain of its stimulus, it triggered. A tiny, unbelievably
powerful electrical pulse shot across a synapse in Paula’s brain, issuing its command
almost instantly throughout her entire psychomotor system, and instantly assembling an
army of neurons throughout her brain, to do its bidding.
Paula didn’t understand the way she suddenly felt. One minute she was just a little angry,
and now she suddenly felt at any moment she might….She shook her head slightly to
clear it in an almost-shudder. An…URGE…of some kind…was suddenly rocketing up
inside her…like…a drug, almost. An urge like…another time long ago – the flicker of a
memory at the edge of her mind – ‘TODD! -- GET! -- UP!’ – then the memory was gone.
Almost as a disinterested observer, she watched her hand reach casually over Peter’s head
and place its inch-long fingernails just in front of his eyes. She watched him jerk
backward as he suddenly locked on the tips of her sharp nails only millimeters from his
eyes, and he tried to turn his head, but Paula’s nails were too close. Her lip quivered. A
feeling of power washed over her like a wave. His eyes would be so…fragile! She said
softly, maintaining control, “Peter, I’m trying to help you...I’m trying…to be your friend.
But that…doesn’t mean…you can…disobey me.” She was talking through gritted teeth,
seething, she realized.
Peter’s sobs caught instantly in his throat, the terror flooding him. He heard a sudden
change in the tone of her voice, like a switch had been thrown; a low guttural viciousness
suddenly in her speech. “I’m sorry,” Peter said, terrified of how close her nails were to
his eyes. “I…I…swear I’ll listen.” Paula took a deep breath, trying to slow her
breathing. It was hard to control the desire. It came on so suddenly! So forcefully! It
welled up inside from nowhere and then suddenly she wanted so badly to just – to just –
SCRATCH him a little. Or SQUUEEZZEEE him a little. Her lip quivered again.
Something powerful and irresistible was happening-- and he HAD given her reason --
and there was no question you had to -- DISCIPLINE -- the men sometimes. But, not
too much, screamed another, far off part of her mind, barely audible. Because there was
something – BAD -- about doing it if you weren’t careful -- even though she couldn’t
quite remember exactly what – but, one time something had happened – no, one time she
had DONE -- SOMETHING – and -- it had made her feel -- BAD -- a long time
agoBUTONTHEOTHERHAND --- PETER HAD DISOBEYED!
‘AND I DON’T
LIKE.
BEING.
DISOBEYED!’
So if she just…LET…herself, she could…she tried to resist the thought…PUNISH.
HIM…just a little.
Paula became lightheaded and rocked backward on Peter’s shoulders, her thoughts a
confusing jumble of emotion and she didn’t know why. And his groan of discomfort and
the buckling of his shoulders -- HIS POOR – WEAK – PATHETIC – LITTLE –
SHOULDERS -- was intoxicating somehow. And she thought she would give in just a
little – go ‘off diet’ as it were -- have a little…TREAT -- just for a moment. Nothing too
bad, nothing too…CRUEL -- what was happening to her?!
“I’m sorry, Peter, but you’re taking advantage,” she said in sort of a trance… “You have
to learn that disregarding a woman has…CONSEQUENCES.” And, slowly, she began to
squeeze his head like a Boa Constrictor between her thighs, deliciously crushing it and
making his eyes bug out of his head in sudden surprise. And then, squeezing his head
powerfully, she began to PRESSSSSS her sharp nails into his eyes, watching what she
was doing to him intently. When she felt them cut into his eyes, it was like that first taste
of a Hot Fudge Sundae! Mmmm! His eyes were so perfectly soft…so
perfectly…delicate! And Paula was CUTTING INTO THEM LIKE BUTTER! She ran
her tongue over her lips, and unconsciously rocked upward, rubbing her crotch against
the back of Peter’s neck. Mmmm…..
Peter yelped and screwed his eyes shut as the pain shot through him like 10,000 volts of
electricity and he reared his head back against Paula’s crotch but there was no where to
go. Paula clamped her thighs even more tightly around his head, immobilizing him as
she slowly pressed her fingernails into his eyes and felt his eyelids curl upward as her
nails cut them. Slowly…yes…very, very…slowly…
Peter saw stars as Paula dug her fingernails in even deeper now, pressing them ever
farther into his head. Then she pressed open his eyelids slightly with her nails and he saw
a blur of her red nail color as the sharp pain mixed with the fear of truly losing his sight.
What was happening?! Why was she doing this to him?! Oh, God! Please! It hurt so
much! And he was so helpless!
Paula felt Peter’s eyeballs yield and push far back into his eye sockets, as her nails drove
them into his face. ‘It must hurt quite badly,’ she thought, and smiled. Her heart was
beating rapidly in her chest and her breathing was thick and husky.
Peter let out a long continuous scream of fear and pain as his eyes began watering freely
and his lids were paralyzed by Paula’s sharp nails and couldn’t even flicker to defend
themselves. He couldn’t get his arms up as Paula’s thighs held them down. Peter was
certain she would take his sight as the nails dug so deeply into his sockets, he felt his eyes
squeezing in on themselves. Paula decided she would go a little deeper into his eyes –
she would experiment…take a little chance…with his vision -- she NEEDED THIS! So
she drove her fingernails upward now, against the top of his sockets and pressed in and
down, threatening to scoop out his eyes. She couldn’t even see her inch long fingernails
anymore, they had disappeared into Peter’s eyes completely, pressing and cutting the
eyeball as she dug them in. Now, the blur turned to blackness for Peter and he actually
felt Paula’s nails behind his eyes! He began begging -- stuttering and pleading for his
sight, promising to be good, promising anything! Paula…LOVED….THIS! She began
working her nails back and forth in Peter’s eyes! She felt like a shark when it’s own eyes
roll back into its head as it bites its prey. It…was…EXCUISITE!
“Oh god! Oh god! It hurts! Paula please! Please don’t! No more! I’ll do anything!
You’re killing me! Please! PPPPPLLLLLEEEEEAAAASSSSSEEEEE!!!”
“AAAARRGGHHHH!!!” Peter was beside himself with pain, squealing the high-pitched
scream of a little girl! And that was when Paula understood why her friends did what
they did to them…how delicious it was! That was when Paula knew…she wouldn’t be
able to stop…..
And then, completely uninvited, a memory exploded into Paula’s mind like a sunburst
from nowhere! As if it had always been there, but it had never been there at all! A
moment in time she hadn’t been able to remember until it was suddenly and accidentally
triggered by the similarities to this moment and whatever genetic ‘thing’ was going on
inside her! A memory she wasn’t supposed to remember! Paula suddenly was startled to
hear Peter’s pleading voice turn into…turn into…Todd’s voice…in her mind – instantly –
shockingly -- right in front of her in every detail! As if it was yesterday! Every nuance of
the long ago moment was instantly available – Todd’s voice…begging…pleading,
“Please, Paula….I love you! I love you! Don’t do this! I’ll do -- anything!” Todd…her
boyfriend…no, more than her boyfriend! The love of her life…the young man she knew
she would someday marry…weakly holding her on his bony little shoulders, like Peter
was now. Only Todd was neck deep in the ocean, coughing and spitting as the cold
waves washed over his face, choking him…while she sat regally on him in her starspangled
red, white and blue bikini and laughed cruelly down at him! Six feet four and
counting, her athletic bare legs wrapped serenely around his neck, pressing brutally into
his collarbones, and her long, long legs and bare feet hanging all the way to his knees
under the water it seemed…she couldn’t even see his head over her new naturally huge
breasts…her brand new tall, tall body high and dry and out of the ice cold heavy surf, as
she felt him struggle to keep his balance beneath her, almost collapsing with the
onslaught of each pounding wave and shivering uncontrollably in the fifty degree water.
Little Todd, struggling to breathe, as she enjoyed his fear and pain and his
choking…mesmerized by it, really…just after the Treatment, three years ago. Her first
day out of the Treatment clinic, in fact! Then, as she held Peter’s eye sockets tightly with
her fingernails, fully holding herself on his shoulders by digging them into his eyes, the
memory of that whole day completed itself. And Paula went back to live it again in her
mind.
She’d called Todd excitedly to tell him she was done with her three weeks at the Clinic
and that the Treatment had been everything they’d said it would be! And it didn’t make
women cruel as were the rumors – only more powerful…and fantastically more beautiful
and athletic-looking! She’d told Todd she had to see him right away now that she was
out! She missed him so much! And she wanted to show him her incredible new body in
her new bikini at the beach! And she wanted to shower him with kisses and lay in his
arms for the next month!
Yes, the nurse had told her not to be around any men for two more weeks because she
wouldn’t be able to ‘selectively manage’ the ‘urges’ until the emotional triggers were
completely interwoven into her mind and the hormones settled down. But, what the hell
did that mean?! She couldn’t wait! And what ‘urges,’ anyway?! If she had any “urges”
she and Todd would “manage them” together! Hopefully on the beach in the moonlight!
And, if she tired him out with her new-found athleticism, well that was just his tough
luck! He could sleep later! She’d called Todd, and Todd had dropped everything and
come running because he loved her! They hadn’t seen each other for three weeks and
two star-crossed lovers like them could never tolerate that!
And then, when she first met him at the beach, laughing crazy and making googol eyes at
him as she hugged him so tight because she had missed him so much – noticing how
much taller and more muscular she was than he now (an American Gladiator with a
midget, she thought) -- quite without knowing why -- she’d suddenly had the
indescribable desire…NEED, really…to hug him tighter – to…squeeze him…just to
see…just to SEE…she remembered. And so, she’d squeezed him a little, then she’d
squeezed him harder, compressing him in her strong arms and…his happy cries and
playful kisses had suddenly turned to surprised, tentative, “Okay…okay!’s,” and then to
doubtful exclamations, as she increased the pressure. And then, as she squeezed him
even harder and without saying a word to him (because that would distract her and she
just really wanted to try this) she’d felt him say, in a strained whisper,
“Paula…umm…Paula, please…”, with this kind of…fear! Was it really this easy to
squeeze his fragile body now?! And when had she ever thought of Todd as having a
‘fragile body?’
And then his breath had stopped completely and his mouth fell open in a kind of long
airless grunt through clenched teeth as she squeezed – squueeezzzzeeeddd -- his frail
little body! And then, after a moment, the most surprising thing happened! His ribs
cracked! And she knew she should have been horrified she had just cracked her
boyfriend’s ribs, but…she just…wasn’t! In fact, the urge to hurt him had come over her
so powerfully and unexpectedly it was impossible to resist. And, so, instead she’d
decided he had PLENTY MORE RIBS and THESE WOULD HEAL and she WASN’T
GOING TO LISTEN TO HIS WHINING!
She’d happily forced a broken-ribbed Todd carry her for hours on his shoulders up and
down the beach, then into the frigid ocean until he almost choked to death, so her
girlfriends could see the power the Treatment had given her. She was curiously apathetic
to his pain. She still missed him and she was so glad to be with him. But, why hadn’t
they played these fun games before?! Then, to her surprise, Todd had finally collapsed!
And that was UNSATISFACTORY, she thought – and, then, he’d DISOBEYED HER –
like Peter was doing -- when she told him to get back up! ‘TODD! GET! UP!’ And her
girlfriends had LAUGHED AT HER! Because her boyfriend was WEAK! And because
he was DISOBEYING and they weren’t ALLOWED to DISOBEY! Todd
EMBARRASSED her in front of her friends!
And, suddenly an anger…a cruelty she’d never felt came…and then, a few minutes later
(and it seemed totally reasonable at the time)…Todd, was finally…BURIED…in the soft
sand on the beach near the water, only his head visible, and she was slowly stepping on
his small face with her huge bare foot, pressing it into the muck, experimenting with her
new found strength as the tide came in, washing over his eyes. And she didn’t care at all.
She, holding him there with her foot. His pleading eyes…as he didn’t understand
WHY…and the incredible feeling of her new power, ‘Because I CAN!’ His tongue
trying feverishly, even then, to lick her filthy foot, as it jutted up and wiggled through the
swirling ripples of water, like a little pink worm. She had grabbed it between her toes,
laughing, and pinched it and pulled on it hard! And then she felt the feeling of his head
sinking into the sand, as she sadistically shifted HER FULL WEIGHT – fifty more
pounds than before -- onto his helpless face…mashing it deep into the muck, as the cold
water washed around her ankles, erasing Todd forever…
Paula shot back to the present! ‘Oh my God! Oh my GOD!! How could she not have
remembered that?! What had she done to him?! How had she forgotten what she’d
done!’ He wasn’t just a boyfriend! They’d been in love! He was everything to her! It
was like a trance! Then, the rest of it came back – ALL OF IT! The gene therapy wasn’t
only about strength and health…it was about…. cruelty! They’d made them all want to
hurt men -- on a biological level! They’d removed the moral restraint and changed it to a
moral imperative! They’d implanted an almost irresistible NEED to…to…and without
any moral restriction! That’s what she’d realized that day, after she’d come down from
the power high -- after MDR423 had receded! Giving pain – enslaving men – was made
as normal as brushing your teeth by the gene implant! You realized cutting someone off
in traffic was wrong, but using a man as a doormat seemed the most normal thing in the
world! And when he screamed, or begged, a woman simply couldn’t understand why!
Did you worry about how a horse felt when you rode it? Of course not! Did you think
about how it hurt the cow when a cowgirl branded it? The feelings of a fish with a hook
through its lip? A lobster as it was dropped in boiling water?! Of course not! It was
completely inconsequential! And that’s how the Treatment had made them feel about the
men!
Her thoughts were now flying, cascading around her! Her big toe pressing Todd’s eyes
into his sockets – one after the other -- as he screamed…as she mashed his face into the
muck for the last time beneath her full weight – standing on the spot and enjoying the
sunset! She’d sped back to the clinic sobbing in horror when she’d come down from the
power high and realized what she’d done to the person she loved!
The clinic counselor had tried to calm her down. The woman calmly reminded her it
wasn’t illegal anymore to “break them” – it was just destruction of property, and given he
was really HER PROPERTY, she didn’t have to be so upset. The woman told Paula if
she’d waited the two weeks for full recovery before interacting with them, her attitude
toward men wouldn’t have been so “hormonal” – she wouldn’t have needed to HURT so
much. Now, being disturbed by breaking her boyfriend, they were concerned she might
have an emotional conflict in the future, with exacting pleasure from a man’s pain -- that
some receptors might clash with each other. Some women given the Treatment early on
had had some ‘conscience,’ before they’d perfected the therapy, they said. What to do?
What to do? And Paula realized, the clinicians had had the Treatment too, and didn’t see
what had happened to the world – what they’d created – anymore than she had! How did
it all start?! she wondered.
In the end, they’d given her a memory correction! Under the guise of giving her
something to calm her down, they’d made her mind malleable; and then they’d repressed
what she did to Todd from her memory! They’d…they’d TOLD HER she would forget,
and it was better that way -- even though she didn’t want to! Then they’d told her if she
ever was reminded, if the memory ever came back, another receptor gene would instantly
reactivate to make her forget again! Then, they’d implanted a memory that Todd had
been called away for the Male Treatment and that he was just a temporary boyfriend
anyway! It was all flooding back to her! These poor helpless men…what we’ve done to
them! What we do to them every day! It’s slavery! It’s torture! WE’VE MADE THEM
INTO FLOORS AND WE’RE WALKING ON THEM!!! How could we not realize it?!
How could we not care?! It would be…horrible for them!
Paula burst in tears, sobbing suddenly in her self-awareness! Women turned to look at
her, curiously. And she looked back at them with terror at what they were! What SHE
WAS! Ever so slowly, she withdrew her nails from Peter’s eyes. She felt like a monster!
She had cut Peter’s helpless little eyes with her nails and had some of his skin beneath
them, and he might have lost his vision forever if she hadn’t stopped – if she hadn’t
remembered! Her heartbeat was returning almost to normal and the almost sexual fever
she’d felt was gone as suddenly as it had appeared – washed away by the clarity of
memory -- the genetic need to cause male pain was gone…and tears were streaming
down her cheeks! And, for the first time, she was seeing the world as the men did…. she
was seeing it with total clarity! She couldn’t believe she was sitting on a poor man’s
shoulders with her weight! Using him as a Beast of Burden! “Oh, Peter! Oh Peter, I’m
so sorry!” she cried. “I can’t believe what we’ve done to all of you! Please, please
forgive us! There’s something in the Treatment! It wasn’t me! There’ll be no more pain,
no more torture! I can’t believe what we’ve become! I’ll take you home! I’ll take you
back to your wife! I’ll stop this sickness and get the Treatment changed…everywhere
around the world, no matter what it takes! I will! I promise! I’ll make people listen!”
Paula continued to cry.
Peter was stunned, at first. Then, as the enormity of what she was saying overtook him,
he began crying too. The nightmare was over! He was no longer alone in his terror!
Someone else saw what had happened to the world! Paula saw it! He didn’t know how
or why, but he thanked god Paula had snapped out of it! Maybe she could change things
back! She could save him…ALL of them! And, even if she alone couldn’t, at least she
would take him home to Kelly, where she would love him as she always had!
Paula’s mind, in turn, was racing! She had to change things! The whole world was mad!
She had to apologize to Peter! She had to beg him to forgive her…ALL of them! She
had to get him home to his wife! She had to convince everyone of….of…? To make
them see! Well, to…to make them see that…what? What did she have to make them
see?! This was too weird! She sniveled back a tear. She’d been thinking of…Todd…but
she’d suddenly lost her train of thought. And he’d…gone away for the Treatment.
And…he’d never…come back…so…that meant….she -- kind of missed him. And she
hoped he was okay, but…what HAD she been THINKING about?! She reached up and
wiped her face. It was moist…like she’d been…crying! But, she hadn’t been
crying…had she? When did she ever cry? What did she have to cry ABOUT?! A girl
looked over at her and asked if she were alright. “Of course, I’m all right,” Paula replied.
“What do you mean?” The girl shrugged.
Peter whimpered beneath her in relief. He didn’t think he could take her weight much
longer, but now she’d want to get down from him and not hurt him anymore, so he would
hold on another moment.
Paula looked down at him – at the damage to his eyes. It wasn’t like her to be so cruel!
But, he’d disobeyed her. And you couldn’t just IGNORE that. She sat up straight, trying
to think. “Don’t worry, Peter,” she said. “It was just discipline. I’m sorry I had to do it,
but you need to be disciplined sometimes. I’m still your friend. Just don’t disobey
anymore. And carry me back to the other girls now.”
“Wha – what?” asked Peter meekly. He wasn’t sure what he’d just heard. “You’re going
to keep riding me? After what you just said?”
“After what I just said? What did I just say?” asked Paula.
“You said, you were sorry for hurting us…that you would take me home…that you
would make the women realize what they were doing to the men…how hurting us was
wrong!” cried Peter.
“What? What are you talking about?! I never said anything of the kind! Peter, just
because I feel a little sorry for you because you remind me of an old boyfriend, doesn’t
mean I don’t think we have separate roles to play. The men’s role is to serve us, and the
women’s role is to keep the men fed, give you a place to sleep and ensure you are
properly disciplined to make sure you can serve us efficiently – rather like a good horse!
It’s obvious! You’re not smart enough, strong enough or disciplined enough to be given
any choice! It’s the only way the world will work! I’m sorry about the pain, but pain is a
powerful teacher; and you men have a lot to learn! I don’t get the rush out of causing it
my friends do, and I know I’ve got too much sympathy for you, but that doesn’t mean
there’s not a place for pain and discipline. Without it the world would collapse into
chaos! I feel sorry for you, Peter, but geez! There’s nothing wrong with the WORLD!”
Paula knew she was confused.
Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Look, as far as getting you home…I can’t do that…I can give you an opportunity to
escape because I do feel a certain affinity for you, but you’re on your own there. Don’t
worry, I’ll help you if I can, but, the truth is, you may still end up at one of Carolyn’s
parties before it’s all over.”
Peter could not speak. The words just wouldn’t come. He just stood there, bearing
Paula’s weight on his shoulders in stunned silence. Then he started to shiver as the
enormity of what had just happened washed over him. The world would never change.
And someday, he would be an old man who had lived a life of pain and slavery and
torture. And no one would save him.
‘Too weird!’ Paula thought. ‘Peter had such an attitude!’ Peter was shivering all over,
she noticed, even as he still carried her weight. What HAD she been thinking?! She
noticed he didn’t stop shivering. She knew he still wasn’t sure if she’d really been about
to take his sight – to tear his eyes from his head with her razor sharp nails. Something
just made her not really enjoy hurting as much as most women. She could take it or leave
it, and there was a vague feeling that something about hurting was bad, but she couldn’t
for the life of her, think what it was!
“Paula…Paula…,” Peter was trying to say.
“No more talking, Peter. You only speak when spoken to. I feel a little sorry for you,
and I’ll still help you where I can, but you need to be quiet for a while. I’m a little –
confused tonight.” She tossed her thick mane around her shoulders, kicked him once
more with her boot heels – extra hard just for the hell of it -- and told him to take her
back to the other girls. And Peter, struggling beneath her, desperate and aching, and his
eyes bleeding and watering, began to walk back toward the lawn, trying to see the way
with his horribly blurred vision. By the time he got her there, Paula was her old self. It
was like the episode never happened. And Peter, for his part, had willed himself to no
longer look at the human detritus hanging from her high-heeled cowgirl boots.
The other girls were waiting, as Paula returned on Peter’s shoulders and handed them
their food. Carolyn noticed Peter’s eyes were bleeding and seemed pleased Paula had
played with him a little. ‘But, you could play with them a lot more!’ she thought. She
absent-mindedly looked at her own inch-long fingernails, which she sharpened daily, and
which still had some flesh from a date she’d had the other night, underneath them. She
would have to wash better.
Paula tipped forward and Peter bent to a ninety-degree angle, lowering Paula as best he
could to the ground, her boot heels sinking into the soft earth. Paula continued to stand
over Peter’s bent head, trapping it between her strong thighs, as she ate her Pizza, the
position become debilitatingly uncomfortable for Peter as he heard nothing but the blood
pumping in his ears. Carolyn walked around Peter’s rear and remarked it was too bad she
didn’t have a probe with her, she’d like to play with him.
When Paula stepped from over Peter, Carolyn walked up behind him and casually
wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him upright and holding him from moving
forward. “Do you think Paula’s nails were sharp, Peter?” she asked. “Try mine.”
Carolyn formed her other hand into a tense claw. Gripping Peter more tightly around the
neck, she started at the top center of his bare back. Pressing her wicked nails into him,
she cut his flesh an inch deep easily, then slowly raked them down his back, ripping his
flesh apart. Peter thought he would die as the white-hot knives pierced him. He
shuddered and began to scream as Carolyn clamped a hand over his mouth. “How ya
doin’, sport?” Carolyn mewed softly in his ear, biting it hard. The other girls stepped up
and each took a turn raking Peter’s back with their nails, asking him who had the sharpest
ones, like they really needed to know. But Peter just screamed into Carolyn’s hand, as
they shredded his skin. “He’ll be fun at the party next week,” remarked Carolyn. She
started down his back another time, her nails filled with his torn flesh, when Paula turned
around and, as casually as possible (and with a mouthful of pizza), said, “If you shred
him now, he won’t be able to carry us back to the car.” Carolyn considered this, her nails
still buried in his tender flesh. “Good point,” replied Carolyn, and she withdrew her
nails, smiling at the new flesh there. When Peter started to collapse from the pain, Paula
held him up by his hair, eating her pizza with her other hand.
Peter’s vision returned over the next few minutes. He had been allowed to kneel down,
but was on the aisle, so he could see a good bit around the venue. His back hurt horribly!
The crowds of women were packed thickly in everywhere. Men were among them, all as
Peter was, sitting or lying among the long legs of thousands of girls. Some of the men
had had heavy novelty clothespins with ads on them clamped to their nipples. The
clothespins were being given out by several of the promoters at the back of the arena.
Other men were down on all fours and were being sat on by three, sometimes four tall
women, as the women ate their pizza or burgers. The men’s arms were shaking from the
overwhelming weight on their spines. Peter heard a man pleading and turned to see a
large group of about twenty female bodybuilders just above the low patch of dirt behind
him. All were deeply tan, very tall and fantastically muscular, their big legs almost
bowlegged from their muscular thighs and their postures the exaggerated stance of
musclewomen, their arms floating away from their sides, expanding their large chests.
All were wearing short shorts and were barefoot, and tight T shirts that said, ‘Gold’s
Gym Muscle Club’ and emphasized their ripped physiques.
Two of the women were straddling the faces of two supine men, kneeling over them,
holding their weight off, as the men looked up in fear, at their tight asses hovering over
their faces, as the other women gathered around in a group to watch, some sitting on
other men on all fours. It was the man on the left who Peter had heard pleading, and who
received a vicious slap from the woman straddling him, which shut him up instantly. A
third girl with a wristwatch held out, stood between them and said, “Ready? Set? GO!”
and both women simultaneously dropped their asses hard on the men’s upturned faces,
putting their full weight down on them, and clenched their rock hard asses around the
men’s heads. The men seemed to each take a deep breath as they saw the women’s
weight dropping toward them; then, there was muffled silence, as the two women stared,
smiling at each other, daring the other to get up first. The other girls started to cheer them
on. “Twenty seconds,” the timekeeper girl called. The cheering intensified. “Thirty
seconds!” One of the men began to move his legs in a slow repetitive scraping motion
over the ground, obviously running out of air. “Forty seconds!” the timekeeper called.
Both men were now spasming, the one who had pleaded, now moving his arms, vaguely
against the big woman’s ass, rubbing it, silently begging her to get up from his face as her
muscle thighs crushed him.
“One minute!” Both men had begun to jerk their bodies violently back and forth, only
their faces completely immobile beneath the heavy crush of the women’s muscular asses.
The women looked down at the men’s bodies, whipping back and forth, then back at each
other, raising their eyebrows, daring one another to cry, “Uncle” and release her male, as
they calmly continued to sit on their faces. It was like a game of ‘chicken’, but the loser
didn’t suffer any consequences!, thought Peter -- only the man she suffocated did! And,
yet, the girls were acting like THEY were the ones holding out just a few more seconds!
The men were now frantically clawing at the women’s asses, desperate for air; desperate
for relief from the crush!
“One-thirty!” the timekeeper called. One of the men slowly went limp, his feeble hands
falling slowly to his sides and remaining still, ceasing moving all together. After a few
seconds, the other did the same. Both women continued to sit calmly on their faces.
“Two minutes!” called the timekeeper, a little doubt creeping into her voice.
Finally, the woman on the right picked herself up from her male’s face, saying, “Oh,
alright, Dammit!”. She looked at the man for a second as he lay still, then abruptly he
spasmed, pulled in a deep deep breath, and began coughing and choking and rolling
around on the ground, his eyes still glazed over. “I win!” cried the other female
bodybuilder, smiling, as she finally lifted the colossal pressure of her full weight from her
male’s face, lifting herself up to a kneeling position over him.
The man didn’t move. His face was blue and his eyes were locked clenched shut. The
woman reached down and slapped him across the face. The man didn’t respond. “Oh
Shit!” the woman said angrily, looking at the small man’s blue face. “Do you have a
Zapper with you?” The other woman began rummaging around in her purse, absently
dropping her ass onto her male’s face again, cutting off his air. Finally, she produced a
small device that looked like a miniature flashlight and handed it to the first woman, who
jammed it hard into her male’s chest, and pressed a button. A tiny whirring sound rapidly
went from low to high pitch, a little green light came on, and Peter watched the male’s
body suddenly jolt up off the ground, then collapse in a heap again. The woman waited a
moment, sighed and zapped him again. The second time, the man’s body twitched a
little, then he came back to life, coughing and choking as the first man had. The woman
straddling him looked down at him disgustedly and handed the flashlight-thing back to
her friend. “Ha! I win by forfeit!” the other girl laughed. She picked herself up off her
male’s helpless face, allowing him to breath again and stood over him, then stepped on
his stomach with her full weight as she walked over him, not even looking down. The
man grabbed his stomach and began rolling around on the ground again, clutching it,
trying to breath. The girl who stepped on him collected a dollar from her friend. “Next
time!” the friend said, kicking her male in the groin with her bare foot. “And YOU!,” she
said down to him. “I’m gonna do my three hundred pound squats while standing on you
tomorrow to teach you to perform better!” The pathetic man, still trying to breathe
normally, began to lick her heavy bare feet, which seemed to appease her a little. “Get
between my toes,” she ordered him.
The lights in the concert venue suddenly dimmed and three giant high definition plasma
screens at the top of the trellis on the stage front came to life. The crowd began to buzz.
The screens showed commercials and concert promos and the women all turned toward
it. First, a general announcement was made about no smoking, no flash photography and
to quell the noise from any screaming men. The traditional ‘No’ symbols around a
cartoon of a cigarette and a camera appeared. Then a cartoon drawing of a foot stepping
on a male mouth popped up next to them. The foot covered the nose and mouth of the
cartoon male, and its eyes were wide in funny terror, as the pressure from the large foot
silenced it. Peter heard a rise of isolated male screams suddenly, from different parts of
the arena. He turned and saw various women putting out their cigarettes their males’
tongues or bodies, as they ground them into their flesh beneath their feet. Peter was
taking it all in, when the ads began appearing on the giant plasma screens.
The first was an ad for Pepsi. Peter saw the ad was images of women riding men in a
male-horse race on the beach, as they enjoyed the soft drink, then kicking the losing men
wildly into the ocean as they laughed with the spice of life. Next scene, a volleyball
game with the men buried in the sand of the beach volleyball court, the tall women
recklessly jumping all over them as they played. Finally, the scene cut to the sunset of
the day at the beach, where twenty beautiful babes in revealing swimsuits, sat on the
heads of men they’d buried in the sand, as they enjoyed a clambake. One of the men was
standing with his arms tied behind his back, shivering, fearfully balancing a can of Pepsi
on his head, as a group of women stood around him, throwing piping hot marshmallows
at him, and waited to meet out the penalty when he finally made a mistake and the can
fell. The women were laughing heartily at the great party and drinking Pepsi all around.
“Pepsi – Now, as Before -- The Choice of a New Generation,” the ad said. Peter was
transfixed by what he was watching. Then an ad for a new pickup. But this one had arm
and leg restraints on the front grill. “Carrying your men on the roof lowers gas mileage,”
it said. “But watch following too close!” a young model laughed. Then an electronic dog
collar that tracked, then zapped men with a powerful, “but completely harmless”
electrical shock, was aired. A tall model with a zapper stood amidst ten naked men
writhing all over the ground, feebly grabbing at tight collars around their necks, as the,
apparently continuous charge, flowed through them for a minute or more. The entire
time the female model was speaking, the men were rolling around on the ground in the
background being shocked!
The next ad was for a technical college. “DVry Medical – Get your Medical Technician
degree in only two years at DVry!” it said. The film showed an assembly line medical
room of very young, competent professional women seated in front of medical exam
tables with eye shields and white lab coats on, their hair pulled back away from their
faces. In front of each, and slightly above them, in long rows, was a reclined seated
naked man tightly restrained and gagged, in a Gynecology stirrup. His legs were spread
far apart, his knees up, and his feet anchored securely and wide to the sides, in the
footbraces; and his genitalia and private regions were exposed unprotected directly in
front of the seated lab student. The intelligent female students were deftly and efficiently
using a variety of heavy polished metal medical instruments on the men’s genitalia to
forcefully clamp and probe the writhing men, in some sort of genital surgery it seemed.
The young college women were calmly and brutally working, not even a glance at the
pained expressions on the wriggling men’s faces, as the men’s backs arched helplessly
against the onslaught of the young women’s heartless hands. The students worked with
cold efficiency, oblivious to the camera, as an female instructor walked around observing
them, once adjusting a clamp on one man’s scrotum, snapping it together hard, then
stretching the man’s skin apart until it was impossibly taut with one instrument, as she
rammed a wicked-looking probe powerfully and with no hesitation, between the man’s
legs, then flipped a switch. The man’s head shot backward and he screamed through the
gag. The student smiled, then nodded appreciatively as the instructor showed her how to
perform the surgery on the man’s delicate flesh. Peter could not imagine what they were
doing to them! And none of the women in the concert venue even raised an eyebrow.
The ad continued on, showing the Dental Degree DVry offered. Tall slender female
dental assistant students sat straddling males reclined in dental chairs, their mouths
clamped open as the girls’ weight pinned their arms down, crushing their chests. The
women calmly worked with sharp instruments inside their mouths as the men bucked and
moaned. Peter couldn’t watch any more.

[DeathXI]

But, it was the last ad that made Peter’s legs weak. “Ladies, are you still wearing 20th
century footwear? Do you get tired of having to repeatedly punish your men wearing
‘old shoes’? The exertion of whipping them while you stand on them with a conventional
spike heel? Ladies, check out the new ‘Mikayla Mark IV’!” A model wearing a black
leather outfit with vicious thigh-high spike heeled boots walked onto the screen, a naked
man tied face down to the floor in front of her. She smiled cruelly at the camera. Then
the camera closed on her boot. “Designed by a woman who was stepping on men even
before the Treatment, the Mikayla Mark IV, is the most devastating heel on the market.”
The boot had three sharp nails protruding from the front of the toe for kicking a man.
Then, the camera showed a close up of the sole of the boot, covered in long sharp tacks,
just as Sandy’s boots were…but these tacks had barbs like fish hooks. “And, if these
tacks don’t improve your male’s behavior as they literally RIP out of his flesh – or make
the party rock as you dance a bloodbath to a good beat on his chest – then, have we got a
spike for you!” The camera panned to a close up of the curved black stiletto heel’s
bottom. The bottom of the metal boot heel was notched, like an upside-down castle
turret. If it were to press into your chest, Peter thought, the pain would be indescribable!
But the ad wasn’t over. “Ladies, the Mark IV, has the new ‘human touch heel.’ When
the heel senses the body heat from human flesh as it presses into it, the rotary function
activates!” Peter watched in horror as the notched metal bottom disk of the heel, began
to turn slowly in a circle, then agitate back and forth, like the spinner in a washing
machine. “Check it out,” the voiceover said, as the tall, on-screen model walked slowly
toward the prone man, her heels clicking on the white floor, as he tried desperately to pull
out of the restraints, stuttering and begging.
Ignoring him completely, the model placed the spike heel of her Mark IV boot on the
bottom of the man’s outstretched foot, on the soft underside of his second toe, and
stepped down. The man screamed wildly as his toe was crushed. But then, as the model
glanced patiently at her watch, then smiled at the camera, a soft buzzing noise began and
the man went out of his mind, writhing wildly as blood suddenly flowed from his foot
onto the pearl white floor, the model looking down at her heel with a satisfied smile,
continuing to press her weight into the man’s flesh, as it drilled into him. The beautiful
model finally stepped off his foot and walked over to his hand, again stepping on it with
the heel and gritting her teeth as she bore down on it. The man had not even recovered
from the damage to his foot, when the heel began to drill into his hand, the woman’s full
weight atop it. He begged and screamed as blood spurted from his hand, crying and
sobbing in staggering pain. Then the woman then slowly stepped onto his back and
began walking up and down on him. Both her heels began to drill continuously into his
flesh with every step and the man groaned a baleful pathetic moan as the uncaring
woman tore his flesh to shreds. As she walked, the sharp barbs would easily puncture his
flesh, and then rip out of him almost as easily, sounding like walking on a sticky floor.
Within a few seconds, the man’s back looked like a bloody dartboard.
Finally, the beautiful brunette stood in one spot between the man’s shoulder blades and
rocked back as her heels drilled continuously into his flesh, sinking deeper and deeper,
until his skin popped and they sank fully into him, penetrating him and grinding their way
to the bone. The man screamed and clawed at the floor, helpless to stop the torture, as
the beautiful woman looked down at him and smiled. Her spike heels had completely
disappeared into him now, and she stood for a moment, then slid them out of him and
stepped on his hand again, this time, crushing it under her sole, ripping it with the barbs,
as she approached the camera. His back looked like a butchered side of beef. The
camera got a good close-up of the bloody barbs and the notched bloody heel, now
clogged with flesh.
“Lesson learned,” the ad said, “or, party -- guaranteed! However you use the Mikayla
Mark IV, you’ll be happy you’ve got the best in stilettos! The Mark IV comes in boot or
open toes styles, for when you want to feel the splash of his blood on your toes!” Best of
all, it’s only $250! Now, how long would it really take your man to make you an extra
$250?!
“Buy the Mikayla Mark IV today and get a second “branding sole” absolutely free! The
branding sole is a steel sole that fits precisely over the aerator sole, and heats itself to 800
degrees, instantly; guaranteeing the fastest ‘walk-over branding’ of your males ever!” An
inset of the model, now wearing the boot with a glowing red steel sole that said, “Jill’s
Property” on the bottom now appeared, showing her stepping on the prone man and
pressing the sizzling sole into the skin of his face, as he bucked and screamed; then
removing it and showing the audience the perfect ‘brand’ still smoking in the side of the
little man’s face. “The branding sole can even be used for cauterizing a wound, when he
won’t stop bleeding before you have to leave for the party!” the commercial said. As the
commercial faded, the model, almost as an afterthought, stepped on the man’s back with
the branding sole again. This time, the man screamed, then lost consciousness, as she
walked up and down on him, his wounds sizzling as they were cauterized under the
white-hot steel of her boot.
Peter was dizzy with grief at what he’d just seen. It was everywhere. The whole world.
There was no stopping it. The crowd even seemed impressed by the ad for the new boot
and Peter heard vestiges of women saying they’d ‘have to get a pair of those!’ The other
men, mostly on the ground, had only heard the ad, not seen it, but still looked at each
other where they could, with absolute terror. One nearby, tried to scurry away, but his
mistress almost lazily stepped hard on his ankle, instantly breaking it, and continued to
stand on it, as he desperately tried to jerk away, squealing. He looked like an animal
caught in a leg trap. The woman continued to calmly stand on his broken ankle, then
went back to watching the movie screens, glancing down at the man only once. Peter
was still stunned; beginning to think what Paula said was true; that even though he
thought he knew how men were treated now, he really was seeing things tonight that he
couldn’t believe.
Paula had been watching Peter watch the ads. Watching his fear. There was something
about him – his terror at discovering how the world was now…something about
Todd…something they had in common. She sighed. ‘I guess it couldn’t hurt to help him
get back home,’ she thought. She tore a piece of memo paper from a little pad she
carried, and wrote: “This is Peter Cole. And he is my Pleasure Slave. Please don’t
damage him, lest he be unable to serve me – Paula Bowers.” She signed the note in a
flowing hand, folded it and stuck it in Peter’s pocket without showing it to him. “If you
get into trouble, show the note I’m putting in your pocket to any woman and she’ll let
you alone,” Paula told Peter. “I have no idea why I’m doing this for you.” Peter had no
idea either. The mix of feelings he had for Paula went all the way from fear and anger, to
gratitude and even…and even…to…
Suddenly, the lights in the amphitheater went out and a powerful bass drum pulse began
thumping throughout the venue. The crowd cheered wildly as the concert began. Peter
couldn’t put his finger on it at first, but then realized how the high-pitched cheers were
different than at concerts he’d been to in his past. No male voices! The cheers were all
high-pitched because only women were cheering and jumping up and down. Carolyn
yanked Peter up and hopped up on his shoulders and began to bounce in time to the beat,
crashing her ass and thighs onto him over and over, making his body wilt under the
impact. She also began slamming her hiking sandals into him at the same time and
squeezing his head brutally between her tanned bare thighs. Peter grunted with each
impact, but no one could ever hear him over the crowd. The energy of the crowd was
incredible! The sea of women – thousands of them – was dancing with the beat. Then, a
female announcer’s voice boomed, “Ladies?! This. Is. Allannis!”
Instantly, the stage lights came up as the crowd went berserk! Allannis bounded onto the
stage to the tune of her newest song, “Disobey Me Again!” All around him the crush of
women came violently alive, some slam dancing, some stomping and all jumping up and
down clapping and moving in time, as Peter tried to hold Carolyn on his shoulders. The
men at the women’s feet scrambled wildly to get out of the way of their boots and shoes;
and some failed and were unceremoniously stepped on, the women completely ignoring
them. Allannis’ voice reverberated throughout the lawn, “IS THE PAIN A STRONG
TEACHER?! YOU SAD LITTLE CREATURE! I DARE YOU…I DARE
YOU…DISOBEY ME AGAIN!” The sea of women loved it! They were singing along,
dancing and crashing into one another, jumping up and down; and when the song ended,
Allannis owned the crowd!
“Thank you, thank you! It’s great to be back in Riversiiiiiddddeee, Califooornnniaaa!,”
cried Allannis. The crowd roared. “I NEED!” she said. “I NEEEED! I
NEED…A….VOLUNTEEEERRRR!!!!” The crowd went wild again as if they had been
expecting this trademark part of the show. Instantly, a hundred pink beach balls erupted
from within the crowd and the women began tossing them over their heads to each other
all over the lawn, cheering wildly. Except…except…they weren’t pink beach
balls…they were small men! Men dressed in pink underwear, Peter saw. They were
screaming in terror and the women loved it, as they threw them effortlessly back and
forth, bouncing them across the crowd. Elena spun around to Peter and yelled, “Time to
get tossed, Peter!”
A horrible lump formed in Peter’s throat until Carolyn yelled back, “We can’t toss him!
He’s not wearing pink!” Elena looked crestfallen. What was the use in having a male if
you couldn’t play with him?! Peter tried to blend in to nothingness as the girls were
again distracted by the show. A small thin teenage boy, about 19, had been tossed toward
the front of the crowd, seemingly having been ‘chosen’ from among all the others by the
women. Finally, he was thrown onto the stage, but he immediately tried to jump back
into the crowd, which laughed and carelessly tossed him back onto the stage again. The
other men were unceremoniously allowed to fall into the crowd wherever they were. The
second time he landed, the boy began running back and forth like a caged animal to the
delight of the crowd and the amusement of Allannis. “What have we here?” purred
Allannis. “Are you volunteering?” The boy continued to run from her as she slowly
walked in his direction. He was obviously in terror, thought Peter, though he didn’t know
why. Then Allannis, having enjoyed the boy’s little show sufficiently, called out,
“GLADIATOOOORRRRSSSS!!!”
From the rear of the stage came the giants. The lights dazzled and a percussion beat
picked up again, as twelve giantess amazons came marching briskly, seriously and
heavily onto the stage, in military formation. Each stood almost EIGHT FEET TALL and
was heavily muscled all over, but especially in the legs! Legs the size of tree trunks!
Each wore a studded leather dominatrix warrior costume and heavy boots with flat open
soles that showed off the enormous feet of the giantesses. Peter had never seen such
gigantic women! They reminded him of the warrior goddesses on the covers of fantasy
novels! Each carried a whip, wrapped in a circle on her waist as her short heavy studded
leather skirt swished back and forth with her movement, and a large sword. They walked
straight toward the terrorized boy-volunteer, with cruel expressions on their faces,
dwarfing him like a child with their size. The boy cowered in their shadows, running
frantically to and fro, as they slowly encircled him, moving instantly in front of him like
cats whenever he tried to escape. Then, they closed the circle to the delighted screams of
the crowd, and trapped the emaciated teenager among them.
The tallest of the Amazon gladiators reached forward and picked the kid up with one
hand by his hair, holding him three feet off the ground, her arm muscles rippling as she
glared at him, displaying him to the crowd. All at once, another gladiator stepped
forward and threw a brutal kick with her massive thigh, straight into his midsection, the
kid’s body swinging like a punching bag as it accepted the impact. All of the Amazons
took a turn kicking the hanging kid with their massive muscular legs! His body swung
back and forth like piñata! The Amazon holding the kid then dropped him onto his knees
and straddled his shoulders, sitting on them with her massive weight. After only a
second, the kid collapsed beneath her thighs, falling into a crouching fetal position, the
giant’s weight crushing him into the stage. The fantasy woman wrapped one of her
calves under his neck, then rolled backward, pulling him with her violently and stretching
him out flat on his back. One of her tree trunk thighs was now beneath his head and the
other resting heavily on his throat, as she sat at a ninety-degree angle to him, leaning back
on her hands. She tensed her thighs, the muscles locking up, the sinewy legs crushing the
kid’s neck between them, as the kid grabbed at them desperately to no avail. Then the
woman smiled and rolled onto her side away from his head, resting her head on her arm
casually, the kid’s head locked between her legs. As she rolled over, the boy’s head bent
backward between her legs and his neck and back lifted into the air, hyper extended, his
arms now flailing straight out from his sides, flapping pathetically in the air. Peter was
reminded of an insect twitching feebly on its back, unable to right itself. The goddess
squeezed her legs together even tighter and the boy’s face began to turn red…then blue.
If she turned another inch, she would break his back, Peter realized.
As the boy’s arms went limp, the giantess released the crushing force on his neck and
rolled away from him, kicking him in the head with her massive bare foot, letting his
head bounce hard against the stage now that he was unconscious. Another gladiator
walked up and put her enormous foot on his head and pressed it into the stage. A close
camera shot appeared on the giant screen of the kid’s head yielding to the Amazon’s
giant foot as it deformed under the bone-crushing pressure she applied.
But, they weren’t finished yet. Just when Peter was sure the boy’s head would crack
under her foot, the woman removed it, and allowed another of the women to hold a
chemical under his nose. The boy coughed and regained consciousness, as the woman
lifted him effortlessly, putting him on all fours. She sternly instructed him not to dare
collapse – they were going to ride him. The crowd loved that idea! First, one giant
swung her leg over his back and sat her massive weight on him. His arms were already
violently shaking as he endured her. Then another Amazon joined her. The two
women’s massive muscular thighs covered the kid almost completely as they sat on him.
Then, they whipped him and squeezed him between their legs and yelled, “Giddy up!”
To his credit, the kid tried to crawl forward, but he instantly collapsed, nine hundred
pounds of Amazon muscle slamming down on his back! The women sat on him for a
moment, then they got up and another Amazon casually walked over his spindly legs,
breaking both of them. A third, came over to pick the moaning boy up and carry him
over her shoulder to a trestle that had been wheeled onstage. They clamped the near
unconscious boy’s arms and legs to the wooden rack and stepped back as Allannis
walked sensually forward….a wicked looking whip in her hands.
The whistle of the whip was so loud Peter could hear it in the crowd even before the
sharp crack as it smacked against the wood an inch from the boy’s face. The noise, or the
whoosh of the air pressure snapped the boy from his suffocated slumber, and he looked
dazedly around him, before zoning in on the restraints, the Allannis, then her whip. She
began to tease him as he begged her “No…Please….Please….”, snapping the whip very
near his face, splintering the wood of the rack, but never quite touching him with it. Then
she asked if he was ready for the real thing. As if on cue, a rumble of thunder rolled
across the lawn and a few women looked briefly at the darkening sky.
The first lash of Allannis’ whip made the boy’s entire body jolt almost off the rack as he
looked up and let out a horrible scream, quivering in pain and fear of the next. Allannis
smiled sadistically as she wound up and whipped him again, this time flailing the skin of
his legs and making him yelp as the sharp crack of the whip reverberated over the lawn.
The beating continued, his flesh being cut cruelly as he yelped and jumped to get away,
his body tensing like a violin string in anticipation of each succeeding lash. The kid was
cut to shreds everywhere but his chest, when Allannis was ready for the finale. As the
crowd cheered, she wound up and cracked the whip three successive times, not a split
second between them, ‘WHACK WHACK WHACK, as the boy jumped and quivered in
pain. Then, as the crowd roared, Peter saw she had made three neat deep cuts in his chest
in a near perfect scarlet letter ‘A.’ “Allannis!”
The stunning singer walked casually over to the restrained semi-conscious and moaning
19 year old, and raked her long fingernails down his face, then held him up by his hair,
and tore open the restraints, letting him fall forward onto the stage. She walked the
length of his body with her high-heeled boots, back and forth, as she launched into
another song. When the song was over, she invited the gladiators to take their turns
walking on the young man. Twelve giantesses then trod on the boy’s body in their heavy
boots, utterly crunching his bones beneath their muscular frames, twisting his body and
smashing it under their boots. His body was wrecked and twisted, completely, when the
last giantess had finished rending it beneath her boots. When they were done, two of
them picked up the boy and threw him into the screaming crowd. He landed atop the
crowd, seemed to float for a second, and then was allowed to fall into the mass of
women. Instantly, the group of women around him for thirty feet seemed to run to the
center where he fell, and Peter could see the group jumping up and down in a frenzy. He
tried not to imagine the horror occurring to the boy beneath their feet.
Peter looked away, trying to find an escape from the horror. He noticed Celia toward the
front, lit by the glare of the stage floods. She had placed Kevin on his back, his head
pointed downhill toward the stage. His legs were bent up and Celia was sitting on his
pelvis, using his inclined legs as a backrest while she watched the concert. Then Peter
saw she had her legs stretched forward, her boots on Kevin’s face, her spurs cruelly
digging into his eyes. Kevin was obviously in excruciating pain, but even the slightest
move would cause Celia to gouge out an eye with her wicked spurs. So, Kevin just kept
flapping his arms at his sides, enduring the weight of her legs on the spurs in his eyes.
Every couple of minutes, Celia would seem to notice Kevin and would press her heels
into his face and press forward, bending his head back as she forced her spurs a little
deeper into his eyes and bent his head back under the force of her tanned thigh muscles.
She was smiling at him; though Kevin’s eyes were too scrunched close to see it.
Peter was dizzy with the shock of what had just happened in front of him and he was
light-headed from not having had anything to eat or drink. Carolyn’s weight was
crushing his shoulders and his collarbones were cracking occasionally when she bounced
on him now. He didn’t think he was going to make it. He felt he was going to collapse.
Then, as if on cue, Carolyn swung her legs forward, in what Peter had learned, was the
command to let her down. He almost fell forward and she dropped neatly off of him and
reached for a beer, then deliberately stepped on his bare toes and ground them under the
hard waffle tread of her hiking sandals, back and forth. Peter collapsed as his toes were
broken, and fell to the ground. He screamed as Carolyn laughed at him as she turned
away, just as Peter felt the first raindrops. Then the wind picked up with another rumble
of thunder, and the clouds opened and began to drop first big isolated drops, then
suddenly, sheets of rain over the crowd. The girls bunched up and shouted in mock anger
as they were drenched. They clustered up laughing as water cascaded off their beautiful
skin and hair, matting it to their heads and making them even more naturally beautiful,
Peter thought. The music began again, as the girls laughed, turning toward the stage.
Peter could see hundreds of girls giggling, rushing toward the food tent, in a giant crowd,
just as Paula had said they would. He prayed it would be quick for the hundreds of
broken men who could not possibly be prepared for the merciless onslaught of eight
hundred women trampling them into pulp. Poor Robbie, he had no idea what he was
about to suffer…
Robbie thought he had survived. In his own space, off to the side of the food aisles, and
confined beneath the net, he had only heard whispered words passed among the carpet
boys; rumors that only a few feet away, some men had been horribly crushed, their bones
broken beneath the cruel women’s trampling feet. He had no idea if it was true, but the
way his body felt after only the two teenagers walked over him, he could imagine it
certainly was possible. But, he had survived! When the concert started, the food tent
emptied quickly and only a few women were walking around on the men there now. No
one was near Robbie, and he could endure the occasional foot that came from seemingly
no where to step on him without a thought as its owner walked over him on her way to
somewhere else.
It wasn’t a sound, really. It was more like a pressure wave. Robbie had heard the
tapping of the rain start on the top of the tent. Now, it was eclipsed by a roar of squealing
female voices, as the big flaps of the tent flew open. Robbie turned his sore head slowly
toward the sound, just in time to see a massive wave of women start flowing like a river
into the food tent. He had only a moment to realize what was happening amid the
deafening laughter of the soaking wet women, before the front of the wave of women
found him as it spread throughout the tent and washed over him. A wall of women now
came crashing over him, trampling him with a violence he couldn’t believe was possible!
The first brutal bare feet, mashing his face and deforming him under them, stopped him
from breathing completely, as he tried to cry out. The women didn’t even notice him!
Then boots and sandals and high heels gouged him, beautiful women towering above
him, digging their heels into his face, arms and torso. His ribs cracked like dry twigs
instantly and his cries were stifled as his eyes filled with tears. A woman twisted on his
throat as she trampled over him. All around him, he felt the jerks and yelps of the men
near him being smashed like grapes in a wine vat, amid the roar of the crowd. In
seconds, he was covered in feet and the dark profiles of the tall women eclipsed the light.
He couldn’t move any part of his body now; everything was being stood on. Robbie had
a chance to look up at a beautiful sorority girl who was standing on his chest, her body
swaying back and forth as she laughed and talked to her friends about the sudden storm
outside. Her stylish stiletto heeled boots were gouging in between two of his ribs, as she
rocked back on them, and Robbie’s mouth opened in a silent airless scream. Then, as the
women’s bodies covered him, blotting out the light, a new darkness flowed from the
corners of his own mind. And as he heard, more than felt, the crack of his arms snapping,
then his whole rib cage caving finally, beneath the weight of all the women milling about
on him, he saw the girl standing on his chest in her brutal boots look down straight at
him. And, as he looked up at her with pleading eyes, praying she would see how he was
suffering, she dropped her cigarette on his face, let it burn a few seconds as she looked
back up at her friends and made a remark; and then, without looking down, ground it
unconsciously, still burning, into Robbie’s face beneath her boot. Then, she adjusted her
weight to stand on it. The last thing Robbie felt, as the woman shifted her weight onto
his face, was the crack of his own skull, very loud in his ears…
The rain was withering and it was a godsend to Peter’s bruised body! Paula glanced back
at Peter and gave him a look –“Now’s your chance! Get on the ground! Disappear!” her
eyes said. Peter dropped to the wet ground and lay flat. In the darkness, with the rain
falling and the stage lights blinding the crowd above him, he seemed to be in his own
little world; disappearing among the insects from the attention of the cruel women above
him, getting lost among hundreds of athletic legs, their tall bodies towering above him.
Paula, now standing directly over Peter, was the only one who still seemed to know or
care where he was. The other girls were distracted by the pouring rain. Peter looked up
at her, then at a piece of pizza crust on the ground near the heel of her boot, catching her
eye. He was so very hungry. If he could just have a crust of pizza….Paula seemed to
read his mind, and casually crushed the crust of pizza under her boot heel, without
turning, mashing the soggy bread around her heavy spike. When she lifted her boot, the
crust stuck to the heel along with some blades of grass and some dirt. Paula lifted her
boot backward and presented Peter her heel, holding it directly in front of his face, still
looking forward. Peter strained, lifting his head and eagerly scraped and licked the pizza
crust directly from Paula’s boot heel until it was all gone. Paula next saw half a
hamburger and did the same thing, smashing the hamburger to pulp beneath her foot,
grinding it back and forth like a cigarette to press it into her tread, then lifting the sticky
sole to Peter’s mouth for his tongue to lick off. After Peter had licked and scraped the
hamburger off with his teeth like a dog, Paula slipped out of her boot and hung her bare
foot in front of Peter’s face, letting him lick the rain water off her toes as it dripped down
her leg. Her foot was pungent, having been in her boot all day, but it was beautiful! Full
and tan, with blood red toenail polish, perfectly done, and a turquoise toe ring on her
second toe that said, “Todd.” Peter lapped and sucked eagerly at the thirst-quenching
water covering her toes like honey, filled with gratitude at this beautiful woman who was
overcoming all her natural urges to care enough to help him to get home.
As he lapped at her foot – the foot that had crushed so many men beneath it at the food
tent, Peter’s eyes met Paula’s as she looked down at him. And he knew it would be for
the last time. She would turn back to the show with her friends, deliberately ignoring
him, giving him an opportunity to get away as the ground was fast turning to mud. And
she would not look back. They took a long moment, looking silently into each other’s
eyes, the rain beating down on them -- two different beings from two different worlds,
staring at each other across the divide, wondering what it was like to be the other. And,
as he stared up at her, Peter’s eyes unabashedly said ‘thank you,’ almost tearing up,
pleading his gratitude to her from his helpless place in the world. And Paula’s deep
brown eyes looked steadily down at him, betraying nothing. He planted a little kiss on
the tip of her toe and licked a blade of grass away for her. And, at the very last moment,
as Paula withdrew her foot, putting it back in her high-heeled boot, he thought her eyes
softened as they looked at him, then she blinked quickly and looked away toward the
band. Peter took one more second, gazing up at her towering form over him, promising
himself to remember her forever. Then, he lay down in the mud as he was told.
Paula had turned and was paying attention to the concert, which was still in full swing,
when Peter, still hungry, saw another small piece of pizza near her feet. Her boot was
right next to it and Peter thought if he could reach out far enough, in the dark, even with
his broken fingers, he could get to it. He cautiously moved his hand forward over the wet
grass until he was within inches of it. He looked up at Paula, who was swaying to the
music, still towering over him, then managed to touch the discarded food. Unfortunately,
Paula happened to pick up her boot at exactly the same moment. Peter screamed in the
pouring rain, as the boot came down squarely on his hand, crushing it utterly; her heel
perfectly centered on two of his fingertips with her crushing weight, grinding them along
with the pizza, into the mud, and breaking the already broken little bones in half again.
Her heel sank literally two inches into the dirt, Peter’s fingers flattened somewhere
beneath it.
Peter’s tears mixed with the rain as he tried to remain still, screaming into the crook of
his elbow to keep the noise down, as he lay in the mud that was fast forming around him.
Paula, not noticing she was stepping on him, was swaying back and forth, rocking with
the beat. She would sway to her right, relieving some of the pressure (but not enough for
him to remove his fingers), then, she would rock back to her left leg, horribly crushing
Peter’s fingers over and over (and deeper and deeper) into the mud. Peter watched her
high-heeled boot come grinding down on his fingers, mashing them completely as a little
muddy water was squeegeed from the mud under her weight forming a tiny lake around
her heel. Parts of the water turned pink as blood crushed from his fingers mixed with it.
He thought of the poor men in cages who experienced the same horror beneath her boots
as she cruelly dripped hot wax on them at Carolyn’s parties, while standing on their
fingers, not really wanting to, being part of the crowd. The burning and cutting of her
heel was overwhelming! He was screaming and crying, but trying not to move for fear of
calling attention to himself. He was freezing as the wet mud now clung to him in mushy
chunks all over.
Now, Paula had her weight all on her left leg and was just standing there, mercilessly
grinding his fingertips unknowingly beneath her heel. Peter buried his face in the mud
and screamed for all he was worth, blowing bubbles in the water around his face. He
looked up through tear-filled eyes at Paula, who casually laughed lightly as Carolyn
beside her made a joke, as Paula unconsciously twisted her heel, almost making Peter
pass out from the pain. Then, as the song ended, Paula twisted on her heel much harder,
ripping Peters fingers to the side, breaking two of them in multiple places, and tearing the
nails off, and stepped off of him. Peter’s screamed straight into the ground, covering his
teeth in mud.
Peter rocked back and forth, holding his broken fingers, in a bare low spot behind the
girls – fewer girls were standing here since there was no grass to stand on. The rain was
a deluge! The noise of the music, the noise from the pouring rain and the women’s
yelling, drowned out his screams. The mud around him got deeper and pools of cold
water formed in it. Peter was sobbing, rolling around violently in the deepening mud as
he tried to cope with the pain. He was covered in cold mud from head to toe and
bleeding from his fingers and the pain just kept coming. His hair was caked in the stuff,
and his hands were increasingly grabbing fistfuls of mud, as he tried to stop the hurt of
his newly crushed fingers! A brown muddy lake was forming around him, but he
couldn’t see it in the deep darkness. Finally, lying flat, face down in the mud pit that was
forming around him Peter managing to lay still for a period of time as he cried to control
the pain, a woman from the crowd stepped on his back with her bare feet, mashing the
mud covering him out of the way, causing his bare flesh to sink beneath her. She was
extraordinarily heavy! He tensed, waiting for the cruel stomping that had always
followed being stepped on, but it never came. He slowly turned his head to the side and
strained to look up. She was one of the Gold’s Gym bodybuilders – very tall, very
muscular – and she was just standing on him without knowing he was under her, crushing
him softly under her beautiful peds. She called to her friend, “Hey girls! We got us a
mud-pit over here and it’s warm on my feet! Wanna get dirty?!” As Peter returned his
face to the mud so he wouldn’t be seen, the woman’s well-built friend walked over,
squishing mud between her huge bare toes and stood squarely on Peter’s head, smashing
it into the deepening mud. He felt his skull would cave in! “It IS warm,” the friend said,
“but I’m on a rock. I’ll move over.” Her bare foot landed on the back of Peter’s neck,
nearly breaking it. Then, at the two women’s behest, the rest of their group came over to
try the warm mud and Peter was suddenly being danced on by a huge group of 20 athletic
college women bodybuilders in bare feet, grunting in pain with every one of their
hundreds of strong stomps.
It was a jungle of heavy feet, stomping on him – a literal FOREST of muscular legs – all
barefoot – trampling him from head to toe without mercy and without even knowing!
Slowly and painfully, the giant women were smashing Peter into the deep mud and filthy
water as they trampled him and kicked and tracked new mud all over him. A heavier girl
had replaced the first and was standing on his head, her toes draped over his eyes and
nose, as she pressed his face into the filthy water. Peter looked up at her with one eye,
and all he could see was the massive rippled stance of a muscular female bodybuilder, her
arms resting out away from her ripped body, her thighs like swollen with muscle! He
couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, and every time he had a moment he could, he simply
blew bubbles in the water around his face and only sucked in more water. The women
were so powerful in their stomping! Peter could feel his body being pressed and stomped
deeper and deeper into the mud until it was like a shallow grave. He knew there was no
evidence of anyone below the women now. The mud pit was so soft, when one woman
stepped squarely on his head, he felt it sink almost four inches beneath her. Every part of
him was being stomped without mercy. His legs were trashed by three of the women as
two more jumped on his arms. Three more were now dancing on his back and two on his
head. One of the women on his head would step on his face hard, and would twist her
foot brutally in a dance step, over and over, and Peter would see her giant big toe come
twisting out of the mud in front of his eyes on his cheek. She had a turquoise toe ring on
that was really quite beautiful, he realized, until the pain of her stepping and twisting on
his face shot through him, and her large foot disappeared and let the mud fall in on his
face, before the whole process was repeated a second later as she stepped on his face with
her big foot again, and squished the mud away for a moment. Then, the same woman
began doing a shuffling dance step on his head, wiping the mud off his face, until it was
more or less clear. It was still too dark to see him beneath her feet, Peter realized, and the
woman continued to dance on him, then stood on only one foot, as she raised the other
and held it well off of him, maybe picking the mud out of her toenails, Peter thought.
The pressure on his head was impossible to bear, and he felt it sinking very deep into the
mud – ankle deep, he thought -- just as a…little rock…Peter thought…fell right on his
ear. Now, the big girl put her remaining foot down, her bare heel right over his ear on top
of the little rock and hesitated just a moment. Peter thought, “Oh god, no!”…and the
woman pressed her heel down hard on top of the small pebble and ground it straight into
Peter’s ear, under her full weight. It almost seemed…deliberate! She was standing fully
on her big bare heel, twisting it back and forth, crushing the pebble hard into Peter’s ear,
cutting it as the sharp edges of the pebble drove into deeply into his ear canal. Peter
screamed anew, thinking she would grind his ear off, the weight staggering; but,
suddenly, the woman stepped off him and began another shuffling dance step that
resulted in her now covering his face with thick chunks of mud, until his head was almost
buried again. The pebble was agonizing, lodged in Peter’s ear.
At first, Peter had thought if he could endure the stomping, he could hide in the mud pit
until the concert was over, then sneak out. But it wasn’t to be, he now knew. His body
had been flattened and he wasn’t able to draw a breath now, with the mud covering his
face almost five inches deep. His whole body had now been trampled deep in the mud
and he was fully covered. From the girls’ point of view, it was just a field of mud.
They’d have to dig around with their hands to even find him. Only their feet were
powerful enough to squish right through it all, just long enough to crush his body, before
they were lifted, and the mud squeezed in again. Peter realized he would suffocate under
these girls and be buried in this mud forever…and no one would ever know. He could
feel his heart beating out of his chest, now, struggling for air he could not obtain. And he
knew he was passing out as 20 well-muscled women were now stepping carelessly all
over his prone body. ‘Oh, Kelly…’
His senses had dulled almost to nothingness, and he was losing the battle with
consciousness, having resigned himself to being broken, when he felt a sharp stabbing
pain – a horrible pain -- grinding on his nose! He felt a powerful solid spear smash down
on his face, taking some of the mud with it. Peter managed to open his eyes, mud
clinging them, and saw, directly in front of his eye, a giant thick spiked heel stepping on
his cheek, sinking deeply into it. He could look up its height to the bottom of the curved
sole. ‘Size 12’ it said. As she danced, its owner picked up out of view, momentarily (and
the mud immediately covered his face) then she stepped squarely on his face again,
crushing horribly into his cheek – but, Peter realized -- clearing some of the mud away in
the process!
When her heel smashed down on his face again, Peter could see enough of her boot that
he felt he -- recognized it -- as it ground his head into the mud! He’d been staring at it all
night, dangling around his shoulders! He’d eaten pizza from it! He looked up through
the clearing holes in the mud, and, as she stepped on his face again with her crippling
weight, Peter saw Paula’s beautiful face far above, looking steadily down at him! She
was stepping all over his face, causing terrific pain, but she was deliberately punching air
holes in the mud with her boots to bring him air! She was stepping on his face out
of…love!

[DeathXI]

As Peter tried to endure the pain, Paula stepped on his cheek with her full weight and
deliberately let her spike heel rip down his face, riding it with her weight, over his gaping
mouth. He screamed with the pain! She let it slip off his cheek and straight down,
catching it inside the lower side of his mouth and his lower cheek, nailing his cheek to the
ground under her full weight. Her heel was now powerfully standing on the inside of his
lower cheek and his mouth was trapped open, wrapped around it -- and Peter went crazy
with the pain! Paula seemed to sense the position she had him in, and she just stood in
place, trapping his cheek against the ground – impaling it -- but trapping his mouth up
against her heel, where there was a miniature air shaft in the mud alongside it -- to breath!
Peter knew why she was doing this to him, even as he knew it was his only chance. He
bit against Paula’s heel with his teeth to try to endure the pain of her standing powerfully
on the soft interior flesh of his cheek, and breathed and breathed and breathed the lifegiving
air, his screams vibrating against Paula’s heel. The women were still dancing
feverishly all over his body, flattening it under their bare feet, but at least Peter had air.
He couldn’t move his head to look up at Paula, he could only stare at her giant heel in
front of him as it impaled him, and he imagined her looking down at him with
pity…crushing his face under her boot. More than likely, though, she had turned back
around, and was just watching the concert, as she bore down on his cheek with her
crushing weight.
It was now that Peter heard the muffled voices of the girls trampling him talking about
‘chicken fights’ as they scrambled to get on each other’s shoulders. The weight suddenly
doubled from the feet on the lower parts of his body and he groaned at the crush he was
enduring. Three groups of girls were now on each other’s shoulders and stepping all over
him under the mud as they wrestled back and forth. One pair was moving up his back,
cracking it in several places with their stomping feet. Peter felt his cheek bleeding under
Paula’s heel into his mouth. The pair of girls was moving higher up his back, then onto
his neck, making his spine cry out for relief. If the girl turned, Peter thought, and put her
foot sideways on his neck, a weight that massive could…Peter felt the bare foot of the
girl come sinking though the mud directly on the back of his neck, as if in slow motion.
The foot contacted his neck, squishing the mud out of the way and building an
overwhelming pressure that never seemed to end. Peter’s neck bent, his head was
pressed into a horrible ‘V’ and his eyes bulged out of his head as the girl standing on his
neck said to the girl on her shoulders, “Try bouncing hard on my shoulders like we do to
the men…see if I can take it!” There was more laughing, then suddenly the pressure on
the girl’s foot on Peter’s neck smashed down on him, as the top girl bounced heavily on
her shoulders and Peter felt a sickening ‘CRRAACCKK’ as the girls started to laugh.
The pressure didn’t let up, it bore down deeper into his neck, the girl putting both hers
and the top girl’s weight on her one foot. ‘My neck is broken Peter thought! My neck is
broken and I’m paralyzed! And, I’m buried alive!’ And, as he thought of Kelly, Paula
unconsciously twisted her heel inside his cheek, and the staggering wave of pain, finally
gave Peter the gift of unconsciousness.
Peter drifted in and out for the rest of the concert. At one point, he remembered distantly
thinking he wasn’t hearing music anymore, only the crowd; then a stunning pain came, as
he thought he felt Paula’s heel come out of his cheek and her boot wiping thick mud all
over his face. Then, as he became more aware, he heard an announcer’s voice warning
about drinking and driving. And then…the nonstop trampling began. Women of every
size, every height, every weight, and every type of footwear, were suddenly parading
over him – trampling him like they had the poor men in the food tent earlier! Peter felt
the mud give and a giant hiking boot stepped on his face and twisted as it ground him
beneath it, the girl wearing it laughing above him. Then a vicious spike heel crushed his
hand, leaving a deep hole in it! A rough tread tennis shoe, then two go-go boots with
hard soles stepped on his legs! He couldn’t keep track of the multitude of women
stepping on him as they left the concert! At one point, the crowd bunched up and a
barefoot girl stood on his head, giving him a look at her giant toes, while across his body,
ten other women stood on him in their cruel shoes! The barefoot girl on Peter’s face was
telling her friend, “No, I wish I could. But, I’ve got to get out to the car. I left Jason with
his arm under my tire in the parking lot, and if I don’t get back out there, he’s gonna have
too many heel marks and cigarette burns on him from the girls walking to their cars to
take him to the party this weekend.” Peter’s ear had started to ring from the pebble the
barefoot woman had crushed into it under her heel. He could feel the little rock impaled
there as his ear throbbed.
“You could use one of those drug store skin grafts on him,” the other teenager replied.
“Yeah, but they’re messy – all that sewing…”
“No, they have an ‘iron-on’ version now!”
“Sure, if you can get his skin to stop smelling like charred rubber after it’s burned!” The
girl twisted her foot as she stepped off Peter’s head, jamming her big toe into his nose.
The mud fell in around his face as another foot in a low stiletto heel deeply gouged his
face, a striking brunette walking on it without looking.
There were so many feet stepping all over him at once! There was horrible sharp pain
from high heels, the cutting of low-heeled sandals and the brutal stomp of the heavier
boots with hard waffle soles. At one point, an entire group of women wearing needle
sharp high heels walked the length of his body, punching holes in his skin, even through
the six inches of mud! A very muscular woman stepped on his calf, skewering it with her
needle heel, driving the knife-like spike several inches deep into his flesh, then pulled his
leg away to the side from his other leg with her shoe, as she took a step, his leg still stuck
to her heel. Even with his whole leg spiked to her heel, her strength was such that she
never noticed it there. Peter howled into the mud, as she ripped her heel out of his leg as
she walked on; then another woman stepped on his balls between his open legs with her
hiking boot, driving the waffle sole pattern into his scrotum and twisting it almost apart
as she continued on, walking up his back and over his head with her heavy boots. None
of the woman even knew he was there. And if they, had, Peter realized, it only would
have been worse. The pain of having his balls so dramatically crushed and twisted was
too much, and, once again, Peter drifted off, then fell away completely, moaning, as the
parade of hundreds of women trampled unknowingly over him. The worst thing about
this, Peter realized as he lost consciousness, was that no matter how much he wanted to,
he couldn’t die…..
***Kelly was kneeling heavily on him on her bed, tickling him mercilessly in the nose
with a feather, laughing cruelly at him, having her fun with him, and he was coughing
and twitching hysterically, helplessly wrapped head to toe in Saran Wrap! It was one of
the rough games she liked to play with him. She’d seen it on TV one night. On HBO’s
Real Sex special, the wife wrapped her husband securely in Saran Wrap from head to toe,
threw him bodily onto her bed, then knelt on him and tortured him. The smiling woman
sitting atop her husband’s chest, had burned him repeatedly with a candle flame, melting
the plastic wrap into his skin at his nipples, making him scream and twitch helplessly
under her while she laughed at him, gripping him with her powerful thighs, and the hot
melted plastic sizzled and popped. Peter was momentarily terror-stricken when Kelly
had said she wanted to try the game with him. Then she’d seen his face, noticed him
shivering and laughed, “Don’t worry Silly, I’m not going to BURN you! We’ll change it
a little bit!” Then, she’d returned with the feather and wrapped him up in the plastic,
ignoring his protestations, so he felt like he was in a straightjacket and totally at her
mercy. He’d fought her with all his strength, but she seemed to enjoy his token
resistance, “Please honey…please, Kelly…really, you’re hurting me…,” and she grabbed
his arms in a vice grip and slammed them to his sides, pinning them there powerfully and
effortlessly as she wrapped them tightly up against him. “Please…” Then, Kelly had
knelt with her full weight on his stomach, and begun working the feather against his nose
(she’d sliced breathing holes in the plastic with her nails at the last minute as Peter was
suffocating, almost as an afterthought). With Kelly delicately playing the feather against
his nose, Peter would convulse and twitch with the incessant tickling, and every time he’d
cough, Kelly would drive her full weight on her powerful knee into his stomach, forcing
every last bit of air out of his lungs in a choking grunt, as his stomach collapsed beneath
her. The first time she’d driven her knee into him, he thought he’d pass out from the
severity of the gut punch! A blue flash went off in his brain and he became dizzy, but
somehow fought to stay conscious. Kelly just laughed at him and did it again!
This had the effect of exacerbating his need of air, making it impossible to catch his
breath, and making him gasp and twitch all the more. Kelly would laugh hysterically at
his face as it turned red and he begged her to stop, then didn’t have the air to beg
anything, his eyes watering freely. Then, as he tried to inhale, she’d drop her knee into
his stomach in another withering gut-punch, knocking the wind out of him again. She’d
repeat this sometimes for twenty minutes, laughing so hard at him, she herself would get
out of breath! “Oh my god! You should see the color of your FACE!” she’d exclaim.
Peter would try to breathe enough to stay conscious enough to keep his beautiful wife
laughing. But she was very brutal. Like most of the games she liked to play, he knew
she had no idea how hard it was on him, or how much it hurt! Sometimes, his stomach
was sore for days, and once, he’d felt something rupture inside and she’d had to take him
to the hospital! He’d never told her it happened during the game, because he didn’t want
to diminish her fun! Occasionally, after she’d tickled him into a stupor, she’d climb onto
Peter’s face and use him as she saw fit, grinding him hard beneath her ass until she was
bucking on his face so violently with her muscular legs, it was all Peter could do to
endure her passion silently as she slammed down on him over and over, the headboard
and mattress banging with each impact. Then, she’d sit hard on his face for several
minutes, having spent herself on it, while her breathing returned to normal, and Peter
prayed for even one breath of air; finally rolling off, a relaxed smile on her face, as she
fell fast asleep, never giving a thought to her husband, confined in a plastic coffin with
his face soaked, now for the whole night. Peter, as he finally fell asleep when the pain
and ached died down and he was breathing normally again, would feel unbridled joy that
his torture had given Kelly happiness, and his face had given her satisfaction, so that she
could sleep soundly.
Once, Kelly had finally stopped tickling Peter with the feather, placed her palms on his
chest, brought her knee backward and told him she was gonna drive her knee as hard as
she could into his groin so get ready. Peter’s terrified face had made her laugh out loud!
She’d acted like she was getting ready, saying, “Okay, here it comes!” and when he’d
scrunched his eyes closed like a child, she’d laughed even harder! “Oh, honey…am I
being too mean?!” she’d finally relented giggling. “I’m just playing with you! I would
never do that to you!” “ Poor baby!” she’d said in a pout. “Poo-poo-Peter…so scared and
helpless! Am I teasing you too much?!” she’d asked in a ‘little ol’ me’ kind of voice.
Peter, immobilized in the plastic, could only look at the ceiling. Kelly eyed him steadily,
reveling in his helplessness. Finally, Kelly kissed him deeply, for a long time, and with
incredible passion as he lay helpless. Peter thought she was actually doing it to please
him. But then, he saw her watching for the pained look on his face as he became excited
but was restricted by the tight plastic sheeting. Sure enough, within moments, he was
moaning in frustrated anguish as the plastic held his manhood fast, and Kelly was smiling
with satisfaction.
That time, satisfied Peter was frustrated and hurting long enough, Kelly ripped open the
plastic that encased him with her nails, scratching Peter deeply (she didn’t notice). And
he’d lain on the bed trying to recover, as, Kelly then threw herself under the covers to get
some sleep. She knew he’d get on the floor where he slept as soon as he was able. And
when the ache in his stomach had receded enough that he could move again, and breathe
almost normally, Peter would take a stolen moment, before he crawled to the floor, to
look at his wife’s beautiful face as she slept, framed by those incredible curls, and say a
silent prayer that he would always be able to endure her playful cruelties enough to make
her laugh. ‘I’ll endure anything for your happiness,’ he thought. ‘Anything you
want…’***
And now, Kelly was tickling him with the feather again, and he was securely wrapped
and convulsing, trying to breathe, enjoying her beautiful laugh as his eyes watered, even
as she made him choke for lack of air. He coughed hard once, and Kelly suddenly shown
a very bright flashlight in his eyes. ‘Where did she get the flashlight?’ He squinted and
coughed again and more…dried mud…fell away from his face.
Dried mud.
For a very long moment, Peter didn’t know where he was. Then his head swirled the
images of Kelly tickling him in the nose with a feather around and around, until they fell
away, and replaced them with the image of…bright sunlight…and a torn candy wrapper,
stuck in the dirt against his face, lightly flipping against his nose and tickling it in a sunny
breeze. And…absolute silence! His eyes focused on the hardened dirt around his face.
He was totally covered in hard dirt several inches deep. Only a very small hole let the
sunlight through in front of his nose. He felt like he had been imprisoned in an anthill.
There was a deep impression of a spike heel where the mud had been pressed away from
his nose, right in front of his face. ‘Paula’s spike heel,’ he thought. Peter waited while
his eyes adjusted to the bright light, then looked out the hole in the mud at the empty
concert grass (what he could see of it). The arena was empty! And it was daylight!
Peter lay in his shallow grave and listened. A light breeze was blowing carrying an
occasional birdcall, but other than that, the arena was quiet.
He laid in the dried mud of the outdoor arena for almost ten minutes, assessing how badly
hurt he was, listening to the silence and coming to grips with the fact that he had
survived! The mud had hardened completely over him in the new day’s sun. He was
sickly sore everywhere. And he thought idly, ‘I could just lay here buried, and go to
sleep forever…and no one would ever know where I was. But, he hadn’t come this
far….
Slowly, Peter tried to move an arm. With effort, he broke his left arm out of the caked on
mud. Then he slowly pulled the different parts of his body painfully out of the hardcaked
dirt, rising as if from the grave, thick chunks of mud adhering to his clothes, face
and hair. His right ear ached badly from the little rock being ground into it. After a few
minutes, Peter was able to sit somewhat upright and moved his horribly sore neck to look
around him. For the first time since the policewoman had pulled him over last night – my
god, was it really only last night? Yes…yes it was. For the first time since then, he was
indeed, alone.
The arena was empty. It seemed to be early the next morning, from the sun’s position.
The concert grass was covered with trash, empty pizza boxes, wrappers, and beer bottles.
There were some shoes lying about; all with high heels, a few with spurs still attached to
them, covered in brown stains, and two or three curious mounds of foam at random spots
on the lawn. There were no males at all. ‘Maybe they’ve learned to clean up after
themselves,’ Peter thought. ‘Or maybe a crew came in last night, after the concert, and
removed the ‘broken’ ones.’ ‘What kind of instrument would they use to remove men
who had served their purpose?’ He shuddered involuntarily. He shuffled a few steps,
moving a forgotten garbage bag aside and noticed the ground underneath was still mostly
dry…and covered with little holes. ‘Allison’s aerator boots,’ he thought. Next to the
crowd of little holes, a cluster of different heel impressions. Peter realized he could
easily tell the difference between Paula’s heels and…Elena’s…and, yes, there were
Carolyn’s prints…all saved for posterity under the waterproof garbage bag. This is
where it had all happened. He had permanent matching heel marks all over his body
now. Everything ached. He turned his head too quickly and his neck screamed at him
and his right ear throbbed so badly, he thought he’d lose his balance.
He absentmindedly reached up with his less damaged hand, to his ear to carefully pull out
the little pebble the barefoot woman had crushed into it the night before. He was
momentarily startled to feel…metal! So it was a pop-top, not a rock after all! Peter
hooked his finger carefully in his ear and painfully scooped out the object. But, what he
pulled free from being lodged perfectly in his ear, wasn’t a rock…or a pop-top. It was a
highly polished heavy gold ring! It had been ground into his ear beneath a barefoot heel
so hard it had cut him there, as it was lodged in him! Covered in turquoise, it was just big
enough to fit his thumb and it was beautiful, and it said – it said, “Todd.”
Peter’s mouth fell open even though his cheek rebelled against the pain. A haunting
memory came back. Paula’s large beautiful bare foot, poised in the air in front of him,
while he hungrily licked and sucked the dripping water from it. Then kissed it – on the
toe that wore -- this ring! But how did it -- she had boots on -- so the only way it could
have –
Peter remembered how the ring had fallen right on his ear; then been ground into it under
a woman’s bare heel…ALMOST DELIBERATELY, he remembered! Peter pictured
Paula, slipping out of her boots while the rain fell, holding them in her hand, and twisting
her bare foot over his face to remove the ring from her toe, then dropping it in his ear
from her toe, as it came loose; and then, deliberately stepping on it with her huge bare
heel, grinding it into his ear, as she twisted back and forth on his head with her full
weight! She was giving it to him! Grinding it in so deep, she knew he would find it if he
survived! Giving him something to remember her by! Showing she…cared…for him?
Peter’s eyes welled up. Or maybe, it was just an afterthought – a chuckling gift to a
pathetic male -- ground into his face no less – a middling trinket to toss at him absently to
make him grovel in gratitude. But, it had the name of her old boyfriend on it. So, that
meant it was valuable to her. Orrrr….it might mean she could care less about Todd and
thought it would be fun to grind his ring into another man’s ear to cause pain. But Paula
wasn’t like that…was she? What if she were drunk? The jumble of emotions was
confusing Peter. And then he remembered her moving from his legs so she didn’t break
them in the car; telling him about the world and how to survive in it; asking Elena to stop
humiliating him sexually, and finally, feeding him from her shoe and letting him drink
sweet water mixed with her sweat, from her foot!
He slipped the ring onto his thumb, wondering that her little toe ring was so big, it fit.
No, it was a gift! Violently given, but they didn’t know how much it hurt! He knew it
for sure. He would treasure Paula and what she had done for him, and he would show
Kelly her gift and tell her all about the girl that had saved his life!
Peter looked back at the shallow grave where he’d survived the night. Where hundreds
of brutally heavy women had walked on him. Where he’d been stepped on and trampled
without reprieve most of the night, after enduring a whole evening of torture at the hands
(and feet) of the carload of young girls, after being stomped to jelly by two giant
policewomen’s cruel shoes. He would never forget the things he’d seen! He would
never again leave home! He would love Kelly with all his soul forever and she would
protect him from the world! He thought of the shredded ponyboy the tall girl with the
nasty spurs had ridden – Elena standing on his hands with her spike heels, squeezing his
head as he screamed; the old man stomped under Anna Nichol, Robbie in the food tent,
and the poor boy whipped by Allannis, then marched on, and tossed fifty feet into the
crowd, by eight foot tall, 400 pound gladiators during the concert. He wondered if
anyone thought of him, being ridden across the rock parking lot by five women, or
having his eyes gouged by Paula’s wicked nails when she’d had that – attack – of some
kind. And he thought of the man being facesat by the policewoman as she drove around
in her patrol car, his face deformed under her tight ass. He would never forget any of
them! But he was alive!
And, it was time to go home!
Peter walked by the silent food tent toward the exit. A biofoam had been sprayed across
the whole floor. It was bubbling away, eating the fleshy matter beneath it, right before
his eyes. A tank from which the foam had come was labeled, “Ms. Bubble.” ‘So that’s
how they do it,’ he thought. There was a lot of foam near the door, and a bubbling mass
where Robbie had lay. Maybe some of them had gotten out. But, he knew better. The
rain had lasted for hours and the mass crowds of girls would have filled the food tent.
And the savage destruction under their feet would have been…he couldn’t imagine it!
He imagined hundreds of hands clawing feebly at the floor net, themselves being stepped
on, then a little less squirming, and, finally, no squirming at all, as the crowds of girls idly
stood on all of them, talking and drinking beer, waiting for the rain to end. How long
would it have taken before they finally succumbed?
The exit gate was open and Peter limped out, across the rocky parking lot where Allison
had stepped on his face with her sadistic spiky thigh high boots; where the girls had all
ridden him like a horse across the brutal rocks. He got to the trees on the far side of the
parking lot and realized he should keep to the shadows, lest he be tormented by any more
women. But, there was no one around. No traffic, because most men hadn’t gotten the
new driver’s licenses yet, and the women were probably still sleeping. They all slept
very late now.
Peter began walking sorely down the road, finally shuffling up the entrance ramp to the
southbound highway. He was very far from home – very, VERY far, he realized. He
would not be able to walk it; and he would surely be found and arrested before he’d made
it all the way. He didn’t have the strength to make it all the way! And then, he would
spend 24 hours with his face being sat on by the strong tanned thighs of a Nordic police
officer, her short skirt rubbing harshly on his face as she ground it under her two hundred
pound weight! His eyes teared up at the thought of it! He could find a phone, but he was
sure the phones were programmed to identify male voices and notify the authorities they
were making a call. There was no question males were not permitted to use the phones!
He was standing stupidly in the open, trying to make his mind focus, when he heard a
car! His heart stopped and he became completely, utterly panicked! It was much closer
when he finally heard it than he’d expected it would be, and he spun aimlessly around
looking for a place to hide! He turned and saw a old truck barreling toward him, and, like
a deer in the headlights, he froze! He couldn’t make himself move from the spot! The
driver no doubt saw him by now! She would at least report him, and, with the heat
scanners they had now, he would never ever get away! They’d have a helicopter here in
minutes, drop a net or something on him, and like an animal, they’d have him! Maybe
they’d shoot him with a tranquilizer gun as he ran along, like they did zebras from the air!
Oh god, Peter thought. Oh God!
The truck was slowing! The driver wasn’t going to report him! She was going to take
him the same way the girls had! She was going to revel in finding a lonely male to stomp
or tear or whip as a little distraction on her trip! Or maybe she’d enslave him and torture
him for the rest of his life! Peter’s legs went weak, as the truck slowed to a stop in front
of him, and he just collapsed into a ball and started sobbing. The truck stopped, idling for
a moment, then its engine cut off. Out of the silence, a voice said, “What – what are you
doing out here?” Peter sobbed a moment more, before his mind lazily tapped at his
consciousness. IT WAS A MALE VOICE! Peter lifted his head to see the driver – the
MALE DRIVER – sitting in his cab, calling out the window. He was alone! There was
no woman with him! Peter dried his tears and stared at the driver for the longest time.
Then, as the driver had made no move to get out, Peter got up and slowly walked over to
the left side of the truck.
“What are you doing out here?” the driver repeated. Peter looked through the window
and saw an elderly man in sorry shape. His hands were chained to the steering wheel,
and he was tightly restrained to the seat. He had a tight leather collar on his neck and was
shaking his head from side to side almost like he had a palsy.
“Are you sick?” asked Peter.
“No…just…very tired,” the man answered wearily. “Shaking my head helps me to
stay…awake.” Hanging down just in front of the driver’s forehead from the roof of the
cab, was a small square metal plate on a rod, a bit smaller and much closer than a rear
view mirror. Peter stared at it. “It’s so I can’t fall asleep,” the man said, resigned. Even
from here, Peter could feel the heat emanating from the metal plate. If the man’s head
nodded forward… Peter saw his forehead had already been burned many times.
“How long have you been kept awake driving?” asked Peter, sorrow rising in him.
The man stared into space. “A long time,” he answered slowly. “A…very long time.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Peter.
“I’m too old for the Treatment,” the man answered. “I’m already weak. At least without
the Treatment, I have my mental capacity…sort of. I have to make a….delivery,” the
man said. “I have to stay on schedule, or…or…,” his voice trailed off.
“You’re going South – maybe to San Diego?” Peter asked tentatively. “I’m trying to
go…home…to my wife.”
The old man stared at him a long time. “What more can they do to me?” he finally said.
“Get in.”
Peter’s heart soared! He didn’t want to tell the old man what ‘they COULD do,’ so he
just got in the truck and slammed the door.
The side view mirror gave him his first look at the stranger that he’d become and he
gasped! His face was swollen and cut, a hole from Paula’s boot almost through his
cheek. His ear had bled where she’d ground the ring into it. Heel marks covered his
face, and footprints in a waffle tread over them. His hair was full of dirt, and filth matted
it to his head. Most of his clothes had been torn off, and his body was a giant black and
blue bruise, with deep scratches and holes in it! His back was scored badly by the girls’
nails, he realized, as he couldn’t sit against the seat back. His fingers were bent and
misshapen and his legs only worked partially. He looked like he’d been in a prizefight
after a car accident. Then, as the old man who wasn’t permitted to sleep started the truck,
Peter’s head fell back, and he slept a fitful sleep for both of them.
The old man woke Peter at the outskirts of San Diego, looking even more peaked than he
had two hours ago, when they’d started. There was a fresh burn on his forehead. Peter
gave him directions to the outskirts of his neighborhood and thanked him profusely, as he
almost fell out of the truck. The old man said nothing at first, then, “I’ve gotta make…a
delivery…I…can’t be late…if I’m late, my boss will…she’ll….”, his voice trailed off.
He put the truck into gear and slowly lumbered off.
The truck disappeared into the distance, and Peter finally turned and began walking down
the sidewalk. He had been walking for ten minutes toward his street, when a big black
car pulled up next to him and the passenger window glided open. He – recognized the
car!
“IT IS YOU! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN ALL NIGHT?!” a female voice
suddenly screamed at him at the top of her voice. DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR
WIFE HAS BEEN GOING THROUGH?!” “YOU BASTARD! DO YOU KNOW
HOW YOU’VE WORRIED HER?!” Peter instinctively jumped in terror at an angry
woman’s voice. He turned to the withering stare of Marci, his wife’s best friend and
sorority sister, behind the wheel of the big black Cadillac she drove. Peter had dated her
briefly in college, but had broken up with her when he’d fell completely, overwhelmingly
in love with Kelly (which had pissed her off, big-time). He was convinced the only
reason she didn’t screw with him now was that his wife wouldn’t let her touch him.
“Marci…Marci….I can’t…I…something happened….I can’t…,” Peter was stuttering
again, overcome with joy at someone he knew finding him – someone who would take
him HOME. “Marci…,” Peter stammered.
“LOOK AT YOU! YOU’RE HIDEOUS!” Marcy screamed. She put the car in park, got
out and walked around, clicking in her business pumps, her tight skirt suit showing off
every curve. She put her hands on her hips and stared down at him, blocking out the sun.
“Kelly’s been out all night, looking for you! The Highway Patrol calls, tells her you were
driving like a maniac and then resisted a citation and to come pick you up! THEN, her
car’s there, BUT YOU’RE AWOL! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!!!” She
grabbed his face roughly in her hand, squeezing his cheeks together with her nails,
drilling him with her thumb were Paula had impaled him with her spike heel. Peter
gasped from the pain – and seeing this, Marci drove her thumb in much harder, smiling.
Peter’s legs went weak, and Marci held him up, squeezing his face like a child’s.
“Muthhi…pwleez…tke me…howme...,” Peter moaned through his compressed cheeks as
Marci squeezed them. His eyes began watering as Marci gouged them with her long
nails. “Oh, god…youw nails huwt…plwleze…!
“I’ll take you home…only because Kelly’s my friend and you’re WORRYING HER!
But you’re not going home looking like that! I’ll have to clean you up first!” Marci
released him and Peter staggered, as Marci walked up the lawn of the house nearest them
and picked up the garden hose. “Don’t move!” she ordered, and toggled the hose setting
to ‘SOAP’, then began spraying high-pressure soapy water, directly at Peter’s face,
giggling as he tried to turn away. “Move at all, and I’ll put my thumbnail right through
your cheek!” Marci yelled. Peter stood still, letting the icy water hit him full on in the
face. When Marci had had her fun, she sprayed the rest of him, soaking him completely,
and spraying away the caked on dirt, the blood, and the filth that had covered him for
most of the night. She took her time, , selected RINSE, sprayed some more, and when
she finally finished, Peter was shivering uncontrollably in the cold California morning.
Marci walked over to him, her heels sinking in the grass, and watched him shivering idly
for a minute, like a concentration camp prisoner, before finally saying, “All right, you
look pretty good except for all the cuts and bruises. Now get in the car.” Peter sullenly
limped over to the car, toward the passenger door. “Oh, right, Peter!” Marci said coldly,
as she popped the trunk. Peter hung his head and grimly walked to the trunk and tried to
lift his leg to get into it, but couldn’t make his leg work right. Marci became impatient,
and grabbed Peter by his scrotum, making him cry out, and threw him bodily into the
trunk. “Chuck doesn’t like that, either,” she said under her breath. She slammed the
trunk and got behind the driver’s seat, screeching away and deliberately throwing Peter
around the interior, as she sped through the neighborhood.
Marci had already called to tell Kelly she’d found Peter wandering aimlessly through the
neighborhood by the time she screeched to a stop in front of Peter’s house, the trunk
popping open as the car stopped. Kelly was standing in the front yard, as Marci lifted
Peter out of the car, being only a little rough now that Kelly was watching.
When Peter’s eyes met Kelly’s for the first time, he was too overcome with emotion to
speak and he just stood there dumbly dripping water from his sodden clothes. She was
the most beautiful, most charismatic, most charming, energetic, amazing woman in the
world and he had found his way back to her! There just weren’t words and Peter just
wanted to take her beauty in! The first sobs completely surprised him, as his shoulders
shook and tears began streaming down his face!
Kelly’s eyes washed over Peter and then teared up as she saw his condition - the cuts,
scratches and heel marks covering him. Then she came running toward him and wrapped
him in the safest, most wonderful hug he’d ever felt! “I love you, I love you, I love you, I
love you…” Kelly was saying over and over again. “I was so worried! Oh, thank god
you’re home! What happened?! Why didn’t you come home?! Oh, you poor baby!”
For his part, Peter could only stammer, “Kelly…Kelly….Kelly…”, as he cried.
Marci rolled her eyes. “You know he still hasn’t told you where he went. You’re so
freakin’ trusting!”
Kelly just stared into Peter’s eyes, ignoring her. “I’m so glad you’re home! I love you so
much!” she cried. “I’m going to take care of you now!” Then, suddenly, she looked
down. “Oh, Peter, your hands! What happened to your precious hands?!” Kelly gently
lifted Peter’s hands, and, as he looked at them, he remembered the cruel cop’s words, “A
concert pianist? Not anymore!” as she’d ground his fingers beneath her spike heeled
shoes. Peter would never play the piano for Kelly again, and he started crying a little
about that, too. How would he begin to tell her what he’d been through?!
Kelly was staring at his hand, a look of confusion coming over her face. She was staring
at his hand-stamp. The hand stamp from the concert. “What is this?” she asked, running
her hand caressingly through his wet hair. Marci stepped forward and took Peter’s hand
from Kelly, looking at the stamp. A satisfied smile crossed her face. “Well, gee, Kelly,
this is an admission stamp to the Allannis concert in Riverside last night. It looks like
while you were worrying your heart out, your trusting husband was hanging out at a
CONCERT!” Peter shook his head, started to explain, but Marci drove her thumb hard
into the back of his hand and Peter instantly doubled over wailing, as she worked the
broken bones back and forth. Kelly couldn’t see what she was doing to him. “See?!
He’s so full of guilt, he’s crying like a baby!” Marci said.
“No…no…,” cried Peter. “These girls took me…and…”
“You went with some girls?!” interrupted Marci “While you’re MARRIED?!!!”
“No…no…,” Peter stammered in pain.
“That’s ridiculous!” cried Kelly. “Peter and I are crazy about each other!”
“Are you!” replied Marci. “Then WHY,” she said, grabbing Peter’s other hand and,
“…WHY, is he wearing ANOTHER WOMAN’S TOE-RING?!”
Kelly stared in confusion at Paula’s toe ring on Peter’s thumb. “What is this, Peter?”
Peter tried to form his thoughts to explain. “This girl…she…gave it to me…and
I…just…she was nice to me…and I…”
“She was NICE to you, Peter?” countered Marci. “Just how NICE was she? She bought
you a ring? It says your name is ‘Todd.’ Did she rename you ‘Todd’ after you serviced
her? Why else would she give you a ring that said, ‘Todd’?! Were you her Pleasure
Slave? We rename Pleasure Slaves anything we like. Maybe she gave you a new name!
You weren’t wearing a chastity cup, were you?” Marci’s accusations were coming rapid
fire and Peter couldn’t think fast enough to keep track of them.
“Stop it Marci!” Kelly said. “Let him explain!”
Peter tried desperately to calm down – to make sense of how to explain. He began,
“These girls…took me to…the Allannis concert…and…Paula…Paula was nice to
me…and she gave me this ring…so I put it on…and…and…because…,” how was he
going to explain it all?! He couldn’t even stop the stuttering! He looked at Kelly’s eyes.
They were still confused, trying to understand. But she had focused on a scrap on white
paper sticking out of Peter’s jeans pocket. She reached forward and pulled it out,
carefully unfolding it. It was the note Paula had given him, Peter realized…so long
ago…last night. He hadn’t even read it. “Yeah…Paula…Paula gave me that,” he
stammered.
The writing had run a bit, where the garden hose had soaked the note, but it was still easy
for Kelly to read. ‘THIS IS PETER COLE. AND HE IS MY PLEASURE SLAVE.
PLEASE DON’T DAMAGE HIM, LEST HE BE UNABLE TO SERVE ME – PAULA
BOWERS,’ the note read. Kelly stared at the words uncomprehending. She lost her
balance a little and she started to shake her head back and forth involuntarily. Then,
muttering, “No…no…it can’t be…,” she reached forward and roughly yanked Peter’s
jeans open, breaking the button and tearing the zipper apart. Then she reached roughly
inside his underwear and ran her hand over his privates, then pulled it out and put it to her
nose. The smell from Elena’s forced masturbation was on her hand, and Kelly smelled it
easily. Her mouth fell open and went from denial to disbelief to sadness and pain, like a
changing kaleidoscope as she burst into tears.
“No…no,” cried Peter. “It’s not what you” –
Kelly’s face, looking at Peter, changed from horrible sadness to pure unadulterated rage
in only a second! “YOU! YOU…SON OF A BITCH!” she screamed.
The slap she delivered across Peter’s face literally knocked his legs out from under him,
as his head snapped to the side and he was slammed to the ground. Her clear handprint
was visible in his cheek.
“No…no,” Peter pleaded as the sting rose, then crippled him with pain. “BASTARD!”
Kelly screamed. “I LOVED YOU! I PROTECTED YOU! THEY SAID YOU
NEEDED DISCIPLINE! AND I SAID I COULDN’T HURT YOU LIKE THAT! I
SAID I TRUSTED YOU! AND YOU…YOU…YOU OFFERED YOURSELF TO
ANOTHER WOMAN?!!! YOU TOOK HER RING?!!! YOU ANSWERED TO A
DIFFERENT NAME?!! TODD????!!! DO YOU WANT ME TO CALL YOU ‘TODD’
NOW?!!! Kelly kicked Peter square in the stomach with the pointed toe of her pump as
he flailed on the ground at her feet. Then she kicked him again and again and again until
she was spent, and Peter was clutching the lawn desperate with pain and unable to speak!
He rolled at her feet grunting, trying desperately to breathe, holding on to her shoes
pathetically and licking them like an animal!
Kelly stared at him like he was from another planet -- the compassion completely gone
from her eyes. Marci, who had stood silently watching Kelly slap Peter silly with quiet
satisfaction, reached down, and picked up the note from the grass where Kelly had
dropped it, reading it silently. She looked up, nodding with a slight smile. “There are
ways we Tri-Delts have of handling this, you know,” she said to Kelly. Their eyes
locked, then Kelly looked back down at Peter, the man she’d loved, hesitating, knowing
what Marci meant to do to him. She stared at her husband through tears of rage. Does he
really deserve that?! Could she really allow it?! Then, she looked at the toe ring on his
thumb, and the note in Marci’s hand. And her face grew hard, and she said, almost in a
whisper, “Handle it, then!”
A wide smile formed on Marci’s face, as Kelly spun on her heel, turned her back on Peter
and walked into the house. Peter tried to get up, but Marci forced him down with her
foot, then held him against the ground, as she pulled a ball gag from her purse and forced
it into Peter’s mouth, then tightened it very harshly and locked the little padlock behind
his head. Still forcing his face into the grass beneath her pump, she leaned down and said
softly, “I’ve waited years for you to fuck up, Peter. Now the old sorority’s gonna get
together for one last party you’ll never forget!” She leered at him, as she pulled a leash
from her purse, clipped it to the back of Peter’s ball gag, then removed her pump from his
head and stepped on his hand, standing on it, as Peter screamed through the gag, while
she took out her cell phone to call all the girls.
Marci occasionally looked down at Peter’s head under her shoe as she laughed
absentmindedly while she made her calls. It took about fifteen minutes to call her
sorority sisters and ask them to call the others. Then, she stepped off Peter’s hand and his
head and walked around between his legs. Peter felt her put the toe of her pump squarely
on his scrotum, as she said, “You really shouldn’t have broken up with me, Peter. You
never should have picked Kelly. And the worst thing is…I’ve taken all the classes, Peter.
I know how to make a man wish he’d never been born!” As Peter processed her words,
Marci shifted her weight forward, stepping directly on one of his balls, then snapping her
foot to the side. The blinding flash of incomprehensible pain was so overwhelming, Peter
didn’t even get the scream out, before he lost consciousness! He didn’t know that Marci
continued to stand on his testicles, grinding them into the ground for almost another
minute more.
*****

[DeathXI]

It was a sort of steel trellis – like a mattress spring, really - a steel frame that Peter was
restrained in, when he awoke in the family room of his house. He was laying face up, his
arms and legs stretched taught away from his naked body, tightly cuffed in the corners of
the metal frame. He was absolutely helpless, and embarrassed at his weak nakedness,
bared for all to see. He had been laid on the floor of the family room in his house and he
was alone and completely ignored. The ball gag had been left in his mouth so he couldn’t
speak or cry out. The strong steel frame was impossible to escape from, and Peter had no
strength left as it was.
The house was quiet and he was trying to think of how to stop the insanity that threatened
to destroy his life. Kelly had never been so cruel to him! She’d almost killed him with
her kicks in the front yard this morning! He had to get her to remove the ball gag so he
could talk to her!
Peter heard the front door open. And footsteps. LOUD, GRATING FOOTSTEPS. He
craned his head desperately to see if Kelly had come in. But it wasn’t Kelly.
“Mom? Ms. Cole?!”
It was Marci’s teenage daughter, Tabitha. Just turned eighteen and a new senior in high
school, Peter had babysat her when she was a child. Now, she was well over six feet tall
and had the muscular frame and uniform of a high school soccer player. Her deeply
tanned muscular thighs burst like frog’s legs from her tight black practice shorts, which
matched her jet-black curly hair perfectly. In her colorful uniform, she looked like an
American Gladiator.
Tabitha walked up with the slow, weighty walk of a bodybuilder, and stood over Peter,
her hands on her hips, looking at him silently, as their eyes met, then focusing unabashed
directly at his manhood, raising her eyebrows. She stared at it, enjoying the fact Peter
couldn’t hide it from her. Peter was overcome by embarrassment. He lay naked beneath
this high schooler and she made no attempt to hide the fact that she was enjoying his
discomfort. Peter tried to speak through the gag, but the sound only embarrassed him
more. “MMMHHGG.”
Tabitha smiled, still staring directly at his penis. “Hi, Mister Cole, aren’t you a little
cold?” she said.
“MMPPFFHHGGG!” “MMFFGGHHH!” Peter pleaded through the gag.
“Is that some new kind of exercise device?” she asked with a little laugh. Peter blushed,
trying to twist away from her gaze, but unable in the restraints. She looked again at his
groin. She raised her eyebrows again, thinking - then knitted them with fake concern.
“It’s really small, you know, Mr. Cole. REALLY small!” she said with mock
disappointment. “Did you have an accident with it or something?” She fingered her
teeth with her fingernail. Peter flushed, but Tabitha just kept staring at his manhood,
shaking her head in mock dismay. “You can hardly even see it,” she said. Peter tried
again to speak, but the gag prevented him, and it sounded pathetic.
Their eyes met again. “My mom called and said she’d be over here the rest of the day,
and I should come over when I’m done with soccer practice.” She stared into Peter’s
eyes, waiting a beat. “My mom said you’d been bad, Mr. Cole.” Peter looked
desperately at the ceiling above him. “My mom said there was going to be a party
tonight…” Tabitha’s implication was clear. She shifted her weight and there was a loud
crackle from her shoes. Peter jumped instinctively. “Oh, sorry. I’m still wearing my
steel soccer cleats,” Tabitha said, letting the comment hang in the air as she stared down
at him.
Peter looked up at her unsure, then suddenly pleading and screaming through the gag,
trying to wriggle out of the restraints as he read the expression on her face. She calmly
smiled a little. “Don’t worry, Mr. Cole. I won’t be too hard on you…”
Tabitha lifted her powerful leg and climbed onto the coffee table above Peter’s head, all
the while staring at him with a cruel expression on her face, now, standing tall as a giant
over him on the wooden table. Peter heard the wood in the table crack and splinter as she
stepped around on it in her cleats. Her head almost touched the cathedral ceiling! And
she was about to jump on him in cleats! Peter steeled himself and prayed he could
somehow endure the impact of the teen’s entire body thundering down on him! He began
shivering violently and screaming pathetic moans through the ball gag. Tabitha wound
up, squatting to leap into the air for her high jump, when a harsh voice stopped her in her
tracks!
“Stop right there, young lady! Don’t you move! Just what on Earth do you think you are
doing, Tabitha Ann?!” Marci came marching into the room, a tray full of snacks in her
hands.
“But mom! I wanna play with him!” Tabitha whined.
“Don’t ‘but mom’ me! You will get down from there this INSTANT!”
Peter thanked god for Marci’s timing. It had been so close! Another second and…
“Look what your cleats have done to Ms. Cole’s coffee table! They’ve ruined it! All the
wood is splintered and cracked and there are deep pockmarks in it from your weight!
Tabitha, honestly, how many times have I told you to treat other people’s stuff with some
care! If you’re going to play with Mr. Cole, put a towel down on the coffee table to
protect it first!”
“I’m sorry, mom,” Tabitha grumbled. Peter looked from one to the other as they talked
without even looking down at him – as if he wasn’t even THERE! Marci returned from
the bathroom and put two thick towels over the wood in the coffee table, as Tabitha
climbed back up on it. “You know what you’re doing, honey?” her mom asked. “Geezy
Cow, mom! It’s not like I’ve never stomped someone with my cleats!” she said. Her
mom smiled and turned away to put away the snacks.
Peter’s lower lip began to quiver as Tabitha, once again, towered over him – then it was
his whole jaw! “This is how the soccer field feels, Mr. Cole!” she shouted. And Tabitha
leapt high into the air, bringing her legs up into her chest, then slamming them into
Peter’s chest with all her power, as her full weight crashed down upon him. Peter saw
the cruel points of her steel cleats hover for just a moment in the air, then felt them slam
into him like a truck hitting him! His whole body reverberated in the metal frame,
bouncing off the floor, as Tabitha drove his rib cage straight into his spine, bending it just
before it cracked. Peter screamed into the ball gag as Tabitha’s cleats did their wicked
work, grinding into him without mercy, as she started stomping about on him with
reckless abandon! She stomped him and trampled on him with the abject violence of a
teenager who has no idea there are any limits or design to something! She just marched
around on him, each brutal stomp killing him and peppering his naked body with deep
cleat marks. Tabitha paid special attention to his groin. She stepped on it and twisted her
cleats into it, making Peter writhe and scream as she concentrated on smashing and
grinding it beneath her shoes over and over again. She was so big and muscular…and so
energetic in her power! Finally, Tabitha began pacing over Peter’s body, as it buckled
beneath her. She stepped squarely on his face with her cleats each time she walked over
him; and she did it over and over and over, until Peter’s face was a broken mess, studded
with deep cleat marks! Then, Tabitha stood still, both feet on Peter’s face and began
twisting her cleats back and forth, ripping Peter’s face apart with her full weight on her
toes, then her heels as she rocked back and forth.
Peter found himself screaming - begging and pleading this teenager to please, please, stop
the pain, through his broken, bloody lips. She just laughed down at him. “Yeah, right,
Mr. Cole!” she said mockingly. “Like I’m really gonna stop! Geezy Cow! You’re
worse than all the boys at school! At least they don’t beg so much!” The horrible
twisting continued for several minutes as she ground her hard steel cleats into his face.
Then, Tabitha leapt up and dropped her ass full weight on Peter’s stomach, knocking the
air out of him in a loud, “Oooffgggh!” Tabitha faced away from Peter, brutally grabbed
his testicles in both fists and began squeezing them and kneading them violently.
“PHUTTH…PLEUTHHHH…AAGUUUGGHHHH!! AHHIIOOGGGHHWWWW!”
“I know this hurts guys,” she said half to herself. Peter’s body went rigid as Tabitha dug
her nails into his testicles with complete abandon. He couldn’t move with her weight on
him and shackled in the metal frame, but he twisted and turned helplessly as she squeezed
his privates so hard, he almost vomited! Tabitha worked her nails in, then squeezed until
her hands were trembling from the effort, clenched in fists, holding the squeeze, then
twisted then pulled. She bounced on Peter’s stomach, then did it again and again after
that. Peter’s was spewing flecks of saliva through the gag! Finally, she held one testicle
between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, turned around and said, “And I know this
REALLY hurts guys!” She turned away from Peter’s contorted face and slowly squeezed
his individual testicles between her fingers until her fingers met, crushing them like
grapes, as Peter’s whole body erupted in a mass of sick ache such that he almost had a
seizure from the pain.
Marci walked over and studied Peter’s face and his body, now rigid from the excruciating
crushing Tabitha was giving his gonads, smiling at the way Tabitha was holding the
crushed testicles in her fingers – keeping the pressure on them as Peter trembled,
quivering from the pain. “Okay, honey, I told you you could have a little fun, but he’s
gotta be conscious when all the girls get here.”
“OH, ALRIGHT!” Tabitha rolled Peter’s crushed nuts between her fingers hard, then
stood, stepped on Peter’s chest with her cleats and looked down at him, caving him in,
then finally stepped off Peter and directly onto his injured hand, where her mom had
stood on him a few hours before. Her cleats cracked against bone and crunched his
fingers utterly beneath them and once again, Peter screamed. “Okay, mom. I think he’s
warmed up! Good luck tonight Mr. Cole!” she said, as she clacked out of the room on
the cleats that had just destroyed Peter’s face.
Marci wet a wash towel, dropped it on Peter’s face and asked, “Gee, we’ll have to find a
way to rub that all over your face to get it clean! What would you suggest?” She calmly
straddled Peter’s head, and, smiling down at him from far above, she very slowly lowered
her ass down onto the towel, sitting on Peter’s face with her full weight. Peter felt like
his skull would cave in with Marci’s ass sitting on his face, and then realized he couldn’t
breathe! Marci began rubbing and grinding herself all over Peter’s face, with her weight
still on him, until the white towel was pink with the blood from the injuries her daughter
had left him with, and Peter had suffocated into unconsciousness from the pain and
pressure. Then she got up and licked her lips, before walking away with the towel,
brushing Peter’s nose with her stiletto heel. “That’s better,” she said.
Peter was left alone in his captivity, totally ignored, his ballgag in place for the rest of the
day. The ache came and went, especially when he moved, but it seemed to have begun to
be absorbed by all the other pain he had endured over the past twenty-four hours. Marci,
Kelly and Tabitha came in and out at various times, with food and liquor, but they went
directly to the kitchen, except for once, when Kelly walked in with a leash and clipped it
to the black collar around Peter’s neck, momentarily taken aback by the cleat marks that
now covered his naked body. But, she seemed to recover and shrug it off. Peter looked
at her and pleaded with his eyes, but she would not meet them. That is, until she returned
from across the room with a Victoria’s Secret bag. Out of the bag, Kelly produced a
long, very wicked black leather whip. She finally met his pathetic gaze. ‘God, was she
beautiful!’ Peter thought desperately, as she dropped the whip on his chest for later. She
stared at him a moment.
“I swore I’d never have one of these in my house,” she said, looking at the whip. “I
swore I’d never do that to you to discipline you. But, you…you …,” her voice trailed
off, almost as if in a dream, her eyes hard. Kelly noticed Peter’s crushed testicles and his
uncontrollable trembling. She had thought he was just cold. “Did Tabitha do that?” Her
eyes softened a little, then, they almost teared up as she allowed herself to contemplate
Peter’s pain for just a moment. “That may be a little much,” she said, steeling herself.
Kelly walked away without another word. Peter pleaded through the gag, but she ignored
him. “Here,” she called, “watch some TV. I know I never let you watch before. Now
you can learn the reason. It’s Oscar night and the current sorority girls aren’t coming
over until after their ‘Oscar-Watching Party,’ so you’ve got a few hours.”
She flashed the remote toward the large plasma screen and it instantly came to life. It
was tuned to the Celebrity Channel and the Oscar show was just starting. Peter stared at
his wife, as she walked away without another word, leaving the room. She was definitely
getting ready for a party – a party where he was the guest of honor, Peter thought with a
shudder.
He craned his head toward the large TV. The camera was panning crowds of energetic
women spectators lined up at the end of a wide red carpet as evening came to L.A. Many
had signs applauding their favorite movie or actress. Peter noticed many of the women
had forced their men down on all fours and were standing on their bare backs to see
better. Many had spike heels or boots on. Most of the men where muzzled, but among
the few who weren’t, Peter could see them gritting their teeth against the sharp heels
crushing into their bare backs. Other women were still arriving, and, like they’d done to
Peter, were riding horseback on the backs of some of the small men, in threes and fours.
The camera rode along, streaming by the front of the cheering crowd as the ‘Oscar Night’
titles played, then an announcer made a brief introduction and the camera went live to a
staggeringly beautiful bubble-headed Entertainment Tonight Reporter standing on the red
carpet.
She was tall (of course), very young, and perfectly blond and bubbly, her hair prissed up
in funky layers. She was wearing bright pink bubble gum lipstick and nail polish and
smiling a wide, energetic smile for the camera. As the camera panned down her sky blue,
tight fitting corset dress, revealing a very high slit along the thigh, Peter could see she had
the same bright pink polish on her toes, which were enshrouded in matching sky blue
very high strappy stilettos, incredibly sharp at the points of her heels. She was perfect.
The reporter gleefully welcomed the TV audience, then turned to try to catch the stars for
an interview as they arrived for the Oscars.
As if it had been scripted, the reporter instantly pointed and the camera panned, then
zoomed in too close on the face of a stunning Nichole Kiddmyn. She was smiling as her
face bobbed back and forth, filling the screen, the camera trying to keep it in focus. As
the camera quickly zoomed out, Peter saw with stunned surprise that it was bobbing
because she was riding sidesaddle on the bare back of a much smaller man. Peter did a
double take! It was….Tom Whats-his-name, her ex husband! Peter’s eyes went wide
and he struggled to turn toward the screen within the steel frame in which he was held.
Where Nichole had always been much taller than Tom, she completely dwarfed him now,
and he was struggling with her weight, carrying her as her beast of burden. Nichole
looked fantastically elegant, her eyes smiling and her hair trussed up in an elegant old
world style. She wore a white dress sequined with gold that hugged her elegant figure
down to her ankles, on which she sported short, but very sharp stilettos. The toes of her
ivory shoes came to a sharp point at the front, and Peter thought he could see a dark stain
on the point of one of the toes.
When the reporter caught up to her and held out the microphone, Nichole pulled hard on
the leash, yanking the bit in Tom’s mouth, causing him to groan, then she stood up,
revealing her full height, as she deftly yanked sideways on the leash, pulling Tom off
balance and causing him to roll onto his back, where he lay with practiced anticipation.
Peter noticed Tom swallowed as Nichole absently placed her shoe on his lower stomach,
as she smiled at the reporter. Nichole looked down, carefully lifted the seam of her dress
so as not to tear it, and stepped up onto Tom’s groin, sinking deeply into it, her heels
coming to bear with her full weight on them. Tom’s head flew back and he groaned,
gritting his teeth, his hands trying vainly for purchase on the red carpet. Nichole didn’t
even look down at him and her smile never changed. Nichole now stood on Tom, facing
his head, towering above the reporter and smiling for an interview.
“Nichole Kiddmyn!” the reporter gleefully squealed. “I’m so happy you stopped to chat
with ET!”
Nichole smiled radiantly. “I’m very happy to speak to you,” she said in her distinctive
accent.
The reporter, holding the microphone up so high to her, looked down at Tom’s face.
“I’m sorry…may I?” she asked Nichole.
“Oh, sorry! Of course! I borrowed him from his current wife for the evening! We’re
best friends!” Nichole offered. The dazzling reporter looked carefully down, and, as
Tom’s eyebrows knitted in fear, she carefully placed her sky blue stiletto heel on his
cheek, right below his right eye. Tom’s head became stock still, and his hands clenched
into fists, as the reporter slowly stepped onto his face, her heel sliding backward into
Tom’s eye as he clenched it shut. She positioned her other heel directly in the center of
his other clenched eye, standing now on both his eyeballs, as she shifted her weight back
onto his tight eyelids to test her footing. Her heels sunk straight into Tom’s eyes,
depressing them almost an inch into his head as they disappeared into him, before she
leaned more forward onto her toes, now splayed over his mouth, crushing his teeth. Tom
Cruise screamed, muffled by her soles standing on his mouth. The reporter laughed.
“You know, I saw one of your husband’s movies when I was a kid! He was really a
heartthrob in his day! I never thought I’d be standing on his face, digging my stilettos
into his eyes!” she laughed.
Nichole looked down at Tom, suffering under the young reporter’s feet, his sight at the
mercy of an unconscious shift of her weight, and replied, “Yes, well, times change!”
“They certainly do!” the reporter answered. She looked down again, surprised. “He’s
screaming. Neither you nor his current wife have had his vocal cords adjusted?” She
asked Nichole.
“No, I must confess, we…rather enjoy listening to him prattle on!” she laughed. The
reporter nodded smiling as if this was so cute!
She proceeded to interview Nichole about her dress, her movies and her life, all while
stepping around on Tom Cruz’s face, her muscular legs revealed by the slit in her dress as
she ground his head beneath her feet. Neither of the women looked back down at him,
and when she finally thanked Nichole and stepped down only a few minutes later, Tom’s
face looked like it had been put through a meat grinder! Fifty to sixty heel marks
adorned it and both his eyes were black. His lips were bleeding freely from the grinding
they took beneath the reporter’s soles and the rest of his face was covered in deep bruises.
Nichole didn’t seem to notice as she stepped down, bouncing once on his manhood for
fun, then twisting her foot as she stepped off. Tom groaned as her foot ground him
beneath it. She sternly yanked the leash, her smile momentarily replaced by an intense
stare, as Tom flew onto all fours again, and Nichole sat down regally on him to resume
her ride into the theater, Tom, now temporarily blinded by the reporter driving her heels
into his eyes, now bumping into other women as he crawled with Nichole on his back, his
arms shaking from the strain.
“Demmi!” the reporter cried. Demmi Moure, a perfectly proportioned enlarged version
of herself, now six feet five, with the same bedroom body and voluptuous perfect breasts,
was already standing on her boyfriend, a half naked Ashten, her velvet pumps making
deep impressions in his spindly bare chest and caving in his visible ribs as his mouth lay
open in a silent, airless scream. Ashten was beside himself with pain! Demmi was
talking to another reporter, just finishing up, when the ET girl walked up, stepping on
Ashten's hand with her heel without noticing and standing there, crackling his bones
under her spike. She looked down at Ashten. “I have to ask you about the rumors about
THIS guy!” the ET reporter said, nudging Ashten's contorted face with her other shoe.
“C’mon Demmi, a year before the announcement of the Awakening and the new
Treatment, you go out and get yourself a kid boyfriend twenty years younger than you?!
Let’s have the truth…did you know?”
“Alright, I might as well come clean!” replied Demmi, looking down at Ashten’s pale,
pockmarked chest as he screamed in a hiss with a particularly nasty twist of her heel. “I
heard from some pretty highly placed sources that the Treatment was going to be
available, and I was able to manage to…well…get one of the very first gene splices,
which, of course made me cover girl material at forty, even though, at the time, no one
was the wiser. Problem was, no man close to my age could take the…let’s say,
‘intensity’ of a relationship with me. I had to find a twenty-something like Ashten! He
also became so devoted; he would accept extraordinarily severe pain, when I needed to
take out my frustrations on someone and I eventually raised his pain threshold - though it
took quite a bit of time.
“On one of our first dates, I still remember him starting to sweat, when I asked him,
“Ashten, have you ever been whipped? I mean REALLY whipped?!” It was after I’d
strapped him to the trestle. He thought I was just kidding ‘til I showed him the whip.
Then he started to try to pull free. I beat him until he was unconscious that night and I
was hooked! And the only reason I stopped was because he stopped screaming when he
passed out, and then it was no fun. Then, I pulled him into my home gym and did
aerobics on his semiconscious body for two hours.
When he woke up, I held his privates squeezed in my nails so he couldn’t move while I
gave him the Male Treatment injection. After that, there was no way he could leave me.
He made certain… “promises” while I held his head between my thighs and crushed it
while I stood on his fingers. If he ever tried to leave me, I’d find him and stomp him
into the sidewalk and he knew it! So, he became my boyfriend and never said a word!
Of course, now, he can talk all he wants about our relationship! Wanna say something
for the camera, honey?” she called down to Ashten.
To his credit, Ashten tried to speak, but the ET reporter, seeing her chance at a joke,
stepped directly on his throat, instantly turning his pained speech into a choking gasp!
Her bright pink toes crushed down on Ashten’s soft windpipe, almost to the red carpet
below! Peter gasped! It looked as if she’d simply squish his head off his body! Both
women laughed at Ashten, now choking beneath the blond reporter’s foot. She was in no
hurry to move it. Holding her weight on Ashten’s neck, she said, “Well Ashten? Don’t
you have something to say to the TV audience?” She held the microphone close so the
audience could hear his pathetic gasping and the creak of her shoe leather as she bounced
up and down on his throat. Finally, she stepped off, but now put the point of her heel
carefully in the little pocket at the base of his throat, inclining her foot so the sharpest part
of the heel stabbed into him there. She began to drive it into his neck! Holding it at
about two inches deep, she smiled and said, “I don’t think Ashten’s ready for THAT
yet!”
Demmi replied, “Oh, no, he’s a tough kid…go ahead!”
“Really?!” the ET reporter replied. Turning back to Ashten, she inclined her heel at the
optimum angle. A high definition close up of her dark tanned foot adorned with the
bright pink toenail polish glistened on plasma screen. Her smile fading into
concentration, she slowly added her weight, taking almost thirty seconds to increase the
pressure to the point where she stepped fully onto her heel stabbing it into Ashten’s
throat! Ashten’s hands shot for the reporter’s ankle, grabbing it, trying vainly to hold her
weight off of him. Both women were amused, but Demmi delivered a withering stomp to
Ashten’s stomach, ripping her heel across it, scolding him for touching another woman.
Ashten’s hands left the reporter’s ankles as she still stood on his throat with the thin shaft
of her heel entirely supporting her shapely tall body. But his hands hovered right next to
her leg, and kept almost grabbing at her ankle, then pulling away, in almost a spasm, as if
he could barely control himself. The reporter drove her stiletto straight down into his
throat, the skin of his neck depressed into a deep, narrow hole around her heel!
Over the next few seconds, something strange happened. Both women stopped their
lighthearted banter and began staring intently at Ashten, seemingly distracted, forgetting
about the interview. It seemed the women had lost track of time and gone briefly into
another world, staring at Ashten’s hands as they looked like they were having a seizure.
Suddenly, neither was smiling or looking at the camera; they were staring at Ashten with
an intensity Peter had only seen once – on Paula’s face, when she tortured him. The
camera kept running, but both women were oblivious, staring, mesmerized, at the
reporter’s heel being driven into his throat. Now, Peter could see Demmi’s chest rising
and falling in deep, husky breaths as she stared down at what the reporter was doing to
her boyfriend…like…almost like…it was erotic or something! The reporter, too, seemed
lost in concentration, staring in rapt concentration at her heel sinking into Ashten’s throat.
Peter thought he saw the barest – snarl – curl her lips. Almost – like an animal!
There was almost thirty seconds where no one spoke, so intent was their concentration.
The camera panned alternately from an extreme close up of the reporter’s heel, to the
women’s faces, then a full shot of them standing on Ashten, and, finally, his face, as he
tried to endure what Peter imagined was the most unimaginable fear and pain!
Then, suddenly, “Twiiiist it,” said Demmi, through gritted teeth, staring at her
boyfriend’s pained face. The ET reporter, her teeth suddenly gritted also, staring at
Ashten, began to slowly twist her stiletto heel back and forth into Ashten’s throat, her full
weight balanced on it. Ashten’s hands now grabbed her ankle again, intently, but the
women only kept staring at his contorted face. “Harder…,” said Demmi with a guttural
growl. The reporter leaned back fully on her heel and ground it even deeper into
Ashten’s throat, working it back and forth and sinking it into him almost up to her sole.
Ashten’s eyes rolled back into his head and he was completely immobilized with pain.
Both women just stared at the reporter’s heel grinding brutally into his soft throat.
Suddenly, there was a sort of ‘pop’ and the reporter dropped about an inch deeper
instantly! Ashten convulsed and began turning blue. The reporter blinked and shook her
head and Demmi seemed to come out of the spell too. The reporter stepped off Ashten,
slipping her heel out of his flesh, revealing the hole she’d just punched in his throat.
Ashten began to roll around on the ground violently clutching his throat.
“Oh, um…sorry,” the reporter said to Demmi, as Ashten continued to turn blue. Demmi,
still shaking off the intensity of the cruel rage that overcame them, said, “Oh, he’ll be
alright…just need to graft that puncture before he suffocates!” “Repair!” she called.
Four teenage babes in garb befitting tennis players suddenly appeared from a medical
unit, bent over Ashten, and slapped an unusual circular bandage on Ashten’s throat, then
applied a device that looked like an electric razor that buzzed over the wound. Two of
the girls stood on Ashten’s arms in their tennis shoes, while another held her foot on his
head. Ashten screamed as they applied the ‘razor device’ but the sound came out only as
a gurgle through the hole in his throat. Wisps of smoke began to rise from the edges of
the bandage as Ashten tried to twist away moaning. After thirty seconds, Ashten
screaming the whole time, the first girl put away the device and the others stepped off
Ashten and disappeared as quickly as they’d come. The last young paramedic shyly held
a piece of paper up to Demmi, looking at her with the adoring eyes of a fan. As Demmi
smiled and autographed the paper, the girl put her foot heavily on Ashten’s neck to seal
the graft completely. Ashten had a round black circle on his throat, and tread marks from
the teenager’s shoe, but no other obvious injury! The hole was gone! The reporter and
Demmi looked down at him, Demmi, still shredding his chest with her heels. “I’m so
sorry,” said the reporter. “Now, you’re gonna have to live with that ‘burned flesh smell’
from the graft, all through the show!”
“Oh, I’m used to that,” replied Demmi. I go through those grafts like tissues!” Both
women laughed and the reporter thanked Demmi. Demmi leaned back onto her heels and
said, “Hey, before you go, give us a kick for luck!”
“Oh yeah, good luck!” replied the reporter. She wound up and drove a staggering kick to
Ashten’s ribs with the toe of her shoe. Even from this distance, Peter heard his ribs
crack. Demmi immediately stepped farther up onto his chest and began gently bouncing
on him – playing with his newly broken ribs as Ashten writhed in pain. She smiled.
“See? He’s really a tough guy!”
“Thanks, Demmi!” the reporter called. “Hey, there’s that male midget that played the
slave in ‘My Little Friend!’ I’ve gotta go get that interview. She turned and began to
walk toward a three foot tall terrified man, surrounded by seven sexily clad dancers, all
wearing high heels and occasionally knocking him down and stepping on him as they
laughed and danced to a boom box one of them had brought for their entrance.
The Oscars program cut away to a short documentary about Los Angeles and the
development of Hollywood. “Los Angeles is a city of dreams,” the voiceover said.
Video of downtown L.A., its streets teaming with stunning women in tight business suits
with very short skirts, and pumps, walking aggressively through the city shown on the
screen. Peter could see some males tied up outside café’s as the women went inside to
get a cappuccino, some being sat on by women as they casually read the paper and drank
coffee on the patios. Others were being shoulder-ridden by the larger than life women,
as they talked on cell phones, their heels hooked into the skin of the males’ chests, the
men laboring beneath them. The shot zoomed to the reporter doing the voiceover, as she
stood on a crowded sidewalk, women bustling by her, and held the microphone in front
of her and talked about the city. But behind her, Peter could see, a large metal grating in
the sidewalk – a vent of some type from the subway below. Except, as Peter looked more
closely, he could see…fingers…male fingers…stuck up through the grating! In fact, tens
of knuckles and fingers were sticking up through the grating from below, hanging onto it!
And hundreds of businesswomen were brutally walking over the men’s knuckles in their
high-heeled pumps as they went about the business of the city! Peter could now hear the
men below, screaming as their fingers were ground into the steel edges of the grate under
the women’s heels! One of the women remarked to a colleague, as she walked over the
grate in her pumps, “Oh, yeah, I like that they did this! My heels don’t get caught in the
grating anymore!” Her friend replied, “Exactly! AND, we teach men who trip with us
on their shoulders to be more careful!” Both women shared a smile as Peter heard them
breaking the fingers of the men as they walked hard over their knuckles! The reporter
now turned and strolled as she talked, walking onto the grating and standing in place on
it. Peter heard the multiple cracks, like bubble paper popping, as the men’s knuckles
were broken beneath her shoes. Peter heard their screams and saw every shift of the
reporter’s weight, knowing it was an unconscious act for her, but the most important
thing in the world to the men below, as each shift of her weight brought grinding pain
they could barely endure!
Peter couldn’t watch anymore. Except for his fitful nap in the truck, he had been up for
almost twenty-four hours and the majority of it had been filled with more pain than he’d
ever conceived of. Even chained naked in a steel trellis with a ball gag in his mouth, he
was slipping off to sleep now that he was left alone. He dozed a few minutes, and then
awoke to a very lifelike scream from the TV.
Pamela Andresen was walking up the red carpet in the sexiest black leather bodice Peter
had ever seen. But the scream was from her ex husband, Tommy Lehe, desperately
trying to keep up with her confident walk as he scurried along on all fours behind her.
Pam was wearing steel platform heels that were needle sharp at the bottoms. She had
clipped Tommy’s hands to little padlocks on her ankles with short chains, and now, every
time she took a step, her legs would yank Tommy’s hands forward, throwing them
directly under her heels just as she stepped down on them. Though Pam was walking on
the carpet, the only thing her heels ever stepped on, were Tommy Lehe’s hands. And
with every single step, Pamela’s heels would slice right into Tommy’s fingers or
knuckles or the back of his hand, the razor sharp steel easily ripping right through them to
the carpet below. Tommy was screaming as Pam cut him to pieces with each step. He
was crying, trying to keep up, only to have the beautiful babe crunch his fingers with
every step, making horrible holes all through his hands. When they got to closer to the
theatre, Pamela unclipped Tommy Lehe and an attendant dragged him toward a side
entrance to the theatre marked, “Seats Entrance,” whatever that was, Peter thought, as
Tommy Lehe clutched his shredded hands into his body. Pamela tossed her tussled blond
hair and gave him a sexy smile. “See ya inside, honey!” she called.
From here, the red carpet narrowed and only the glamorous women paraded over it. ‘It’s
lumpy,’ Peter thought dully. Obviously, there were scores of poor men trapped beneath
the carpet for the high heeled women stars to walk over, and a continuous parade of them
were taking advantage of the softer footing in their high heels and boots. The carpet bent
and compressed beneath them as they walked over the hidden men. There was no escape
for any of the men anymore, Peter knew. The way the carpet was depressing beneath the
heavy step of the women, it was almost flat in spots – just like in the food tent, thought
Peter. He had lived in paradise with a woman who didn’t hurt him and had never known
what went on across the world, outside his own. But tonight, all that would change.
Tonight, Peter would learn how the other half lived! Peter began to drift off again.
The last shot he saw was of the interior of the theater, where all the theater seats had
been removed and had been replaced by the three-foot high steel support posts from
coffee shop stools, but with no seats. Hundreds of women were sitting instead, on the
chests of males as the males lay on their backs on top of the posts, the posts driving into
the centers of their backs, their arms and legs dangling backwards off the tops of the
round bases. The weight of the women would be driving the males into the stool posts,
as well as crushing them from above. It was abject unnecessary cruelty, and the men
would endure the women’s weight for four hours without reprieve, thought Peter! He
spied Nichole Kiddmyn, now sitting on a prostrate Tom Cruz, his arms dangling over his
head as Nichole’s weight crushed him into the short steel pole he was made to lay on.
Nichole had slipped off her shoes and had placed one luxuriant foot on Tom’s throat,
against the underside of his chin, forcing his head back with her leg muscle, while she
seductively ran the sole of her other foot over Tom’s mouth over and over again, as he
licked at it voraciously. Just a little more pressure with either foot, and Tom’s head
would either be crushed or torn from his shoulders!
On the stage, a small thin man had been laid on his back and had had his arms and legs
tied to thick ropes that stretched from the ceiling of the theater, high above. As the ropes
retracted a bit into the ceiling, the man was lifted from the stage, forming a human swing!
Suddenly, Brittany bounded onto the stage and wasted no time in stepping onto the man’s
torso in her trademark white, thigh high, spike heeled boots – standing on the human
swing! The man screamed and groaned and Brittany just smiled down at him! As she
sang her new song, she rocked back onto her heels and stretched the man forward,
starting to swing standing, over the crowd. The crowd loved the performance! Brittany’s
weight crushed the man’s chest at the same time her heels cut into him at the same time
the extreme pressure threatened to pull his arms and legs from their sockets! When she
leapt into the air and came straight down on the man’s torso with her beautiful ass, the
shock of her impact knocked him out instantly and Peter saw both the man’s arms pop
out of their sockets! Brittany stretched her legs out in front of her to swing higher, sitting
in her “swing” now, as the man’s head lolled back and forth as she flew over the crowd.
Peter, refusing to accept what he was seeing, drifted off and finally fell asleep to the
sounds of his wife and Marci, rattling dishes in the kitchen. It was a deep sleep.
Peter’s unconscious mind registered some shuffling, and then, some quiet whispering,
then Peter came to, to the searing pain of a cigarette being ground out on his nipple. He
screamed and there was a chorus of female laughter. The white hot knife of heat came
from a young girl he’d never seen before, with very long nails, holding her cigarette to
his chest and bursting out laughing as she ground it into him. Peter took a moment to
focus and realized he was surrounded by at least twenty women, in severe clothes, high
heels and boots. He must have slept for a couple of hours and they’d snuck into the
house and silently surrounded him. Some were sorority sisters from his wife’s college
days; some appeared to be Tri-Delts from the same sorority today. All towered over him,
blocking out the light, and every single one was a kind of beautiful Peter didn’t have
words for. Another bent down and cruelly applied her cigarette to his other nipple and
Peter yelped and jumped, trying to escape the pain to no avail as he screamed. The
woman ground her cigarette hard into him, flashing her electric smile with her perfect
teeth, then put her boot on it and ground it hard into him, gritting her teeth, until there
was ash embedded under the welts from the burn. “Welcome to your party – you fucking
adulterer,” she said menacingly.
Peter looked around the room, terrified! There were so many of them! And they all were
here specifically to torture him. His eyes darted around the room feverishly, looking for
a friend, anyone! He finally saw Marci, a satisfied expression on her face. Then, his
eyes met Kelly’s. She was sitting on a bar stool across the room. She looked at him with
compassion and he pleaded with her, with his eyes. Then, she looked away.
The music started, and a tall brunette brought her boot up, stepping on his burned nipple
with her heel, then put her weight to him, standing on his naked chest as the music
started. The weight was incredible! Peter screamed and groaned as she began dancing
on him with, her short dress swirling as she looked down at the deep marks she was
leaving in his skin with her strong, deeply tanned, athletic legs. Another woman joined
her, and then suddenly five or six women were stepping all over Peter’s unprotected body
with their heels and boots. The violence of their impacts was impossible to describe!
Heels ripped and burned across his tender flesh, then drove straight into him, their
owner’s full weight on them. The pain took his breath away! In the back of his mind, he
heard the doorbell ringing constantly – more women were arriving!
Kelly, staring at her husband, now being sadistically trampled by eight to ten college
women as they danced recklessly all over his body, casually looked down at her own
heels. She was having doubts. Her heels had been worn away to nails by her walking in
them. She reached down and ran her fingers over the cruel spike, fingering the sharp
point of the nail. “Oh my god,” she thought. “To have a woman’s full weight on a spike
like this - stepping on you! To be a weakened fragile man and have eight girls stepping
all over you with spikes like this…the pain would be…oh, my god!”
Kelly stared at Peter’s pleading, terrified eyes, looking feverishly at her, his mouth
opened, screaming without enough breath to scream, begging her to help him. She
waited a beat, staring at him. Her husband. The man she’d promised to love and honor.
The man she’d dreamed of marrying, being walked on, stepped on and danced on by such
sadistic college girls!
“Just a minute,” she said softly to the room. The music covered her voice. She paused,
“I said, ‘Just a minute!’” She yelled over the music. The music suddenly stopped and
nine girls now stood still on her naked husband in their boots and sharp heels. Peter’s
suffering continued beneath them.
Kelly slowly got up and walked over to Peter, her hips swaying, staring down at him, as
he lay in terrified pain. His entire lower jaw was quivering! She looked into his pleading
eyes and her own teared up, feeling sorry for him. She could stop his pain with a word.
A single nod, and her husband’s agony would be stopped. One glance toward the girls
and they’d step off of him and he would heal. She could have him squashed, or she could
save his life. All with a word. It was a kind of power even she wasn’t used to.
She noticed a particularly tall brunette, deliberately standing with her full weight on a
single heel, driving it into the space between two of Peter’s ribs. He groaned as she
shifted her weight, a satisfied smile forming on her pouting lips. Kelly looked at Peter’s
contorted face and his watering eyes again. Just a single word for her husband, she
thought. One of the girls tentatively said, “What, Ms. Cole?”
A long pause as Kelly considered as all the girls stared at her. The doorbell rang again at
the front of the house. Kelly glanced at Marci with a pained expression on her face and
Marci just gave her a level stare in return, which she met. She looked back at Peter and
waited a beat, imagining what she was putting him through. His eyes were so sad and
afraid. But then, she spied the ring on his finger. The ring that said, “Todd.” And having
decided, Kelly looking straight into Peter’s eyes, as they pleaded to her, she said without
turning, “Don’t forget to crush his fingers – that’s where he’s most sensitive…”
Kelly turned without another word, wiping her eyes, and walked away, as two girls
happily jumped onto Peter’s fingers and began grinding them under their high heels as
Peter screamed anew through the gag.
Peter didn’t know how long it lasted…maybe an hour and a half. He lost track of time as
his body shut down and his world became pain. The girls stepping on him would change
as new girls arrived at the party. Soon, the house was filled with 200 beautiful women
and almost all had stepped on him. Marci had been by far the cruelest, dancing on his
face in her metal heels, reopening the vicious cleat marks her daughter had given him.
Marci was teaching him a lesson she’d saved for a long, long time.
Finally, as he thought he would black out, Peter heard Marci say, “All right, everybody
off of him. His wife has a message to deliver.” Marci released the locks on the trellis
Peter had been chained into, and flipped him out onto his stomach. Peter couldn’t move
from the pain anyway.
Through blurred vision, his head on its side on the carpet, Peter saw his wife, sadly get up
from her seat and walk over to him, towering above him, beautiful as a sunrise. He
swallowed, seeing her eyes moist with tears. She was just standing there, looking down
at him. “It’s not complete until you discipline him,” said Marci softly. A hush fell over
the crowd of women, as Kelly replied, almost in a whisper, “I know…I’m so sorry,
Peter…but I have to do this.”
Kelly lifted her foot directly onto her husband’s cheek and placed her grimy sole there.
Oh, god! Thought Peter! It was one thing to have a house full of sadistic women torture
you. But, to have your wife, the woman you loved and promised to obey – the woman
you stood on the altar with, humiliate you by putting her shoe on your face – stepping on
you! He’d never imagined when he said his vows what her pumps were doing to the
carpet she stood on! Now he was going to find out! Kelly was almost crying out loud as
she began to shift her weight onto his face. Peter smelled the shoe leather as he felt the
pressure double on his cheek, but she still wasn’t stepping down. ‘What would it be
like?’ Peter wondered. ‘What would it be like feeling Kelly’s full weight on my face?’
He looked up at her as she pinned his cheek beneath her foot, deforming his face. Tears
were streaming down her face at the pain she was contemplating causing him. Then the
pressure increased. Peter’s face was deformed completely under her high-heeled pump.
He stared up at her. “Please…please…” he groaned from beneath her foot. “I’ll
…do…anything…. Please Kelly, you’re hurting me so much….I
didn’t…do…anything…wrong….”
Kelly’s tears continued down her face, but something in her eyes changed. He realized it
had been the wrong thing to say. She mouthed, “I’m sorry,” to him. Suddenly, she began
to steadily increase the weight on Peter’s face, while grinding her foot back and forth at
the same time. Peter felt his jaw crack and begin to make crunching noises. His eyes
rolled back into his head, and as Kelly applied her full weight, he started
hyperventilating. Bringing her other foot up, she placed her heel, worn to the nail, on his
face and shifted her full weight onto it. Peter’s scream filled the house. His wife was
standing on his face in her heels. Her well-built frame was now walking in place on his
face and Peter was screaming, unable to control the pressure. He could see his wife’s
face, far above through his watering eyes, looking down at him with watering eyes of her
own. She continued until Peter really believed he’d die from the brutal grinding. He felt
the bones of his face popping and cracking with each shift of her terrifying weight! She
began wiping her feet, humiliating him and ripping him with her nail heels at the same
time, causing him to scream even louder! Then she walked down the length of his body
slowly, making sure to step hard on his groin and twist it back and forth beneath her shoe.
The staggering pain, once again, caused Peter to lose consciousness in the middle of his
loudest scream.
He started to awaken again as he was being dragged by two powerful college women,
trying to get his bearings. There were women everywhere – a couple hundred of them he
figured! Just as he figured out where he was, he was tossed headfirst into the deep end of
the pool in the back yard. He began to sink, then clawed his way to the surface
somehow. He looked around the pool and saw the backyard was filled with sexy
Amazon women, dressed to kill – literally – in heels and boots. Some had bikini’s on and
were barefoot, getting ready to swim. Their bodies were mesmerizing! Peter tried to
swim pathetically to the side of the pool, but women were standing every where around
the pool’s perimeter and the instant he put his fingers on the side of the pool, the closest
woman would step on them, grinding them into the pool deck tile and making Peter yank
them back into the water as soon as she was done. The same was repeated as he swam to
another wall, fading from fatigue. This time, a gorgeous blond, facing away from him,
crushed his fingers under her spike heel without even turning around. Peter screamed as
she stood on his little finger for an eternity without even looking, literally holding him to
the side of the pool by crushing his little finger beneath her sharp stiletto, as she drank a
cocktail and talked to another girl! The pain was intensified by the fact his fingers were
so soft and easy to smash from being wet. And the women were incredibly tall from his
vantage point. Finally, she pressed the corner of her heel into his finger and the narrow
spike slid off it, pinching a large fold of skin under it as Peter went out of his mind! She
looked back at Peter and simply scuffed her heel, tearing the little fold of pinched skin
from his finger as she released him. Peter swam from side to side, moaning and coughing
as water now filled his lungs, but always the scene was repeated. The next time he
grabbed the poolside, a tall red head in hard platform heels stepped onto both his hands
with her soles, lifted on to her tiptoes and broke all Peter’s fingers instantly as she twisted
her feet side to side, grinding him. The barefoot girl who took over for her simply
mashed what remained of his fingers beneath her big, cruel peds! He could hardly use
his fingers to grip anymore and he thought he would drown if he couldn’t hang on to the
side of the pool. Finally, he managed to swim to the shallow end and start to crawl up the
stairs to get out of the pool.
When Peter was on the top step leading into the pool, and almost out of the water, one of
the athletic college girls in yellow short shorts with very muscular legs and a bodyhugging
t-shirt, removed her heels and delivered a brutal kick to his stomach, doubling
him over. She put her big bare foot on his head and slowly forced him beneath it until he
was lying in the cold water on the top stair. Then the girl stepped on his stomach, while
another woman stepped barefoot on his chest. Peter desperately tried to keep his head
above water, but the woman on his chest put her foot on his head and unceremoniously
pressed his face beneath the surface of the water, shifting her 210-pound weight onto his
head, holding him under.
She just stood there and Peter was completely helpless against her massive athletic
weight. As he began convulsing from lack of air, the two women were trampling
barefoot all over him, while the third held his face under water with her foot. Just as
Peter began passing out, the woman removed her foot and Peter’s head shot out of the
water. He managed to get half a breath before the woman slammed his face back under
water with her big meaty foot. He saw the cruel smile on her face far above, just as the
water closed over him again.
The women worked Peter this way for twenty minutes, holding his head under water,
letting him breathe, then smashing his face under water again. Other women crowded
around to laugh at him. At one point, the barefoot women forced her toe into Peter’s
mouth and he sucked it like his life depended on it! Then, she tried to force her whole
foot in, but as Peter’s lips started to split, she gave up. Her foot was simply too big for
his mouth! Finally, the muscular woman holding his head beneath the surface stepped
fully onto it and squatted down on Peter’s face, twisting back and forth. “How’s the
party goin’ so far?!” she asked him. She smiled, as she stood up and stepped out of the
pool, twisting her bare foot on Peter’s face, as he gazed up at her giant thighs and curvy
rear. The other women got off him, too. Peter’s chest had caved in and was horribly
sore. Two more laughing women rolled him into the water and floated him to a position
directly in front of the water slide. Kelly had had a really nice water slide installed last
summer. It was very steep and curled down in a spiral tunnel until the last fifteen feet
when it shot its rider straight into the water. As Peter regained his senses, the women
holding his arms began pulling them in opposite directions, laughing as Peter groaned.
They were pulling his arms out of their sockets, as he stood facing the slide and he didn’t
know why! He had no time to prepare for the six foot six, 230-pound Amazon that came
hurtling down the slide! Suddenly, she flew around the last spiral, squealing with delight,
as she shot off the base of the water slide at breakneck speed. Her big peds collided with
Peter’s little chest with the force of a truck, her muscular thighs right behind them,
slamming into him and knocking him backward five full feet and sending him straight to
the bottom of the pool, where the big girl stepped onto him and stood on him there. Peter
had had the air completely knocked out of him, and so, began to suffocate immediately.
He grabbed her ankles as she walked heavily on his chest, the horrible silence of the
underwater world belying the crushing suffering he was enduring. He could hear the
college junior’s muffled voice above him laughing and talking with other girls, uncaring
of the poor man being ground into the pool bottom beneath her huge feet. Peter
convulsed a last time and thought he would die being walked on. But the big girl finally
stepped off of him and lifted him up, pulling him to the base of the slide again, now only
semi-conscious, and holding him as before, with another girl. This time, Peter’s
desperate mind tried to prepare, as another sorority girl whooshed off the base of the
slide. One moment, he saw her feet full on ten feet away, and the next, they were
hanging inches from his face in mid air, as she kicked him with both feet simultaneously
right in the face, her full power and weight behind the blow. Peter’s head snapped
backward as she pounded her feet into it, leaving huge footprints on his face. When
she’d trampled him on the bottom sufficiently, she dragged him to the surface and pulled
him to the base of the slide again, Peter’s head lolling back and forth oblivious. As
Peter’s vision focused, he could see a long line of stunning, muscular bodies in bikini’s,
waiting to climb the ladder to the top of the slide. They were all smiling – straight at
him!
Over the next thirty minutes, Peter endured a non stop pounding in his chest and face, as
girl after girl took her turn sliding down the slide and flying over the water to slam into
his little body with her big beautiful one. Most would then find him on the bottom and
trample him, but a few would catch him between their legs and squeeze him until he
almost blacked out between their powerful thighs. A few girls put a twist on the game by
turning Peter with his back to the slide, so he never saw it coming and a girl would come
careening down the slide and slam her powerful body straight into his back, almost
snapping his neck from the force of her impact! Peter begged and begged and pleaded,
until one of the girls seemed to take sympathy on him. “Do you really need a break,
Sweetie?” she asked. “Y-Y-YESSS! P-P-PLEASEEE! Peter begged. “Alright, sugar,
let’s get you out of the water.”
She pulled Peter by his hair to the side of the pool and climbed over him, squashing his
shoulders under her foot as she got out of the pool. Peter felt his collarbone crack as her
weight smashed down and twisted on it. Then, Peter crying out, she lifted him by the arm
on his broken side, and walked him underneath the ladder at the base of the slide, where
the long line of girls was still climbing up. “Tell you what, Sweetie,” she said. “You put
your hands flat on this rung of the ladder and keep them right there, and when you’ve
rested enough, you just let me know by removing either one of them.” She smiled
sweetly. Peter stared at the rung of the ladder to the slide and the girl directly opposite it,
waiting to climb it. She was an absolute goddess in a blue and white bikini who looked
like a fitness competitor, only she was at least six seven and 175!. Her breasts burst from
her halter and she was staring at him, smiling a cruel smile, waiting him to place his
hands on the rung she was about to climb. Peter looked at her bare feet adorned with
pink polish. They were huge! “Or…you could get back in the water,” the first girl said.
“No…no, I’ll…” Peter continued to stare at the woman’s bare feet. He got up the
courage and slowly placed his hands on the ladder rung. “Please…”, he said quietly. His
voice drifted off. The fitness girl, smiled wider and placed her arms on the ladder rails
and heaved her weight onto the bottom rung and began climbing, looking down at him as
she quickly rose above him. Peter swallowed hard as he got a close up view of her
powerful legs, right in his face, her perfect tan and perfect muscle. He watched her huge
bare feet climb the three rungs below his hands, both knowing what would happen when
she reached his rung. He noticed the ladder had deep tread indentions in it to keep the
climber from slipping in her bare feet. Just as Peter was realizing what that would mean
to his fingers as they were crushed into the indentions, the woman’s giant foot loomed
large directly in front of his face as she put her weight onto it, unceremoniously crushing
Peter’s bare fingers into the tread of the ladder, beneath her massive, bikini-clad frame.
Peter heard his fingers audibly crack, as she brought the other foot to bear on his other
hand, standing on both of her tip toes and looking down at him. Peter groaned pitifully as
the cruel college girl began twisting her feet back and forth, cracking Peter’s fingers
beneath them as she stood in place on the ladder, grinding his hands beneath her full
weight. “Rice Krispies!” she laughed as she continued to crush his hands. “Snap-
Crackle-Pop!” Her toes brutalized Peter’s fingers. Finally, the girl bounced off his
fingers and continued to climb the ladder, and Peter thanked god for the reprieve from the
pain, just as the next girl in line stepped squarely on his fingers with her own bare foot.
This girl was a blond babe in a bright red sports bikini. She had on an ankle ring and
mashed Peter’s fingers quickly and utterly as she stepped on them, but didn’t stop. It
didn’t matter. Each girl came quickly in a rhythm and each utterly crunched Peter’s
hands under her bare foot or under both bare feet, as she climbed the slide. Peter groaned
from the non stop crushing, but was terrified to move his hands as the girl who’d taken
him from the water watched intently, waiting for him to take them from the ladder just
once. She stared at him with her arms folded across her chest and just watched her
friends step on his hands bare foot, twisting brutally off them as they climbed. She raised
her eyebrows, as if to ask, “Well?”
A seven-foot tall goddess in a Bart Simpson bikini finally broke Peter. She sadistically
stepped on his fingers with her bare heels, and stood on both of them, balancing on them,
as she twisted them back and forth. She ordered Peter to lick her feet, which he did, as
his eyes watered from the pain she was giving him. Peter bent forward and cried from
the crushing pain, licking like a madman. He couldn’t move his hands if he wanted to!
But then the girl raised her foot and stomped as hard as she could squarely on Peter’s
little fingers and immediately did the same with the other foot. She began marching in
place in brutal barefoot stomps, turning Peter’s hands to dust beneath her big peds. When
she stood on one bare heel with her whole weight and twisted it into Peter’s hand, his
other hand flew from the rung, trying desperately to lift her heel off the hand that was
being ground under her seven foot frame. Immediately, the girl watching Peter said,
“That’s it! You’ve rested enough! Let’s get back in the water!”
Peter dropped to the ground and began licking her bare feet feverishly; slobbering all
over them like a lunatic, begging, ‘please, please anything but the pool! Please take me
to Kelly!’ The girl put her foot on his face and slammed it into the concrete, pressing it
powerfully under her toes. “Alright, alright! You’re such a good groveling dog, I’m
going to give you a pass! Let’s go see your wife!”
She and another scantily clad Amazon, rode him across the concrete like a horsey, his
knees being cut by the rough stone. Then, they dragged him, a blob of jelly now, over to
the bar, presenting him to Kelly, who was sitting on a tall bar stool. For the women
around her she said, “Oh, Peter! You’re right on time! How do you like your party?!”
Peter looked as if he was about to cry, and Kelly blinked twice staring at him, a broken
mess. He didn’t even look like her husband! What damage women could do to a man
with their shoes, Kelly thought! But, it wasn’t finished yet. And it had to run its course
for Peter to learn his lesson.
She got up, forced Peter to the ground, and, with some hesitation, placed her barstool on
his chest, its four legs digging into him. “NO!” Peter cried. “NO, Please!” Kelly, having
had a number of drinks by this time, sat down on the stool again, crushing its legs into her
husband’s torso. Peter groaned pathetically as the dull metal legs of the stool drilled into
his flesh, softened from being in the water so long. Kelly would sit there for the next two
hours, shifting her weight as she talked to friends, but never even looking down at Peter,
as the pain became unbearable beneath his wife’s weight on the stool. Another girl, a
shapely black woman dressed in a summer suit with stiletto heels, placed her foot on
Peter’s face as she ordered a drink at the bar. Over the next fifteen minutes, she would
stomp on Peter’s face with her heel at random, gouging him deeply and almost knocking
him out with each brutal blow! Then, she looked down and said, “Say it boy! My name
is ‘Toby!’ Since Peter couldn’t answer with his wife crushing him under her barstool, the
black sorority girl stomped with all her force on Peter’s face, making a deep dent in his
upper lip with her sharp heel. Then, she stepped fully onto his face, balancing on her one
foot as she finished her drink, her full weight on Peter’s face. Peter, through his moans,
saw Kelly looking steadily down at him, as his face was ground beneath another
woman’s shoe.
The holes Kelly had driven into him were nearly an inch deep when she finally got up as
the girls began leaving. She unstuck the stool from his flesh and dragged Peter by his
feet to a depression in the ground she and Marci had dug, so 200 girls could walk over
him, tracking mud onto him with their cruel shoes one last time on their way out. Almost
every woman who walked over him gave him the same cruel stare; appreciating the pain
she was causing him, as she broke him beneath her shoes one last time, crushing him into
his shallow grave. One of the tallest ones, grinding him under the sharpest white metal
stiletto heels at the party, looked cruelly down at him and said, “Thank me for stepping
on you.” Her blond hair cascaded around her shoulders and her electric eyes bored into
him. Her tanned muscles rippled over every square inch of her, bursting from the white
denim short shorts she wore, and the frilly halter-top! Her sharp gold spikes sunk straight
into Peter’s chest! Peter’s eyes were bugging out of his head under her weight. “Thank
me, or I’ll do the hat dance on our face,” she said calmly. She rocked back onto her heels
and Peter felt his skin tear and pools of blood begin forming around her spikes! He
couldn’t speak from the pain!
“Th..Th…Thank….You,” Peter finally croaked out.
“You weren’t sincere enough,” the woman growled and stepped on Peter’s face with
white metal heeled stiletto’s, massively crushing his features under pressure he couldn’t
comprehend, as she began stepping heavily around, before she finally stepped off and
walked on. Peter’s head was two inches deeper in the dirt.
Peter hardly remembered it when his wife put the collar and leash on him and dragged
him out of the ground and into the backyard, chaining him outside the doghouse. She
turned around just before she went into the house. Kelly put her big bare foot right on
Peter’s mouth. Her foot completely dwarfed his face! She was a giant compared to him
now, he thought! She applied substantial pressure, until Peter’s eyes were bugging out of
his head again, then she pressed her foot against the underside of his nose, cutting off his
air completely. Peter could barely move and had no ability to breathe. His life was at
Kelly’s whim. And it seemed she was in no hurry to allow him to live. Her foot was
huge and cold and clammy and her pressure threatened to collapse his very skull into
itself! “Your life’s going to be different now,” she said sadly, standing over him. “And
I’m going to remind you every single day of the mistake you made. It’s so sad. It didn’t
have to be this way. I still love you, Peter. But I have to be honest with you. There’s
going to be a lot of pain.” She moved her foot slightly away from his nose, allowing him
to draw a terrified breath, just as he had begun seeing spots in front of his eyes. Then,
Kelly pressed her foot into his face even harder, and began mashing his features as she
cruelly ground her foot into his face, her toes, twisting over his features and turning white
from the pressing into Peter’s soft face! Peter tried to whimper through the gag, but
Kelly grabbed his nose between her toes and squeezed it until it broke, which elicited a
yelp, then a scream, which made her smile for a moment – until she caught herself – then
she just walked away, and Peter collapsed next to the dog bowl, rolling on the ground in
pain.
For the first week after the party, Kelly would simply walk out to where her husband was
chained, fill his bowl with dog food and pour fresh water for him, then walk back into the
house without a word. She left the ballgag in place whenever he wasn’t eating and if he
tried to speak, she would simply put it back in, and walk back into the house, leaving him
hungry until tomorrow. Many times, she would step on his neck, driving his face into
the dog food, as he ate, to humiliate him under her bare foot as she stood over him. As he
healed, Peter told himself time would soften Kelly’s attitude toward him, at least enough
for her to remove the ballgag so he could try once more to explain how mixed up
everything had gotten. But, it was a week more before she removed the gag. And when
Peter’s mouth had recovered enough that he could speak, at his very first word, without a
word of her own, she had roughly put the gag back in place for another week. The next
time she removed the heavy rubber ball, Peter didn’t try to speak to her at all.
One week more, two, then a month, then three passed, and it became clear Kelly really
did regard Peter much differently than before. She treated him as an inanimate object.
The sex became fantastically brutal, Peter frequently crying as she brought herself to
climax on his face, digging her nails into him as she spent herself and bouncing on his
face until he thought his skull would crack! He had had no idea how much she had been
holding back. She left him with bruises and deep cuts from her nails every time now and
sore – so very, very sore after an encounter with her! When he would begin crying, she
would drive herself even harder into him, with no regard for what she was doing to him.
And the trampling now happened daily! She never wore her shoes again, but she would
casually walk barefoot right over whatever part of him was in her way, flattening him
into the floor. And she had given him new duties. Duties that were not only humiliating,
but usually painful and cruel.
Today he was the piano bench. Kelly had once again removed the ball gag under a strict
rule that he simply could not speak under any circumstances. She’d slapped him brutally
across the face for no reason at all to make her point. . Now he was the piano bench and
Kelly was sitting brutally on his back while he was on all fours, naked, in front of the
piano. Her tall, elegant student was sitting on him, too. With her long, blond hair pulled
back severely into a ponytail, the stunning girl had taken to resting her needle heel on
Peter’s hand, an act he knew was deliberate, as she’d press it into his fingers and twist it
as she played. But Peter didn’t make a sound, though his eyes watered freely from the
women’s weight during the one hour lesson, the first of four Kelly would teach three
times a week, completely ignoring Peter from start to finish.
The one time he’d whispered, “Oh god,” as Kelly’s student had twisted her ass in the
white, silver studded jeans she was sitting on him with, ripping his skin with the studs,
Kelly had called Marci’s daughter, Tabitha, who had beaten Peter with a cat o’ nine tails
for over an hour, until his screams bothered Kelly watching TV so much she told the girl
that was enough. Kelly couldn’t bring herself to whip him herself. Peter hadn’t spoken
since.
Peter heard Kelly sobbing in her room, talking to Marci on the phone that night, after
she’d seen the marks Tabitha had left all over her husband. He couldn’t hear the
conversation, but he heard Kelly cry, “This is so hard! You should see what he looks
like! I can’t believe I’m doing this to him!” Then the voices became muffled, there was
more crying, and then, she seemed to calm down to sniffles before she hung up the
phone. Peter saw her standing in the window, staring out at him on the dog chain for a
very long time before she went to bed that night.
In the morning, Kelly was unusually quiet, but never let on she’d been upset. She’d gone
over to Marci’s right after breakfast, ordering Peter to clean the pool for her before she
left and tossing him a tube of salve for the cat o’ nine tail marks without a word as she
left. When Kelly returned, she seemed to have regained her confidence, as she calmly
put away the salve and yanked Peter by the hair out to inspect the pool. When she found
a leaf floating in it, she shook her head in disappointment and sat Peter down in one of
the chairs beside the pool. “But…it just fell there a few -- It wasn’t there fifteen minutes
ago!” Peter whined. “Please, Kelly…” Kelly shook her head again, gripped him by the
shoulders, placed her knee between his legs on the chair – directly on his testicles – and
calmly drove her full weight onto her knee, crushing Peter’s testicles into the metal chair
and rocking on her knee as she felt his manhood squash and Peter’s breath catch in his
throat as the sickening pain overtook him. Still kneeling on his manhood with her single
knee, and towering over him with her beautiful full body in her bikini, Peter’s eyes
bugging out of his head, Kelly lectured him on the proper cleaning of the pool and asked
him to please not let her find another leaf in it. She seemed unmoved as his eyes freely
watered and in no hurry to release him from the horrible crush under her more than two
hundred pounds.
“PL-PL-PLEASE,PLEASE…” Peter was hyperventilating. Kelly just stared at him,
bouncing now, on her knee.
“No more leaves in the pool, Peter,” she calmly said. “Okay?”
“Y-YES-YES-PLEASE…” Peter pleaded, panting like a dog, trying to endure the
crushing ache.
“Great! That’s better!” Kelly said brightly. When she got off him, Peter grabbed his
manhood and simply rolled off the chair into the fetal position, where he lay unable to
move, his legs spasming in a slow, sick running motion on the pool tile.
“Better get that leaf!” Kelly called as she walked away.
Kelly went upstairs and Peter heard her watching a documentary of some type as he
crawled over and removed the leaf from the pool and prayed he would somehow get
through Autumn.
Kelly never cried on the phone again, and by the next day, there was no sympathy in her
eyes for him at all. Life for Peter became unbearably harsh and Kelly wrote new rules for
him daily.
At meal times, Peter would make the meal, then be forced to kneel in front of his wife in
silence until she was finished eating. If the meal wasn’t perfect, Kelly would deliver a
brutal kick to his face without a word or explanation, knocking him to the hard floor. If
the meal was perfect Kelly would feed him. After she’d had her dinner one night about
two months after the party, gourmet burgers as it turned out, Kelly put a burger on a plate
and dropped the plate in front of Peter. As Peter, leaned forward to pick it up, without
looking at him, Kelly said, “It’s not ready yet.” Peter immediately sat back away from
the food, while Kelly finished her meal. Not another word was said, and Peter knew
better than to make a sound. Finally, after reading the paper for a while, Kelly casually
glanced over at Peter, still kneeling, now on very sore knees. She twisted out of her seat,
her strong thighs showing as her short sundress rode up them. She’d been barefoot all
day and her feet were filthy and black on the bottoms. She stood and towered over him.
Then, drawing his eyes to burger on the floor, she’d placed her bare foot on it and slowly
mashed it beneath her weight, ketchup drooling from the sides like blood. When her foot
had completely compressed the burger, Kelly began to grind it back and forth, destroying
it and flattening it with her foot, and then her heel, until it was as flat as a pancake –
mush! “Now, your dinner’s ready,” she said cruelly, staring at him. He lapped the mush
off the dirty floor then licked the rest from her bare foot, as she served it to him. Then he
licked her feet for an hour while she continued reading the paper. If her feet weren’t
perfectly clean when he stopped, Peter knew, she would quietly walk in place barefoot on
his face for fifteen minutes to teach him better manners. Pain was a daily occurrence
now. Kelly took her stress out on him without the slightest care, though, sometimes he
would catch her looking sideways at him, with a look of compassion. She would quickly
become hard again when he turned his head toward her.
Now, when Kelly went out, Tabitha would come over to baby-sit Peter. Often she’d
invite her friends after Kelly had left. And the things Tabitha and her friends would do to
Peter when Kelly had left, developed a fear so great in Peter, he would jump every time
the doorbell rang. Tabitha and her friends were always careful to use only their bare feet
to keep from leaving marks Kelly would find. But the power and strength of their feet!
The pain, as two of them would put Peter’s head between their feet and press their feet
simultaneously together, crushing his head between them! The ways Tabitha would twist
Peter into a pretzel, then sit on him, rending his back, and almost pulling his shoulders
out of their sockets! Oh, she would lay him face down, grab his legs, pull them up
behind him and squat backwards, bending his back the wrong way with her powerful
weight as he screamed! The ways they had learned to cause such debilitating pain,
twisting, pulling, bending joints and limbs! It was terrifying! And they were always
exceptionally brutal! Often Peter was bent backwards beneath Tabitha’s powerful thighs,
as she twisted his body in half and then squeezed him until he felt his pelvis being
dislocated! Her thighs were so thick, they completely covered his whole chest! All the
while he was being forced to suck on her friend’s thick toes! If he screamed (and usually
he could not help it) they would stuff three or four filthy tube socks into his mouth and
make him chew them as they worked his fragile body with forceful brutality. Kelly never
knew – and Peter knew what Tabitha would do to him if she ever found out! And
Tabitha LOVED to walk barefoot all over peter with her stunning teenage weight. She
and her friends would make him carry them around the house on his back as their horsey,
yelling ‘Giddy up, Mr. Cole!’ as they dropped crashing onto his back and squeezed him,
dwarfing him with their muscular thighs. Tabitha still called him, ‘Mr. Cole,’ a final
humiliation to remind him that she was little more than a kid, and he was a middle-aged
man, and yet, she was able to use him however she chose. Once, Tabitha’s friend, sitting
in a desk chair watching TV commented, “This chair isn’t even,” and Tabitha promptly
dragged Peter across the floor and put his hand beneath one of the chair’s legs, to even it
up, as her friend’s full weight crushed it beneath her and Peter cried and cried in crushing
pain, as she smiled down at him. Tabitha thought it was so funny, she put another chair
on his other hand and listened to his bones crack as she sat down on it. With the socks
they then stuffed in Peter’s mouth, they could watch TV for hours as he screamed anew
with each shift of their weight.
Tabitha and her friend had had to leave an hour before Kelly got home from a party that
night (she constantly went to parties now, and her heels were always bloody when she
returned), and Peter found himself alone in the house for the first time since the traffic
stop. The girls had handcuffed him to the restraints Kelly had had installed in the wall,
but his broken hands had slipped out of the restraints soon after they’d left, collapsing in
on themselves. He stood for the first time without immediate fear in months, not quite
knowing what to do with his new found freedom. He felt like the monkey that won’t
leave its cage when it’s finally freed! Besides, where would he go? He sullenly walked
up the stairs of the quiet, giant mansion to try to fix his hands. He was in the master
suite, bandaging his throbbing, broken hands, when he noticed the DVD box on top of the
plasma TV. He walked over to it and stared at its title a long time in disbelief.
Handwritten on the box was, ‘Return to Marci when finished.” Then, he tenuously turned
on the TV.

[DeathXI]

“Breaking the Disobedient Male,” the title said, rolling across the screen. Then the
Chapter Menu came up along with a repeating sound byte of pulsing music - and horrible
male screaming in the background!
1. Becoming Detached Even Though You Love Him
2. Breaking His Spirit with Random Pain
3. Using Third Parties for Constant Humiliation
4. Increasing his Pain Tolerance with Electrical Devices
5. Treating Him as an Inanimate Object
6. 120 Days of Perpetual Domination
7. The Power of the Foot
8. The Human Floor in Public Places
9. Random Acts of Cruelty
10. Absolute Servitude Forever (no matter what you do to him)
11. Fitness for both of You - The Hard Core Trample/Beating Workout!
Peter stared in terror at the DVD Kelly had obviously been watching for weeks! He
hesitated, and then clicked on Chapter 8. The screen showed a man tied down to a dance
floor in a discothèque. Beautiful, tall women dressed to the nines were dancing all over
him with their wicked Italian heels as he tried to buck and scream to get away. They
were paying particular attention to his fingers and his face, taking turns dancing on it,
cutting it to pieces and leaving their deep heel marks in him. The women were so
staggeringly beautiful – and cold - Peter couldn’t take his eyes off them! Then, the same
man held down in a deep, muddy puddle outside the club, as women casually walked
over him, two or three at a time, depressing his stomach under the icy water with each
step, he, shivering soaking wet in the water! His mistress bent down close to his face
and gave him a smile. “I really love you, Sweetheart,” she said, as hundreds of high
heels paraded over the man’s midsection, cutting into him. “I’m so proud of you!” A
needle heel filled the screen as a woman stepped on the man’s throat with her full weight,
smashing his neck flat. Then, his Mistress stood up, revealing her thick thighs and placed
her open toed sandals against his mouth, allowing him to kiss them, which he did
pleadingly as he tried to breathe again, amid choking gasps.
Chapter 9 started with a seven foot tall woman thanking her husband for making a
wonderful breakfast – then casually reaching up, grabbing his bare nipple between her
fingers and twisting it violently as she cut into it with her nails, holding the pinch and
shaking from the strength of squeezing it, until he collapsed screaming to the ground,
where she drove her full bare foot into his groin and kneaded his sack with her toes. The
man almost went unconscious from the pain, as his wife gave a little amused laugh. As
he watched, Peter became aware of a kind of tingling in his head – like his leg falling
asleep - but this was in his brain. Then, he realized he could see little faint green rings –
barely visible – emanating from the screen image in sort of a spiral pattern, flickering a
little as he watched. He tore his eyes from the DVD! The tingling in his brain stopped as
suddenly as it had started. He looked at the DVD’s box again. In fine print, he read,
‘New! Subliminal Technologies Saves Time in Learning.” ‘Oh, god!’ he thought! ‘I
don’t have a chance! No wonder Kelly has been so cruel! No wonder her personality is
changing!’ And suddenly Peter thought of the cruel piano students sitting on him; and,
Tabitha coming over to baby-sit – and to beat him. ‘Third Parties!’ And Peter
knew…Kelly was on Chapter 3 – Using Third Parties for Constant Humiliation…and the
electrical devices were next!
He snapped off the TV and ripped the bandages from his hands so Kelly wouldn’t know
he’d been upstairs without her. He barely had time to get back in the restraints when she
pulled up in her Jag and opened the front door. She walked over to him, a stack of mail
in her hands and absent-mindedly asked what time Tabitha had to leave as she read the
mail, not even looking at him. He replied softly, and she unsnapped the restraints and
Peter dropped to the ground in front of her as he’d been taught. Continuing to look at the
mail, Kelly stepped onto Peter’s back in her boots, wiping them on him over and over, as
he groaned under her overwhelming weight! Breathing was impossible with her standing
on him and her boots were so cruel! She was nearly seven feet tall now, and weighed just
over 215 pounds after lifting weights like a fiend for several weeks. It was all rock-hard
beautiful muscle! She stepped onto the side of his head, crushing it into the cold tiled
floor, as she asked him about his day. “Did you get everything clean?!” Kelly asked,
staring down at him. When she realized he couldn’t move his jaw with her weight on his
head, she stepped back onto his lower back, driving the air out of his lungs in a sick grunt
and raising her boot to stomp him if he hesitated in his answer. Her giant boot hovering
over his face, Peter gasped out, “Ye…Yes….it’s…all….clean….” Kelly looked around
the house, balancing her weight on one boot on the small of his back until she heard
bones cracking and saw Peter’s eyes bugging out of his head, which was fast turning
purple. She realized she was heavy enough now, that he couldn’t breathe at all with her
stepping on him. She watched him make small grunting attempts to breathe, his mouth
hanging open uselessly. “Good deal, honey! You did a nice job!” she said, as she stepped
off of him and walked to the kitchen. Peter slithered pathetically behind her, following
the clicking heels of her boots to get her supper, unable to use his aching back to get up
just yet.
It was the next night, during her meal, that Peter noticed Kelly looking over at him more
than usual, a difficult to place “uncertainty” in her gaze. She was wearing an extremely
low-cut blouse and her beautiful breasts were almost bursting from it! But her expression
was serious. Almost a little – sad…and hesitant somehow. And she was very quiet
during dinner. He dutifully cleaned her feet, which were so large now, it took him
several minutes longer to do it right and he feared she would step on his face every time
he put it beneath her big peds to lick her soles. When he was finished, almost as if Kelly
wished the moment weren’t upon her, she sighed, and stood and towered over him and
walked silently across the kitchen to retrieve something he hadn’t seen before from a
cabinet much too high too reach himself. Kelly kept her back turned for a moment, then,
resigned, she turned toward Peter. She didn’t have to say a word, as Peter’s eyes focused
on the coil of black electrical cord in her hands – several harsh silver clamps on the ends.
Peter recoiled in fright, pleading, “No…no…please, honey….No, Kelly….please!” He
began slithering away, flat on the floor (for he had been trained not to get up without
permission) and Kelly began taking long, slow strides up behind him, a giant following
her intended victim.
“I’m sorry Peter, but this is necessary. You have to complete the learning process.” She
stepped on her husband’s ankle, which made him scream, and she walked up the length
of his body in her newly-cleaned bare feet, smashing his naked body into the floor.
Stepping off of him, she flipped him onto his back with a massive nudge of her foot and
placed it on his throat to hold him in place as she calmly unwrapped the cord as Peter
stared in anguish! Hesitating a moment, Kelly seemed to steel herself and bent down
toward him, a vicious nipple clamp with sharp teeth, poised open between her fingers.
Peter screamed in a gurgle beneath her foot, as she clamped it tightly on his nipple and it
bit into his flesh there. She applied the other clamp to his other nipple and he began
writhing on the floor. Kelly had never been so cruel to him! She’d never
used….DEVICES….before! The scrotum clamp was, of course, the most painful, as it
ripped into his soft flesh! Kelly swallowed hard at seeing her husband held tortured by
the heavy clamps, but she dutifully walked over the wall, turning toward Peter before she
plugged the other end of the cord into the electrical outlet. Peter watched his beautiful
wife walk slowly back toward him, the control switch in her hand, and stand over him.
She dropped a pair of green beach tongs next to him – RUBBER beach tongs, Peter
realized – and she slipped her bare feet into them. Once again, putting her heavy foot
onto Peter’s throat and pressing down hard with her powerful leg, Kelly pursed her lips in
resolve as Peter began softly crying, “Please…please don’t…”
He actually saw his wife shudder, before she said, “I’m so sorry about this, Peter.” She
reached up to the switch with her long fingernails, and, stepping down powerfully on
Peter’s throat now, Kelly threw the switch. Peter’s body exploded with pain, the high
voltage ripping through him, instantly tearing with white-hot fury at his nipples and
scrotum. His eyes danced wildly, his limbs jolting out away from his sides as his back
arched to the point of snapping. Saliva flew from his mouth and he couldn’t even make a
sound as he felt the voltage rip through him as he heard the sickening buzz of the
electricity rocketing throughout his poor body. Sharp cracking and popping sounds came
from all around him and he felt his fingers clawing at the air as his body screamed for
reprieve. Kelly flicked off the switch, completing the first jolt, visibly shaken by what
she had just done to her poor Peter. As his body, slowly untensed – and it took a moment
- she watched him gasping and roiling on the ground under her polished toes, the pressure
of her foot crushing his windpipe. “There are only two more jolts called for in tonight’s
session,” she said. “Just try…try to get through a couple more, honey. It’s for your own
good. Really!” she said. Peter was hyperventilating from the residual effects of the
shock and his limbs were twitching pathetically. He just stared up helplessly at his
stunning wife. “K-K…K-K…..,” was all he could mouth. Kelly placed her finger on the
power switch again, beginning to press down on it. Another bit of pressure and she
would shock her husband with another ‘powerful – but COMPLETELY HARMLESS –
minor electrical flow’. Her finger began to press down. She stepped harder on Peter’s
throat. She knew this was necessary. It was all necessary. She knew he NEEDED to be
disciplined. She knew she’d let him get away with too much. But, but…he was so
scared…so much…in pain…
She stared at the switch. At her finger poised there. At her husband gasping beneath her
foot. She ran her finger over the switch, feeling its smoothness. And she looked at Peter,
saliva running down his cheeks. She realized she’d been holding her breath and now she
let it out in a long, slow exhalation. Kelly’s finger slid softly off the voltage switch. Her
mouth fell open before it closed silently. Then, as she held her husband beneath her
brutal foot, the first sobs began and she suddenly exploded into tears! “I can’t do this! I
can’t do this to you! I know you need it…I know it has to be done! But, Peter…Peter…I
love you so much I can’t do this! Not THIS! I can’t…I don’t know what to…how to
help you! It’s not fair! Why did you have to screw up?! Why couldn’t you just be happy
here?! You ruined everything!” Kelly reached down and yanked off the clamps and
removed her foot from Peter’s throat. He still couldn’t speak after having her foot
stepping on his windpipe so long, and he just hissed hoarsely, trying desperately to be
understood. Kelly stared down at him, quickly becoming resolute. “I have to make a
change,” she said, drying her tears. “I have to love you enough to do what’s best for you,
no matter how hard it is for me. Peter, I have to love you enough to give you to someone
who will train you properly.” The stunned silence as Peter met her gaze was too
powerful to even find the words to break it; and, before Peter could speak, Kelly pulled
the rubber gag from the pocket of her short shorts and muted her husband before he could
protest.
Since Peter’s limbs were far too weak from the electrical current being forced through
them, he collapsed each time Kelly tried to use him on all fours to support her sitting
weight at the computer. Finally, she dragged the old wooden piano bench out of the
closet and set it in front of her monitor, placing Peter lengthwise, face up on it, as she
slowly sat down on his chest, giving him the opportunity to appreciate the full weight of
her tight ass on him, as his ribs gave in to her, providing her a cushion to sink into. Kelly
removed the gag, but her weight on his chest prevented any speech, and he knew she
would just gag him if he tried to talk. So, he concentrated on trying to breathe with his
wife sitting powerfully on him in her denim shorts with her bare thighs and her tight top,
her torso towering over him, as he stared up at her radiant beauty reflected in the blue
light of the plasma monitor. Finally, Peter craned his head toward the monitor at the
same time Kelly looked down sadly at him. She knew she was crushing him. She could
feel his ribs bending beneath her weight. She could hear him struggling to breathe.
When she returned her gaze to the monitor, Peter’s eyes followed hers. For just a
moment, the crushing pain of Kelly’s weight on his chest was completely forgotten as
Peter focused on what his wife was doing at the computer. The blue light reflecting off
her perfect features, Peter saw the site she was visiting and swallowed. Kelly, was on
EBay….
It took considerable retouching of Peter’s photo for the EBay auction before Kelly was
ready to post it, due to him being so badly and permanently marked by the hundreds of
high heels worn by the women from the party three months ago. From head to toe, Peter’s
flesh was covered in permanent pockmarks, deep gouges and tread patterns, searing
reminders of the hundreds of women who used him as their personal human floor – and
worse! Tabitha’s whip had left its own imprints in many places and the deep cuts from
Kelly’s clamps were still fresh and occasionally bled, especially as Kelly had a habit of
digging her spike heel into his nipples and twisting it absent-mindedly when she was
talking on the phone these days. The pain, as she ground her powerful heel into him, was
constant and burning and brutal. In the old days, it would have taken hours with photo
editing software, but the new “Flesh Repair” tool on the software Kelly used, made him
appear as good as new in only a few clicks. If only she could do it for him in real life,
Peter thought. He stared at the retouched photo Kelly had shown him before posting it.
The face that stared back at him took him back in time. There he was, his old self; no
facial deformity from being facesat, no bent limbs were they’d been broken under a
woman’s feet – no holes permanently gouged into his face under hundreds of high heels
stepping around on it! Kelly, too, remembered how it used to be, before she’d been
forced to make him her slave, and was nostalgic for the days before she’d had to
administer the pain and dominance he clearly needed to mature. Peter thought she was
rethinking her decision, but Kelly certified Peter was free of disease and had no present,
permanent damage, and clicked, “Begin Auction,” hesitating only a moment. And then,
as if to distract her from what she’d just done and punish Peter for making her make her
decision, she forced him to ride her around and around and around the large mansion’s
grounds on horseback, as she whipped him to go faster. Kelly rode him that night, under
her full weight, bouncing and squeezing him – watching his knees and hands go bloody
as poor Peter moaned under her, until he collapsed under her weight, screaming and
grunting as she bounced on him over and over, yelling “Giddy up, Peter!,” her muscular
thighs squeezing him until she’d broken most of his ribs with her leg strength alone!
Then, as she sat on his broken ribs and twisted back and forth, rending them, she used her
nails on Peter full-strength for the first time!
Sitting on him in the garden, Kelly dug her long shiny nails into Peter’s chest, slicing his
pathetic flesh easily, smiling at the damage she was doing, and raking them down him
over and over as he begged her to stop. She was getting to like the begging and it almost
seemed a shame to give him up!
Peter wasn’t much good the next day. His hands and knees were ripped to shreds by
carrying his wife on horseback for the entire evening before, and his ribs ached horribly
whenever he moved. Kelly lounged in an easy chair reading, her big feet on Peter’s
upturned face. Occasionally, she put her big toe into his mouth and Peter sucked it, the
pain horrible each time he inhaled or swallowed her toe jam. Peter knew the auction was
7 days long. He counted down the days, imagining the harsh, unmitigated brutality of a
new mistress. Tabitha had purchased slaves on EBay before, sitting above him at the desk
with her giant feet on his face while she babysat him, and she had left nothing to the
imagination about what she intended to do with them when she won the auction! ‘EBay
Slaves’ was strictly for torture for a woman’s pleasure, and the vast majority of slaves
didn’t survive. Peter knew Tabitha’s had only lasted two days before being suffocated
under the weight of a squad of military drill team members she’d “loaned” him to, at her
high school. She told Peter how she’d enjoyed watching them stand, sit, step and jump on
him in their hard heeled white boots as they marched on him with their rifles, his face
breaking under the impacts of their brutal stomping!
Peter had noticed her feet started sweating at the memory of it, as he dutifully sucked
them while she looked for more slaves! "Yeah, Mr. Cole....just be thankful you're not one
of these guys on EBay," Tabitha had said. You think what I'm doing to you now hurts!
Geezy Cow! You have no idea!"
And now, Peter counted down the days until a girl like Tabitha owned him and the
nightmare began again....
Neither Peter nor Kelly discussed the days until the auction ended. Each out of concern
for the feelings of the other, Peter thought. For a time, he thought Kelly might change
her mind and cancel the auction, but she never even checked on the bidding. ‘Maybe no
one would bid,’ Peter thought. But, they would. Kelly had taken Peter’s picture wearing
the woman’s toe-ring he’d been wearing on his thumb, the day he’d come home after the
concert. She’d specifically made it part of the auction, taking a second close-up of it to
show how valuable it was. The ring was beautiful and already engraved with the word,
‘TODD’, and women would bid on the auction just to get the ring. Peter could not
imagine how quick and horrible his fate would be if he came as an afterthought to a
woman who just wanted the ring. One quick step on his throat with a razor sharp stiletto,
and it would be over in minutes!
It was the day after the auction ended, that Peter finally had the courage to ask Kelly what
the outcome had been. She had taken him out by the pool and set him on a recliner,
wearing only his underwear, and was standing over him in her Daisy Duke’s, eating a
yogurt matter-o-factly. Her muscular tanned thighs burst from the seams of her shorts, as
did her breasts from the tight halter-top she wore. She looked at the yogurt, as she licked
the spoon. She didn’t look at him as she cleared her throat and ran her tongue over her
lips. “Yep, it’s a done-deal,” she said.
Peter gulped. “What..what do you mean?”
“What do I mean? I mean you have a new owner, Peter. I spoke to her last night. She’s
picking you up after she gets done at work today.”
“But…but…Kelly…,” Peter was incredulous! “I didn’t really think…”
“You’re things are by the door, Peter.” She seemed to be steeling herself as much as
Peter.
“You’re selling your husband as a slave…” Peter whined.
Kelly looked down again, fiddling with her yogurt. “Actually, umm, it turns out, she
wasn’t really looking for a slave. She was just interested in the toe-ring.” Kelly stopped
fiddling and stared into the bottom of the yogurt cup, her eyes clouding over. She knew
what it meant, too.
“Oh…oh…okay then,” Peter replied. His knees were suddenly weak.
“Peter, look, I spoke to her last night and we sort of…hit it off. She seems very nice and
she says, she’ll take you and see how it works out.” Kelly’s breathing was a little labored
and her eyes didn’t leave the cup of yogurt.
“Well…okay…um…I’m sure it will work out fine…maybe I could call you once in a
while…if…if,” Peter’s knees gave out and Kelly held him up by his arm, then let him
collapse onto the pool recliner. He lay down on his back, his head at the foot of the chair
and looked up at her, clearly offering her his face to sit on. At first, she wasn’t going to,
but then, she stood over him and sat down squarely on his upturned face, pressing his
nose into it as he yielded to her heavy thighs and full body weight. It was the only way to
keep him from seeing how many mixed emotions she had. And dominating him made
her feel more confident about making hard decisions.
It was several hours later, after Peter had been face-pressed into unconsciousness several
times, that he felt Kelly’s ass tense up hard as she sat on his face. He knew she was
sitting upright and she ground him with the seams of her jeans as she twisted ninety
degrees to stand. As Kelly stood over Peter’s head looking sadly down on him, Peter
heard the doorbell ring, apparently for the second time. He met Kelly’s eyes, silently
apologizing for the fact that he had begun shivering uncontrollably all over. Kelly’s eyes
were masked by a glaze of dampness, as she whispered, “Peter, it’s time.” Peter’s breath
caught as he tried to say something – anything – to get her to just not answer the door.
“Peter,” she said softly, “look – there’s a – a refund clause…in the auction. If, after a
three-month evaluation, your new mistress isn’t happy with you, she can return you to me
and cancel the deal. It doesn’t have to be forever. But, you have to be thoroughly
trained. Please…come back to me, Peter.” Kelly turned and walked away, wiping her
eyes and walked away from him before Peter could answer.
Peter heard the front door open a long way off inside the house, then enthusiastic voices
saying social ‘hellos’ to each other. Peter heard the women’s voices echoing from inside
the house. They were making small talk as they slowly walked out to the backyard where
Peter was laying. He rolled off the recliner and into the grass, his crazy idea of somehow
crawling away to escape his fate instantly evaporating as his throbbing head swam and he
became dizzy. He buried his face in the lawn.
Kelly was saying something about what a tough little guy Peter was, and how he just
needed some guidance to straighten himself out. “Oh, I’ll give him all the ‘guidance’ he
can possibly stand,” the other woman’s voice echoed distantly, laughing. “That’s been
my problem,” Kelly replied as they finally left the echo of the marble hallways of the
house onto the back patio on the other side of the pool, “I love Peter so much, I can’t be
as stern as I now know is best for him.” Peter still couldn’t see the women from his low
position in the grass, but they were getting steadily closer – in no hurry – just leisurely
strolling out to where he would lay at their feet, praying his new mistress wasn’t too
cruel, praying he could stop shivering!
He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the lawn as he heard the crack of a whip,
the new mistress telling Kelly how she’d have him in shape in no time. Kelly laughed
politely in response! Then, Peter, still shivering from head to toe and his face pressed
firmly into the dirt, felt the impact of heavy footfalls, then heard the grass right beside his
head crush as the women now stood directly over him! Then, he felt the bare foot of his
new owner step on his head. She didn’t step down, she was just absent-mindedly resting
her leg on the side of his face as she talked. Her foot was massive, almost twice the size
of his whole head! And it was cold and clammy and the weight of her leg deformed his
face as it was pressed into the grass. Her foot over Peter’s ear, muffled the women’s
voices as they talked, getting to know each other better. Occasionally, she would curl her
big toe and press Peter’s eyeball into his head with it, making him see stars. She didn’t
press too firmly, though it felt that way to Peter. He knew she could easily force his eye
right into the back of his skull! She was just toying with him.
The women laughed easily with each other, Kelly apparently giving her new friend a
glass of lemonade as they talked. Their voices became genuinely conversant, oblivious
to the small man at their feet. They seemed to be getting along! Peter heard Kelly laugh
out loud, saying, “You are so right! That’s hilarious!,” but he didn’t know what they
were talking about, as the new woman twisted her foot unconsciously on Peter’s head,
twisting his skin beneath it. Finally, after what seemed a long time, the conversation
seemed to die down a bit and the woman lifted her foot from Peter’s head, then began
gently stroking his face with her big toes, giving him the appreciation of what she could
do to him at any moment she chose. The women were quiet. Peter’s teeth began to
chatter now. It was almost worse when they teased you with their power, he thought.
Almost.
Peter knew both Kelly and his new owner were quietly looking down at him. The
woman placed her giant foot directly in front of Peter’s nose and shifted her weight onto
it, letting Peter see it spread out as it crushed the grass directly in front of him. He stared
at it, terrified at its perfection – and power, afraid to look up at her.
“Well! You certainly look like you’re in pretty good shape, Pete,” the woman finally
allowed in an amused tone. It was the first time Peter heard her voice clearly and it
calmed him to hear her talk directly TO him, instead of ABOUT him a little – he didn’t
know why. She had removed her foot without really stepping on him with it…‘maybe if
he could get her to see him as a person’…She didn’t seem to be as stern as he had feared,
despite her cracking her whip before. Her voice had a certain “quality” to it – like back
when –
The thought simply stopped. Didn’t trail off, didn’t lead anywhere. Just. Stopped.
Peter’s mind simply froze – and couldn’t continue, because he wouldn’t let it.
The world freeze-framed -- and every detail in it!
His brain was suddenly like a computer that couldn’t process anything further without
more input.
And so, he waited. For more input. Any. Input.
And the moment drew itself out into an eternity, Peter’s eyes suddenly wide, as he stared
straight ahead -- every fiber of his mind waiting for her next words. And, finally, after
the eternity was over -- like a gift from God -- like a song in the wind -- a little laugh, and
then, “Yeah, I mean, you’ve got some more permanent marks on you now, but you’re a
damn sight better than I expected you’d be!”
Peter didn’t breathe. He couldn’t will himself to do so. He just stared at the huge
barefoot in front of him not daring to allow his mind to go where it wanted to take him!
The silence was perfect as both Peter and the woman mutually let it run out. Like the
moment wouldn’t be true if it wasn’t allowed to become full. Then, as if granting him a
wish…
“Sorry about your cheek,” the woman’s voice said in a slow, even tone.
Peter inhaled sharply and began hyperventilating as his mouth fell open. His eyes
instantly filled with tears! OH GOD! He waited as long as he could will himself to, then,
slowly, very slowly, craned his head to look up.
The afternoon sun was setting behind the woman, so all Peter could see was the towering
form of her gorgeous silhouette. He held his head for the longest time as he stared
upward, knowing she could see HIM without any problem; until she finally, slowly,
stepped in front of the sun and his eyes focused through his tears, on her face.
His mouth hung open as he tried to speak! “P…P…P…,” was all he could manage!
“Geez!” the girl said in a teasing tone, a wide smile forming on her lips, “I give you my
toe ring and you can’t even remember my name? A lot of thanks I get for saving your
ass!” She nudged Peter’s thumb with her big toe, pressing on the ring that said, ‘Todd’
on it.
“How – How…?” Peter began stuttering, as a happiness he had never felt before flowed
over him.
Paula smiled down at him, placing her hands on her hips. “How – How—How…?” she
jokingly mocked him! “How do you think?! The power of the Internet, Peter. I have an
ongoing EBay search for my toe-ring, thinking your wife will, of course, ‘EBay it’ after
you bring it home, instead of letting you keep it – I mean, how ELSE am I going to find
you?! Then, just as I’m about to forget the whole thing and give up – MONTHS LATER
-- suddenly, it comes up in an auction! But, not in a ring auction – in a description in a
slave auction! “‘PETER COLE COMES WITH AN EXPENSIVE TOE-RING
ENGRAVED WITH THE WORD, ‘TODD’’”? You must have been a very bad boy! I
just thought I’d check up on you when I bought my ring back …you know…see if you
actually made it out of the concert and where you ended up…I can’t believe I actually
had to buy you too! And, you wouldn’t BELIEVE what I paid for you! It was freakin’
highway robbery! And don’t think you won’t work it off, either!”, she laughed. Paula
was smiling unabashedly at Peter’s face, as he positively glowed back at her, in disbelief
she was really here!
Kelly’s eyes had been darting back and forth between them for several minutes,
confused, not knowing what to say. Finally, she ventured, “I don’t…understand.
You…you…KNOW MY HUSBAND?!”
Paula’s eyes stared seriously at Peter as she replied, “Now, Kelly…how could I possibly
know your husband?!” she said, raising her eyebrows.
Peter’s mouth fell open anew as he stared at her with pleading eyes. And then, the smile
– the smile he KNEW would be there – finally began at the edges of Paula’s mouth and
slowly spread across her ruby lips. She gave him a little laugh as she looked down at him
with – yes, he would admit it to himself now – LOVE -- in her eyes! “I’m just messin’
with you,” she said to him.
“Sit down, Kelly,” she said, her eyes never leaving Peter’s. “I have a story to tell you…”
Kelly looked from Paula to Peter, and had the good sense to keep silent, though she
didn’t at all like where this was going, and she CERTAINLY didn’t like the fact that she
didn’t know what was going on! “Okay, I’ll sit down,” she said. She slowly bent down
and lifted Peter by his belt, laying him face up, his head at the foot of the nearest pool
recliner, with almost no effort at all. She let Peter’s head hang over the end. She swung
her powerful tan leg over his head and straddled him with her muscular frame, as he
looked up at her strong, tanned thighs in her short jean shorts. Then, slowly, she sat her
muscular bulk down on his chest, crushing the air out of him, and slid her crotch forward,
directly onto his throat, letting his windpipe take her full weight as she sat on it, the hard
seams of the denim shorts grinding into Peter’s soft throat. Peter began to choke beneath
his wife’s powerful ass and Kelly slid even farther up, forcing his head backward. While
Peter had no chance of swallowing with her sitting on his throat, somehow, he could get
an occasional breath now, as spots appeared before his eyes and he started to “brown out”
from Kelly’s overwhelming weight smashing the arteries in his neck and bending his
head backward against his spine, as it hung over the end of the chair. Her torso was giant
above him as her breasts burst from her tight top and her curls cascaded around her neck.
She looked down at Peter to make sure he was feeling her full weight, squeezing her
thighs and enjoying the feeling of his head compressing like a soft melon within her thigh
muscles. When Peter gasped, she looked back at Paula. Peter tried to speak, but all that
came out was a pathetic choking sound, as Kelly stretched her long legs out in front of
her and pressed her ass fully into Peter’s throat. “Alright,” Kelly said defiantly, “I’m
sitting down.”
Paula stared at Peter a moment, watching his head bent backward as he desperately tried
to breathe and stay conscious as she started to talk. “Yes, Kelly, I know your husband.”
She hesitated a moment. “I met him at the Allannis concert.” Kelly’s reaction at words,
‘Allannis concert’ was like she’d been slapped! Instantly, all the hurt, all the pain, and all
the regret – and all the rage -- of the last four months, everything Peter had put her
through -- was upon her; SEETHING through her! “I KNEW IT!” she screamed! She
slammed her strong thighs closed around Peter’s head, as she reeled, clenching them in a
vice grip so tight she could almost instantly feel the little bones in Peter’s skull begin to
crack and snap! Peter’s hands flew to her legs to try and pry them apart, but she didn’t
even feel them as he vainly clawed at her strong legs! ‘Paula was nice to me,’ she
remembered Peter saying, the morning he’d returned after spending the night god knows
where. ‘Paula was nice to me.’ PAULA! She clenched her thighs even tighter now,
working the muscles, feeling Peter’s little head compressing as his muffled screams were
lost in the thick flesh of her legs and all she could feel was a vague tingling as he
moaned! Paula saw Peter’s legs begin thrashing wildly on the pool recliner, like a poor
dying insect.
“Kelly…you’re going to crush his head,” Paula said, concern slipping into her voice.
“Am I?!” Kelly replied. “And why would that concern YOU?!” she said icily. She
unclamped her thighs for only a moment, as Peter sucked in a huge, desperate breath!
“Plea…!” he screamed! But she grabbed him by the hair, cutting him off, and yanked his
head up into her crotch -- DEEP into her crotch! Then she clamped her thighs around his
face again and leaned back as she gritted her teeth and squeezed for all she was worth!
She definitely felt his face deforming between her legs now! She imagined his head
bursting like a grape and her holding the clench as his muffled screams subsided until
there was nothing but quiet! Then, she would release her thighs and kick what was left of
Peter’s head away! The little bastard!
“It would concern me because you’re the only woman he ever loved,” Paula said calmly,
staring into her eyes. Kelly froze, staring back at her, tears of rage in her own. “What do
you mean?!” she asked, her teeth still clenched, Peter’s head still lost in the power of her
legs. Paula began to talk, but Peter, lost in the tight, dark crush of his wife’s heavy thighs
couldn’t hear a word, only muffled speech. Kelly sat forward, still squeezing his face
into her crotch, but letting up a little on the barbaric pressure she had been applying, as
she listened to Paula talk. As Paula continued, her voice became distant as the blood
pumped in Peter’s ears and his eyes started to flicker as Kelly tensed her thighs and
relaxed her legs unconsciously as she heard the story of the night Peter betrayed her.
Finally, the power of his wife’s weight and the squeeze of her massive thigh muscles
became too much for Peter, and, despite his desperate attempts to stay conscious, his
tongue lolled out of his mouth, brushing his wife’s bare skin, his eyes bulged from his
head and then his head lolled back and blackness enveloped him. Just before he blacked
out, he clearly heard Paula say the word, ‘Elena.’
He knew that a few minutes had passed, before he was even aware he was conscious
again. The sun had sunk just below the horizon and it was fast getting dark out as his
eyes flickered open again. His throat was no longer being crushed, and his skull, while
painfully sore, was intact. But, Kelly was now sitting heavily on his chest, making
breathing all but impossible. As Peter came to, his stomach was suddenly smashed,
forcing what little air he had, out of him, then his chest, then his stomach again, as he
realized, Kelly was sitting on him, rocking back and forth, crying, her face in her hands.
“Oh my god! Oh my god! Do you know what I DID to him?! Do you know what I let
other women do?! Tabitha with her whip…and her CLEATS?!!! Marci and her steel
heels?!!! The sorority girls?! TWO HUNDRED COLLEGE GIRLS IN HEELS?!!! I
sat on him on a barstool and watched my husband scream as its legs drilled into his chest
while I got drunk! I had my piano students sitting on his back WITH ME! And he
hadn’t done ANYTHING! HE HADN’T DONE ANYTHING AT ALL!!! Oh, my
god…” her voice trailed off.
“Kelly…”, Peter coughed weakly. “Kelly…please…my ribs…”
Kelly opened her eyes and looked at Peter, suddenly realizing she was still sitting on him.
She leapt off of him and he tried to breathe again. She hesitated to even touch him! “Oh
Peter, you poor thing…I don’t know how to…how you could ever…forgive me! The
things I’ve done to you! Oh my God, you’ve got heel marks all over you and scars and
your face has imprints from my denim shorts in it! Peter, I’m sorry! I’m so, so, sorry! I
knew you’d never cheat on me! I should have believed you!”
Peter looked up at her and all he could feel was love. Kelly gently helped him off the
lawn chair so he could lay on the ground at her feet. He rolled over, trying to catch his
breath, groaning audibly. Kelly was obviously grief-stricken at what she’d done to him,
Paula thought.
“It’s not all bad, you know,” Paula ventured. She reached out and ventured to wipe one
of Kelly’s tears from her eyes, then put a soft hand on her face. “Servitude is not bad,”
she said. “What you’ve done is to open Peter’s mind to the realities of the world! You
can’t be around all the time, Kelly. Sooner or later he’s going to get stepped on, or
whipped or ridden or squeezed! It’s bound to happen! You’ve toughened him up to
where he can endure much, much more than even HE would have thought possible.
You’ve given him the ability to be proud of himself for what he can endure in service to a
woman he loves!”
Kelly sniffed back a tear. “He’s just so small,” she said. “Almost like a fragile little
midget, now, compared to us. And, I love him so much!” She stared down at Peter, lying
beside her bare feet, holding his head.
“Of course, you love him,” Paula said, holding her hand against Kelly’s cheek. She
looked into Kelly’s eyes. “I love him, too.”
Kelly stared back at her, swallowing hard. “Don’t feel threatened,” Paula continued, “It’s
not like that.”
“Kelly, love between a man and a woman is not like it used to be. It used to be based on
equality. But, there is no equality anymore – not even close. You can’t share athletics
with Peter, he can’t keep up with you! You can’t have an intellectual conversation
because his mind is like a child’s compared to ours. Tell me you’ve been able to really
let yourself go when you make love without secretly worrying you’ll kill him with your
intensity! Love now, is more like that for a beloved pet. You’re grateful for the pet
serving you and loving you, and the pet feels tremendous pride for pleasing you in any
way he can! It’s different, but it’s no less loving! And, denying the truth actually can
harm the relationship! Let Peter have the opportunity to serve the woman he loves – the
WOMEN he loves – in servitude, not in pure torture!”
“But…but that means making him our carpet,” Kelly said softly.
“You’re right, it does. So let’s let Peter decide whether he wants to be our carpet.”
“What? Why would Peter possibly choose to be our carpet?!”
Paula thought for a moment. “Because…he loves us as much as we love him.” Kelly’s
brow knitted, trying to comprehend.
“Peter,” Paula said, looking down at him. Peter slowly turned his head upward toward
her towering form, breathless at how hypnotically stunning she was. “Peter, you know I
love you. I have since the first night I met you. And, you know Kelly loves you just as
much or even more. Now, we’re not telling you what to do…the decision is yours. But it
would make us very happy…if you would lay on your stomach…so we could step on
you.”
Peter stared back into her eyes, horrified. “Wha – What?! But…but…both of you…that
would be…you’re…giants now!” Peter replied, trembling. He stared at her great feet and
the little blades of grass crushed mercilessly beneath them.
“It would make us very happy,” Paula repeated, her eyebrows raised. “The pain you
endure for a woman is the greatest statement of your love. Show your wife how much
you love her. Show ME, Peter.”
“It’s really up to me? You’re not going to…step on me…if I don’t want you to?” Paula
shook her head. Peter’s face fell. “I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re so heavy. Even back at
the concert, I’d thought I’d die when I carried you on my shoulders. And Kelly’s weight,
when she sits on my face – or my back – you don’t know….and…and, to have both of
you stepping on me…I don’t think I could take it…please, please…I love you both, you
just can’t know how horrible it is to be stepped on by you.” Peter was almost crying at
the memory of it.
Paula pouted, making a boo-boo face. “Well, I guess we can’t all play together then. It’s
okay, we’ll find something else to do. I’m just really, really bummed.” She looked
deliberately sad, and Peter would not have fallen for it, but out of the corner of his eye he
saw Kelly’s face as it clouded over genuinely, momentarily looking at the ground. ‘It’s
like a drug for them,’ he thought. They don’t only want it…they NEED it!
Peter looked from Paula to Kelly, who stared back at him without a word, unsure of what
to say. Then, he looked forlornly at the ground in front of him. ‘It would make them
happy,’ he heard her say in his mind again. ‘Kelly and Paula – would be happy!’ Then,
having decided, he steeled himself and painstakingly rolled onto his stomach as his eyes
locked on their giant bare feet, and, in a trembling voice, said, “Please…please…step on
me then. It would be…an honor…to have you step on me.” His voice cracked at the last
sentence, contemplating what his own wife and Paula were about to do to him.
Kelly stared at Peter in disbelief! She looked at her own huge bare feet, imagining what
her weight would feel like combined with Paula’s. But, then she saw Paula, now with a
satisfied smile on her face, gently place her foot in the center of Peter’s back. Her foot
easily covered his back from one side to the other. “Concentrate on how much you love
us, Peter. It will help you endure the crush,” she said. Peter gulped in fear. Then, Paula
slowly brought her full weight to bear, as Peter’s air was forced out of him slowly in a
pathetic, “UUUULLLLLLLTTHHHHH….”
Kelly saw her husband’s entire back bend beneath Paula’s feet as she now stood with her
full 6’7” frame on him. She had to weigh 260 pounds! Paula looked down at Peter with
obvious appreciation at the crush he was sustaining for her, as his tongue hung out of his
mouth in a silent scream. She motioned, and then, Kelly walked slowly over to Peter and
placed her own bare foot on Peter’s back, near his neck. She looked down at him and
said, “Thank you, Peter. I won’t forget this,” and pressed her foot into his neck, stepping
onto him with her own full weight. She felt him sink even more into the ground as she
now stood on him, his little ribs bending beneath her and his body spreading out as if it
was a hamburger patty smashed flat! Peter couldn’t even bring his arms into his chest to
endure the crush! Kelly saw his mouth was open in a groan, but no intelligible sound was
coming out, as more than 500 pounds of female muscle squished him like a bug!
“UTHHHLLLL PPLLLLEEAATHH ULLTHH…”, Peter groaned, his body a soft
sinking cushion for Kelly’s giant feet!
Paula moved forward slightly and Kelly was forced to step on the side of her husband’s
head. “He’s okay,” Paula said, looking down. She saw Kelly’s foot, completely
covering Peter’s face, which was deformed and contorted, his eyes bugging out of his
head. It was hard to see details in the gathering darkness. He didn’t have close to enough
air to do anything but endure this for them. Paula began bouncing on him, his ribs
bending and cracking with each gentle impact. She was enjoying the feeling of forcing
the air out in loud groans, “HUTH – HYUTH – HUTH – HYUTHT,” was the noise Peter
made as Paula, then Kelly too, bounced on him, springing up and down with increasing
power.
“Are you okay, Peter?” Kelly asked, tentatively, as they both continued to bounce on
him. “YY—YY – OO – KKKY – HUTH – HU – HUTHL -- HULLL…” came the
strained reply from beneath her feet. She smiled down at him, ignoring the sound of her
husband’s ribs and back cracking under her huge feet. “This is fun!” she laughed. “And
I guess he really is okay…sort of…”
She turned toward Paula, who was smiling softly at her and continued to bounce, harder
and harder for several minutes, her legs slamming her feet into the little man beneath her,
leaving footprints in his skin, before finally stopped bouncing, as did Paula. Both women
stood still on Peter’s back and stared down at him. Peter was clawing the dirt under their
perfect bodies, staring sightlessly at the grass in front of his face, as his legs bent upward
in a vain attempt to suffer the mind-numbing crush. “Thank you for saving him at the
concert,” Kelly told Paula, shifting her weight and unknowingly snapping Peter’s
shoulder out of its socket, as Peter gasped, unable to breathe in any air.
“Thank you for being grateful,” Paula replied, staring at her. Kelly stared back.
“Whom DO you share intellectual conversations with?” Paula asked her. She heard
Peter groan sickly, the vibrations tickling her feet.
“I guess…oh, maybe Marci…my friend…my friend, Marci,” Kelly answered hesitating.
“But Marci is…I mean, she’s fun…and all…but…she hurts for the sake of hurting…and
she doesn’t like Peter. She’s not…she’s not like…”, Kelly’s voice trailed off as she
looked away, her mouth suddenly dry.
“She’s not like me?” Paula ventured, her voice pure silk. Kelly’s eyes slowly rose to
meet Paula’s. She looked deep into them as she took a deep breath and answered, “No.
She’s not like you.”
Beneath them, Peter let out a woeful moan, as Paula stepped so close to Kelly, their
chests were touching. Neither woman looked down at him. And, this time, Kelly didn’t
step back. Their weight was now concentrated on a single spot on Peter’s shoulder
blades, one of them sliding freely beneath the women’s feet, and he gasped, trying to
endure it! He had never expected them to step on him for more than a second! Now, it
had been several minutes, and most of his ribs had already been broken by them bouncing
up and down on his fragile back! His shoulder screamed at him for relief as Kelly
manipulated it with each unconscious weight shift. He couldn’t form a single word to tell
them how much pain he was in! He could feel each of their individual toes pressing his
flesh like a pancake beneath them. “UULLLLTTHH….WUULLTHTHTH.”
“You’re a beautiful woman,” Paula said, running her eyes down Kelly’s curvy frame. “I
mean, really -- fantastically beautiful!” She brushed her hand along Kelly’s curves,
lightly with her nails.
Kelly blushed. “That’s what Peter says.” She wet her lips. “You know, when I answered
the door and saw you, I thought…I thought, what would it be like to just…I mean, I
HAVE been lonely with no real companionship and so I thought…I just thought…,”
Peter felt Kelly’s feet suddenly twist mercilessly into his back, with a sharp exhalation of
her breath, then she stepped squarely on his head as Paula stepped forward onto his neck,
bending his head against her giant foot and snapping it, his head rolling to the side,
loosely, now moving on its own! “Oh, God!” Peter thought. The rest of her sentence
was cut off as Peter felt the two women begin to shift their weight back and forth,
stepping around on him and grinding him beneath their feet brutally, trampling him as if
he wasn’t even there!
“You…you…care about Peter…,” Kelly said, suddenly husky with another sharp intake
of breath.
“Like he was my own…” Paula answered, breathless! She stepped hard on his neck and
twisted, pulling Peter’s whole head to the side, then curled her toes, scratching him
deeply with her toenails! Paula stepped forward, and there was no where for Kelly to go,
so both women now stood on Peter’s head, their feet grinding his ear as they twisted,
sliding down his face, deforming it under their combined weight! Kelly drove her toe
straight into Peter’s eye without even knowing, as her breath started coming in sharp
gasps! Suddenly, she stood up on her tiptoes and Peter felt her entire weight concentrated
on the balls of her feet. “Paula…” Kelly’s voice breathed!
Paula stood on her toes as well, and Peter thought he’d die under the vicious trampling!
He tried to look up and got only a glimpse of them stepping all over him feverishly as
their hands danced across each other’s stunning bodies! Then, amid a husky moan from
above, Peter saw Kelly’s tight pullover drop on the grass next to his face, followed by
Paula’s blouse, followed in short order by both women’s short shorts! He looked up
again as Kelly stepped off his face for a moment, and the sight was the purest expression
of pain and pleasure he had ever conceived of!
Two nearly seven foot tall, naked, athletic women towered above him, pleasuring each
other as they trampled him beneath their powerful feet, grinding his bones into the soft
grass, oblivious to his even being beneath them now! The pain was impossible to bear as
they twisted him, and ground him into the dirt, but the fact that he was part of their
pleasure was overwhelming, too! Peter gritted his teeth and watched them, their
muscular bodies intertwined over him, as he felt them become even more excited,
judging by the power of their steps! He felt his neck crack as Paula stepped hard on it,
then his face smashed into the ground by Kelly’s full weight! And then, amid a degree of
suffering he never thought he could take, he realized -- he was part of it – part of their
pleasure – part of THEM! And he knew what they wanted! He knew what they liked!
And he wanted to be even more a part of it! He would do ANYTHING to be a part of it!
“SSS….SSSS….TOOMMM….SSTTOOMMPPP MMMEEE!!!!…..Peter cried, his teeth
gritted, as the women became wild with excitement! “PPLLEEAAASEE STTO—
OOM--MPP MMEE…STOOMMPPP MMEEE….STTTOMMPP MEEEEEEE!!!”
Kelly and Paula had become animals! At Peter’s words, both women began stomping
him with every bit of strength they had while pleasuring each other! In a sexual frenzy,
they smashed his body beneath their huge peds, jumping up and down, picking their
knees up to their shoulders, then slamming them down straight into his small body! His
body reverberated off the ground, he felt his ribs break one by one, then break again, and
his nose start bleeding! Above him, he could see Kelly looking straight down at him with
wild intensity, but not seeing him, as she stomped his face over and over, her fantastic
full breasts bouncing with the effort, and her curls flying up and down, as she screamed,
“Yes, yes, YES! Peter felt his jaw break as she smashed her foot into it, slamming her
full weight down on top of his face! The two women never stopped touching each other
as they jumped up and down on Peter’s broken body! Paula pushed Kelly aside, and took
her own turn on his face, jumping in place and twisting as she smashed down on his face
on both feet! Then, Kelly pushed Paula aside again and began marching hard in place on
Peter’s face, as Paula did the same to the small of his back! As his back broke in several
places, Peter was lost in the fury of their pleasure! “YY—YE—YESSS ---YY—
HULLTTHH- HUF – HITH – HYUTH --…,” Peter screamed with no air, knowing they
were killing him! “MM…MMOO – MMOOR – MOORREE…,” he heard his voice
grunt, even as his vision blurred from the repeated full-on stomps from his wife’s giant
feet! Both women were grunting gutturally as they stomped Peter into the ground! The
feeling of his weak flesh flattening under their weight and the splintering of bone, as he
actually became flatter with every stomp, ground like cornmeal, the shape of his body
yielding to their peds to become a flat, amorphous mass of meat and bone, was an erotic
pleasure they’d both denied themselves for most of their lives! And to do it to a man they
LOVED! Oh, thinking about it made them absolutely crazy with pleasure! Paula
stomped down Peter’s back onto his legs and broke the major bones with her first two
stomps, then smashed the fragments that remained by walking heavily all over his legs,
concentrating on the backs of Peter’s knees! Kelly’s weight on his back kept him from
screaming, but rivers of liquid pain were now streaming up Peter’s body from his legs,
where Paula was now dancing heavily around! He found he could move none of his
limbs anymore and was completely at their mercy! He couldn’t move, he couldn’t
speak—he lay helplessly waiting for the end of this eternity of suffering for their
pleasure!
The women didn’t even know he was there any longer! Moaning with pleasure, they
trampled heavily all over him, becoming unbelievably aroused! When Peter’s backbone
cracked loudly enough for the two women to hear it, they both simultaneously let out a
guttural scream! “OOHHH…GOD! YYEESSSSSSSS!! YES! YES! YES! YES!
YEESSSSSSSS!!!!! OH MY GOD!!! YESSSS!!!!” Then, amid their heavy breathing,
the trampling stopped completely as both women tensed up and stood solidly in one place
on Peter, racked with spasms, for almost a continuous minute, before finally relaxing.
They both stomped hard four or five more times on Peter, as they tried to catch their
breath and come down from what they’d done to each other. Then, they began padding
around on him, repeating, “Oh God! Oh, my God! That was…that was really….wow!”
Peter felt as if he was a puddle on the ground! Stomped flat, he just lay helplessly feeling
the two giant women pad around on him like a doormat. Finally, feeling sweat from their
beautiful bodies dripping on him as Peter looked up at them semiconscious with a
concussion and virtually all of his bones broken in many places, both women smiled
down at him as deliberately, they allowed their combined weight to take its toll on his
broken body -- 500 pounds of tanned female muscle, crushing a broken man beneath it,
the faces of young, athletic hotties smiling down at him as he moaned inside! Peter’s
mouth hung open but no sound came out. “Think we should give your husband a rest?”
Paula finally asked, still panting. “Until next time,” answered Kelly, breathing hard,
staring into Paula’s eyes. They both stepped off Peter, noting that the depressions left by
their feet remained in him like in a putty that has no resiliency. They looked mildly
concerned at the way his body seemed to be twisted and flattened, crippled by their feet,
with his torso, arms and legs not laying quite like they should have and occasional lumps
sticking up beneath his skin that had never been there before. “Do you think he’s really
okay?” asked Kelly.
Paula nudged Peter with her foot, flipping him onto his back like a rag doll, which made
him seem to scream silently. Then, she tested the bones of his chest, then his legs by
pressing on them heavily with the weight of her leg, pushing her foot into him. Without
exception, every bone had been broken in so many places, there wasn’t even a rigid
structure to his body Paula could find. He reminded her of a Halloween dummy she’d
made when she was little, by stuffing him with newspaper. Now, when she pushed her
foot down into Peter, the fragments of broken bones throughout him, crinkled like
newspaper when she pressed her foot into it. Her continued testing by pressing deeply
into all his broken bones and organs seemed to be really hard on him, as he made this
horrible guttural sound when she did it, and her foot went in so deeply, though,
obviously, he couldn’t move. She grinned mischievously and stepped down on his groin.
There was no resistance at all, which meant his pelvis was pretty much broken in many
pieces and his organ was jelly. Paula smiled at learning how much Peter had endured for
them. At last, she removed her heavy foot from the bony leg she’d been pressing on,
which went flat as paper when she now applied even part of her weight. ‘Feels like soft
rubber,’ she thought.
“Oh, he’ll definitely need a steroid series to help all those bones heal quickly, but he’ll be
much better by morning.” Paula smiled down at him, again, with love. She could see
that, even partially comatose, his eyes like slits, he was staring at her marvelous body.
Kelly bent down, squatting next to her husband’s face, her full, naked breasts dangling
over him, deliberately just out of reach of his tongue. “Peter…Peter…can you hear me?”
Peter stared back at her, unmoving, his eyes only half open. His nose was completely flat
and his lips were cracked. His face was lopsided, somehow. A tuft of grass and dirt
clung to his teeth. There was filth from their feet all over him and a clear footprint on his
face, covering it completely! Only his fingers on one hand were vaguely moving. After a
moment, he made the smallest of sounds, without moving his mouth, but he was looking
right at her. “If you can hear me, Peter…thank you! Thank you so much! That was just
incredible! It was…wild! I’ve never been so turned on! I LOVE doing that to you!”
Seeming to discover he had one working bone left, Peter slowly raised his forearm to
stroke Kelly’s face, and she reached down to stroke his in return. A bone in his forehead
moved as she touched it. “I love you,” she said. Peter just stared back at her and made
another small sound. “I knew we couldn’t go back to the way our marriage was before;
but, maybe we’ve found a way to love each other in a different way. Maybe, it just took
a third person who also loves you to become a part of things around here.” She looked
up at Paula. “How does that sound, Paula?”
Paula smiled warmly. “It sounds perfect,” she said. Paula reached out and touched Kelly
seductively again, which made her catch her breath and shudder. Paula gently lifted her
foot and placed her toe in Peter’s mouth, but he couldn’t even try to suckle it. Both
women looked down at him for a few moments, then Kelly said, “Peter…I know you’ll
need a steroid treatment so you don’t have to suffer the pain while you lay here, but, will
you be alright laying here for a little while? Paula and I are going in the house
and…we’ll be out when we’re….finished. Okay?”
Peter couldn’t respond, so Paula gently removed her foot bringing a string of his saliva
with her toe until the string broke and the saliva dripped from her toe onto his face.
“Thank you,” she mouthed down to him. “TH-OUU,” Peter tried to reply, in a bare
whisper. He looked up at her and slowly tried to smile. “This little event is going to be
the best part of every week!” Kelly laughed, missing Peter’s sharp intake of breath in the
one of his lungs that still worked.
“I know! You’ve really got a special husband,” Paula answered.
Both women took each other’s hands and were about to step over Peter to go inside. At
the last minute, they simultaneously looked at each other and giggled, then looked down
at Peter, both with the same idea. They lifted their long legs and together stepped directly
on Peter’s torso as they walked over him, laughing out loud when their bare feet mashed
completely to the ground, where once, his ribcage and pelvis would have been. Peter’s
tongue flew out of him mouth and all of his air was once again driven from him as his
mouth screamed, “UUUHHHHHTHH.” The women took one look back at Peter, lying
in the grass, and laughed out loud, “He’s like ‘Peter the Puddle!’ Kelly exclaimed, and
Paula laughed again. “See ya in a few, Peter-the-Puddle!” Kelly called, giggling. The
women turned and walked slowly inside. A few minutes later, as the pain became a
living thing for him, Peter lost consciousness to the sounds of the stunning women’s
moans from the bedroom he and his wife had first made love in, as they were carried by
the warm breeze through the starlit summer night, and Peter laid pressed several inches
deep in the soft ground.
*****
Kelly laughed embarrassed. “This seems really weird, but I don’t even know your last
name!”
They were sitting across from each other eating a breakfast they’d made themselves,
since Peter wasn’t quite walking or able to see clearly again yet. The sun beamed
through the bright kitchen. He had hardly spoken all morning as his jaw hurt so badly
from the girls stepping on his head the night before. The steroid series was like magic,
though, repairing Peter’s damaged organs and healing his bones almost as they watched.
The night before, after Kelly and Paula had finished with each other and then had a snack
together, they’d retrieved Peter (or what was left of him) from the back yard, and placed
him on the medicine mat, its covering of half inch needles puncturing Peter’s body all
over like a bed of nails as they rolled him up in it. Peter had screamed like a little boy,
but was completely helpless to resist since every bone in his body had been crushed.
Attaching the steroid bottle to the little hose at one of the mat’s corners, they’d let the
drug distribute itself to all the little needles on the mat, then Kelly had stepped onto the
smooth rubber outside of the mat that held Peter’s body like a pig-in-a-blanket, and
walked around on it, her big body driving thousands of the little needles deeply into him
so they could inject the drug throughout him simultaneously, Peter now screaming and
crying horribly, which made her uncomfortable. She noted Peter’s body was so ‘jellylike’
now, it was almost like there was no body inside the mat when she stepped on it.
Kelly had used the medicine mat on many males before, walking on them without a care,
but never on Peter. She was bothered by how much males screamed when the needles all
penetrated them and she felt it would be too cruel to do it to her husband. But, with Peter
as broken as he was, she thought it was best now. She had turned Peter over, and Paula
had walked over the other side of the mat, drinking her cup of coffee, as Peter had
screamed as the needles punctured his front, quaking beneath Paula’s weight. She had
stared down at him apologetically, standing on the carnage that had been his chest.
“Sorry, I know this hurts, but it’s the only way to deliver the drug to all your body parts
quickly,” she had said to him, as his eyes watered and he yelped and screamed.
Then, during the night, bones that had been broken in twenty or thirty places rehealed at
least enough to allow Peter to use them. Now, on this bright autumn morning, he was
still covered in large, purple bruises and looked like he’d been in a car accident, but
neither Paula nor Kelly acted as if they weren’t used to males looking this way. He was
on the floor, alternately servicing each of their feet. They’d told him he didn’t have to –
that they didn’t expect it after last night – but he kept staring at a crumb on Paula’s foot
until it bothered him so much that it was stuck there, he lay down and licked it off, then
continued with the rest of her feet and his wife’s as they talked. Their feet were dirty,
after all, and it was his job.
“Bowers,” Paula replied, bringing Kelly back to reality. “My last name is ‘Bowers’.”
Kelly smiled. “You have a really incredible house!”
“Oh, Peter was a concert pianist, so he did very well in the old days,” Kelly answered.
She picked up his hand, showing Paula the hundreds of heel marks, now turned to
permanent scars across the back of it and everywhere on his fingers. One of the heel
marks that hadn’t been scuffed away by subsequent ones, still had a very clear imprint in
it -- “CHP,” it said. “He doesn’t play anymore, though,” Kelly said sadly. Paula nodded
knowingly. “How about you?” Kelly asked.
“Oh, I’m on the California Governor’s staff,” answered Paula.
“Really?!” Kelly asked, with renewed excitement.
“Really. In fact, to be honest, I’m kind of…the Governor’s Chief of Staff.”
“Oh my gosh! How wild! You’re so young! I’ve always loved politics!”
“Well, Governor Shryver picks people based on their ability and motivation, not their
age; she also didn’t have a long time to pick a staff with the way she came to power so
quickly.”
“Yes, of course,” Kelly nodded, remembering the LA Times headline, “ ‘Terminated!
Beneath Wife’s Spikes.’”
“Well, if you ever have any openings, I’d love to help out!”
“Do you mean that?” asked Paula.
“Well…um, yes! I guess!” replied Kelly.
“Okay, we have an opening for a press coordinator. It’s a lot of running back and forth
interoffice, but it pays well and there’s a lot of perks.”
Kelly thought for a moment. “What about Peter? I can’t just leave him unattended every
day.” Both women looked down at Peter who had stopped licking Kelly’s feet and was
listening hesitantly.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to find a place for him too! We’ll shower up and leave right
after breakfast!”
“Oh, this is so exciting! I’m going to be on the Governor’s staff!”
The women laid Peter on the cold tile floor of the large shower stall upstairs, as they
padded around on him, soaping each other’s glistening bodies and laughing. He almost
drowned as the harsh water sprayed straight down on his face, preventing him from
drawing a breath, even when he had a moment when his stomach wasn’t being stepped on
hard, to do so. Paula stepped on his legs at the knees, cracking both of them, though she
didn’t seem to notice, and so his legs wouldn’t work any time soon. His throat was
clogged with soapy water and he coughed incessantly, but Kelly and Paula both ignored
him. Kelly played a game with him, scrunching his nose closed with her toes, forcing
him to open his mouth, which let the choking rush of water in! Finally, the women
decided it was time to get Peter clean, so Kelly closed the drain with her toes and allowed
the water to begin rising over Peter’s naked body. When the water covered his chest, she
poured bubble bath on him and watched him disappear beneath the mounds of glittering
white foam.
“Oh, this reminds me of a game my friend Carolyn likes to play at her parties,” exclaimed
Paula. It’s called, ‘What are you stepping on?’
“Oh, I get it!” cried Kelly, looking at the piles of bubbles that now covered the shower
floor. “Let’s see…I’m stepping on….a forearm!” She rummaged away the bubbles,
revealing Peter’s arm beneath her foot. Paula laughed. “I normally don’t do this because
Carolyn wears stilettos when she plays, but…I’m stepping on…let’s see…a….throat!”
She cleared away the bubbles and found Peter’s head at the bottom of them, his eyes
bulging out of a purple face, her foot squarely standing on his neck. “Oh, sorry,” she said
bursting out laughing!
“I’m stepping on….,” said Kelly. Suddenly, Peter screamed through the bubbles in a
horrible screaming groan! Both women exploded in laughter! “I think we both KNOW
what you’re stepping on!,” exclaimed Paula brightly. The women, laughing, got out of
the shower.
When he could crawl out of the shower, himself, Peter pulled himself along the hallway
on his arms, as his legs were still useless. He crawled pathetically by the master suite, his
lifeless legs dragging behind him. The girls were laughing, putting on business suits and
heels. Peter stared at the sharp heels, all stained with blood. “Don’t worry,” Paula told
him. “These aren’t for you. There’s a difference between playful fun and true,
unadulterated PAIN. And we love you, Peter. We won’t be stepping on you in our
heels.” Peter breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah,” added Kelly, “We’ll be stepping on other
guys!” Peter gulped at what his wife was becoming, and then noted the stack of Male
Training Videos with subliminal technology on the TV had been rearranged again.
Apparently, Kelly was continuing to watch them.
Kelly, strode powerfully across the room, her heels slamming into the carpet with the
pumps she’d walked all over him with at the party, and he shuddered, remembering what
it had felt like to be beneath their cruel tread when she’d ground his face into the floor,
then walked on his groin with them. “Ready?” she asked. Paula smiled, “All set!”, she
said.
Peter struggled to keep up with them, and also to not get stepped on, as they left the
house. He dutifully crawled around to the trunk of Paula’s car, waiting for her to pop it
open for him. The women glanced at Peter, then shared a smile. “All right, I guess you
can ride in the back seat,” called Paula. Peter’s face lit up! “I mean, you ought to have
some reference for what it’s like without four or five women sitting on you there.” She
laughed, but the memory brought a cloud over Peter’s face, as he remembered being
bounced off the floorboards by the crushing weight of all the girls as they squished his
little body into the seat, then licking Denise’s big, filthy foot and enduring Elena’s
stiletto’s as she stood out the sunroof and danced all over him.
Paula closed him in the car and they took off toward the State Office Tower, Peter
remaining silent as the women talked about political and financial dealings much too
complicated for Peter to understand. Paula’s front seats now had cutouts in the lower seat
backs. Peter wondered if she’d ever used them to sit on a male’s face as she drove along.
And, then he saw the fingernail marks in the seat back, where a suffering man had
obviously had a vice grip, trying to endure the crush...
“Oh, we’re gonna go by the Angel’s exhibition game,” Paula said. “The Angels are
doing an exhibition game at a small park today and everybody’s coming out to watch.
They were going to cancel because they didn’t have a guy to play first base, but I think
they found one at the last minute. It’s up ahead!”
Peter sat up and tentatively asked, “The first basemen is…a man…like…a male?!” Both
women turned toward him. “Well, of course he’s a male, why do you ask?”
“I just thought…I mean…letting a male play first base on a major sports
team…that’s…that’s…wonderful!” Peter was all smiles. He was still trying to figure out
this new world, but if men were still allowed to play first base, then all could not be lost!
Kelly giggled, and turned around and pushed him back onto the seat with her large hand
on his face, then turned back toward Paula and ignored him, laughing.
The ballpark was ahead and Paula got stuck in traffic as she drove by it, trolling along at
a snail’s pace, as Peter watched through the window. It was an honest-to-gosh baseball
game! His heart just exploded with joy to see such a normal, American pastime. Even
from here, he could tell most of the Angels were now women – all of them that he could
see, in fact – tall, tall, muscular women, most at least seven feet tall! Sure, the stands
were full of women sitting on their males in the bleachers, and beautiful vendor-ladies
riding young men up and down the aisles selling hot dogs, as they groaned beneath their
weight, but…if a male could play first base, if they ‘looked the other way’ for the good of
the sport, then…
As Paula turned the corner and Peter had an unobstructed view of the baseball diamond,
he saw the first baseman. And, just as Paula had told him, the first baseman was a man.
But, he wasn’t standing near the base with his glove ready to make the next out, a tense
grin on his face, playing in the sunshine, as Peter had expected. A seven-foot tall blond
goddess in a California Angels uniform held that spot. Instead, the first baseman was
lying at the corner of the two white chalk lines that formed the ball diamond. And, he
was strapped down against the ground there. He wasn’t playing first base. He was
PLAYING FIRST BASE!
Peter was numb, as he watched a new batter step up to the box. A giant brunette, she
looked like one of the Gladiators from the Allannis concert! The pitch thrown by the
redhead pitcher was so fast, Peter didn’t even see it, yet Peter heard the crack of the bat
and the batter took off running toward the small man being used as first base. The fear in
his eyes was palpable as this truck of a woman, wearing her steel cleats, bore down on
the little man, thundering along like a locomotive at a speed Peter couldn’t believe! The
shortstop grounded the ball and shot it to the player at first base, who caught it a few feet
from the little man, and immediately turned and leapt toward the base! Peter gasped as
both giant female athletes leapt into the air and slammed their cleats into the little base
man at the same time!

[DeathXI]

The Angels player guarding the base came down with her full weight on the small man’s
face in her cleats, and the runner slammed her cleat into the man’s bladder, at a full
sprint, as she ran right over him! The little man’s body compressed almost flat in both
places, then bounced into the air as the shockwave of being so powerfully stomped
reverberated through him! The female umpire didn’t rule immediately. Walking up to
the players, both now standing on the man, with their cleats on the parts they’d stepped
on, the umpire held a mic down to the little man. “Which player’s cleats stepped on you
first?”, she said, her voice echoing over the loudspeakers. “Both players ground their
cleats into him now, twisting his flesh beneath them to get him to choose them. The big
batter was marching in place on his groin to the delight of the crowd, as the other woman
player wrecked his face. The ump kicked him, then positioned her own cleat on his
outstretched hand and stepped down. The man screamed! “Which player’s cleats
stepped on you first?!” she repeated more loudly.
The man gasped from beneath the player’s shoe, “I think…I think….the runner’s…” The
ump gave a ‘safe’ sign as she stepped off the man’s hand and the player on his face
pressed her full weight into his cheek and did a full 360 on his face, her cleats ripping his
face, damaging him terribly, and then she looked down and spit on him. At the side of
the diamond, a young, teenage ball girl in sexy short-shorts and a low cut tank top, with
‘Angels’ colors on it, who had been sitting on a teenage boy’s back while he was on all
fours, jumped up, disgusted at the call. She whirled on the boy and delivered a brutal
kick to his midsection with her smooth, tanned leg, slamming his body into the wall like a
rag doll, and flipping him onto his back, she cursing, as the boy curled moaning into the
fetal position. The runner raised both arms into the air in victory and walked up to stand
on the first baseman’s chest to await her next opportunity to run. She must weigh at least
290 pounds, thought Peter grimly. The man feebly clutched at her legs, but she deftly
stepped on his hands, crushing them into his chest without even looking down. When the
next batter got a hit, the massive athlete stepped squarely on his face as she left the base
and the man turned just in time to see the next muscular female ball player slide into his
face, her cleats leading the way! The ump came over and swept the man off with a small
broom, then switched to a small mop, as it seemed it would be more effective, as the
young, sexy batgirl yanked the teenage boy back up and sat on his back with her smooth
tan thighs near his face.
Peter stifled a sob as Paula pulled the car through the traffic light and away from the ball
park, never even thinking to look back at, what was for her, just another normal
ballgame. He watched her drive confidently toward the Statehouse, looking perfect in
her short business skirt and pumps, his wife absent-mindedly playing with her long nails
beside her.
It was a bit of a drive to the Statehouse and Governor’s Mansion, but given the newer
cars and much faster reflexes, women could easily drive 120-130 miles an hour now, with
no effort at all. They were taking the only route north, on the winding Pacific Coast
Highway Peter had been driving when he had been pulled over by the cruel policewomen
– and where he had met Paula and her friends for the first time. He saw the spot flash by
as Paula caught his eye in the rearview mirror, seeing the fear in Peter’s eyes. He had the
vivid image of a battered, broken, small man – himself – laying in the dirt, being walked
on by repeatedly by the tall, tall, cops, in their short khaki shorts and heavy boots; then
surrounded by tall, muscular women in their jeans and concert clothes as he suckled their
big, dusty toes. The image of Denise, looking down on him as he laid of the back seat of
the car and she slowly lowered her ass onto his head, was clear in his mind. “Ready?”
she’d said, standing over him. He had not been ready. He STILL was not ready.
It wasn’t long before Paula cruised off the PCH and onto a suburban road, then up a
winding hill to the Statehouse. As she stopped at the main gate, a young, blond guard in
a white tennis outfit looked up from her position outside her little guardhouse. Her face
seemed to be flushed. She had a thin, naked man bent backwards from his kneeling
position behind the wooden stool she was sitting on, his head, upturned on the seat of the
stool and his arms tied to the legs of the stool, his back hyper extended. The 20-year-old
woman was sitting on his face, the ridges of her white tennis skirt hanging to the sides of
it, covering him. She had her Plexiglas spike heels clipped into the rungs of the stool,
which brought her legs up a bit, concentrating her weight directly on the man’s face and
showing off her strong thighs, which were as perfect as the tan breasts filling her low cut
tennis top. The man’s arms twitched occasionally, but he made no sound. She dropped
her clipboard from where she held it against her breasts, seeing Kelly first. Leaning
down, she called brightly, “If you’re going to ‘Castration’ you’ll have to hurry. They
stop at noon every day.” Peter almost fainted from the terror that flowed through him.
“No, I work here,” Paula called, as she looked up with her I.D. in her hand.
“Oh my gosh! I didn’t know it was you, Ms. Bowers!” the guard exclaimed. “I’m sorry,
go right in!”
“Nice day to be working out in the sun!” called Paula.
“Oh, yeah – it’s a beautiful day!” replied the girl, smiling dreamily.
“See ya later!” replied Paula, as she put her I.D. away and began to pull forward. The
beautiful guard smiled then looked back down at her clipboard. As Paula pulled away,
Peter heard the blond guard say to herself, “Now! Where were we?” as she absentmindedly
reached back to the little man’s chest, grinding herself on his face. She pinched
one of his nipples between her thumb and forefinger – HARD – then twisted it and pulled
it literally six inches out from his chest. Peter thought she would tear it right off his
body! The man let out a piteous, wailing muffled groan, which continued as the woman
pinched his nipple even harder working it between her fingernails. Then, as she
continued to pinch and twist his nipple until it bled, her mouth opened, her head cocked
back and her eyes blinked closed in pleasure, as the vibrations of the man’s groans
continued pathetically beneath her creamy thighs. “Tongue, please…” she called to him
dreamily, as Paula drove away.
Peter clenched his eyes shut, though the women didn’t seem to even notice. Paula pulled
the car forward along the winding road to the Statehouse Mansion. When Peter opened
his eyes, they were staring straight at a troop of very young but muscular women dressed
in khaki shorts, riding the shoulders of about fifteen men and whipping them mercilessly,
as the men carried them alongside the road. The women word tight khaki tops with the
words, ‘Trainee’ stenciled on them. As Paula passed them, they turned into a driveway
and beneath a sign. ‘State Highway Patrol Training Academy,’ it said. Peter’s mouth
went dry as he saw the line of men spread eagled over fences being whipped, as
instructors walked among other athletic trainees, adjusting their grips on their whips to
make them more effective. Across the grassy field, the young women were practicing
kicks to other men’s midsections, one after the other. The men were doubling over, only
to be yanked up and a patrol officer for the next trainee’s kick with her strong thigh. Off
to the side, a young trainee with a blond bob, smiled as she sat on a kneeling man’s
shoulders and yanked his head backward, continuously digging her sharp nails into his
eyes. The ballgag kept his screams from being heard.
But the scariest things were the horses! A group of women riding the largest stallions
Peter had ever seen were herding groups of men, as you’d herd cattle. Knocking them
over, kicking them, lassoing them and yanking the men to the ground, the women acted
to the direction of an instructor on her own horse with a bullhorn. “Once you lasso them,
yank them hard to the ground, then immobilize them by crushing their testicles!” she
called. A nineteen-year-old trainee threw a perfect loop around a forty year old man who
was running in terror from her horse, then viciously snapped the rope, pulling him off his
feet and down to the dirt with a grunt, then a moan. The woman deftly pulled her horse
alongside him, swung her leg over the saddle and dropped full force onto the man’s body,
with her boots, as he rolled on the ground. The man let out a horrible, “OOOFFHHH,” as
the woman’s boots dropped onto him, her breasts bouncing in her trainee top, glistening
with sweat, then he screamed as, without missing a beat, she reached between his legs
and grabbed his privates, squeezing them and digging her nails into them as she squatted
on him. A second later, his testicles crushed completely in the vice of her powerful grip,
his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness, as she squeezed his ballsack to
a pulp and stood and stepped on his head to boost herself onto her horse. Though it was a
large stallion, it looked like a Shetland pony compared to her size!
Another trainee simply rode alongside a running naked man, grabbed him by the hair,
and, in one deft movement, lifted herself in her saddle as she galloped by, yanked the
man up into the air by his hair, and dropped him behind her on his stomach on her saddle.
Then she dropped her ass heavily back on top of him, bouncing hard on him repeatedly,
as the horse galloped off. The man’s body became a rag doll, his head slapping at the
horse’s flank, as 195 pounds of lithe young female muscle slammed repeatedly into him,
bouncing on the naked man’s back, oblivious to his suffering, as she looked for other
victims.
Paula glided the car into her private space and her and Kelly got out. “I have to get you a
pass, Peter,” Paula said. “You stay here while Kelly and I go inside.” Peter looked
around fearfully, knowing the women were his only protection, but Kelly put her hand on
his arm. “Don’t worry, Sweetie. It’ll only be for a few minutes.” Peter slunk down by
the side the car, trying to be inconspicuous, as the women clicked away in their heels. He
had no illusions it wasn’t going to work…
Peter stared at the front entrance to the giant government building on a massive country
estate that was the state office tower now. Both Paula and Kelly walked inside, their
short skirts rustling back and forth atop such strong legs – legs that had stepped on him
and sat on him and squeezed him until he thought he would die, Peter thought. Legs that
could – and did – break his entire rib cage by simply tensing up their muscles. He
shuddered at what they could do to him, without even working hard – and how helpless
he was in his new life! He was still crouched down, staring intently at the door, waiting
for Paula to come out to keep him safe, when there was a loud snort from directly behind
him. He spun around and looked up at the largest stallion he had ever seen, towering
over his small, crouched body. And, sitting regally atop the horse, high up in the sun,
was a seven-foot tall raven-haired goddess with a severe expression, wearing the uniform
of the California Highway Patrol! She stared down at Peter, her dark eyes boring into
him, as she held her reins lightly, pushing her horse closer to him, forcing him against the
car. Peter’s knees were weak and he began shivering uncontrollably as she asked,
haughtily, “Now where are you supposed to be, little man?”
He might have had a chance to speak, but the sight of the Highway Patrol uniform, the
spike heeled cowgirl boots with their pointed toes and sharp spurs, and the whip and
other equipment on her belt brought back a fear so deep and powerful, it was just like the
drug the cop had injected him with at the traffic stop so long ago. He looked down and
saw the same hard soles and brutal heels that had crushed his whole body beneath them
and left deep tread marks from his face to his feet. Then his eyes flowed up the officer’s
bare thighs to her short khaki hot pants and her whip, which she was now slowly
unfurling as she stared down at him! Peter was dumbstruck! The officer trainee, only
about twenty and with a short, black bobbed haircut – and freckles -- looked severely at
Peter as his mouth hung open staring up at her. “Down!” she screamed as she cracked
her whip. Peter dropped instantly to all fours beside her horse, and stared at the ground
in terror, as he heard the creak of her saddle as she transferred her weight, getting off.
Peter knew he could never handle this woman’s full weight. She was almost two hundred
pounds of tall, lithe, tanned muscle and he was not even nearly healed from the treatment
Paula and Kelly had given him beneath their bare feet last night, as they stomped him to
jelly and left him in the back yard comatose. He could barely walk and his spine still
cracked when he moved from the multiple breaks that were now only beginning to really
heal.
The horse snorted as the young officer’s weight grew even too much for him, all on one
side as the girl swung her leg over her saddle and stepped directly onto Peter’s back.
“ACHHGGHHH!” he cried as his little back collapsed beneath her heavy boot, crushing
him against his knees. He felt his spine crack several times, then just cave in completely
to her huge foot as its spike heel drove straight into his flesh. Her boot was as big as his
whole back! Then there was no air to scream anymore as Peter’s torso was driven into
his knees, his arms collapsing instantly, no chance at all to hold against the crushing
pressure and the cutting heel. She stood on his back for a moment, feeling his spine
rending beneath her, smiling slightly at his pain and his eyes bugging out of his head,
then stepped off him and yanked him up by his hair. He tried to stifle his scream as he
now stood facing her, only tall enough to be staring directly at her bare smooth navel. He
felt blood beginning to run down his back from where her heel had punctured him.
“Your pass!” she said sternly.
Peter stammered, “I—I—my – Paula B-B-Bowers is inside—g—getting it—for—for
me….”, as his legs tried to give way.
“The Governor’s Chief of Staff? That’s rich!” replied the young officer. She slapped
Peter across the face, knocking him to the ground and put her cowgirl boot on his head,
it’s five-inch spike near his eye, pressing his face hard into a puddle of water on the
asphalt and making him sputter as he hyperventilated beneath its hard leather tread. The
tread of her boot was just as horrible as Peter remembered it! Though it was a cowgirl
boot, it had had a grinding sole attached, which would rip him apart with it’s hard
rubber/leather tread with the slightest motion of her foot.
“T-212,” she said into her radio.
“T-212, go,” came the reply. She twisted her boot into Peter’s face, his skin pressing into
the deep tread like so much putty, making Peter’s eyes roll back into his head at the
grinding pressure.
“I have a small lone male, unescorted, hiding outside the main entrance with no pass.
Please advise.” Water from the puddle dribbled into Peter’s mouth as it was flattened into
the puddle.
“If he’s not a carrier, he’s probably gotten loose from the neutering section,” the
dispatcher replied. “Please escort him back there.”
“10-4,” the young trainee replied. Peter began sobbing into the puddle beneath her boot,
blowing bubbles.
The young cop pressed her foot very hard into Peter’s face, feeling a crackle in his little
jaw, then removed her boot from Peter’s head, noting the tread marks she’d left there.
“Stand!” she commanded him, yanking him up with her long nails beneath his chin. She
licked her lips. “Are you a carrier?” Peter just stared at her unsure what she meant and
terrified of the way she looked at him. “Are you employed to carry us on your shoulders
or back?”
Peter stammered. “I – I used to carry Paula – on my – on my shoulders…”
“Really?!” the officer said, mocking him. She forced him down to his knees by driving
her nails straight into his collarbone, which made Peter gasp then yelp in pain. “We’ll
see,” she said. The young woman swung her long leg over Peter’s back and straddled his
shoulders, her tall, bare thighs on either side of them. She began to squeeze Peter’s head
between her thighs in a vice, as Peter began to pray. “Carry this,” she said calmly. The
officer dropped her full weight onto Peter’s shoulders while squeezing his head between
her massive legs. Peter’s spine, still manifestly unhealed from last night’s trampling,
cracked instantly beneath her frame and collapsed utterly, slamming Peter onto his face
on the asphalt, as the big girl’s weight crashed down onto his neck, she, sitting calmly on
it in her hot pants, bending his head almost to snapping off under her ass. Peter groaned
under her as she looked down at him with a satisfied expression on her face, watching his
head being forced into the pavement. “No, I don’t think you’re a carrier,” she said. “You
must have escaped from ‘neutering.” Now, I’m going to take you to have your balls cut
off!”
“Please…just check…about Paula….,” Peter wailed, into the asphalt. The cop laughed
and deliberately lifted his hand and placed it under her spike heel as she continued to sit
on his neck. The spike drove into the back of his hand, making him weak from the pain
as the officer twisted it back and forth. “You shouldn’t have lied to me,” she said cruelly.
“That’s gonna make it worse.” She stood up, driving her spike completely into Peter’s
hand under her full weight, as Peter screamed as his hand was impaled. Finally, she
stepped off of it and pulled him up by his hair, Peter crying at the damage to his fingers.
“Oh, that’s just a baby crush,” she said. “Lemme show you the real thing!”
“Please…Paula…,” Peter begged.
“Place your hand into my stirrup,” directed the girl, ignoring him. “Or do you need to be
whipped first?” The young trainee cop began to loosen her whip from her belt.
Looking back over his shoulder, praying Paula and Kelly would come out the front door,
Peter slowly placed his hand into the silver stirrup, with its biting metal notched bottom,
scrunching his eyes closed at what he knew was coming. The cop put her heavy boot into
the stirrup on top of his hand. She looked at Peter a moment, then stepped smartly into
the stirrup, mashing Peter’s fingers utterly into the knurled steel under her twisting boot,
as she brought her weight to bear. Her full weight pressed into his little hand, as she
brought herself upward, the saddle leather creaking and the horse snorting, as they
accepted her weight. Peter screamed out loud as she brought her weight up, his little
fingers being crushed into the metal stirrup and beneath her heavy tread. She smiled as
she stood in the stirrup, all her weight on her left boot, Peter getting weak from the pain.
Still standing, the officer snapped her reins and the horse began walking, dragging Peter
alongside, as the girl kept his hand pinned in the stirrup beneath her full weight. His face
kept brushing against the officer’s spur on her boot, as he was dragged, walking,
alongside, until she noticed and took the opportunity to snap it to the side, ripping a nasty
gash above Peter’s eye. He screamed again and his legs went weak, the horse dragging
him alongside like a rubber doll, now, his feet dragging useless on the ground, trying to
keep up, as the cop deliberately ground her spur into his face!
The walk around the building took some time, as the new mansion was over half a block
long. Peter would have been semi-conscious from the cutting of the young cop’s spur
over and over, but the pain of his fingers being continuously ground under her boot
snapped him awake in a scream several times when she twisted her boot. Peter looked up
her bare thigh to her cruel face, begging and crying as she enjoyed his pleas. She was so
young, and yet she could do anything she wanted to him. Anything. At first, Peter didn’t
even realize the horse had stopped, so singular was his concentration on the pain. But, as
the Officer swung her leg off her horse, her boot twisted horribly in the stirrup, then
scraped his fingers out with her hard tread as she dismounted. Peter collapsed and the
young woman stepped onto his back, pressing his body beneath her. Attaching a choke
leash, she simply walked away, dragging Peter behind her as he stumbled up to keep
from being strangled. She never even looked back at him.
She dragged him thirty feet or so before dropping the leash and letting him collapse next
to her brutal boots, flipping him onto his back with a hard kick. Peter’s vision cleared
after a moment and he realized they were on the shady side of the mansion on a grassy
knoll with trees gently blowing in the wind – and birdsong. Laying naked on their backs
on the grass next to him, were seven or eight other men in a neat little row. In another
world, they could have been relaxing as they counted cloud shapes in the sky above. In
another world. In this one, they were at the mercy of six tall, female CHP Officers who
stood over them in their tight hot pants and even tighter uniform blouses. Like the girl
who had brought him here, each wore spike-heeled boots, except one who was barefoot.
Peter didn’t know why. For a moment, Peter wondered why none of the males tried to
run to escape. The cops were talking in a little group among themselves, adding Peter to
some kind of list. Then he realized they were all paralyzed by the same drug the CHP
Officer had used on Peter during the traffic stop so long ago. Peter saw saliva drooling
down their faces and their eyes watering in fear! But, they couldn’t move a muscle!
The officers, having seemingly gotten organized, broke apart and began walking toward
the men. Peter was at the far end of the line, but his whole body began violently
shivering as he saw the implement the tallest officer was carrying. In her right hand, she
held what looked like a large garden shear with two-foot long handles! The blades,
though, were small and curved – like a pruning shear – and very sharp as they glinted
silver in the sun. Peter found he didn’t have the saliva to swallow! He began
hyperventilating with terror! The women calmly walked toward the first man, making
small talk, until they stood over him in a group, staring down at him. They were stunning
in their beauty! Without a word, the two women nearest his legs stepped on them,
standing with one boot above and below his knees. Peter could see him tense, then cry
out as he took their nearly five hundred pounds of combined weight on his spindly bones.
He was about to really scream, when the barefoot cop at his head, stomped hard on his
mouth, clamping a foot twice the size of his head over it, and instantly silencing him
beneath its cold, clammy, muddy pressure! She increased the pressure even more,
stopping the man’s breathing by pressing her foot under his nostrils. Even from this
distance, Peter could see the man’s eyes bugging out of his head in terror! The other two
cops simultaneously stepped onto the man’s arms, crushing them into the dirt, one using
her spike heels for maximum pain. “MMMMGGHHTHTH!!!,” the man cried from
beneath the giant woman’s foot.
The officer stepping on the man’s mouth pulled a piece of paper from her belt, looked
down at him and read, “Charles Dillon – You, having been duly convicted of flagrant
disobedience, have been sentenced to castration to eliminate your future genes from the
gene pool. Sentence to be carried out immediately.” Without missing a beat, the tall,
lithe female officer carrying the giant shears, stepped over Charles Dillon at his waist,
facing away from his head. Her legs spread over him, she looked like a Bond girl in her
boots. She looked down, then dropped her tight ass hard onto the man’s stomach, squatsitting
on him. The man’s body bounced off the ground with her impact and her weight
forced a burst of air from his nose, which the other officer was now no longer covering
with her foot. “Ewww! That felt good on my foot!,” the barefoot officer laughed. The
officer with the shears replied, “Newbies – You gals crack me up!”, laughing as she lifted
herself off Charles Dillon, then dropped even harder on him, forcing more air out of his
nose. The barefoot girl threw her head back and exposed her beautiful teeth as she
laughed out loud at the tickle of the air on her clammy foot. The other cops shifted their
weight as they, too, laughed, causing Charles to groan horribly beneath the barefoot cop’s
foot.
Now, as Peter silently begged them to stop, the cop sitting with the large shears, brought
her knees up for leverage, carefully positioned the blades between Charles Dillon’s legs
and nodded to the barefoot cop. With a slight smile, the barefoot cop stepped up onto the
man’s face, mashing it like potatoes. She put her other foot squarely on the man’s throat
and shifted her weight onto it. The man’s neck was mashed all the way to the ground,
and his eyes were almost popping out of his head. He was moaning violently, begging
and pleading for the nightmare to end! As the woman standing on his throat looked
steadily down on him, the cop with the shears licked her lips, grabbed the handles firmly,
carefully positioned them – and snapped them together with a loud, ‘THWWICCCK’.
Peter could almost feel the cold metal on his own fragile body parts! The man’s body,
held completely immobile by 5 Amazon officers standing on him and another sitting on
his stomach, couldn’t move. But an audible scream came from his throat, even though it
was cut short by the crushing of his throat and mouth. His hands clutched pathetically at
the air, as the women stepping on his arms held them down at the wrists, and his eyes
blinked violently, watering furiously. Finally, as the officer standing on his throat
allowed her full weight to squash his windpipe, the little man passed out from the pain
and lack of air and the officers stepped off of him, moving on to their next victim.
Peter hadn’t been drugged and he knew he had to at least try to escape. But, no sooner
had the thought occurred to him than the officer that had escorted him to the grassy knoll,
drew her boot back and delivered a withering kick to his ribs! As Peter’s body exploded
with pain, she stared down at him. “I can see it in your eyes,” she said. “Don’t even
think it!”
Peter curled into the fetal position as she called, “Hey, gals, I gotta get back to class. Can
you do this one next so I can leave?”
“Sure,” the other cops called, as they left the next man they were standing on and began
walking toward Peter, giving the other man a short reprieve, but stepping on all the others
as they walked toward Peter. Peter’s heart went into his throat when he saw the shears,
carried by the smiling Amazon, as she walked steadily toward him over the bodies of the
other men.
The women wasted no time in stepping on Peter’s arms and legs. It was like Deja Vu as
Peter heard his own voice scream in pain exactly as the other man’s had as his bones
cracked under the spike-heeled boots, the women towering over him. And, as before, a
giant, cold, clammy, muddy foot stomped down on his mouth, cutting off his scream, and
dwarfing his head with its massive size. The barefoot cop reached for her piece of paper,
then realized she didn’t have one for Peter. “That’s strange….we don’t have a neutering
order for him,” she told the other girls.
“So? Don’t you, like, know the words by now?” another cop asked.
“Well, yeah, I mean…shouldn’t we check to see if…”
“Just say the words…we’ve got seven more to do!” the first cop cut her off.
“Okay, okay. What’s your name?” she asked Peter, momentarily removing her foot.
Peter’s screams immediately filled the air as the cops ground him under their high-heeled
boots, so the cop covered his mouth again, pressing down extra hard this time.
“Whatever! Okay, whatever-your-name-is, you’ve been convicted of….blah, blah, blah,
blah, blah….and now….we’re gonna cut your balls off!” she announced with true delight.
Then, she stepped onto Peter’s face with her full weight, crushing his lips into his teeth as
she tracked mud onto them. Then, she placed her other giant foot on Peter’s throat and
shifted her weight fully onto his neck, mashing it flat against the ground, as his windpipe
compressed beneath her bare foot.
As Peter felt his windpipe crush and the mud in his teeth, his eyes exploding from his
head at the weight of the nineteen-year-old cop trainee, the other cop stepped over his
midsection and dropped onto his stomach. The impact of her ass gut-punched Peter so
hard he saw stars. Then, as his eyes started watering, he saw, and then felt, her carefully
place the sharp blades of the shears on his privates, as she firmly gripped the handles of
the cruel instrument….
Peter looked around feverishly, his eyes moving wildly, as the young woman’s large foot,
pressed so hard into his face he thought his skull would collapse! He was going out of
his mind knowing what was about to happen to him. Unable to speak, unable to breath,
his mouth covered completely by the giant cold, clammy foot grinding mud into it, sheets
of pain crippling him as his limbs were walked on by the spike-heeled boots of four
goddess cops who were making small talk as they crushed him unconsciously. The cop
who had escorted him to this evil hillside, nonchalantly took her place, stepping on
Peter’s right arm, allowing her heels to take her weight as she rocked back and forth on
them, digging holes in Peter’s flesh as she smiled, talking to the other officers.
One of the cops on Peter’s legs drove her stiletto heel into the soft flesh above his groin,
then raked it away, easily ripping Peter’s pants apart and exposing his organ.
He suddenly felt the cold, smooth, razor sharp stainless steel blades of the wicked, heavy
shears layed against his oh, so, delicate flesh – one silver curved pruning blade on either
side, and very close to his manhood, though he couldn’t see them. Instead, looking
down, he saw the large dark-tanned triangular, heavily-muscled back of the goddess
sitting on his stomach, her shoulder and arm muscles tensed – one on each handle of the
shears -- to deliver the cutting slice which would take away, forever, those organs that
once made him a man, replacing them with a pain he couldn’t imagine! His whole body
was absolutely paralyzed – pinned beneath the weight of the five giantesses!
Time seemed to slow. He looked up into the soft sky. A hawk floated by on silent
wings, oblivious. He felt suddenly the officer on his stomach shift her weight, rolling her
curvy ass backward and inhaling, to get leverage for the final cut. She pressed what little
air remained in Peter out his nostrils in a rush of wind. Her elbows were wide away from
her body and her tanned legs were drawn up toward her chest, one boot on either side of
his own body, to steady herself, her ass on his stomach, crushing it under at least 220
pounds of smooth, tall muscle. He almost scrunched his eyes shut as the nineteen-yearold
trainee cop above, looked down at him, licked her lips and smiled a cruel smile. ‘So
young,’ Peter thought. ‘But so impossibly cruel.’ He stared at her young face. She, too,
had freckles around a pert nose. Her happy face was framed by a shock of black
permmed hair that stood out from her face in a very modern style. She was the girl next
door, but two feet too tall, with a happy, mischievous smile. Her tanned legs were perfect
and her foot, cold, clammy and meaty as it pressed his face flat like mashed potatoes!
She wore blue toenail polish and had long fingernails the same. Peter could see this
incredible curiosity in her about her new job, and all the new experiences she was having,
training with the California Highway Patrol – like stepping on a man’s face while he was
castrated! The young cop’s eyes met Peter’s and she smiled. She was – studying – him!
With no hesitation at all, she smiled down at him. “I’m Jamie,” she called brightly. The
way a waitress would introduce herself in the old days, Peter thought, incredulous. ‘Hi,
I’m Jamie! And I’ll be cutting your balls off today!” Peter knew his mind was going into
shock.
A radio crackled. He felt the blades begin to close on his skin and his thoughts returned
to reality as he screamed into Jamie’s foot while staring into her eyes, as she stepped hard
on his throat as she’d been taught, flattening his entire neck against the grass like a
pancake with her weight. His screams turned to gurgles with her stepping on his throat,
but he screamed just the same. A radio crackled again.
Peter screamed and screamed and screamed into the girl’s foot, making her giggle with
the tickling vibrations, as his eyes exploded with tears! Far off, someone answered the
crackling radio. Peter felt the first sharp pinch of the pruning blades as they caught his
flesh in them – cutting it like paper – and froze in shock! He felt folds of wrinkled
delicate flesh being sliced and pinched more. The sadistic pinching continued! Maybe
the initial pinch was all he would feel as the blades castrated him; perhaps the staggering
pain of the crushing and cutting of his manhood would be spared him as his mind went
into shock, he kidded himself! Maybe he was already castrated and the flood of pain
would rush over him any minute now! He didn’t think he’d heard the telltale
THWICKK! of the blades slicing together, but he couldn’t be sure. He was losing his
mind! But he knew he was being cut. He held his eyes scrunched shut as the terrible
pinch of the blades in his flesh continued. ‘Maybe,’ Peter thought, ‘they’re just going to
make it slow…’ Jamie’s excited face blurred as Peter’s eyes began watering.
Peter heard a far away voice say, “Affirmative. Outside the main entrance.”
A radio crackled. “Roger, that must be him the Governor’s Chief of Staff is looking for
then. If you haven’t neutered him, cancel and return him to the main entrance, T-212.”
“T-212,” the cop rogered. She looked at the other officers, who looked back at her, and
shrugged her shoulders. Peter’s consciousness tried to catch up to what was happening.
He felt the blades, literally stopped in mid-slice, cutting and pinching folds of his delicate
skin, but the officer had not slapped the handles together! She had actually stopped them
a second before they closed and was now holding them where they were!
“So…umm…have we neutered him?” the barefoot trainee, Jamie, asked sheepishly.
Peter realized she couldn’t see what had actually happened between his legs. “The order
is only if we HAVEN’T neutered him, to return him. If we’ve neutered him…we should
be able to keep him, right? I mean…technically.”
“Well…there’s a little blood…,” the officer with the shears replied, looking down at
Peter’s genitals. “So, he’s technically already cut…maybe we should finish him…”
Peter’s chest heaved as he blinked his eyes, looking wildly back and forth! The scene
was frozen. The cop on his stomach, her tight ass pressing her crushing weight into it,
holding the blade handles stopped in mid-clip, as she stared down at his genitals, pinched
in the sharp blades, considering. The other officers standing on him, drilling him with
their boots, looking concerned and unsure with the new knowledge that he really WAS
Paula’s slave -- and the nineteen year old cop – Jamie -- looking down at him, biting her
luscious lower lip as she continued to step on his face. He felt a lone trickle of blood run
down his inside thigh.
“He’s Paula Bowers’ slave?!” the sitting cop asked over her shoulder.
The trainee hesitated. “Umm…it appears so,” she said. “I guess I screwed up. They told
me to bring him here if he wasn’t a carrier and he collapsed when I sat on him. What was
I supposed to think?” She nervously picked at her perfect teeth.
The blond with the shears continued to hold the blades handles so the blades still pinched
Peter’s fragile flesh, her hard muscles tensed tight to simply snap them together, as her
long hair cascaded over her beautiful back. He felt little folds of skin being cut by the
cold metal as his body went rigid with the terror of his predicament.
“We could just go ahead and finish him – act like we got the radio call too late,” another
officer said. She shifted her weight absently and her heel drove into Peter’s elbow joint,
crushing the veins there. Peter’s eyes flew wide. “I mean, I doubt he’s a pleasure slave.
On the other hand, Paula does have a lot of influence…I mean a LOT of influence,”
another girl said. “What if she really wants Peter here, and not just any slave? Could get
ugly…”
“Look, he’s already been marked from a past citation.” The stunning cop on Peter’s arm
lifted one of her boots, her thigh hovering over Peter’s head, and poked at the center of
his forehead with her stiletto heel, then drove it down hard, grinding his forehead,
Peter wilted with the pain as he remembered the tall CHP officer at the long ago traffic
stop. She had deliberately made a permanent “mark” in the center of his forehead for
future officers to find – to let them know he’d been cited. She had stepped fully onto his
head, balancing her tall, fantastic body on the pencil thin tip of only one of her stiletto
heels, as she’d drilled it into his face and bounced on it. The pain had been all
consuming, and the mark had never healed, as she’d drilled her heel to the bone. As the
cop now ground her own heel into the same spot, Peter relived the horrible memory right
through where he’d pathetically licked the Amazon cop’s feet like a dog to stop the pain.
Almost without thinking, he began doing the same for the nineteen-year-old officer
stepping on his face! He forced his tongue beyond his lips and began frantically licking
at the bottom of her huge foot! She squealed with delight and momentarily lifted her
foot; such was her surprise, before clamping it back down on Peter’s face! “Ewww, he’s
licking my FOOT!” she exclaimed with delight. She twisted her toes around Peter’s face
as his tongue found the wrinkles on her foot bottom, then the soft underside curve of her
large toes, voraciously attacking them with his saliva – pleading for mercy!
“Get used to it,” another cop said, smiling. “They all do it!”
“I’ve never had my foot licked by a middle-aged male before!” she answered, delighted.
“They’re so much better at it than the boys in school used to be!”
“I’m gonna slice him,” the sitting officer said. “I think we should just make him a
Gelding and call it a day!”

[DeathXI]

Peter’s tongue worked furiously between the young cop’s – Jamie’s -- toes, slathering all
over her foot as his eyes pleaded with her silently. His whole body began violently
shivering and his breath – when he could get a breath -- was coming in quick gasps! She
looked down harshly at him. “You want to stay a male?! More!” she commanded.
“More – and better!” Peter went crazy on her foot, licking like a man possessed!
“Not good enough! Frantic – I like frantic! Like my foot like an animal!” Peter went
out of his mind, with furious foot-licking, as she twisted her foot on his face, the mud
coming off in clumps now, and Peter swallowing it over and over! She lifted her foot
above Peter’s face and he craned his head obscenely to reach it, just as she stomped
down, slamming Peter’s face back into the ground and stepping down powerfully,
smashing his tongue into his own face. She spit on him! “Wiggle it under my foot!” she
commanded. “Lick even though you CAN’T LICK!” Peter clawed frantically at the air
with his pinned hands as he tried to summon the strength to somehow faster, somehow
more ferociously, lick the dark goddess’s foot! His tongue was spasming from the
violent back and forth and it wouldn’t work right anymore! Far above him, the young
officer looked down and folded her arms over her ample, round, perfect breasts. “I’m not
impressed,” she said coldly. “You’re close – but…mmm…no – not quite pathetic
enough…” She looked at the cop sitting on Peter’s stomach. “Cut him,” she said. “Cut
him off completely!”
The sitting cop smiled and turned away, extending the blades’ handles again.
“One!,” she called. Peter twisted his head to the side, somehow getting it turned under
the officer’s bare foot, his mouth in front of her toes, and wrapped his lips around her big
toe, sucking and flitting his tongue around it furiously. “Ewww…that’s not bad!” the cop
said down to him. “But not good enough, either!”
“Two!” In between suckles, Peter pleaded, “No!…No!…No!…No!…..Please!…No!…”
Again, the cop on Peter’s stomach rolled her ass backward and inhaled, getting the
leverage to thwack the handles together. Peter felt the blades adjust on his manhood and
pleaded with his eyes, suckling the girl’s toe like a madman.
Peter’s world tipped crazily and his mind lolled aimlessly, slipping in and out of shock –
partially based in reality, but, more and more, refusing to accept it. Less than twenty-four
hours ago, he was living with his stunning, wonderful wife Kelly, in a fantastic California
home, worried about being sold to a high bidder in an EBay auction, because she feared
what she would do to him unless changes were made -- even though he knew she still
loved him completely. Then, he’d been saved by Paula’s arrival and the truth of her love
too, then almost killed by his wife misunderstanding Paula’s intentions, and, finally,
saved again by Paula – at long last – telling Kelly the truth about his faithfulness – a truth
he’d thought would set him free to live in love with her again. But, indescribably, less
than thirty minutes after his wife cried and cried about having him trampled by hundreds
of drunk college women as punishment, she and Paula had, themselves, trampled him
senseless! Trampled him until his little body was broken into a flat rubbery mass of
flesh! And he had actually ASKED for it! Then, just when he thought it couldn’t get
worse, they’d wrapped him in a steroid mat and Paula had jumped on it, driving the
thousands of little drug-filled needles into him, “to help him heal!” At every turn, when
he thought he might escape future pain and torture, he’d found it only got worse! Now,
having had his fingers crushed mercilessly by a cop on horseback, now waiting for the
count of ‘three,’ when five goddess cops would cut his testicles off, Peter felt his mind
slipping away from him. It was more than any man could endure in twenty-four hours
and he felt it becoming more and more difficult to maintain a firm grip on reality.
“Three!”
In slow motion, Peter saw the woman on his stomach pull the handles of the shears apart
wide to ready them for a massive cut, her arms tensed; he felt the blades momentarily
retract out of his skin as they came out, readying them to cut back in with full
momentum. Then, without even a moment’s hesitation, Peter’s eyes like saucers, and
shivering and hyperventilating, he watched in horror as she strongly slapped the handles
fully together with a loud, ‘THWWICCKK!!’
Peter’s chest heaved and his body exploded upward against the girls’ crushing pressure,
momentarily even lifting the barefoot officer’s weight a fraction! His hands clawed at the
air, and a horrible, gurgled scream came from his throat! He saw the officers standing on
his legs wince, looking down at his privates – or what had BEEN his privates -- then look
away! He began crying pitifully, screaming – unable to comprehend what they’d just
done to him! The cut was so clean, and he in so much shock, he hadn’t really even felt
any pain! But he waited for the flood of it, as the women smiled down at him!
“Well – that’s it, then!” the cop on Peter’s stomach announced. “Another day…another
Gelding!” She lifted her weight from Peter’s stomach and stood tall over him as he
whimpered into Jamie’s foot, drifting into shock. The tall cop dragged her heel over
Peter’s stomach as she stepped away from him, scratching him deeply. Then, she turned,
looked straight down at Peter…looking satisfied for a long moment….and then,
suddenly…burst out laughing! Peter looked terrorized at the other cops, as they too,
started giggling! Jamie, still stepping on his face was laughing too, doubling over, now,
her elbows on her thighs, pressing her weight even more into Peter’s face!
She absently slipped her big toe out of Peter’s mouth and formed a wide smile on her
face, looking down at him and shaking her head, beginning to giggle some more, her
tongue sticking between her beautiful teeth as she laughed. A cop stepping on Peter’s
arms, smiled at her, and the two high-fived! All the cop’s stepped off Peter’s limbs, as
the cop holding the shears was smiling to herself, and shaking her head, Peter noticed,
unbelieving.
Jamie, the barefoot cop, removed her foot from Peter’s face, and squatted down next to
him, enjoying his terror, and smiling the most beautiful smile! Her long, bare tanned
thighs almost touched Peter’s jaw.
“Silly!” she said, lifting Peter’s head to let him look down his torso. “Look! They’re still
there!” Peter stared in disbelief at his body! They hadn’t done it! He was still in tact!
They’d just…they’d just…PRETENDED! At the last moment, the cop had moved the
blades! No blood, just a little cut from the first little cuts and pinches…but…he was still
a man! ‘But…but -- ’ he thought, as the terror of what they’d done mixed with the relief
of what they hadn’t – ‘Why…?’
Jamie laughed, “Geez, Peter! We’re not gonna just CUT YOUR GONADS OFF when
the order’s been cancelled! We’re officers of the law -- well – almost! We were just
playing with you!” She slapped Peter lightly on the face, then wiggled his face in her
long fingers as he stared at her in stunned shock, his mind reeling! “You’re so cute! You
act like we’re barbarians or something!” she exclaimed. Peter just stared at her, unable to
speak, his damaged mouth hanging open as the flood of adrenaline leaving him
overwhelmed him! Laughing again, she said, “I’m supposed to take you back to Paula.
We’ll give your arms and legs a few minutes to recover first, though.” Standing, she
said, under her breath, “Lucky we got the radio call when we did though…another second
and…”
Peter stared at her, terror-stricken and overwhelmed with what they’d just done to him –
as a cruel joke! He couldn’t lift his head to make absolutely sure what he’d seen was
real because of the crush Jamie had perpetrated on his throat. Then, as the fear mixed
with the relief, it was too much for Peter, and the dizzying enormity of what they’d just
put him through, washed over him. His head first lolled to the side, and then, he fainted
from the terror!
Having slipped back into her high-heeled boots, with the wicked spurs, and now standing
over him, the young officer was surprised. “Look…he’s…’vibrating’…,” she
commented to the others, as Peter groggily came back to the reality of his life. He must
have been out only a few seconds.
“Oh, no, they call that ‘shivering,’ the more senior officer said. “It’s a coping
mechanism. It’s fear or pain-based. You’ll see it a lot here.”
“Wild!” the younger officer answered. “And the gasping?”
“Hyperventilation. Same deal.”
“Why don’t we do it?!”
“I guess because we’re never afraid or in pain!” the older policewoman laughed.
“I am going to love this job,” the trainee said brightly. “Can we, like…generate
it….make it happen to them?” she asked, curious.
“Oh, certainly. Tell ya what, you take Peter, here, back to Ms. Bowers, and I’ll finish the
rest of the ‘Geldings.’ Then, we’ll pull out some males and show you how to make them
shiver and hyperventilate. Okay?”
“Sounds great!” the trainee replied.
The senior officer stared down at Peter, thinking. Speaking softly to the cop named
Jamie, she leaned in to her ear and commented thoughtfully, “Jamie…have you actually
broken a man’s spirit yet?”
“Well, um, no…I mean, I’ve had the training for it, but…I haven’t actually gotten an
opportunity for real,” Jamie replied, knitting her eyebrows. “Why?”
“Look at him,” the older officer said. “He’s ripe. Covered in steroid mat injection
marks, his bones newly healed from a very recent serious trampling. He’s shivering;
hyperventilating – hell, he just fainted from the RELIEF of not being Gelded. It’d be
almost no work at all to break his will from this point. And you DO have to break one
male to graduate. This one would be almost no work at all. You could probably have it
done before you deliver him to Paula.”
Jamie, looked down, studying Peter. “You know…you’re right! Thanks, Kim! I owe
you BIG TIME!” Then she turned to Peter. “Get up, Peter! Or I WILL drag you!” she
smiled. She helped Peter up roughly and half-held him up by his hair as the
uncontrollable shivering took over his whole being. Her footprint still covered his face.
“Move, Slave!” she commanded in mock seriousness, pushing him forward. “Just
kidding!” she laughed. No I’m not!” she said severely. Peter recoiled. “Yes, I am! No,
I’m not! You’re soooo cute, Peter!” She led him up the hill, Peter limping on newly
damaged legs, shrinking from her grasp like a frightened dog. ‘This is going to be easy,’
she thought.
Jamie tried to recall the training she’d received in breaking a man’s mind. She
remembered it started with…empathy…which garnered…trust – yes, that was it, and
then -- oh, whatever. She’d just make it up as she went along.
“Sorry about the misunderstanding back there”, Jamie said (as if she’d made incorrect
change or something). “But, Peter, my legs are so sore from squats this morning! Be a
dear, would you? I want to ride you over to give you back to Paula, okay?” She’d said it
sweetly, but they both knew what it meant. Peter would have begged her to spare his
back her weight, so sore was it after last night’s trampling, but the crushing injury to his
throat prevented him from speaking louder than a whisper. He also knew it would be
fruitless. He closed his eyes and laboriously dropped onto all fours as his teeth began to
chatter.
Jamie swung her leg over his back and slowly lowered her weight onto him, watching his
face to see the pained expression she knew would be there. She wanted him to appreciate
it. Peter began to sweat, as his spine accepted her 6’7” frame. She dwarfed him,
crushing into his back, curving it under her powerful body. It was impossible to believe
she was only nineteen, even as he knew it was true – the weight was incredible! Jamie
squeezed her legs together, compressing Peter’s rib cage to breaking, which elicited a
baleful, “Ohhhh…,” and bounced on him, yelling “Giddy up!” Peter’s arms shook as he
took one tentative step, crawling forward beneath her. “Peter? Are you going this slow
because you want to feel my spurs?” she asked lightly. Peter’s mind reeled at the thought
and he tried to stagger forward faster, his back screaming for reprieve under the female
giant.
Somehow, step by agonizing step, his knees, hands and back aching and burning, he had
gone almost five hundred yards uphill toward the Governor’s office tower, each step a
slow nightmare of torturous pain with the tall officer riding him, when Jamie pulled him
up by his hair. He didn’t think he could crawl another foot. But, maybe – just maybe –
he could carry her to the building where Kelly and Paula would be waiting to save him.
“Wait. Oh, sorry. I forgot something. Please take me back down the hill to the other
officers, ” she said nonchalantly, looking down at him levelly beneath her ass.
Peter’s eyes grew wide and his lip quivered and he was almost crying, as he slowly
turned them around and crawled back DOWN the hill, desperate, every step to keep from
falling forward on his face under the trainee’s staggering weight. After twenty more
minutes, he had arrived back where he’d started. The other officers were finishing up the
castrations of the other men, who were screaming or moaning. They didn’t “pretend”
with any of the others. “Hey, Kim!” Jamie called. “I forgot to tell you ‘goodbye.’”
Kim waved casually, as Jamie said down to Peter. “Okay, that was it. Now carry me
back up the hill.” Peter’s mind rebelled at the thought of how she was using him. He
began crying, but Jamie kicked him with her knees and he, once again, began the long
crawl up the giant hill, suffering under her weight. At the top of the hill, she did it again.
“Oh, geez! I forgot something else!” she said, smiling down at what she knew she was
doing to him. “I forgot something else, Peter,” she repeated more firmly, driving her
thumbnail into his neck. She had to slap Peter this time, when he hesitated, but with a
good squeeze of her legs, he was once again crawling painfully down the grassy hill, his
mind coming closer to breaking. No sooner had he made it to the bottom than Jamie
pulled a gum wrapper out of her pocket. She showed it to Peter. “Oh, no…HERE it is! I
thought I forgot and left this gum wrapper on the ground. Turns out I had it all along!”
she said brightly. “So sorry about making you carry me back down here, Peter. Let’s go
back up the hill now, please.”
Peter couldn’t move and was shivering and hyperventilating again. She’d expected this
and was now ready for the next stage. “Peter, is it time for my spurs? Do you need a
little encouragement?” She lightly scraped the sharp spinner of her spur across Peter’s
side, lifting her leg up to get it against his hip. Peter was terrified of how it hurt when she
wasn’t even trying and whispered hoarsely, “Please…I don’t need the
spurs…I…can…carry you up….just please don’t…use them….on…me…” his voice was
gasping in hoarse whispers.
“Okay, Peter. Carry me up the hill and I won’t use my spurs to drive you. It’s a deal,”
Jamie answered. She smiled, feeling the little man almost breaking beneath her, his
spindly arms shaking as if they might snap like twigs any second. Her thighs were the
size of six of his arms put together, and her weight had bent his backbone into a nice,
conforming seat for her ass. She looked behind her and saw the spots of blood on the
grass from where his knees would be bleeding by now as she rode him. ‘This is a
BLAST!’ she thought.
Peter didn’t know how he did it. As she talked on her plasma phone above him,
occasionally squeezing him hard when she got off balance, he stumbled upward, each
step a single event in his life; a single accomplishment. Her weight was incredible,
seeming to double with the time she’d been on him. Though her body was perfect, he
couldn’t believe it could be this heavy! When he thought he couldn’t go another step, he
stole a glance at Jamie’s sharp spurs, remembering what Celia had done to her boyfriend
Kevin with them at the long ago concert – and Peter kept on. Somehow, Peter made it to
the top of the hill the third time without collapsing. His mind was jelly and his eyes
almost catatonic from the pressure and cruelty she’d forced on him. But, at least…at
least he hadn’t felt her spurs!
“Very good, Peter!” Jamie called down. “Now you only have to carry me across the lawn
to the front door of the Governor’s Officer Building and I’ll take you up to find Paula!”
Peter swallowed hard and began to carry her the last hundred yards.
“Let’s play a game to pass the time!” Jamie said. “I’m thinking of a number between one
and one thousand. If you guess it, I won’t kick you with my spurs!”
Peter stopped, quaking with fear! “But…but…you said…if I carried you up the hill, you
wouldn’t…use your spurs on me,” he begged.
“No, what I said was I wouldn’t ‘drive you with them,’ and I won’t. I’m going to
‘penalize you with them.’ That’s different.”
“But…but…please…” Peter was all but sobbing now.
“Guess a number, Peter,” Jamie spoke calmly. “Guess a number or we’ll go back to the
bottom of the hill and I’ll show you what spurs are all about. Guess, Peter.”
“Oh, god…,” Peter moaned. She lightly scraped her spur across his bare skin again. “Oh
god…343.”
“Oh! Peter! You were so close! I was thinking of 342!” Jamie drew her legs away from
Peter, moistened her thick lips, and then slammed her spurs into him so hard, he almost
lost consciousness from the pain. She ground them back and forth, eliciting a crying
scream from Peter. His arms collapsed until she yanked him up by his hair, saying,
“Okay, let’s try another number.”
“No…no…no…!” Peter wailed.
“Guess a number, Peter. If you guess it right, I won’t kick you with my spurs. GUESS!”
“Please…598…” it was a baleful moan.
“Wrong!” Again, Jamie slammed her spurs into Peter, squeezing them into his flesh.
Peter wailed and his mind recoiled into itself. She continued to grind his skin in the cruel
iron spinners. Peter was lightheaded with the mind numbing pain.
“Guess again!”
A strange wave of stupor took over Peter’s mind, as his wails became sniffles and his
mind…became numb…unable to accept the torture. “421,” he said numbly.
“Wrong!” Jamie broke two of Peter’s ribs with her spurs, then squeezed her legs together,
rising off Peter’s back, her full pressure on his broken ribs. Peter wailed. “Again!”
“7…734,” Peter begged.
“Nope!” Another brutal kick that blinded Peter with its power. He almost fell over.
“932…851…489…!”. Peter screamed.
“Sorry.” Jamie jammed her spurs into Peter’s flesh and just worked them deeper and
deeper into him as he wailed.
He was losing his grip on reality. “265.” He scrunched his eyes closed, waiting for the
impact of the sharp spurs.
“Peter. Peter!” Jamie said again, seemingly incredulous. “You guessed it! You guessed
the exact number! That’s incredible!” Peter began sobbing with relief. “You don’t get
kicked because you guessed right!”
“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” Peter screamed with seeming insanity.
“Thank you thank you thank you thank you! Oh God! Thank you! Please! Thank you!”
Jamie stared down at Peter’s head, sobbing in the grass, his sides bleeding, his back near
breaking and his hands and knees bloody and broken from carrying her heavy frame all
this distance.
It was time.
“Okay, let’s play again, but this time it’ll be with whipping!”
Peter’s sob caught in his throat. She could almost see his mind snap right before her very
eyes. Now, she could reform it to her liking. She slowly unfurled her whip and let it
hang in front of Peter’s face. He began wailing unintelligible pleas, sobbing in the grass,
her weight crushing him. Time to finish the project.
Jamie stood from Peter’s back, her hands on her hips. “Okay, Peter. No more. I’m
sorry, I didn’t know I was being so hard on you. Please forgive me. No more whipping
or spurs, okay?” She helped him up gently, but he could barely stand. “I thought when I
saw the steroid injection marks all over you that you liked pain.”
Peter was dizzy. Numbly, he repeated, “that…I…liked…pain.”
“Certainly,” the girl said. “I’m trying to be your friend by giving you what you crave.”
Peter didn’t understand. “Wha…what do you mean?” he whispered, his eyes saucers,
veering wildly around aimlessly. “Please…return me to…Paula…no more…no
more…pain!” The last was a pathetic, whimpered plea. Jamie enjoyed the fact he was
obviously scared by the fact she had stood him up and turned toward him, standing very
close to him and towering over him. Her breasts were pressing against his forehead,
covered in sweat.
“What’s it like being you?” she asked matter-o-factly, looking down at him, ignoring his
pleas. “I really want to know…for my job…for…myself. I’m interested. I was never
interested before in what it was like to be a male, but, now that I’m going to be a CHP
Officer, primarily dealing with legal violations by males…I want to get a good feel for it.
What’s it like to shiver? What’s it like to hyperventilate? You’re in your thirties, right?
So, you grew up thinking of nineteen year old women as inferior, right?”
“In – ferior,” Peter repeated unconsciously.
“What was the phrase? The ‘weaker sex?” She laughed. “So, what’s it like to be…a
middle aged man” -- she paused for effect -- “beneath the foot of a nineteen year old
girl?”
Peter’s breath caught in his throat. His face was so sore from her foot mashing down on
his jaw. And his tongue, swollen from licking her foot so fiercely to save his manhood.
He still couldn’t stop shivering. He was terrified to be alone with her, yet -- he so much
needed to tell someone how horrible it was to be a human carpet for all the women. A
part of him knew she was using him for some vicious mind game, but he also knew he
was powerless to stop it – and that his mind was hanging on by a thread.
She seemed to read his mind. “Do I frighten you?” she asked, in a low voice.
“Y-yes…”, Peter stammered, hoarsely.
“Why? Because I might decide to be cruel…and give you pain?” Peter just stared at the
ground, his knees actually knocking together now. “Because I might -- scratch you?” she
held up her nails. “Or step on you? Maybe whip you if I like?” Jamie fingered her
leather whip on her belt. Peter’s whole body convulsed.
“What’s it like to receive pain?” Jamie asked, genuinely interested, it seemed.
“Maam, please, I’m begging you, I’ve got to get back to” – he couldn’t even remember
where he was now – not for sure.
“Call me Jamie, okay? Why don’t you want to talk about it?” Peter looked at her
looking into his eyes. She was so sexy…so breathtaking! And she was standing up
against him, her nails now caressing his face suddenly! “I could really hurt you with
these,” she said, half to herself. Jamie stared into his eyes. “There was a moment back
there, wasn’t there,” she said knowingly. “Where you looked into my eyes as I stepped
on your face. And you…accepted…what I was doing to you.”
“I don’t know….I’m…confused,” Peter. He felt her sharp nails ticking over his soft face.
“And then, when you licked my foot. You told yourself it was to save your genitals. But,
it was also because you wanted to…please me?”
“No…I just…you’re so…powerful…all of you…and…and when…,” his speech was
coming in gasps like a child out of control.
She stared straight at him. “Do you like pain, Peter?”
Peter didn’t answer, then, “Of course not. Of course not….I just…I’m…changing…”
She nodded knowingly. “I like giving it,” she purred. “I like giving it a LOT.”
Peter shivered in spite of himself.
“I can’t give you pain without a reason, Peter. I’m training to be a law enforcement
officer. But…would you LIKE me to give you pain? To experiment a little?”
Peter’s breath caught in his throat. Of course he didn’t like pain. Pain was horrible! And
the woman – the CHP officers were so cruel when they tortured him. How could he
possibly enjoy –
Jamie stepped onto Peter’s toes with the toes of her boots. She stood staring into his eyes
as he clenched his teeth and muttered, “Oh, god…”
She lazily wrapped her arms around his neck and, looking down, said, “Ask me not to
step on your toes, Peter. Go on, just ask. I’ll step off.” Peter’s mouth hung open as he
felt his toes cracking, as she put her long finger to his lips and smiled. “Just ask me to
step off…” she smiled. She began grinding his toes beneath her boots as Peter moaned.
“I like this,” she breathed in his ear. “I like putting my 213 pounds on your toes. Do you
feel them cracking?” Peter’s mind was numb with pain and fear…and wonder. Her
power was…mesmerizing. He looked up into her face, his eyes watering as she mashed
his toes. But he didn’t ask her to step off, he realized. He would…any minute…he
would.
“I’m going to step on them with my heels, now. Okay?” she breathed into his ear, biting
it just a little. Peter couldn’t speak as he felt the sharp point of her stiletto heel touch the
top of his toes. “I LOVE THIS…” she gasped, and she stepped down on her spike into
Peter’s toes. Peter screamed, unable to accept the searing pain, as she brought her other
spike to bear on his remaining foot.
“Oh, please, god….” Peter breathed, his head flying back, trying to endure the grinding
of her heels as she stared into his eyes. She shifted her weight back and forth, softly
marching in place on his toes with her spike heels as she stared into his eyes.
“Ummpphhhhhhhhh…” Peter pleaded. She buried his head in her large breasts, holding
him close, muffling his screams, as she broke his little toes to powder under her stiletto
heels, stepping back and forth on them, shifting her weight over and over again.
“Ask me to stop…,” she breathed in his ear, licking it lightly, then biting it – very, very
hard this time! Peter felt her teeth cut deeply into his earlobe, then felt it begin to bleed
as she licked off the blood.
“N…N…Noooo…,” begged Peter. She forced his head down so he could see the deep
depressions her sharp heels were making in his toes, making holes in his soft tennis
shoes!
“Tell me you like it.” She bit him again – even harder, now keeping her teeth closed on
his ear lobe –CHEWING his ear!
“I…I…like it,” Peter wailed. “God forgive me…I like it….”
Jamie thought about biting his ear lobe off, but it might be too soon to make permanent
changes to him this soon.
“Hmm,” Jamie said, satisfied. “I figured as much. That’s enough.” She stepped off.
The residual pain remained, but the all-encompassing, exquisite pain she’d been giving
him, had gone as quickly as it had overwhelmed him. Peter was confused. Although he
could hardly walk, he wanted – he wanted –
“Maybe you’d like more.” She stared into his eyes as Peter looked down at the ground,
his head – his world – spinning.
“Maybe I should whip you,” she said innocently. Peter started. She focused on where
his eyes were looking. “Or do you want to feel my spurs again?” Peter stared at her
spurs, unmoving, his mouth hanging open. She raised her eyebrows. “DO YOU want to
feel my spurs again?” she asked. Peter couldn’t speak, so great was his confusion.
“Maybe you really do like this, Peter. Maybe you DO like being treated to pain! Maybe
you’d like it if I gouged you some more, hmmm? Or stepped on you? Walked on you
like a carpet?! God knows I like doing it! Maybe you like getting it!”
His mind stunned and his body no longer his own, a word, barely audible, drifted past
Peter’s lips… “Yes.”
Jamie smiled. ‘Too easy,’ she thought.
“All fours Peter!” Peter dropped to the horsey position instantly! Jamie swung her leg
over his back and dropped her magnificent weight on him, immediately digging her spurs
into Peter’s flesh. He moaned in painful pleasure. His back was still almost useless from
last night’s trampling, the officer trying to sit on him this morning and the near-castration
and Jamie’s weight felt like an electric shock that never stopped, so painful was it to try
to carry her. “Giddy up, Peter!” She bounced once on his back as Peter arduously
stumbled forward, his back bent beneath her, screaming in agony, feeling Jamie ram her
wicked spurs into his sides over and over, testing different parts of his body for effect,
before settling on the softest part of his ribcage to continuously squeeze him with her
strong legs, gouging him continuously with her spurs. “I’m going to ride you until you
go blind from the pain!” she whispered. Peter moaned piteously and then, suddenly,
began sobbing uncontrollably at what he had become, collapsing in the grass as Jamie sat
on him and continued to rip him with her spurs.
“I love this, Peter, “ she leaned down to him. “I love digging my spurs into a man until I
break his spirit! HA! And I’m only nineteen!” Jamie ripped her spurs along Peter’s
sides making him wail in submission. “We’re gonna be best friends from now on! I
don’t care WHOM you officially belong to! I’m going to requisition you to help me train.
Then, whenever you’re not serving Paula, you’re gonna come see me and I’m going to
experiment on you to learn about giving pain! And Peter? I’m going to learn to be
exquisitely cruel! And when I’ve perfected my techniques, I’m going to transfer to the
Male Reintegration Department and use them on middle-aged men just like you! Now!
Giddy up! Faster! Carry me back to the building!”
Peter’s wails filled the afternoon air, as he struggled under the continuous torture of the
officer’s spurs, her weight crushing into him, and she threw her head back and laughed
into the sun.
By the time Peter reached the base of the short flight of high concrete steps that led up to
the basement entrance to the giant state office building, he could no longer crawl. His
flesh ripped and bleeding from the beautiful cop’s spurs digging into him, he stopped,
staring at the first step, whimpering as his knees and hands bled freely, shredded from
carrying the tall, tall girl on his weak back. He hung his head and looked sideways at her
thickly muscled tanned bare thigh, as it rested comfortably against his flank, her boot
curled backward, both to concentrate her weight and keep it from scraping the ground.
Her leg was as perfectly tanned and toned as a fitness competitor’s and Peter’s desire was
almost as great as his pain beneath her. A part of him was proud to have been able to
carry her this far and another part just wanted the crushing pressure and cutting pain to
stop. But, there was yet another part of his mind – a part he was afraid to accept – that,
more than anything – wanted her to force him up the rough concrete steps, riding him and
beating him like the animal he had become.
Jamie looked down at the small man carrying her, and knew he could never climb even
one of the steps. She was surprised he’d lasted this long as hard as she’d been riding him,
kicking him with her spurs, grinding her ass into his little back. She could feel him
shaking under her weight, almost to the point of collapsing. ‘But, he’d be terrified of
collapsing, wouldn’t he?,’ she mused. She smiled at how what little remained of his
clothes after they’d almost castrated him had been all but ripped from his body by her
spurs and the pressure of her riding him over the lawn. Except for some shards of cloth
hanging from his shoulders, he was essentially naked – and embarrassed by it, she could
see. She’d have to get him an office slave uniform before she took him back to Ms.
Bowers, she thought. Jamie smiled again, then decided to give him a little gift. She took
her time, slowly standing up from him and swinging her leg over his body to stand beside
him.
When her overwhelming weight lifted off him, Peter felt he was floating, so great was the
relief! His hands and knees now burned horribly, as the blood was permitted to rush into
what was left of them again, and his back ached mightily, but he almost cried with relief!
He dared not look at her boot, afraid she might see and kick him one last time just to be
cruel. So he stared straight ahead, praying to see Kelly and Paula, as Officer Jamie
roughly yanked him by his hair and dragged him up the eight concrete steps, his legs
scrambling to keep up with her towering form, as her ass swayed provocatively above
him in her khaki short shorts.
Jamie dragged Peter through the little vestibule, dropped him on his stomach, and pushed
the button to call the elevator to the basement for their ride up. There didn’t seem to be
anyone around, though the basement seemed little-used, with various pallets and delivery
carts lying against the undecorated stone walls. Jamie casually moved her boot over
Peter’s hand, but Peter managed to yank it away just before she stepped on it, which
made her smile again. She called down to him, “Peter, are your little arms sore from
having me on your back? Here, let me help you rest them.” The cop bent down, lifted
Peter’s limp, bony arms, placed them behind his back and handcuffed them with her
heavy, cold steel cuffs. Peter didn’t even bother to resist. She stood over him and put her
hands on her hips. “There. Is that too tight?” Jamie asked. She waited a beat. “I asked
you a question, Peter.”
“No…it’s…it’s…okay…” Peter breathed.
“Oh,” Jamie replied. She placed her boot on the cuffs and pressed down hard, clicking
them together several more notches, seeing the steel bite deeply into his wrists. Peter
groaned. “How ‘bout now?” she asked, smiling.
The elevator arrived; the doors opening to reveal a rather small cubicle with beautifully
paneled wood walls. The ceiling had been raised to accommodate the much-increased
height of the women who used it and Peter looked up at the top over twelve feet high.
Jamie pushed Peter into the back corner of the elevator, and sat him down, his back
directly against the corner and his legs straight out in front of him. “Do you think you
own the place?” Jamie asked haughtily. She kicked Peter’s legs apart with the hard
pointed toe of her boot, until his legs were spread wide, his left leg lay flush against the
back elevator wall and his right all the way against the right elevator wall. Sitting with
his legs spread so far apart, Peter’s manhood, a little swollen from the earlier ‘almostcastration’
was exposed, lying weakly on the floor in front of him. Peter moaned from
the sudden violence of being kicked near his sore knees.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Jamie commented. “You’ll not be permitted to speak or
otherwise make noises like moans and whimpers inside the office tower. This will make
it easier for you to comply.” Jamie’s liquid blue eyes stared into Peter’s fearful ones, as
she roughly yanked back on his hair with one hand, causing his mouth to open, while
pulling a small aerosol can from her belt. Jamming it into his mouth, the cop depressed
the activator button and Peter felt an icy spray assault his throat. Almost immediately, a
horrible burning started, like frostbite! Peter tried to cry out, but only half a word came
out! The rest was converted to a pathetic hissing, as the spray froze his voice away.
“HHTTHHH….HTTHHHYYHHH…,” Peter screamed at being silenced! His mouth
suddenly felt like it did after a trip to the dentist! Numb all over, his tongue feeling
swollen and he, completely unable to make a sound more than a hiss! He remembered
the weeks spent in the ballgag Kelly had secured in his mouth. The frustration of not
even being able to communicate pain, sorrow, or fear! But this was even worse! His
voice being reduced to a vague hiss, made it impossible to even know he was trying to
speak!
Satisfied, Jamie turned her back on Peter, pushed the button for the sixth floor, and
backed toward Peter, her curvy ass filling his vision. Without even thinking, she sat
down on the top of his head for the elevator ride, her long, long legs, extending in front of
her into the middle of the elevator car, extended to balance her ass pressing heavily down
on Peter’s head. Peter felt her full weight come down on her ass, threatening to snap his
neck as he tried to balance her on his head! He moaned in a horrible hiss, as she placed
her hands on her outstretched long, lean legs, exclaiming, “Whew! THAT feels better!”
even though she’d only been on her feet two or three minutes. Peter gritted his teeth and
devoted his whole concentration to balancing her tight ass on his head, as she pulled out a
PDA and absently jotted some notes, her long bare legs pressing her boots into the carpet
well in front of him. When the elevator slowed for an interim stop at the first floor,
Jamie’s balance shifted as she stood to make room for other riders. Peter’s head was
violently snapped to the side, collapsing into his shoulder. He heard something pop and a
palpable river of pain in a nerve exploded in his neck! He whimpered, “THHYYSSS!”,
but Jamie didn’t even look down at him. Now standing beside him along the back wall,
Jamie’s frame dwarfed Peter sitting beside her, his head rising only to her knee, as he
tried slowly to straighten his head again, leaning against her leg when he was suddenly
dizzy with the effort.
The elevator door opened on the first floor to a completely different world from the
outdoors or the basement. Peter wasn’t ready for the sudden onslaught of noise. The
doors opening, revealed a sudden, chaotic scene of a bustling busy office corridor, filled
with beautiful women walking briskly back and forth over the polished marble, talking on
cell phones, programming PDA’s and talking animatedly together. The day was
obviously in full swing in the frenetically busy state office complex and the sudden
change from the quiet of the basement made Peter jump. A large cluster of stunning
young women stood outside like models, waiting for the elevator, suddenly rushing in as
the doors opened, filling the narrow space. Peter looked up at them in abject wonder!
All were at least seven feet tall, dressed in short, sexy office skirts and pin striped skirt
suits and sporting very high, pencil thin office pumps. Their hair either cascaded over
their shoulders or was cropped close and severe! Their long, lean legs were either bare,
muscularly toned, and tan, or covered in dark, tight pantyhose. The heavy, purposeful
steps of their shoes, as they flowed like a female wave into the elevator, and he sat, small
and unnoticed at the back of the small car, terrified him, and he pressed himself against
the back corner of the car to stay out of the way of the women’s cruel heels.
The women were all in animated conversation and Peter looked up at them talking
excitedly as they towered over him, he, trying to understand their snippets of
conversation.
“Well, it’s crunch time – THAT’s for sure!” one said with enthusiasm. Peter recoiled,
thinking she was talking about him, but then he realized she didn’t mean that kind of
crunch.
The other replied, “The campaign couldn’t be going better! I think Governor Shryver’s a
shoe-in when President Modonnah steps down!”
“She’s sure got the backing of America!” the first said. “We just need something big –
something right before the election to cement her lead!”
“She’s supposed to be bringing on a new press coordinator today! Maybe she’ll come up
with something! But, you’re right, with the election only days away, she’s got to do
something really outrageous! Like when Modonnah took over the Presidency while
performing at that White House dinner! Did you ever think you’d see the a worldwide
television broadcast of the President of the United States, in front of every foreign leader
in the world being ridden horseback across a stage by Modonnah while all his female
Secret Service agents just looked on and laughed?! That’s the kind of moment that can
change the world! That Summit for Global Equality sure didn’t turn out as expected for
the good President! Poor little guy!”
“It DID change the world – officially, I mean!” said the first woman.
“That’s right, isn’t it?! It was the very next day that Governor Shryver destroyed her own
husband under her stilettos as he was speaking out, objecting to the way the President
was treated and us women were taking men too much for granted! After that, there was
no stopping us! The men just started dropping like flies – it was open season on them!’ ”
she laughed. “That’s sure one way to replace the old Governor!” All the women laughed
politely.
Until now, Peter hadn’t known how it had all started. He never saw any broadcast of the
U.S. President being ridden by…Modonnah! And he certainly had not heard the
Governor of California had been trampled to death by his wife! He’d certainly been
witness to the Treatment, and the incredible genetic enhancements it had brought about.
A woman who worked out hard, or got another Treatment dose would actually continue
getting taller and stronger and more perfect! And, of course, he knew how women across
the globe had become suddenly taller, healthier, stronger and much, much smarter in a
matter of months – almost as if the Treatment was spreading with the rapidity of a – a --
VIRUS! But, the violent change the world had undergone had seemingly happened with
no notice at all -- overnight! There was nothing on the news! No debate! No warning!
Literally, it seemed women had become world leaders, police officers, military
commanders and legislators – and had rewritten society to completely debase all men
before anyone even knew it was going on! He’d seen the predictable change of all the
networks to all-female news anchors because they were so much more attractive and in
touch with their audience. But, he’d never imagined that the news itself could have been
shaped so the men didn’t know what was happening until too late. But, when men had
begun to be ignored by women – women would only deal with each other in business and
stopped patronizing male-owned corporations, creating more successful corporations of
their own – Kelly told Peter it was getting dangerous to be out alone, and Peter had
agreed. Already, he’d seen groups of males protesting their treatment as a lower class
being sprayed with fire hoses by female police officers. Peter had not wanted to watch
the protests, and, besides, Kelly had told him he didn’t need to watch TV anymore, and
kept him from going out for months. And he’d only heard about the spectacle of
Modonnah riding the President. Kelly had told him it was all a joke when he’d asked her
about it. Very soon after, she’d suddenly told him he couldn’t go out alone at all
anymore and she’d kept him from seeing any more of what had happened to the world.
The car filled, not one woman even looking down at Peter. The tall, stunning bodies of
the women towering over Peter blocked out the light, as he tried make himself even
smaller than he was. Suddenly, as the last of the women entered the car, a tall blond with
tussled hair, wearing a tight-fitting skirt suit and high-heeled navy pumps, stepped back
toward Peter, between his outstretched legs. Peter leapt backward, but there was no
where to go, his manhood only inches from the woman’s powerful spike heel, as she
stepped hard on the carpet without even looking! Her spike missed the soft flesh of his
exposed testicles by inches, drilling into the carpet in front of them! Now, as she stood
directly over him, talking with another young women, Peter had to look straight up to see
the side of her face! His eyes flowed down her young, shapely body, down her legs and
over her high heels. She was about 26, he thought, and an absolute goddess! He was
inches from those cutting heels, and it had been pure luck she hadn’t needed to step back
any farther, for she would have skewered him horribly with them. He thanked God for
the two inches between her feet and his exposed flesh! Now, as the group settled itself,
calling out floor numbers and punching the elevator button, it was as if Peter didn’t even
exist. He took a moment to stare mesmerized, as the perfectly put together business
woman rocked sideways in her heels, absently crushing them into the carpet at their
corners. Peter felt like a little dog, completely unnoticed, as it tries to avoid being
stepped on while no one notices it in a crowd.
The elevator doors had almost closed, when a chorus of voices yelled from outside,
“Hold on! Wait!” One of the women reached a deft hand between the doors and they
smoothly rolled open again. “Can we fit four more?” a young intern asked, laughing, as
her and three coworkers jumped inside. “Sure! C’mon in!” replied a woman near the
front, stepping back to make room for them. The whole group then stepped back and
since Peter didn’t see it coming, he had no chance to prepare. The beautiful blond
standing directly over him took a solid step directly backward to let the girls in. Without
even glancing down, she powerfully slammed her pencil-thin stiletto straight down on
Peter’s testicles, impaling his ballsack into the carpet, and bringing her full weight to
bear, calmly standing on his delicate flesh! His testicles had shot out from under her heel
and she was standing only on the fragile skin of his ballsack, pinning it to the floor!
Peter’s head slammed backward into the rich mahogany with the horrible cutting pain,
making a cracking sound against the wood! He howled a pathetic hissing plea, looking
up at the woman as her towering form blurred with the sudden tears filling his eyes! He
tried to bring his arms from behind him to defend against the pain, but the cuffs held
them fast and tight, the steel clasps digging deeply into his arms as he pulled against
them! Peter was helpless to stop the horrible torture! Most horrible, Peter knew the
young woman honestly didn’t even know she was standing on his fragile flesh with her
spike heel! She was calmly talking in muted tones as the elevator rode upward, never
looking down! Not that she would have moved her heel if she had, but the thought she
was doing it unconsciously was somehow more humiliating and horrible for him!
The number 1 on the steel plate above the elevator door dimmed out, eternally slow. The
female cop escorting Peter looked sharply down at him when she heard his head crack
against the mahogany elevator wall. She intended to slap him for making noise, but then
saw the young intern’s heel standing solidly on his little testicles. She leaned down to
Peter’s ear. “Should have let us cut them off. Then you wouldn’t be dealing with that
right now,” she mused. Peter rolled his head from side to side, trying to survive the
cutting of the beautiful girl’s heel, as she now rocked again side to the side on it, slicing
the sharp corners of her heel into his paper-thin flesh! His screams couldn’t even be
heard above the quiet elevator conversation! “THHYYSSS! HHTTHHSSYYYSSS!!!”
After an eternity, through blurred eyes, Peter saw the number 2 light up, seemingly as
slowly as a burner on a stove beginning to glow. The burning pain seared his mind as he
stared in disbelief at the shapely woman’s stiletto heel grinding his thin flesh into the
floor. The doors opened and only one woman got off, while three more got on. The car
was now packed with stunning women and the girl standing on Peter’s ballsack stepped
back deeply with her other foot to let the new arrivals in. Putting both feet together, she
drove the back of her other shoe into Peter’s bladder, kicking him hard in his tender
stomach. When she stepped down, she smashed her other heel straight down on the root
of his shaft, smashing it to the floor, then her size 14 toe came down hard, the ball of her
large foot in her leather pump, squarely on Peter’s manhood! She stepped on it, then
stood on it with her full weight! Peter looked down in horror, as she simply mashed his
penis flat into his ballsack, compressing both to the thickness of a pancake and crushing
his testicles flat under her shoe, as his ballsack expanded like a squashed bullfrog beneath
the ball of her foot! He screamed, “Thhhiyyysss! Thhyyyssississs!!!” shaking his head
back and forth, as he looked down and saw her standing fully on his weak member -- the
horrible, dull ache overwhelming him, as she continued to impale the edge of his flesh
with her other heel! Except for the little piece of skin being stood on by her first heel, his
entire member was obliterated -- flattened under the giant toe of her other shoe, as she
flexed her toe cleavage! The pain almost sent him into unconsciousness, as the woman
calmly stood on his privates, never looking down, her considerable weight concentrated
fully and calmly on his most delicate of parts. She still didn’t know what she was doing
to him!
Peter, desperate with pain, looked up at her soft, angelic face and imagined…imagined
she might be…kind. The thoughts rushed at him amid a sea of pain and ache! Maybe
such professional level women wouldn’t stoop to this level of cruelty willfully as the
policewomen routinely did. Maybe she’d be at least apathetic enough to simply step off
him if she knew how much pain he was in and how she was hurting him! Maybe he’d be
worth enough to her for her to just roll her eyes and move her foot an inch or two to the
side, he thought! The pain making him dizzy now, and blood oozing from his flattened
member, Peter decided she was too beautiful to be this unbearably cruel if she knew what
she was doing to him. If he could just make her look down, she would see she was
standing on his delicate parts, mashing them utterly, and she would care enough – just
enough—to step off them. Without the use of his arms, Peter was left with only one way
to beg her for mercy. He leaned forward; the ache coming in waves, and gently placed a
soft, pleading kiss on the back of the young intern’s muscular calf. The tall woman
turned, looking straight down, saw Peter for seemingly the first time, then focused
simultaneously on the fact she was standing with her 198 pounds on his privates, AND
the fact he’d just kissed her gently. For just a second, Peter thought she had begun to
smile down at him, kindly. Then her mouth formed a vicious sneer!
“Oh GROSS!” she yelled down at him. That THING kissed my leg with his blackened,
cut open lips! As the other women suddenly looked down at Peter too, disgusted pouts
on their faces, the young executive suddenly began violently twisting her feet, grinding
Peter’s privates into the floor beneath her shoes! “Who do you think you ARE?!” she
screamed. Peter’s mind exploded with the intensity of the new pain! He felt his privates
being squashed, then twisted – mashed, then horribly ripped and rendered by her wellworn
office pumps! His head flew back and cracked against the elevator wall even
louder as his organ was mercilessly crushed like a little jellyfish!
“You filthy piece of shit!” the beautiful blond screamed. Her beauty belied the cruelty of
her anger! Peter’s hisses of pain filled the elevator! “You actually kissed my leg!”
Several of the other women laughed.

[DeathXI]

The stunningly beautiful girl felt Peter’s balls slipping like a banana peel under her shoe
as she twisted it to pulp under her full weight! Suddenly, the woman leaned back entirely
on her spike heels and began stomping on Peter’s privates with them, ripping and cutting
his tender flesh to shreds as she stomped them to mush! Peter bucked with each horrible
stomp, his arms pulling at the cuffs, trying to defend himself, his legs pulling inward to
shield him, but being stopped by other women in their way! His body was reeling under
the murderously hard impacts of her twisting treads! The woman was staring down,
concentrating with pure focus on what she was doing to him with her high heels! She
was sweating from the effort, she was stomping them into him so hard! It was only when
Peter started spitting saliva out of his mouth, hissing unintelligibly, then his eyes finally
rolled back into his head and his head lolled to one side, that the woman finally seemed to
get control of herself. She straightened her hair, got her breathing under control,
straightened her shoulders, and went back to calmly standing on his member, viciously
exclaiming, “GEEZ! Who do these men think they ARE?!” The elevator light slowly
blinked to “3.”
When the elevator door opened at the sixth floor and most of the women exited to the
primary government floor, the intern gave the mashed fleshy pulp that used to be Peter’s
privates, a nasty twist of the toe of her shoe, then ripped his ball sack open by tearing her
impaling heel across it, slipping slightly on what was left of him, as she finally stepped
off, her shoe literally unsticking from the mess beneath it, leaving his privates literally
mashed to a fleshy pulp and ground into the floor of the elevator. Jamie looked down at
what was left of Peter’s manhood. It was now just a fleshy flat spot on the elevator floor.
The young cop leaned down with a little spatula she’d pulled from her belt to scrape them
off the floor, unsticking them so she could move him out of the elevator. She hated the
gross parts of the job. But then she remembered Peter belonged to Paula. And the
Governor’s Chief of Staff might not like Peter losing his privates – particularly if he was
a pleasure slave!
Thinking quickly, she reached down to her heavy spike heeled boot, lifting it into the air
above what was left of his privates. Pulling a little tab on the boot’s side, she watched the
thirty needle spikes pop out from the sole, each one dripping with the green of the
miracle steroid they sometimes had to use when they damaged the males a little too
much. She positioned her boot – now a boot covered in sharp cleats – directly between
Peter’s legs – and stepped down hard, the little cleats puncturing Peter’s organ – or what
used to be his organ, she thought – and driving the steroid into the flesh colored pancake!
Peter shot awake, screaming in hisses, and banging his head on her tall leg, as she lifted
her other boot to concentrate her weight, and bounced on his organ over and over again to
force the drug into it. “Oh, shut up! It’s for your own good!” she exclaimed. “Two
hours from now, you won’t even know it was smashed!” Finally, stepping off him, Jamie
used the spatula to scrape the damaged part of him off the elevator floor, watching Peter
hissing in terrible pain, then dragged him into the hallway and down the hall to
‘Reception’ to clean him up and get him some new clothes.
The delay in locating Peter had given Kelly a chance to meet the Governor, who had
hired her as her new Press Coordinator on the spot! They’d hit it off famously, as Paula
had said they would. The Governor was such an energetic, electrifying woman! Almost
60 years old, she now looked not a day over 30, and she stood 6’3” tall and sported a thin
180-pound, perfectly toned aerobic frame, which rose to 6’9” atop her six-inch designer
stiletto heels! Kelly noticed she made no attempt to keep her heels from damaging the
hard wood floor of her office. Deep indentions from her heels peppered the rich wood!
Ushered past the staff of her large outer office, with six or seven beautiful women seated
at their desks there, Kelly had found herself in a richly decorated, inner office. She loved
the much larger furniture! She had hesitated to replace her home furnishings with the
new 1/3 larger dishes and furniture pieces for fear of making Peter feel so humiliated at
being so small. But, in truth, the furniture at home, once so large and luxurious, now felt
like she was sitting on little kids’ chairs at a parent-teacher conference. The much larger
furnishings in the Governor’s office were wonderful!
Behind the Governor’s desk hung a giant color photograph, taken from the side, of
Governor Shryver, standing on an outdoor stage, wearing a conservative red, sexy, formfitting
dress, speaking into a cluster of microphones at a podium in front of a large crowd
of mainly women, though many men were among them. It was twilight in the photo, and
she was standing on the prone body of her slowly dying husband in ruthlessly sharp metal
heels, her weight digging them into his bare muscular chest up to their hilts, as he
screamed frantically, his mouth open in stunned shock, grabbing at her legs, trying to
stop the pain, as flashbulbs went off all around her in the crowd! Her husband’s shirt and
tie lay ripped open on the ground on either side of him, and his skin was torn and covered
in hundreds of deep, raw, red, bleeding heel marks and deep scratches! His legs were
contracted upward and in, as his wife stood with one stiletto heel planted firmly on his
groin and the other embedded at least two inches deep, squarely in his heart! From the
blurred motion of the foot stepping on his groin, it seemed she was violently stomping on
it, while concentrating most of her weight on the spike heel digging into his heart! In the
background, many of the women in the crowd were stepping on their men’s faces, or
holding them down beneath their feet. From the expressions of surprise and fear on the
men’s faces, being forced down underfoot was something they’d never experienced –
until that very moment! Kelly remembered the photo the portrait was based on from the
L.A. Times three years ago. “Poor Ahhnuld!” the caption had read. Now, in the
Governor’s office a small brass plate on the picture’s frame, entitled it, ‘The Great Day of
the Awakening!” It was no secret that Governor Shryver rose to power – literally – on the
backs of unfortunate males; or, that she still actively campaigned on a platform of
complete male submission to the female species. But, Kelly had been a little
uncomfortable talking to her as she brought it so close to home -- absently resting her
sharpened metal heels on a slave’s upturned face while she sat comfortably on the deep
sofa in her office – her weight pressing another slave deeply into the cushions beneath
her as she sat on him. And Kelly was sitting on a slave of her own in the opposite easy
chair, her weight, she knew, crushing him under her ass as he tried to breathe and the
veins popped out from his neck.
Kelly had certainly sat on many men before when she had to, but, looking down at the
poor little slave, struggling to breathe and coughing pathetically beneath her full weight,
she realized, she wasn’t used to it being so hard on them. It was all Peter’s fault really,
she thought. The frustration and stress of thinking he’d cheated on her, and the base,
almost biological desire to be exceptionally cruel to him, had driven her to working out
almost four hours a day for the past several months -- like a fiend, really -- to relieve the
stress so she didn’t actually kill her husband! The results were impressive! The growth
in Kelly’s powerful body had been explosive! She now towered even over other women!
Peter’s stunning young wife now stood 6’8” (7’1” in her 5-inch stilettos and exactly as
tall and well-built as Paula) and weighed almost 250 perfectly toned pounds! Her tight
ass covered the slave’s entire torso! And her strength! Well, her strength was stunning!
She knew she could easily squeeze this little slave’s head until his skull cracked with her
giant bare hands if she liked.
It was really amazing what the Treatment could do, she thought. She didn’t look any
different. She was just a giant version of her cute, bubbly, vivacious self! And while
they were all gorgeous, Kelly knew deep inside that she was exceptionally beautiful, even
among the exceptionally beautiful (though she’d never admit it out loud). She’d been a
stunner; turning every man’s head she walked by, even before the Treatment, with her
shoulder length curls and bright clear penetrating eyes. And what the Treatment had
done for her, now actually had caused men to sometimes just lie down before her when
they saw her -- to be stepped on – like moths to a flame – even though she didn’t
particularly enjoy squishing them. Oh, she’d done it…just to accept the compliment of a
man offering himself without being asked, to be her sidewalk – or, because she was just
busy and didn’t have time to step around all of them. But, she’d never really enjoyed it
because she could look down into their faces as see the surprised pain in their eyes as
their little bodies flattened beneath her, as they realized they had no idea what her weight
would truly do to them!
Almost always now, she’d feel their little bones crack – especially their little ribs – when
she stepped on them and compressed them into the ground. Once in a great while, a male
would ask her not to just walk over him – to actually stand on him and let him worship
her as he was slowly suffocated under her giant feet! And she’d oblige him, just to watch
his pleading face as he looked up at her breathtaking beauty, enduring her weight. She
smile down at him, thanking him for being such a good doormat, then bounce a couple of
times on his little chest, her full breasts bouncing in her tight top. This invariably caused
him to grab her strong legs to try to stop the crushing pressure. She knew he never
expected her to do that and could see him pleading silently with her to stop. But if he had
offered himself to her, she thought she should give him his money’s worth! Then, just
before he lost consciousness, she’d slowly pull down one of her shoulder straps – as if to
give him a look at her perfect breasts -- and casually call down to him, “You’re cute!
But, I’m married,” and watch his face wilt as she stepped on it while she smiled down at
him and walked away, replacing her shoulder strap and laughing at him. Though, some,
as she would look back at them after she’d walked over them, or stood on them, still had
the most contented smile on their faces, even as they rolled into the fetal position after
being walked over by her heels or hard boots! And she had to admit…it WAS fun!
So, when the Governor offered a chair with a slave restrained on the cushion, she’d
simply sat down on him slowly, crossing her long legs to concentrate her weight -- even
bounced on him a couple times for good measure, just to show her fun personality to
Governor Shryver. The little slave had looked at her with the same worshipful face! And
he was cute, but, God, the little guy had a lot of veins in his neck! She would take him to
be her desk cushion, though, since Governor Shryver had offered him…she liked the way
he struggled to stay conscious when she crushed him under her ass. And she wondered
how long he could do so on a hard desk bench while she sat on him eight hours a day!
She couldn’t imagine doing this to her husband. But other men…well, other men
were…other men!
“Call me Maria,” the Governor said. “You realize this job carries a lot of
responsibility…and authority. You’ll be my number two, right behind Paula. My staff
now works for you. And your sole job is to see I get elected President next week by
managing the press and image communication. I know you’re arriving late in the game,
but the hard work is already done. I’m just looking for you to keep things running
smoothly and keep my staff in line. They’re all very young. All in their early twenties.
So is Paula, for that matter, but she’s just incredibly mature for her age and she’s done a
great job managing them while remaining their friend.”
“I understand,” Kelly replied. “I’ll have no trouble slipping into my job here, and I’m
really going to work to improve your numbers…even with only a week to go!” She
smiled…and Governor, er, Maria…smiled widely in return, as she shifted her weight and
her slave moaned beneath her.
“Paula will introduce you to my staff,” she said, as Kelly got up from the slave’s chest to
leave. He groaned too as her weight left him and the Governor kicked him with the
pointy toe of her shoe, for making noise, as she walked Kelly to the door.
“Let’s see how those balls are doing, Peter!” the young officer trainee called brightly.
Holding Peter by the hair, she bent him forward, lifted her powerful leg, pulled it back,
and kicked Peter squarely between the legs so hard, his torso flew straight up into the air
three feet, as she held his head in place, his tongue exploding from his mouth in a
horrible, airless grunt, before he fell straight down to the ground, his eyes rolling back in
his head amid the horrible ache. The cop let go of his hair and he curled into the fetal
position, curling into a ball. “Oh, they’re healing quite nicely!” Jamie called down to
him. “Two hours ago, you didn’t even have enough testicles left to kick!” Jamie had
taken Peter to the hose room, stripped him, sprayed soapy water on him and left him to
shiver as he air dried, while she watched, drinking a warm cup of coffee. At the last
minute, she’d taken pity on him and toggled the hose to a topical steroid and sprayed him
with that too, to help all the gashes and bruises heal. She’d been pretty hard on him, she
thought. He looked pretty good, considering she’d spent the morning stepping on him,
riding him up and down the hill, whipping him and grinding him with her spurs. Now, in
the fresh brown jumpsuit she’d dressed him in (brown didn’t show blood very well), he
looked almost as good as new. His lips were still badly cut, and his face bruised, but not
much more than when Jamie had found him this morning outside the office building in
the parking lot.
She flopped Peter’s head off her boot, where it had fallen after she’d busted his healing
balls, his mouth still open, unable even to hiss with the suffocating lack of air. Jamie
rolled Peter over, spread him out by kicking him flat with her boot, stepped up onto him
and squatted down on his chest, her heels digging deep impressions in it as it succumbed
to her weight, and put a thick chastity cup on him. She cinched it tight enough to
continue the ache for several hours and also to hide the swelling from Paula, and tied it
off expertly. His manhood wasn’t very big – especially now – but you could cinch the
chastity belt so tight it would squish it to almost nothing and the ache would just build
throughout the day.
“Now, Peter,” Jamie said, squatting on him and staring into his eyes, “I don’t think we
need to ever discuss the, um….misunderstanding…this morning…with Paula, do we?”
She stood and placed her spike-heel directly over his eyelid as it was scrunched shut,
trying to endure her weight, and pressed it down, driving Peter’s eye into his head,
feeling his eye depress easily as Peter gasped. She held the pressure on it. “I mean, I
don’t think it would do your vision any good to have me lean forward and squish your
eye five inches into your brain, do you?” She raised her eyebrows, smiling, as Peter
opened his other eye to look at the sharp heel on his face – and Jamie’s giant form
towering above it. She pressed down a little harder, her thigh muscle thick above her
boot. “TTHHHHHSSS….THHHHYYYSSSS!” Peter hissed, then he was out of air and
couldn’t inhale with her standing on him. “I’ll take that as a ‘No,’” Jamie said, smiling.
“One last lick, please, Peter,” she commanded. “Slowly.” Peter’s tongue came out of his
mouth and very slowly and methodically licked the heavy tread of her boot, removing the
grime from the office floors and the basement she’d walked on, swallowing it. “Great!
Now, we understand each other, don’t we, Peter?” “THHYYSS…” Peter nodded, his left
eye watering profusely. Jamie smiled, “Let’s go see Paula.” She stepped off him, leaning
down to try to rub away the very deep impression her stiletto had just made in his little
chest.
“Your tongue is black, Peter!” Kelly exclaimed. “What is that on it?!” They were
standing in the hallway outside Governor Shryver’s main office, Kelly and Paula just
having had a happy reunion with Peter, Kelly absently drilling her sharp fingernail into
Peter’s tongue as she held it out of his mouth and his eyes watered. Jamie sighed. She
HAD forgotten about the mud all over his tongue that remained from licking her filthy
feet this morning when he’d been pleading with her to not cut off his privates. She
smiled quietly at the memory.
Kelly and Paula had thanked the young officer trainee, Jamie, profusely, for finding him
and protecting Peter while she returned him to them. She was so nice! She’d told them
how she’d rescued him from some other, less professional women who wanted to bother
him, and how she’d treated him like a king when she’d learned he was Paula’s. “He’s
really so sweet!” she’d told them. “It was all I could do to get myself to spray-freeze his
throat,” she’d said with genuine sadness. “But, you know…regulations…” Kelly and
Paula had nodded at her, understandingly. Jamie shyly asked if, once in a while, Peter
could help her with her training. “Of course he can,” Kelly replied. “Whenever you need
him, just let us know!”
Peter looked down at the floor, and softly hissed a response to Kelly’s question, glancing
at Jamie quickly to see the stern expression behind her innocent eyes. Kelly sighed and
ordered Peter to go rinse his mouth out to get it clean, wondering how he could get so
much mud inside it wandering around the grounds. He should have stayed where they’d
told him. She might have to beat him later for disobeying her -- but not now. Now, she
wanted him to look good when she introduced him to Governor Shryver’s staff. After all,
he’d be working beneath her desk as her personal foot slave – something she was truly
excited about as it allowed her to have her husband with her all day where they could talk
and he could worship her as she deserved, while at the same time protecting him from
being brutalized by the other women in the complex. And there was no question he had
become an outstanding footlicker! He seemed to be limping as he walked slowly into the
small latrine for the males, she noticed.
Paula had meant to explain to Paula, but there just hadn’t been time. And she didn’t
really have the right words anyway. She was trying to find them, hoping to make Paula
understand the whole – situation – when Peter crawled weakly out of the bathroom (he
was learning) and ‘heeled’ next to Kelly’s side. “Alrighty then!” Kelly exclaimed.
“Let’s meet your…I mean, our…staff!”
“Kelly, there’s something I should – oh, the hell with it,” Paula sighed. “You’re gonna
find out sooner or later anyway. Just try to understand…they didn’t mean any harm.”
Kelly looked at Paula quizzically, as she swung open the door to the Governor’s outer
office once again and they went inside. Kelly saw the beautiful girls at the six desks
around the large outer office. All were sitting on slaves strapped to benches, one of
whom was suffering greatly, as two of the women sat together on his prone body,
collaborating on a project. Before Kelly had even swept the room with her eyes in
greeting, she knew something was up. Peter’s eyes had flown wide at seeing the women,
and he had instantly shrunk between her legs like a little dog. She could feel him
shivering uncontrollably as he grabbed her in the strongest grip she knew he could
muster. One of the women smiled at him, seeming to understand, though Kelly didn’t.
“Everyone, this is Kelly,” Paula said. “Hi Kelly,” the closest girl said brightly, “I’m
Carolyn!”
“Hello,” Kelly said, smiling.
“I’m Denise,” another called across the room. She shifted her stocky frame and the slave
beneath her groaned. She slapped him hard.
“Hi, Kelly, nice to have you here. I’m Celia,” a stunning blond said. Kelly noticed
Peter’s shivering grew more intense.
“And I’m Sandy,” a girl with a British accent said. Kelly nodded, noticing she wore
Aerator boots, which were very hard on slaves, Kelly knew.
“Hi, I’m Allison,” another called, happily.
“And, I’m Elena,” a sensual brunette said, almost purring. Her heels were stretched in
front of her, poking out beneath the bottom of the desk. They were polished black and
very sharp! At the mention of Elena’s name, Peter crawled even deeper between Kelly’s
legs, shivering almost violently and whimpering, despite the throat spray. Kelly looked
down at him, knitting her brows at his behavior. ‘Something about ‘Elena’,’ Kelly
thought, her mind trying to remember where she’d heard the name before. Peter was
grabbing so tightly at her leg, it irritated her and Kelly shook him off. “Peter, stop it!”
she ordered. “Introduce yourself!” But Peter just shrunk lower. Kelly reached down to
him. “Sorry, I don’t know why he’s acting like this.” She lifted his head by jamming her
nail under his chin. “This is my husband…Peter.”
The girls looked at Peter and several mouths fell open. “Isn’t that the little –“ Carolyn
called, before catching herself. “Nice to meet you…Peter…” purred Elena. Kelly looked
around quizzically, then Paula took her arm to usher her into the Governor’s inner office.
Peter tried to come along, but Kelly shook him again off her leg, ordering him under her
desk to get ready to work. He shrunk under the desk as Paula and Kelly walked into the
inner office, Paula turning to give Elena a brief stern look. Elena got up and walked
slowly over to Kelly’s desk where Peter now cowered against the floor, her stiletto heels
clicking against the wood.
Elena stood towering over Peter’s hunched, broken form under the desk. She put her
hands on her hips and for a moment Peter was once again back at the long ago concert,
staring up at her as she coldly asked why he wasn’t wearing a chastity belt before
Allannis started playing. Elena saw the unbridled fear in Peter’s eyes. “Hmph,” she said
down to him, “it seems you’re as surprised to see us as we are to see you -- Peter.” She
said his name with seething sarcasm. “I guess Paula didn’t tell you at the Allannis show
where she knew all of us from.” Peter looked up Elena’s perfect legs atop her heels, to
the body-to-die-for he remembered from the concert…now dressed in a short, tight, formfitting
skirt and white blouse revealing her beautiful cleavage. She still wore
extraordinarily sharp high heels. She was taller now even than she was when he last saw
her and he wondered if the women would ever stop growing if they kept working out and
using more and more of the Treatment. Kelly had grown to nearly seven feet now –
significantly taller than Elena, she’d worked out so furiously. He wondered if he would
ever find himself running from fifty-foot tall women as they casually crushed the males
to jelly under their big peds.
“We missed you, Peter,” Elena said down to him in a milky voice. She stared at him,
watching him shivering. She twisted on her toes and Peter remembered those very heels
grinding that little football player’s fingers beneath them – Celia’s boyfriend -- breaking
the bones of his hands at her request – before the concert had started and he’d learned
what the new world had become. He wondered what ever became of the poor guy. He
whimpered again, thinking of him. “You mean you really DID have a wife?!” Elena
asked, bringing him back to the present. “Unbelievable! Who would marry something as
pathetic as you?! I’m afraid I’m not going to have much in common with her, THAT’s
for sure!” She poked at his nose with the pointed toe of her shoe and Peter automatically
extended his tongue to lick it. “I hope you like your new life here, Peter – because we
sure are going to like having you! She rocked back on her heels, sinking them into the
hard wood floor. Later Peter – when your wife’s not around -- just you wait!”
She turned and walked away, her short skirt rustling over her silky thighs, looking back at
him once – and smiling.
Peter’s eyes, unbelieving this new nightmare and looking out from beneath his wife’s
desk, followed Elena and slowly focused on all the women in the office. They were all
there – ALL the women from the concert – all the women he had miraculously survived
torturing him with boots, heels, fingernails, kicks, punches and horrible squeezes. The
pain he remembered still made him shudder. And now, they all gazed back at him once
more, looks of pure playful cruelty in their silent, uncaring eyes. He noticed a small
figure a—thing, really – crouched against the far wall of the office – out of the way.
Looking like a worn out old man covered in layers of yellow-brown patches of what
looked like – cheese – or badly scuffed leather, perhaps – the figure laying slumped in a
pile, unmoving, in the corner of the office against the wall where the coffee maker was,
ten feet or so behind Celia’s desk. Peter could see his frame rising and falling slowly –
breathing – but no other movement. He looked something like an old Frankenstein
movie Peter had seen years ago, stitches and patches covering his back and skinny legs,
what Peter thought were legs, anyway. The figure slowly drew an arm in as Peter
watched – as slowly as a snake in a cage. Obviously with great pain.
His eyes met Celia’s, as she worked at the desk in front of the little figure. She followed
Peter’s eyes, looking back at the little man behind her, then again at Peter. “Awww…you
never DID get a chance to meet Kevin, did you?” she asked. Peter swallowed hard. He’s
not as…eww, let’s say…’robust’…as he used to be, unfortunately. She shook her head
sadly. “So many skin grafts…so little time,” she said, studying her nails. She knitted her
brows, thinking. “So much sewing…”she said under her breath, her voice trailing off.
Peter’s teeth began chattering. Celia’s eyes never leaving Peter’s, she asked aloud,
“Carolyn…would you mind getting me a cup of coffee?”
Carolyn, two desks over, smiled and stood. “Not at all, Celia.” She slowly stood,
revealing her tight, low-cut, sports top neatly tucked into olive green short shorts, strong
bare, well-tanned legs beneath. She stepped to the side of her desk, so Peter could see her
athletic form, strong legs, and the playful flat leather sandals she wore – pretty turquoise
gems on the brown strap between running up between her toes. They had a low, hard
heel that clapped against the wood floor when she took a step. “Oh…I’ll need some
tacks,” she said. “You know how I like my sharp implements.” Carolyn removed a large
box of thumbtacks from her drawer and walked slowly toward the coffee counter,
Kevin’s broken form lying beneath it. She glanced over her shoulder toward Celia, as
she nonchalantly stepped onto Kevin’s little body, despite his being in the fetal position,
easily squishing deep impressions in him under her big feet. Kevin moaned deeply as his
rumpled body compressed – actually, it was more a wail, than a moan, Peter thought,
sadly. Carolyn, looked down, faking surprise at finding herself standing on the young
man and noticing his moans for the first time. She casually poured a bunch of tacks from
the box over Kevin’s body, looking straight at Peter and saying, “Oops!” Then, she
stepped on Kevin’s neck, crushing several thumbtacks into it and bending his head
against her foot as she shifted her weight onto the weakest part of his spine, crushing
more tacks into him with her other foot.
Kevin now gasping, but too weak to oppose the crushing pressure, screamed hoarsely.
Carolyn smiled down at him. “Sorry, Kev…Celia wants a cup of coffee.” Still looking
down at Kevin’s small neck, now stressed to breaking under her foot, Carolyn twisted on
her foot to face Celia. Peter saw two of the sewn together patches of his skin stretch and
pull against their seams, almost tearing apart. Kevin now wailed out loud, his hands
clutching feebly at the floor. Carolyn waited a beat, watching her toes in her sandals
twisting his skin apart, then finally looked up at Celia. “I’m sorry Sweetie…what kind of
coffee did you want?” Celia made a show of thinking, while Carolyn stood on her
wailing boyfriend’s neck.
“Well, um, what flavors do we have?”
Carolyn twisted back around, pulling Kevin’s head to the side with her foot, then back
again, to Celia. Peter, saw a trickle of blood begin to stream slowly down from one of
the seams in Kevin’s skin Carolyn was tearing open with her twisting foot. He saw
Kevin looking wildly at her toes as they draped over the side of his face, as she stood
with her full weight on his little neck. It seemed he’d never had this done to him before
and the pain was making him go out of his mind!
“There’s regular and hazelnut,” Carolyn said, matter-o-factly. Again, Celia made a show
of thinking. Carolyn raised herself onto her toes, concentrating her weight on Kevin’s
neck, pressing the tacks in even more deeply and eliciting a pathetic and very long lasting
groan. She then stepped on Kevin’s head with her other foot, scraping her heel over the
side of his head, absentmindedly.
“Hazelnut, I guess,” replied Celia finally. Carolyn started to twist back around and Celia
exclaimed, “WAIT!” Carolyn playfully whipped back around, obviously having trouble
keeping from laughing at their secret game, as Celia’s boyfriend’s skin stretched to the
limits of the seams of thread that had sewn it together, and began to bleed freely. Kevin
screamed, his voice permanently hoarse from so much screaming for so long, as he
blinked repeatedly, looking at the tall, tall perky blond whose toes were literally ripping
him apart as she stared back down at him, standing on him like a rug.
“I think I’ll try Regular instead,” Celia called.
Carolyn turned back around, her toes now squishing a little in a small pool of Kevin’s
blood seeping up around them, as she padded around on his back, feeling the grafted skin
slip under her feet and deeper cracks from his ribs. She made a cup of coffee, and asked,
Celia, over her shoulder, “One lump or two?”
“Ewww…I’m sorry, Carolyn…I don’t take sugar in my coffee!” Celia replied with
exaggerated sarcasm.
“Dammit!” Carolyn replied. She stomped hard on Kevin’s head with her hard, flat heel,
the crack of his skull reverberating throughout the office. “I thought you DID! How
could I have been so forgetful?! NOW, I’ll have to pour out your coffee and start all
over!” She stared down at Kevin’s head beneath her shoe, then lifted it and stepped back
onto his back, pressing the air out of his lungs with her weight. Now placing her foot on
Kevin’s neck and stepping down to pin his face to the floor, she looked at the scores of
tacks she’d trampled into him. Then, she raised the cup of coffee high above Kevin’s
head, and, as Peter watched in horror and Celia, in anticipation, Carolyn slowly tipped the
cup and methodically poured the scalding hot coffee onto Kevin’s face and he writhed
and screamed hoarsely, helpless under Carolyn’s foot! When the last of the coffee had
burned Kevin’s face, Carolyn once more stepped on the side of his head with her heel,
and ground it back and forth, Kevin’s newly burned skin tearing under the coarse heel.
Then Carolyn turned and calmly stood on Kevin as she made Celia a new cup of coffee,
then slowly walked off Kevin’s broken body and handed it to her. Smiling, Celia didn’t
even bother taking a sip.
“The coffee will help you stay awake, Kevin,” she called, “remember, we’ve got Cardio
Crush down at the gym in half an hour! In the mean time, you’d better lick it up…the
Governor won’t like finding all the coffee you’ve spilled all over the place!” She smiled
cruelly as Kevin began painfully licking up the spilt coffee as Celia looked over at Peter,
her eyes boring into him as he shrunk under Kelly’s desk. ‘This is your future,’ they said.
The door to the Governor’s inner office opened and Kelly and Paula came out, smiling in
light conversation with the Governor, oblivious to what had just happened to Kevin in the
outer office. Kelly found her bench, this morning’s slave already strapped securely to the
hardwood top there. She stepped in front of the bench, smoothed her miniskirt, looked
down at him apologetically, noticing how he swallowed as he stared up at her. And then,
slowly so the impact wasn’t too hard, she sat down on his little chest. She felt, more than
heard, the air squeeze out of him as his chest compressed under her ass. His fragile ribs
bent almost into the hard bench when she put her weight down and his arms tensed
against the straps in a vain attempt to protect them. Kelly absently put her pump on her
footrest – “THHHYYSSIIISS!” – ‘oh shit,’ she thought – looking down and seeing her
husband’s face impaled beneath her high heel.
“Sorry honey, “ she said, removing her foot. “I’m gonna have to get used to you being
there!” It was too late. There was already a deep, bleeding gash in Peter’s face, below his
eye. Kelly kicked off her shoes, landing each on Peter’s face before kicking the smelly
things off him, then settled her giant bare sweaty feet on his upturned head. Each of her
feet dwarfed his little face. “Just keep them feeling good, okay, Peter?!” she said. “I
probably won’t have time to talk to you with all the work I’ve taken on. Just help me to
stay relaxed, okay?”
Peter’s tongue found between his wife’s toes and slithered up and down, dutifully
cleaning the toe jam from between them, before he started on the sweaty sole. Kelly’s
foot was much larger than his whole head and it would take a while to properly lick it,
Peter thought. And the pressure of her other foot resting on his throat was making it hard
to breathe. Kelly absently stuck her big toe in Peter’s mouth as she booted up the
computer. He suckled it gently, then did her other toes. He closed his eyes, accepting the
pungent odor and dirt from the bottom of her foot as he swallowed, thanking god she’d
come back – his harbor of safety in a terrifying world. Kelly looked down once at the
man she’d married, now dutifully licking and sucking her tired peds from beneath her
desk. She’d never imagined this when she’d said, ‘I Do’ on the alter…but…she had to
admit….it wasn’t half bad! Looking at his enthusiastic tongue twitching between her
toes, she let it relax her, felt her whole body soften. Her husband was going to be a great
footlicker and he seemed to like it here with her, happy with his new environment. Kelly
didn’t see the perfectly circular impression of Officer Jamie’s heel in his left eyelid.
Paula noticed all the thumbtacks pressed into Kevin’s skin, as he lay helpless in the
corner against the wall. He was licking something off the floor and moaning softly.
Celia didn’t even bother to spray his throat anymore. The years of screaming had
permanently destroyed the poor boy’s vocal cords. But thumbtacks were not Celia’s
style. Probably Carolyn had played with him. Carolyn was all about sharp objects! If
she could push it into them, cut them open with it, slice them up or tear them with it – it
was DEFINITELY in her desk or in her basement at home! Carolyn had only first dates -
- never had second ones. Never.
As she began typing her strategy to ensure the Governor’s reelection, Kelly found her
eyes drifting over to Elena, also working diligently at her desk. She turned Elena’s name
over and over in her mind. She was SURE she’d heard it somewhere before.
“Elena,” she finally asked, looking up, “have we met somewhere?” Kelly asked her. She
felt Peter’s mouth freeze around her big toe, momentarily stopping his gentle suckling, as
he listened intently.
“No, I don’t think so,” Elena replied, busy typing. She hadn’t even looked up at her,
which Kelly thought strange.
“Your name seems familiar, but I can’t place it,” said Kelly.
Elena shrugged and went back to working, still not looking at her. ‘Not very pleasant,’
Kelly thought, surprised. ‘In fact…a bit of a bitch…’
Kelly stared at her a beat longer, thinking, then, a shadow momentarily passing over
Kelly’s face as her mouth opened just a bit – then closed again. Elena looked up at her
now and Kelly broke into a wide smile, “Well…it’s, um…nice to meet you…anyway!”
she gushed.
Elena’s smile was as large as it was fake. “Maybe you’ll recall where you’ve heard my
name…” Elena told her.
“Maybe I will…,” Kelly said, smiling sweetly in return. “Maybe I will.”
Paula looked back and forth from Kelly to Elena, but saw nothing betrayed there but their
smiles.
They typed in silence for a couple of minutes, the conversation seemingly over, until
Kelly reengaged her.
“So! Umm…what kind of music do you like?” Kelly asked Elena innocently. The other
girls stopped typing and looked up at Kelly simultaneously, then at each other, glancing
around quickly.
Elena looked up to reply but Paula suddenly broke in. “Why don’t we all get some work
done, okay?” Paula asked.
“Yes…that’s a great idea,” Kelly replied, her eyes never leaving Elena.
*****
The supertanker Aphrodite, docked at the far most pier in the distance, was bigger than
an aircraft carrier but not nearly as well-kept, decided Sergeant Candy Fromme. Sitting
outside among the giant shipping containers at the far end of the huge marina loading
dock complex in her beat up paddy wagon in the hot sun, where she had been sitting all
day, she had just punched up the ship’s registration on the car’s laptop after she
acknowledged the radio call -- happy to finally have something to do. Being relegated to
the Port Police working the docks was a dreg’s job and she couldn’t decide whether she
had ended up here because of her lack of motivation to improve her lot in life, or whether
her lack of motivation was due to her dead end job. One of the shortest members of her
department now, at only 6’3”, she was also the only one still massively overweight, at
almost 415 pounds – 415 FATTY pounds – and NO ONE was fat anymore – goddammit
– which was too much friggin’ pressure on her to change! She knew she could start
going to the gym – make use of the genetic potential the Treatment had given her –
change her entire life like it said on the TV -- but, the truth was, she really didn’t know
what good it would do. She could grow a foot or two, get a college education in about a
month, get all “gussied up” with big words and a bigass smile; and tomorrow she’d still
be working alone on the docks among the rough shipping crews with only four other cops
in her sad little “department,” going home to her postage stamp apartment at night, and
getting up the next morning to do it all over again. So why bother?! Wasn’t like those
CHP girls, she thought! Now THEY were somethin’! Practically own the friggin’ world
with the Governor’s ear…get all that equipment…compete in the Police Olympics every
year – THAT was what SHE shoulda been! But down here? Down here was another
friggin’ world! And it was just too damned easy to sit here in her car and stare out the
window eating fried chicken. Watch it all go by…
The old laptop finally chimed, returning the ship’s registration information. It was from
Denmark, with a Denmark crew. Candy shifted her massive girth around in the seat to
look at it, two droplets of sweat sliding down her fat face like skiers racing down a mogul
hill. The torn leather seat groaned under her weight and there was a matching groan from
the old man she’d dragged kicking and screaming into the front of the paddy wagon to sit
on – the seats in these old wagons were too damned soft to hold her weight and, by god,
with the springs exposed and the foam coming out everywhere, she needed extra
padding! She looked down at the frail, flattened, 60-year-old man – a strong dockworker
in the old days, probably -- his mouth open as his entire torso was smooshed under her
giant ass, wrapping around it like an inflatable doll. His face was purple, his eyes
pleading -- almost sightless – and shrunken into his head while they bulged from their
sockets at the same time. “What’s wrong with YOU?!” she asked rhetorically. “Don’t
like heavyset women?! Ju’ want jour DA—DDY?!” she asked, in a mocking voice. She
could see what her ass was doing to his chest. It never even occurred to her what the
sharp steel springs in the seat were doing to his back!
She crushed another set of half-eaten chicken bones in her meaty fist, then stuffed the pile
in his gaping mouth, where she’d been putting them to keep them off the floor. “Here –
have lunch!” she yelled at him, grinning. The little man coughed and sputtered, trying to
breathe, probably wishing now that he’d been strong enough to carry the wooden crates
he had been saddled with a bit farther without collapsing. Because once a female
loadmaster decided you weren’t pulling your weight, the Marina cops took over – that
was Candy -- and charged you with loafing. Though, rather than do all that paperwork,
Candy just preferred to sit on most males for an afternoon, listening to them gag (if they
could even gag under an ass like hers) then kick their flattened bodies out of her car and
leave them laying on the pavement. With all the drunken women loadmasters getting off
supervisory duty at the end of the day, someone’d usually find the males unable to crawl
away and that would be that! Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Then into the ocean! Like the
rats they were! It was illegal for Candy to just throw the deadbeats in the ocean – lack of
due process -- but the docks were a rough place and she wouldn’t necessarily notice if
someone ELSE threw a damaged male in.
She glowered at the little man. “Eat them bones!” she screamed, getting her big snout
right in his face. The terrified little man started to chew the already-eaten pieces of
chicken bones, gagging constantly now, the bones splintering in his mouth and his eyes
watering. Satisfied, Candy turned to the laptop, confirming the ship’s origination point as
South African, now ignoring the way the little man’s grunts and groans. She picked up
her binoculars to look at the ship, twisting again on the elderly man’s emaciated body,
feeling it squish like a balloon, a pathetic, “UUWWHHH,” coming from his throat. She
guessed the ship’s distance at about five hundred yards and set the distance in the
binoculars. When she lifted them to her eyes, the imaging software had already resolved
the image, so the tanker’s upper deck filled her field of view.
The name of one of the big three oil companies on its bow, huge brown rust stains
covered large areas of the Aphrodite’s faded red and orange hull, almost matching the
color scheme – as if her designers knew someday she’d look this bad sitting in dock at
the San Francisco marina and wanted the rust to look like part of the plan. Since
Hydrogen had begun to take over as the fuel of choice, the oil companies were letting
their old tankers fall into disrepair, expecting them to be out of service for good in a few
years. The crew of 25 leather-clad sailors were already walking back and forth on the
tanker’s giant flat top, obviously very tall even from this distance and almost all blond --
Scandinavians, figured Candy -- and looking all sexy and shit in their dominatrix outfits,
supervising the little male laborers as they scurried about like rodents, just now beginning
open the big oil and cargo holds. The sailors had their whips out and were using them
hard on the bare backs of the scurrying males at random to keep them moving, the males
yelping at being beaten yet again. Candy assumed the leather dominatrix outfits and the
boots served the same purpose as the CHP’s resplendent uniforms – they created abject
fear in the men. She didn’t think her rumpled dock cop’s uniform had the same effect on
them. But that was okay...when they saw her giant ass dropping down on them, she was
usually satisfied with the terrified pleas for mercy, followed by the muffled screams as
she put her full weight down on the little bastards! She bounced her crushing weight on
the old man for good measure, blowing the chicken bones straight up out of his mouth,
which made her laugh out loud! She reached down, picked them up off the filthy floor
and shoved them back into his throat, making sure to force them deep enough to make
him start choking again.
Candy focused tighter and toggled the digital zoom. A couple of the women stood in
place on the bare, badly sunburned bodies of some of the males, towering above them,
their thigh high, spike heeled boots digging deeply into them. They were obviously
disciplining them, or sending a message to the others that it could be them next. Candy
knew sailors deliberately kept their laborers terribly sunburned because the beatings and
tramplings in their boots hurt so much more that way. She zoomed in. One sailor, a
redhead with a steel-tipped whip, was standing off to the side on one small, very young
man, while concentrating on viciously whipping another who was shackled to the
wheelhouse. She stood very tall in her thigh-high’s – at least 7’8” -- her bare, tanned
strong legs, leading up to a short, pleated, burgundy leather domina skirt with silver
studs, and a matching tight bodice, which caused her already extreme cleavage to seem to
burst almost unnaturally from her top. She was about 26, and looked like a warrior
princess with her fiery hair, as she flexed to crack the whip again.
The redhead was putting her whole strength into whipping the shackled man, winding up,
leaning back, winding up the whip, then throwing her whole body forward, snapping it
crackling against the man’s bare skin – or what was left of it. His back was scored and
bleeding so badly from the tens of lines she’d cut across it, individual whip strikes all
blended into each other and his back was simply one torn open, bright red open wound.
Candy could see him jerk with each successive lash, hanging from the steel shackles, and
she could actually hear the distant crack of the whip (the sound not exactly matching the
moment she saw the whip hit the man at this distance), but, alas, she couldn’t hear his
screams this far away. Too bad. As she watched, the redhead looked down and coldly
raked her spike heel deeply across the man’s back she was standing on. Candy toggled
the digital zoom to ‘extreme’ and flipped on the image stabilizer. The image went fuzzy
for just a second, then resolved itself to perfect resolution, as if Candy was only inches
away. She got a perfect, close-up, motion-picture-quality view, of the redhead’s heel
ripping across the man’s sunburned flesh, scratching a long, very white line into it, which
immediately began to fill with bright red blood. Pools of darker blood were forming
around her heels anyway and she was standing in them, her powerful weight obviously
causing her heels to penetrate the small man, who seemed to be twitching and groaning
under her boots. His back was covered in hundreds on deep heel marks, many oozing
blood. She’d obviously been standing on him, whipping the other man for a long while
now, though she didn’t seem to be the least bit tired of giving the beating. Instead, she
seemed to be enjoying it, alternately gritting her teeth when she cracked the whip, to
smiling a little at the damage or the man’s little girl screams when she rested between
strikes. It would probably go on a long while longer. Candy imagined the two men had
committed a violation of ship’s protocol – like not tying off a line, or being late to topside
for docking.
Anyway, she thought, knitting her brow, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. And,
for the crew, it was obviously business as usual. Which was messed up. Because, if the
radio call she’d gotten a few minutes ago were correct -- and the Aphrodite really HAD
had stowaways aboard who’d escaped to the docks -- then, who had reported it, if not the
crew? And, if the crew had reported it, they ought to be running around on the docks
looking for them to discipline them. Unless the two men being whipped by the tall
redhead were the stowaways and they’d found them after they’d called the Dock Police.
Candy squinted through the binoculars. No, from the looks of them, the redhead had
definitely been beating them for a long while – at least since before the call came in.
Definitely messed up. She breathed in deeply, filling her lungs, and let it out in a heavy,
husky sigh. She was gonna have to do some work. Dammit!
“All right, get your bony ass out of my wagon,” she said down to the man under her. “I
gotta go solve a friggin’ crime…” She opened the door to the wagon and slid sideways
over the man’s body toward the door, not picking up her weight a whit, then out the door,
scraping the seams on her uniform pants over him. She felt his little bones sort of ‘rend’
under her as she slid her huge body over them – sliding over him was like squeezing
toothpaste from the bottom – it all had to jam up ahead of your thumbs – or, in this case,
her ass, she thought. A couple deep ‘thunks’ and ‘clicks’ as, probably his pelvis, finally
broke, and Candy stood up beside her wagon and yanked the little man out with a meaty
hand, dropping him on the asphalt, twitching and moaning. Stepping squarely on his
stomach with her big black boot, she sunk straight into him to the pavement, and doubled
him up around her leg, gasping, as she heaved her huge weight into the wagon once
again, started it and backed the front tire over the man’s arm, her weight combining with
the truck’s to crush inch-deep tread marks into it. She looked down and stared at the
other deep tread mark she’d left in his stomach with her boot and smiled. Deep purple
indentations formed like welts on the old man’s bare skin in the exact pattern of her boot
print that crossed his whole stomach, just as if she’d pressed them in mud (but these were
purple). She might not be as tall as all the other girls, but he was definitely as small as all
the other men! Her boot print looked as large and deep as if a giant had stepped on him.
“You better not be here when I come back!” she said sadistically, knowing full well he
wouldn’t even be able roll over anytime soon, let alone go anywhere. Candy turned the
steering wheel, grinding the man’s arm under the tire some more, as she drove slowly
away, the back tire driving over his arm the same way.
Okay, she could call in and ask the dispatcher where the ‘stowaway’ call had come from
since the crew didn’t seem to know they’d had stowaways on the Aphrodite. But, that
meant picking up the mic and trying to get the dispatcher to understand her and the
dispatcher probably didn’t care anyway anymore than she did who had called it in
because it was probably all horseshit anyway. So, she’d drive a couple times around the
docks, in between the stacks of boxcars, click on her searchlight a couple times for good
measure -- and then she’d park her wagon up at the lunch trailer and get some real food
and maybe play some cards with the Dockmaster before she went home. Stowaways, my
ASS! It was business as usual on that ship!
It was almost a complete surprise when she saw them –three of them! She’d put on her
red and blue lights to let the ship’s crew know someone was on the job – in case someone
up there really HAD called in the stowaway call – and within two minutes the three males
had spooked from the shadows under a boxcar crate and started running away from her
wagon at a full tilt, though the one was limping a bit and being helped by the other!
“Well, I’ll be damned…” Candy said under her breath. “And in broad daylight!” She
stared at them running for a moment. Okay, she could drive up on them, but they’d just
slip into a crack between the shipping containers where she couldn’t follow ‘cause she
was so damned fat; or…she could get out and run after them and catch them
easily….yeah, THAT was gonna happen…or…
She reached across the seat and tiredly took the taffy gun out of the old shotgun rack.
The think, pink giant stream of foam would knock those boys off their feet from a quarter
mile, and leave them laying on the dock encased in so much sticky gum, they’d be lucky
to be able to breath, looking like two giant wads of half-chewed bubble gum, rolling
around all claustrophobic-like. She liked the taffy gun ‘cause she could gum them all up
then walk up on them without even breaking a sweat, then just toss them in the back of
the wagon and listen to them go out of their minds, feeling like they were gonna suffocate
any minute. She could leave them like that for days while she did the paperwork! Give
her some company in the little police office! Did they even have any of the gum
dissolver spray in the office anymore? Candy couldn’t remember. What the hell….who
cares?
She heaved herself up onto the running board of the wagon, the whole truck leaning to
the side under her weight, raised the taffy gun and drew a bead on the three figures
running straight away from her – yelling – along the loading dock service road. She
flicked on the laser sight and it instantly acquired them, the little light turning green. She
began to mash her big finger down on the trigger, but then she blinked because it seemed
the males were not getting smaller as they ran away – they were getting – larger. Which
was also messed up. At the same time, the laser rangefinder digits began to tick DOWN,
not up as they always did when men ran. Candy raised her head from the taffy gun, and
itched her face as she realized the three small men were not running away from her…they
were running -- TOWARD HER. And they were screaming. At her. Okay, so….
Candy lowered the taffy gun and stood it on the running board behind the open door of
the wagon. She thumbed her double chin. She didn’t really have a lot to do, other than
wait on what had to be the three dumbest males she’d ever seen to run straight up to her
paddy wagon with its lights already flashing. Easiest arrest for being a stowaway she’d
ever made.
She stepped down off the running board, her mouth hanging open wondering, “What the
f---?” when the first of the three males slammed straight into the hood of her wagon, his
arms falling across the warm metal, as he doubled over resting his head on the hood. He
was breathless from running so hard. The second male, with long, hippy-length stringy
dirty blond hair, helping the third who was limping, did exactly the same thing a moment
later next to him, also unable to speak. Candy just stood there staring at them.
“Th…Thank – GOD! Thank God you’re here!” gasped the first man, clutching his chest.
Candy just stared at him, her mouth open slightly.
“Thank God I’m here?” she repeated to him, genuinely puzzled at the first male she’d
ever seen who seemed…happy? To see the Police?
“Yes…thank…thank…god! We thought…they were going to…get us!”
“Okay…”, Candy was reaching for her cuffs, but hesitated. These two were definitely
entertaining!
The hippy with the stringy blond hair still had his head laying face down against the
paddy wagon’s hood, too out of breath to lift it yet – and seemingly – relieved – almost
like Candy was a – refuge, or somethin’. Waaayyy messed up!
“Look…you gotta call someone! On…that ship…,” the first breathed, pointing. “We
were on that ship! On that ship…there’s…there’s these….these…women, except they’re
not…they’re…they’re HUGE…tall, I mean…strong – and -- and -- they’re whipping the
men. They’re BEATING them and – and – TORTURING THEM…my god they’re –
they’re WALKING ON THEM!!!” The young man collapsed, crying against the hood of
the paddy wagon, and Candy genuinely didn’t know what the problem was.
“Do you want to tell me what the hell you’re talking about?!” she said.
“It’s a slave ship…some kind of a…slave ship!” Candy heard a voice say. She did a
double take. Candy watched in stunned silence, as the stowaway with the long, stringy
blond hair slowly raised her head and looked up at her. It was a WOMAN! Very small –
only about 5’6” and so petite – only 118 pounds or so – but, DEFINITELY a woman!
She was filthy, as were the other two, and her straggly hair was tangled horribly, but her
eyes were clear.
Candy was speechless trying to process what she was seeing. And Candy was NEVER
speechless! The woman was a – midget! And there WERE no women midgets! And,
then, as she looked more closely, she realized the men were…taller…than they should
have been. 5’9” – 5’10”? What the hell was going on?!
“Look,” the girl said. “I know it sounds insane, but – but – we’re American grad students
– wildlife biologists – we were on a long term research project -- in Africa – in the
jungle. We’ve been there…four years…in the wild with the gorillas…studying them.
And…and, then the supply plane stopped coming, and the radio broke, and the little
panga boat never came up the canal anymore, so…we finally had to walk out! We made
the supplies last and survived by hunting, and eating wild plants -- tried to carry on our
work, but…after so many years…we just couldn’t wait any longer. We hiked out 300
miles! It took almost three months cutting our way out through the jungles to Point
Huron! That’s a small, remote oil-drilling operation on the shore of a river there. Like a
little power plant. We didn’t know if they were still using it. But, when we finally got
there, thank god there was a supertanker docked – this huge ship towering over the little
oil station-- but there was no one around! It was like the ship was running – you know –
filling with oil from the drilling site – all by itself – on -- Autopilot! I didn’t know they
could do that! So we went into the ship, found all this food and water…and waited for
someone to come! Gus said the radios were locked down so we couldn’t call anyone –
we just had to wait! We saw on the manifest the ship was going right to San Francisco,
which was incredibly lucky, but we didn’t know when. And then…and then…three
weeks later, when the crew finally came back, we had our stuff all set up way down on
one of the lowest decks, below the waterline -- camping out down where it was cooler.
The ship is so big, we didn’t even know the crew had arrived and were up on the top
decks, and the ship was already away from the dock, when we heard the engines start and
we tried to find our way up to tell them we were there. We were so happy someone was
there to take us home!” The girl started crying.
“But then…But then…we saw…out on the deck…the women –the crew! They were all
giant women! Giant, perfect, beautiful women! Like Swedish models but they were,
like, seven or eight feet tall! And they were wearing these – these – dominatrix outfits –
and they were beating these poor little men…with whips! And – and -- switches! And
screaming at them! And they were forcing them down and…WALKING ON THEM in
their SPIKE HEELED BOOTS! And riding them like horses! And KICKING THEM!
And the men were screaming and cowering and begging…and it never stopped! I know
this sounds crazy, but if you get on that ship – you’ll see! They’d tie them to the hot steel
deck in the sun all day, and when they’d be so sunburned they were crying – they’d walk
on them in their boots – or sometimes barefoot if they were out there tanning themselves!
And the men were helpless! It was like a giant floor of men! You’ll see – it’s
unbelievable! Please…we hid in that ship the entire three-week voyage. And what we
saw…what they DID to them! How they used them – sexually…our gorillas aren’t that
violent! You have to – have to – CALL SOMEBODY! Have to save the little men!”
The other man was trying desperately to calm down, in obvious pain from a leg injury.
“She’s telling the truth!” he pleaded. “I know how it sounds, but I swear it’s all true! We
barely got out of there without being found! “Oh god!” he wailed. “Oh god, their heels
were so sharp…they were -- MAKING HOLES IN THEM!!!” He dropped to the ground
and curled into the fetal position, crying and jerking.
The woman looked down at him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Shhh…,”
she said. “Shhh…”.
She looked up at Candy. “He has Aichmophobia – that’s a fear of sharp objects. It’s
related to Amycophobia – the fear of being scratched or punctured.” He can’t control it.
He’s almost gone out of his mind with fear these past few weeks.”
“Really?” Candy replied, her mouth hanging open. “Fear of sharp objects…,”
Candy stood there, taking it all in, feeling like this was somehow above her pay grade and
not wanting to say something stupid. “And he is?” she asked, addressing the woman,
trying to control the situation.
“I’m Amanda. And this is my husband, Gus,” she replied, still breathing hard, indicating
the balled up man laying beside her. “He hurt his leg falling off the moorings when we
climbed down. And this is Timmy. He was the third grad student on the African
Expedition.” Timmy was a little younger than the other two – and his eyes were wide
with fear.
The woman – Amanda -- looked at her husband, wrapping her arm around him – almost
like – COMFORTING HIM! “Are you okay, honey?”
“I’m…gonna be alright,” Gus replied. “Need to get to a…hospital…I think I have a
fracture.”
“You wanna go to a hospital.” Candy repeated. “For a fracture.”
“YES!” the man yelled, finally losing control. “Does that FUCKING SURPRISE
YOU?”
Candy’s mouth fell fully open. The idea of a man speaking to her like this one just had,
was so unthinkable, her face registered complete incredulity. She would have walloped
him and paraded up and down his slippery little body right there, bouncing her giantess
weight on his head until his brains squashed out of it, but with his wife right here, it was
an ownership issue and it was her responsibility to shred him for talking to a woman like
this!
“What the hell’s WRONG with you?!” he screamed. “Call the Coast Guard, BOARD
THAT SHIP and STOP WHAT THEY’RE DOING TO THOSE POOR MEN!”
Candy was stunned! The guy’s wife – Amanda – didn’t even seem to care how he was
talking! What the hell was wrong with HER?! Candy hadn’t even heard of a man
speaking to a woman this way since way before the –
Something Amanda had said tickled at the edge of Candy’s consciousness. “How long
did you say you’d been in the jungles?” she asked, trying to control the anger suddenly
seething inside her.
“A little over four years,” Amanda replied, sullen.
Candy tried to think. ‘Go back four years…that’d make it Two-Thousand-and-…’ Her
eyes locked suddenly on the three straggly looking people in front of her.
“You’ve had NO CONTACT with the outside world?! For FOUR YEARS?!” she asked
Amanda.
“Well, Gus used to talk once a month by satellite radio with UCLA – we couldn’t spare
the batteries for more often than that. But then one of his colleagues there suddenly
radioed one day to tell him he was taking down the Sat Link and he couldn’t say why.
He said he would try to set up a new one from somewhere else in a few months if he
could and to sit tight. Said he had a lot to explain and that we wouldn’t believe what was
happening. But he said not to try to call – ‘for Gus and Tim’s own good.’ Then there was
some background noise and the link went dead. It was really weird! We thought they’d
lost funding for the program and he didn’t want to call attention to our expedition, in case
they might want to cancel it. But he never set up a new Sat Link and never called back.”
“Then, a couple of months later, the monthly supply plane pilot made a special trip in and
dropped just a HUGE number of supplies – like almost a year’s worth! The pilot said
something about some kind of ‘unrest’ involving women on the radio – it was garbled –
and told us not to try to leave our camp. He said to never forget we ‘lived in Paradise’
and we should never leave – and to ‘pray for him!’ We didn’t know what it meant, but he
never came back! We thought maybe there was a local war among the tribes that had
started, but we never got an emergency message from the government…or Exxon, who
operated the oil drilling operation 300 miles from us, so, we just decided to carry on with
our work, make our supplies last and see how long we could stay. I guess, in answer to
your question, ‘No’. We haven’t had any real contact with the outside world in over four
years,” Amanda replied.
Candy stared at her, dumbstruck for almost five full seconds, coming to grips with what
this meant! “You…haven’t had the Treatment…” she said, mostly to herself. “You’re
the only ones on Earth that…well, I’ll be damned…”
“Oh, yes, we all got our shots before we left,” replied Amanda. “Typhoid,
diphtheria…we’re all healthy, we’re just tired and dirty from hiding on the ship so long.
And really, really scared.”
“Look…what are you gonna do? About the women on the ship?!” her husband asked.
Candy snapped out of her trance, trying to think how to play this. California was full of
actresses and there’s no reason she couldn’t be one too, for a little while. “Oh, we’re
gonna…umm…investigate that…YEAH, we’re gonna INVESTIGATE THAT SHIP
RIGHT AWAY!” answered Candy, more certainly, thinking furiously. She had the only
males in the world that hadn’t had the Treatment! This would be…PRICELESS! EBay
Slaves would pay her money out the ying-yang! But, then, she stopped short. Even if the
wife hadn’t had the Treatment…it was STILL a…spousal ownership issue…wasn’t it?!”
She really didn’t know. But it seemed she could deny Candy the right to auction her
husband. But the other male…Tim…he wasn’t owned…unless she claimed him too.
This was really gonna be complicated!
And, then damned if a thought didn’t quietly walked straight into Candy’s mind and rap
right on the front of her brain! And Candy knew right then and there – and she smiled!
She was gonna be a CHP Officer after all!
Trying to sound as empathetic and professional as she could, Candy said, “Okay,
um…folks, umm…let’s get you in the back of my Paddy --, er, vehicle…and I’m going
to…ESCORT you…to the Governor’s Office of California.”
“The Governor of California!” the man, Tim burst out. “What does this have to do with
the Governor of California?!” Call the Coast Guard! Call the…the -- FBI! Jesus!
What’s wrong with you?!”
Candy was seething at being spoken down to by a male and it was all she could do to
keep from picking him up, slamming him down on the front seat and bouncing on him
until his guts came through his mouth. But, she managed to maintain control.
“The thing is…SIR,” she tried to keep a straight face, “…that’s a foreign-flagged tanker
and there might be…diplomatic considerations.” Candy was proud of herself because the
man seemed he hadn’t considered that. “We do things a little differently now. The
California Governor runs the Highway Patrol – the State Police – and they have
jurisdiction over your…um…complaint. Fastest way to board that ship is by going
through the State Government!”
The man seemed ready to object, when Amanda, looking at the far off tanker and the tall
figures walking around on top of it, said, “Oh, god! They’re still doing it. Look, they’re
whipping them right in broad daylight!” Candy could just make out the men being kicked
and beaten without the binoculars.
“Then we’re wasting time, ma’am! Get in!”
She ushered the three of them into the enclosed back of the Paddy Wagon and took off,
for the Statehouse, giving Amanda a bottle of water. A mile or so up the highway, she
flicked on the siren. ‘Might as well let ‘em think it’s urgent,’ she thought.
*****
Paula got up to get herself a cup of coffee, her heels clicking loudly on the hollow
sounding hardwood floor as she slowly walked toward Celia’s boyfriend on her long legs.
The Governor had had the office carpeting removed so she could watch the males’ terror
as they heard a woman’s heels coming toward them; the noise foreshadowing their
power! She also liked that wood didn’t compress or provide padding, the way carpet did.
There was simply nowhere for a little man’s face or body to squish into when one of her
girls stepped on it – the man would feel the full, unmitigated power of a woman’s step!
Paula stepped over Kevin’s arm, the toe of her pump brushing Kevin’s face lightly as she
placed it just in front of Kevin’s face on the floor, so she didn’t step on him. She noticed
he recoiled a little when her shoe leather creaked as she shifted her weight in front of his
face. There was a little pool of blood and coffee mixed on the ground, and she stepped in
it, only inches from Kevin’s head. His one good eye flew wide! Celia hadn’t gotten
around to having his other eye repaired yet. She had originally intended to, but she had
developed a ‘thing’ for kneeling him in front of her while she sat on her couch at home,
and kicking him from his blind side, when he couldn’t see it coming, the sole of her hard
platform boot smashing into the right side of his face over and over, until Kevin finally
went down and Celia could rest her boots on his head, grinding them against his ear.
Paula looked down and saw Kevin staring at her stiletto heel and her toe cleavage as she
flexed on her toes. The poor boy was terrified! Brightly colored dots covered his gray,
filthy body – the tacks Carolyn had crushed into his bare flesh under her shoes. And the
stitches in the skin grafts Celia was forever sewing into him when she damaged him had
been almost pulled apart in several areas of his side and his back and were seeping blood.
She could see the fear in Kevin’s eye as it was locked on her sharp spike, so close she
might crush his nose with it accidentally. She knew how she must look from his vantage
point. A skyscraper of strong female power, her bare athletic legs tall and commanding
enough to make him feel like a little bug, waiting to be accidentally stepped on at any
moment. She looked straight down at him. He was trembling, possibly from the cold
wood, but more probably from fear. “I won’t step on you,” she whispered, and Kevin
almost cried with relief – gratitude in his eye at the beautiful Paula for sparing him!
Paula went back to getting two cups of coffee, twisting on the ball of her foot slightly,
crushing blood and spilled coffee into the wood floor. As she stepped away, she noticed
some scratches in the floor beneath her shoe that would have been invisible without the
ground in coffee to bring them out. They formed words. Kevin had apparently spent the
morning silently scratching a message into the floor with one of the tacks left lying near
him. Words to be seen by someone – someday -- who cared. A plea in a world where his
pleas fell on deaf ears. Paula stared down at the message she had just been standing on in
her high-heeled shoe. “Please -- No More,” it said.
Paula stared at the message for several seconds. Then, she lifted her stiletto heel and
deliberately stepped squarely on the letters with it, standing on it and staring at Kevin’s
upturned, pleading face. Methodically, Paula put her full weight on her heel and raked
her sharp spike over the letters over and over, easily scratching the wood and digging
deep ruts into it, obliterating the Kevin’s pathetic plea and leaving it a scratched, rutted,
bruise of sawdust in the floor. Paula knew she could never take the chance Celia would
see it; Celia would do things to him that would make even Paula shudder! But, looking
down at him, as he watched a woman’s heel crushing out his silent plea to stop the pain,
she saw the metaphor was as obvious to him, as it was to her. Paula scraped the little
sawdust stuck to her heel against Kevin’s arm, cutting him a little accidentally, and
walked slowly back to her desk, sipping the rich coffee and feeling it cascade into her
body, filling her with its toasty warmth, as Kevin shivered on the cold, hard floor.
Paula walked across the office to Kelly’s desk, Kelly looking up at her and smiling a
secret smile, then patting the furniture slave’s groin for Paula to sit down on it and join
her. Paula smiled in return and stepped in front of the bench, saying, “Whatcha working
on?!” and sitting down squarely on the little man’s pelvis, not even noticing how hard she
dropped her weight on him. The little man’s legs stiffened and his arms tensed against
the biting straps holding them, as his pelvis and groin accepted Paula’s weight; his body
now laying under almost four hundred pounds of beautiful women who weren’t even
paying attention to him.
“Education statistics,” answered Kelly.
“Hmm…how’s education?” asked Paula, casually slipping her right hand under Kelly’s
skirt and up the inside of her creamy thigh, making her gasp and her eyes flutter closed in
pleasure.
“Oh, my…Oh, my…,” Kelly’s voice whispered huskily.
Paula laughed. “Miss me?” she asked, coyly.
“You’re a BAD GIRL…,” Kelly whispered, so the others wouldn’t hear.
Paula placed both of her giant feet under the desk, directly on Peter’s face, driving the
heels under her leg weight, into his cheek. Peter didn’t know if she’d done it
deliberately, but he was determined not to cry out – determined to take the pain to prove
he could. In truth, he realized, he’d been yearning to be under her shoes again for a very
long time. The cutting of her heel into his cheek, and seeing her towering over him but
not even looking at him, reminded him of being crushed under her boots at the long ago
concert. And, ever since, he’d prayed that someday, no matter how much it hurt – he
would once again be stepped on by Paula’s shoes! She’d pinned his head on its side to
the floor powerfully and he was forced to look up at her and Paula, sitting side by side
above him, watching Paula run her deft fingers up his wife’s thigh, flicking them over the
place only he, as her husband, used to be able to touch. He watched Paula pleasure his
wife, and his wife react to her ministrations, allowing her to continue -- while, at the
same time, Paula ground his face under her gritty shoe leather, digging her pinpoint heels
into his soft face. He wondered if she had planned it this way. A sexual turn-on – a final
humiliation to let him know he had been replaced as a man and a husband – and reduced
to an insect she could step on any time she liked.
Kelly’s bare foot found the side of her husband’s neck, and pressed down on it as she
tried to work, while keeping herself calm enough that none of the other girls could see
what Paula was doing to her! Her mouth was dry and she was letting out little gasps!
She could feel her little husband’s carotid artery in his neck, beating furiously under her
immaculately clean foot – courtesy of his tongue. Kelly didn’t know if he was as excited
as she was, or if, more likely it was his enduring her heavy foot on his neck. Then, she
sensually ran her other bare foot over Paula’s ankle, then down it, caressing it over
Paula’s high-heeled office pumps. She felt their smooth leather, and with her big toe, she
traced the high arch to the cruel spike. She knew she was getting to Paula, as Paula was
breathing a little funny, too – as if her mouth was dry. Kelly traced down Paula’s heel
with her big toe, careful not to let her bare foot get beneath Paula’s sharp heel – that
would hurt like hell! Then, touching the bottom of Paula’s heel shaft, she found – quite
unexpectedly – her husband’s soft cheek! Kelly ran her bare foot over Peter’s face,
feeling carefully to build a picture in her mind of exactly where Paula had planted her
heels. She felt his eye, which she pushed playfully into his head a couple times with her
big toe; then she ran her cool bare foot over the rest of his little head, before finally
resting it on top on Paula’s shoes on top of Peter’s face. She pressed playfully down on
Paula’s shoes, feeling them press concurrently in Peter’s head.
“You’ve got your heels on my husband’s face and I can feel his blood pumping in his
neck trying to take it,” she breathed into Paula’s ear, Paula still touching her.
“Actually, they’re squarely on his cheek, which seems very soft. Does that excite you?”
Paula asked.
Paula lifted the balls of her feet, lifting Kelly’s foot with them, so Kelly could feel her
gently place her two sharp heels directly on Peter’s cheek, while holding the toes up so
only the heels bore her leg weight. “Here,” she said, “You press them into him as hard as
you like.”
Kelly smiled and pressed her bare foot downward on Paula’s clenched ankles, digging
Paula’s heels straight into her husband’s cheek. Peter felt the two sharp points suddenly
drive hard into his face, puncturing his skin.
Paula adjusted a couple of reports on the desk for the benefit of the girls watching and
commented on the rise in Educational Efficiency in the latest study.
“Let’s do it together,” Kelly breathed. And then, she felt Paula cruelly drive her spike
heels hard into her husband’s face – deeper than she ever would have dared! She felt
them dig at least an inch or two deep and could feel Paula’s powerful muscles tighten,
pressing them in hard, Kelly’s foot adding to the cruel pressure atop Paula’s foot, as she
pressed much harder, too! And then, music to her ears, she heard her husband moan
quietly, as the pain became too much for him.
Peter had seen his wife put her foot atop Paula’s under the desk, then felt Paula reposition
her heels so only the points were touching him. Then, he felt Kelly’s foot press Paula’s
heels into him and he thought he’d die – but he still didn’t cry out! He could see up both
their skirts, up their incredible legs, and could see Paula was driving his wife into a
sexual frenzy that she couldn’t acknowledge outwardly because of the other girls in the
office. He knew from last night what happened when they got excited, and he steeled
himself for what he knew was coming – what, in truth, he couldn’t wait to have happen to
him! Suddenly, Paula made a comment he couldn’t hear, and Paula drove her heels
straight into his cheek, forcing his jaw open and stretching his skin as she pressed it
straight in between his teeth, depressing his mouth and jamming his cheek into his other
cheek, and into the floor! Peter was hyperventilating but he willed himself to endure this!
His blood pumped furiously as Paula’s shoes filled his vision and his wife’s bare foot
rested above them! Finally, Kelly’s hands slapped against the corner of the desk,
grabbing it as she convulsed in absolute silence. She knocked the Education Report she
had been working on, off the desk and it slid straight down over her legs and came to rest
right in front of Peter’s head, as Paula’s pinpoint stilettos drove fully into Peter’s face,
making him moan as he tried vainly to endure it all.
Paula removed her heels from Peter’s cheek, grinding the sole of her shoe on it as she
twisted out of the seat and got up to go back to her desk. “I guess you DID miss me,” she
purred into Kelly’s ear, licking it lightly.
Kelly’s face was flushed, as she looked under the desk at Peter, seeming to not even
notice the new gouges they’d made in his cheek. “LICK!” she demanded breathlessly!
“LICK, LICK, LICK! And don’t stop until I tell you!” His wife’s command was harsh
and almost unseeing; and, as Peter began licking her feet furiously once more, he felt her
convulse again.
Kelly’s hard stomp to his head, and her dismissive kick in the face, was her obvious
signal that she couldn’t handle more licking. Peter retreated, proud of himself for still
being able to provide her pleasure – even if it was in his submissiveness -- and Kelly
pulled her legs up, balling them under her and to the side, right in the furniture slave’s
face as she sat on him. The poor man seemed to think she’d jammed them in his face to
have HIM lick them. But, the moment his tongue touched them, Kelly delivered a brutal
slap to the side of his head that made him hiss in pain, then she lifted her ass and dropped
it hard on his weak chest, bouncing two more times very hard on him, as he began hissing
pleadingly. “Don’t you EVER defile my feet with your tongue!” she hissed. “You aren’t
fit to lick my feet! That’s my husband’s job!” She took her thumbnails, one on either
side of the man’s head, and drove them hard into the man’s ears, twisting them back and
forth as she pressed them into his head. The man screamed in screaming hisses! Peter
was aghast at how cruel his wife could be to another man! Then, as Kelly formed her
hand into a claw with long, red cocked fingernails, and put it on the furniture slave’s little
face, digging in her nails and preparing to rip them down his eyes, nose, lips and cheeks,
Peter caught her eye and slowly shook his head side to side. Kelly stared down at him.
“All right. I’ll let it go this time.” Instead, she squeezed his nose shut and clamped her
other hand over the slave’s mouth and stared into his eyes until he started thrashing,
where she pressed even harder on his mouth, then convulsing wildly under Kelly’s ass,
his eyes wide and unseeing. Finally, she removed her hands from his head and let him
breathe. And as his consciousness returned along with the terror, Kelly shook her finger
in his face, and said, “Don’t you EVER lick my feet again!” And Kelly went back to
work.
“Now where is that Education Report?” Kelly asked, looking around her desk. Peter
stared at the report, where it had fallen, just inches in front of his eyes. In the old days,
he would have just handed it to her, but his hands where clamped to floor shackles at the
side of the desk. In the old days, he would have just said, “It’s here, Sweetie,” but now
his voice had been chemically frozen. In the old days, he would have moved to help her
find it, but now his head had been stomped, his face kicked, his cheek gouged and a
chastity belt tightly strapped to his privates, and he could hardly move. He looked at the
cover of the report. “State of California – Annual Education Assessment,” it said. The
cover picture was of a typical classroom -- a very tall, young teacher up front, in front of
the blackboard (which was covered with quadratic equations and calculus notes), with
rows of desks facing her. At each desk was seated a female student, seemingly much too
tall for her desk, wearing a brightly colored outfit. And between each desk, on the floor
below, was a small male student, sitting on the floor. Each male was dressed in a drab
gray matching coverall and was looking at the floor, or at the legs of the girl that sat
above and beside him. Obviously, none of the males could understand what was being
taught, and they were just keeping quiet. Each girl had a ruler on her desk, in neat rows,
which Peter couldn’t understand, until he realized all the rulers were on the same side
where the boys were seated. Kelly’s hand suddenly reached down and yanked the report
from in front of him without a word. “There it is!”
***
The back of the paddy wagon was cold, dank steel, and filled with the smell of the sea
and mold that only marginally receded with the little air that blew through the tiny vents
near the top of the cubicle the grad students, Amanda, her husband Gus, and Timothy
were riding in. There were several bloody footprints on the floor in heavy tread that
belied all the drunken brawls sailors must have on the docks, the three thought. Every
bump was unexpectedly brutal on them since they couldn’t see outside, as they felt the
paddy wagon speeding up Pacific Coast Highway to the Statehouse, its siren blaring. The
three had been sullen for the last half hour as they came to grips with somehow surviving
the ocean crossing from Africa.
“Did you see the size of that marina cop?” Gus asked, over the road noise. “She’s huge!”
“Yeah, tell me about it!” answered Timothy. “She has to be pushing 400! But, she’s
pretty spry all the same! Dude, can you freakin’ BELIEVE what’s happened to us?! We
walk out of 300 miles of African jungle, stowaway on an oil tanker, come half way
around the world -- and now, within an hour of getting home, we’re in the back of a cop
wagon going to the State Police to report a group of steroidal Amazon women basketball
players from hell on a ship beating a bunch of slaves?! In the 21st Century?! It’s like,
insane!”
“I’ve heard there’s still a slave trade in the 21st century,” Gus answered. “But, the
women…I don’t understand how all those women could be….,” his voice trailed off, lost
in thought.
At least we’re safe,” sighed Amanda. “It could have turned out so differently.” She
stared at her husband as he swallowed, thinking of how close they’d come to being found
before the ship made dock. Gus had been truly terrified of the women’s sharp heels and
what he’d seen them do to the men with their fingernails. It was scary enough as it was,
she thought. But, Gus’s phobia of sharp objects had made him almost catatonic! Even
when she finally got him back to student housing later tonight, he would probably have
nightmares for months! She couldn’t wait for all of them to get back to their jobs at
UCLA after they’d filed their police reports. Hopefully, by tomorrow, the reunions
would begin and they’d plan parties to see all of Gus’s old colleagues, picking up where
they’d left off and processing four years of data on the gorillas they’d spent four years
studying!
Though they couldn’t see outside the little slits near the top of the paddy wagon’s cubicle,
they could hear the road noise from the big tires eventually give way to city noises, as the
truck slowed down entering the outskirts of a city. Then the siren went off and the truck
began creeping through a rundown neighborhood it seemed, from the incessant potholes
they kept driving through – and the smell of trash. They heard rap music and the sound
of women’s voices, with a clear black inner city accent, laughing and carrying on.
***
She probably should have gone straight to the statehouse, Candy thought. But a little
detour through the area called Little Harlem, two exits prior to the statehouse exit, wasn’t
really out of her way and she rarely got up in these parts. Little Harlem was an enclave
of poverty and crime just outside the beautiful and modern city where the statehouse
complex and Highway Patrol Training Academy had been relocated. Just as “Northeast”
in Washington, DC, was a blister only blocks from the beautiful monuments of the
nation’s capital, Little Harlem was an embarrassing ghetto a few miles beneath the hills
of the striking homes and vistas of the city now touted as “Malibu North.” Candy loved
to drive the paddy wagon straight through the narrow streets of the projects with the
lights and siren off – watch the low rent folks – sneak up on ‘em, like – and watch all the
druggies and unclaimed black males run from her when they saw ‘the cops was here’,
thinking she was gonna capture them and do god-knows-what to them. Made her feel
like a real cop! Besides, she realized, she really needed to stop and think through exactly
how she was going to present her offer to the Governor. And this was as good a place to
stop and think as any. And, there was also the fact that she wasn’t used to driving these
distances without a man under her to sit on. The seat cushioning in the old paddy wagon
was simply worthless under her massive weight and she could feel the steel seat frame
digging into her ass! If she could find a male in violation of some law, she could arrest
him, sit on him the rest of the way, and let the springs dig into him!
The unclaimed black men were everywhere, scavenging for food out of the overflowing
dumpsters, and eating out of garbage cans to feed themselves, as the black women
generally left them alone, preferring to take the whiteys as slaves. The racism that white
men had perpetrated on blacks had come back to haunt them in a huge way, Candy
thought, as now, with so many white men easily available, the beautiful black women
almost kept white slaves to get back at them for two hundred fifty years of racism. Why
bother with a black man, if you could have a whitey?! And the weaker, the better! The
black men, most barefoot or dressed in rags, had scattered like rats, into the narrow, dirty
alleys when they saw the paddy wagon drive slowly through, fearing the police above all
else, which made Candy smile. Some things never change!
Candy pulled up at a corner in front of a rundown city tenement, a group of six or seven
tall, stunning, but clearly inner city, black women hanging around out front, all wearing
dirty denim miniskirts or short shorts, and too-tight-fitting, cheap nylon tops. Their
round breasts exploded from the cheap material, which didn’t leave much to the
imagination anyway.
A very pale and pudgy, middle-aged man lay face up on the concreted at the feet of the
group, wearing only filthy white underwear, and crying pathetically, as, on one of the
cracked concrete stairs leading up into the tenement, a big boom box screamed out a hard
rap mix. He was covered in hundreds of bright red heel marks, scratches and tread
impressions. It already looked like he’d been in a series of car accidents, and it wasn’t
even 1 p.m. yet!
If Candy had been even the least bit curious, she could have heaved herself out of her
wagon, walked over to the poor slob, reached down and jammed the RF reader against
his neck and read his subcutaneous I.D. tag. And the RF reader would have displayed
‘Phillip Magellan III,’ – only a name left of a man who had, just a few years earlier been
a multi-millionaire real estate mogul – a “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,” kinda guy.
Fifty years old, and with a bit of a sloughy body now, Phillip had been a mover and
shaker in the real estate business, a “slum lord” who had amassed a wealth that pundits
only guessed at. Homes, cars, and oh-my-god-the-women! Phillip Magellan had had it
all! But, no more. Now, Phillip Magellan III lay on a cracked sidewalk in a rundown
neighborhood he’d actually owned quite a bit of low rent property in, exposing his naked,
unprotected flesh to the whims of the heels of seven stunning resident vixens of one of
his investment properties!
“Go sing your boo boo song your life's a loser's drama
This chick is truly not with it so save it for your mama…
Your pleadin’ talk is so pathetic so get out my face
The litter of your body parts I’ve scattered cross this place…”
The music thundered loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear!
Candy opened the passenger window and yelled out, “What’s shakin’?!” to the girls, both
to let them know she was cool and also that she wasn’t after them for anything. They
probably didn’t know that arresting a woman for ANYTHING was almost unheard of
anymore. A couple girls rolled their eyes and laughed at Candy’s pathetic attempt at
being part of the gang.
The group of hoodlum women had stopped what they were doing when they saw the
paddy wagon pull up, but, suddenly realizing there were no drugs in view and they
weren’t doing anything wrong, they decided to ignore Candy, and two of the young, tall,
black women stepped back up and resumed dancing on the poor white man in their nasty
stilettos. As Candy watched, the whole group ignored her, getting totally back into
watching the two slutty girls dance on the whitey, as they gyrated wildly, oblivious to
what their pencil-thin cheap heels were doing to the man’s flesh as they stomped them
into him and ripped them across his chest, spinning and twisting around and bouncing up
and down – dancing just like they were in a club!
“Git goin’ on it, Angelique!” yelled one of the girls. “Getch y’or groove thang on!” The
women dancing on the man stepped all over him as their rhythm intensified, their heavy
thigh muscles tensing as they drove their weight into him like battering rams! The music
drowned out all but his loudest screams and moans!
“Kickin' up a fuss cuss you're full o' puss
We're the Girls of the Awakening; you ain't part of us…
All you do is complain all about the women's role,
But I’m tall as a skyscraper as I grind you with my sole…”
The tallest girl, only about 18 (if THAT), whose cheap clothes belied her model-quality
looks, stood just about 6’5” tall – almost 7’ in stilettos that had worn down to the nail –
and wore a cheap, red nylon top over her short denim skirt. Her heels, like her hair and
skin, were jet black, but her heels had steel studs across the backs – hooker heels, the men
used to call them! And she had incredible green eyes set within her angular face of
perfect skin. She danced raunchy, which had been the style in the ‘hood forever, twisting
her 190 pound weight back and forth, ripping the sharp nails at the bottoms of her heels
across Phillip Magellan’s chest as his mouth hung open, unable to breathe enough to
scream! Now she started stomping hard, straight up and down, driving her heels deep
into the man’s pasty white, blubbery flesh as fast as a sewing machine, as he started a
pathetic, “UH-UH-UH!” feeling her heels disappear fully into his flesh. Candy was
reminded of the old movie, Flashdance, and the way that ballerina would work out,
slamming her feet into the floor at like a full sprint!
“Moanin’ moanin’ moanin’ but not sayin' nothin'
Bring a cease to all your speech punk and quit all the bluffin'…”
Phillip Magellan III’s eyes, blurring from watering with pain and crying in fear, locked
on the athletic tall dark giant who was dancing with horrible cruelty on his bare chest.
Each shift of her weight brought a withering pain and violence he couldn’t bear. She
towered above him – her strong, black legs so powerful, her incredible weight puncturing
him with her filthy, needle-sharp five-inch heels – her penetrating green eyes boring into
him with deliberate intensity when she bothered to look down at what she was doing to
him. He felt his groin being destroyed by her stocky friend’s massive crushing weight, as
she stepped all over his member with reckless abandon while she talked trash – her heels
sinking into it over and over, ripping it to shreds!
“On this man I'll be as funky as I wanna be
So step off you little ballbuster wannabe…”
“Uh-Huhh!” yelled another girl, sitting on the steps groovin’ back and forth. “You go
girl! Kick it IN!” She bounced back and forth to the beat from her seated position turning
up the volume extra loud.
“You DEF-NIT-LEY got the moves, girlfriend! Yes you DO!” another chimed, clapping
with the music.
“Yeah! I HEARD ‘DAT! – but the pudgy ones are slippery!” the woman on Phillip’s
chest answered. They laughed together, carrying on with idle talk.
“You can beg and plead as I step on your face
Beg me for mercy or you will be erased…”
The girl on the man’s chest whipped her hair around, her face too serious, focused on her
dancing. She slammed her stilettos into his torn skin, driving her full weight down, then
RIPPING her heels around and across his stomach. Phillip screamed! Then, as the beat
changed to more synthesizer and less percussion, she put her heels on Phillip’s outer
chest, leaned back on them, and slid her legs outward, causing her heels to rip down
Phillip’s sides, riding down under her full sliding weight. She gouged him deeply in
long, wicked rips to his sides, then stepped back up on him, flattening his rib cage, to do
it to him again…and then again! Phillip Magellan III was screaming like a little baby
when the woman let her heels ride down his flesh the last time! This time she simply
stood on Phillip’s “love handles,” the fatty tissue that had bunched up under her heels as
she rode them down him. Phillip looked like a little insect that had been pinned by its
body to a bulletin board in a grade school science class! The tall black woman stood still,
just rocking back and forth with the beat, letting her heels sink into his fatty rolls of flesh,
pinching them against the ground! Phillip was going out of his mind with the pain, now
having the air, even with his broken ribs, to beg and plead almost unintelligibly,
screaming for mercy! ‘A pathetic, old, sweaty, fat, white, wispy-haired fart!’ thought
Candy!
Candy watched the girls, finding her pudgy finger idly tapping with the music’s beat on
the paddy wagon’s steering wheel. The other woman, still dancing on the man’s groin in
a sky blue, almost see-through spandex top, she saw, was grinding him with equally
sadistic stilettos of her own -- walking and twisting hard all over the man’s most fragile
flesh! Her big, round breasts bounced mightily as she pounded the little man beneath her
225-pound frame, her heels leading the way! The man’s whole groin area was torn and
bleeding, black and blue welts already forming around the hundreds of heel marks they
were leaving in him, and the black girl’s heels were stomping in a little pool of blood that
had formed around his pelvis, in the depression the woman’s weight had made in him!
The man, obviously in debilitating pain, didn’t seem to be trying to get away, despite the
fact they hadn’t tied him down. Then Candy noticed two of the other girls were standing
on his hands, their heels impaling his palms as they crushed them under their full weight!
As Candy watched, one of the other girls, adorned with big “bling” jewelry from head to
toe, leaned back to concentrate her entire weight on the narrow spike embedded in the
man’s hand! She lifted her other foot so her entire weight bore down on the single spike
heel, and, holding onto the two girls beside her, began to twist back and forth, grinding
the man’s hand beneath her stiletto! The man screamed anew, which made her smile and
say, “Oh, Yeah! We breakin’ some BONES today, Mr. Slum Lord! Yes, we is!” She
brought the other heel down hard beside the first on his upturned palm and ground his
fingers alternately beneath each spike, shifting and twisting her cruel weight as she
smiled, obviously feeling his little hand bones crackling and breaking, as she spit on him!
“STEPPIN' ON A BROTHER'S FACE ‘CAUSE I'M NO SUCKER
'CAUSE WHEN YOU LAY DOWN WITH DOGS YOU CATCH FLEAS MUTHA ------”

[DeathXI]

“Eww, you go Leticia!” one of the black girls called out. “You got the MOVES!” The
girl stepped on Phillip’s throat hard, seeing him focus for just a second on her giant toes
with their white and pink designer-striped toenails, as she pushed off in another dance
move, while her friend, Angelique Jolee (no relation), looked down at Phillip Magellan
III’s hand, her eyes focused on what her heels were doing to it. His RIGHT HAND, the
girl thought. The hand he used to sign all those eviction notices with! She put her full
weight on the heel on Phillip’s hand and raised her other shoe over his face, pressing the
filthy sole against his lips. “Lick it!” she commanded. “Lick it and Love it!”
Phillip stared up at the beautiful, 18-year-old black woman who was staring down at him,
grinding his fingers continuously under her wickedly sharp, worn down heels. He knew
he couldn’t speak – only an occasional screaming grunt, when the steps of the two
women on his chest accidentally let him draw a fevered breath -- and he knew they would
never let him die. How many times, he thought in a coma-like trance – as the tall
tenement slut ground him extra hard under her ripping heel – how many times, had they
roughly dragged him out of the closet they kept him in, to serve as their outdoor dance
mat, riding him down the steep stairs like a horse – sometimes three and four at a time –
their thick, muscular thighs squeezing him until his ribs cracked -- out onto the sidewalk
where they’d flip on the boom box and just go to town, stepping all over him with their
horrible, cutting heels to the beat of the rap music they loved, dancing on him the whole
afternoon, day after long, hot day?! How long ago it had been since he’d been a
multimillionaire, pulling up in his limousine to arrogantly explain to these “ghetto sluts”
why he wasn’t going to fix the damn plumbing or turn back on the damn heat in the
winter?! How he was going to EVICT THEM if they didn’t stop complaining! Then
he’d get back in his big black limousine and ride out to his ten-million-dollar Monterrey
Estate with his Penthouse Pet girlfriend, Courtney, to his multi-million-dollar home and
his acres of ranch land! How long had it been?! Years, he thought, as he saw a giant
spike come out of the heavens like a meteor to stomp right next to his eye, a big black
foot stepping on his face with incredible power, smashing his head into the concrete, then
twisting off in a ripping eye gouge without a thought!
What he would give, he thought, as the heavy girl on his chest split two of his ribs by
driving her heel straight down between them to the music, if he could turn back time, and
beg once again to be Courtney’s foot slave. The girl standing on his hand had just
planted the worn sole of her shoe on his face and screamed at him to lick it! And Phillip
Magellan, real estate tycoon, felt his tongue tentatively push outside his mouth – almost
against his will – and begin licking at the girl’s dirty shoe. He looked up at her as she
smiled a satisfied smile and twisted her foot back and forth, grinding his tongue beneath
it as he tried to do what he was told. Then, she relented, content to dangle her shoe over
his mouth to allow him to lick it like the madman they’d made him! He tongued the hot
leather, tasting the garbage she’d stepped in for weeks, swallowing the filth she’d walked
in – the filth from the gutters, the sidewalks and the back alleys. He could see she
enjoyed his humiliation, the way she looked at him with that cruel expression on her face,
and her eyebrows raised, like, ‘Don’t you be lookin’ sideways at ME!’ As if to confirm
her expression, the girl screamed down at him, “You don’t wanna even THINK ‘bout
stoppin’, pudge-boy! No, you don’t wanna even be THINKIN’ bout DAT!”
The girl tilted her shoe to the side, allowing Phillip to lick around to the top of her spiked
heel. His tongue felt the toe cleavage of her grimy foot, and even with the pain she was
giving him, there was something exciting about it! He licked and sucked at it, begging
her from his pathetic place in the world, to stop the pain! Now, she lifted her shoe higher
above him – out of range, and he craned his head up to keep licking at it – until the girl
dancing on his chest stepped hard on his throat again, slamming his head back against the
pavement with a loud CRRAAACKK! almost making him black out! As his vision
cleared, he saw the wetness from his tongue on the bottom of the girl’s shoe hovering
above him, now clean of the dirt she’d walked in. But now, she slowly lowered the heel
toward his mouth! “Oh God!” he thought. Not the spike! There was something so
humiliating about being made to take the spike into his mouth! But, when Angelique
pressed it against his lips, they parted, and she slid her stiletto heel deep into Phillip’s
mouth, making him gag as she put her weight on it, driving it into the back of his throat
as she smiled down at him with her big, toothy grin!
Phillip’s eyes were watering, feeling a sharp stiletto digging at his tonsils, the woman’s
full weight on the foot on his mouth! She shifted her weight, moving it around inside,
gouging his gums and teeth! As he screamed anew, she shifted to her other foot, driving
her heel into his middle finger again, then lifted the sharp spike partially out of Phillip’s
mouth, before jamming it back in again.
“Suck it!” she ordered. “Suck it like a good little shoe licker!” She pumped her heel in
and out of Phillip’s mouth like a…. ‘oh god, please’…thought Phillip. But he wrapped
his lips around the spike heel and sucked for all he was worth! “Get it clean, Mr. Slum
Lord!” the girl called down to him, stomping her heel into his face near his eye to
motivate him! “Stick out ‘jor tongue flat!” And, when Phillip stuck his tongue out flat,
the girl stepped on it and began wiping her foot over it, pulling any left over dirt off on
Phillip’s tongue, against her shoe sole! “You gonna lick ALL OUR SHOES spotless ‘for
you gits to go back to yor closet!” she called, placing her hands on her hips, near the belt
loops of her short cutoffs.
“You KNOW THAT!” another girl chimed in.
“Then, you gonna git at our feet! You think your tongue be sore now! You don’t know
nuthin’ ‘bout how it’s gonna feel when we done witchu! My feet be SO FILTHY! Lick
my lollipop foot, Mr. Slum Lord!” she screamed, jamming the whole toe of her shoe deep
into Phillip’s mouth, splitting his lips as she pressed it in hard.
As his tongue worked feverishly, Phillip’s mind, trying to protect him from what these
women were doing to him, took him back to Monterrey. He thought of Courtney – dumb
as a box of rocks until she’d had the Treatment – but Penthouse Pet of the Year! She had
a body that he simply couldn’t stop looking at -- an incredible rich, sultry, soft, bedroom
body that grew to well over six feet tall, almost overnight, after she’d had the gene-splice.
Then, six and a half feet tall in the next three months – and, even more beautiful – if that
was even possible! And Courtney could turn on the sensuality until he literally melted
with desire! Until he couldn’t breathe he was so excited! She was an absolute sex
goddess who loved to experiment and to turn them both on! They used to lay in front of
the fire in his mansion on the bearskin rug, Courtney sensually running her bare foot over
Phillip’s leg, as she put an expensive glass of merlot to his lips. Then, she would kiss
him, forcing her tongue into his mouth and letting him swallow the wine and her taste
simultaneously. And Phillip would be dizzy with desire as she rolled her voluptuous
body on top of him and ran her delicate fingers over his chest, playing with him.
The night Courtney had tied him to the bed while wearing the white bikini he loved her
in, he’d thought she was just in one of her seductive, playful moods. She’d seen
something on TV about an accident befalling the Governor at a speech he was giving.
“Finally!” she’d said, mostly to herself.
“Finally – WHAT?!” Phillip had asked, perturbed, waiting impatiently for her to get her
little “game” going.
And Courtney had stared directly into his eyes, as she’d begun playfully tying him to his
big bed. “Finally…it’s started,” she’d said, and she’d yanked a knot much too tight
around Phillip’s wrist, which made him wince – and her, smile. Then, crawling over him,
letting her hanging breasts get oh-so-close-but-not-quite to his mouth, she’d gently
looped another rope around his other wrist. “Finally…they threw the switch,” she said,
pulling the other rope so hard Phillip actually cried out in genuine pain this time, looking
at her confused. “Finally…I can stop pretending.” She yanked the rope tight around one
of his ankles, watching it bite into his skin, giggling at Phillip as he broke into a sweat
and said, Courtney, honey, you need to loosen these ropes a little.”
“Finally…I can put you in your place.” Phillip felt the other rope yank his leg straight,
then tighten until his body was completely immobile. Then, Courtney had shown him
how life would be from now on. Ignoring his half-assed pleas that the ropes were too
tight and this wasn’t funny anymore, she’d asked matter-o-factly what was funny about
her sitting on his face? He’d complained she was too big for that now, but she calmly
swung her leg over him and had plopped full weight on his face anyway, suffocating him
under her beautiful ass, as she watched the TV news reports for almost three hours,
occasionally giggling, then clapping, but ignoring him, then grinding hard into him
whenever he screamed at the pressure; lifting her ass off him just often enough to keep
him from dying under her body, before dropping it back onto his face without a care.
Even his bloody nose hadn’t slowed her down! And the way she’d worked his broken
nose under her ass had almost made him pass out from the pain! Then, she’d turned his
head to the side and sat on it while she talked on the phone for two more hours,
humiliating the multimillionaire under her ass! He had stared up at her creamy thighs
from beneath them, as she crossed her legs – he, lost under her 210-pound weight
squishing his cheeks together under her ass. He’d even tried to lick them to tell her the
weight was too much, but she ignored him, talking on the phone with her girlfriend about
some change in the world…and the news reports…though Phillip couldn’t hear their
muffled words from beneath Courtney’s heavy body.
“Yeah…I’m sitting on his head right now and I don’t think he’s doing real well!” she’d
giggled. When she finally got up and asked if he was enjoying himself, his head was
swimming and ached like never before! He told her again her weight was too much for
him and to please untie him. She just looked down at him and calmly said, “Nope,” and
walked sensually away, swaying her incredible ass provocatively in the skimpy bikini.
Phillip knew he was too good a businessman to have reacted with anger when he clearly
had no leverage. But he had – reacted with anger. From his restrained position on his
big, pillow-topped bed, Phillip Magellan III had called Courtney, a stupid bitch. And
then, Courtney had stopped, turned around, raised her eyebrows, and asked, “What did
you call me?” And Phillip had seen a look of fire…and then…resignation in her eyes.
With a small shrug, like, “Okay, if that’s how you want it to be,” Courtney had calmly
walked back to the bed, reached down, taken his entire groin in her massive hand – and,
biting her lower lip with complete apathy, slowly squeezed like a trash compactor, until
her fingers were digging into her own hand, Phillips organ squashed to jelly within it!
Phillip had screamed as the sick ache flooded him and as Courtney began to knead his
member like dough in her powerful hand, as she stared at his contorted face, no emotion
at all on her own. Then she’d used her long nails to cut into him and make him cry and
choke like a baby, kneading his privates with her nails for ten excruciating minutes, as he
pulled vainly at the strong ropes that held his arms and legs.
“Why are you crying?” she’d purred.
“Please…oh, god! Oh, Courtney, please! You’re hurting me!” Phillip had begged,
choking back vomit as he strained against the ropes. “Please, Baby…I’m sorry. You can
sit on my head any time you like. Go ahead…sit back down on my head!” He was
hyperventilating from the crushing ache!
“Nope,” she said, pursing her lips at the ‘P.’ She kneaded his organ even harder, feeling
the little testicles squish and mash in her grip.
“Courtney, I’ll…I’ll pay you off…give you…money!
Just…OHHHGHHHUUUHHH…please STOP!”
And Courtney had brought her face very close to his as she continued to work his
scrotum with her nails. She’d licked him lightly on the lips and said, “You called me a
bitch, Phillip. Penthouse Pets don’t like being called bitches. You think your money can
protect you from that?!” She’d thought a minute. “Okay, let’s see if your money can
protect you.” Courtney had swayed sexily as she walked across the room to the little safe
in which Phillip kept stacks of cash for emergencies. Her head almost touched the
ceiling. She’d seen him open the safe plenty of times and its combination was her
birthday anyway. She had snapped open the little door and begun removing stacks of
bills, which she carried over to Phillip’s helpless body, which had broken out in a cold
sweat with the pain she’d administered. She shook the stacks of bills all over him, until
his naked body was covered in a pile of money.
“Okay, honey…This is one of those – I can’t think of the word – oh -- ‘metaphors’!” she
said. “Yeah, it’s a METAPHOR for how your money can’t protect you.” Courtney
giggled a little. And, as Phillip watched in disbelief, his Penthouse Pet of the Year
climbed up on the bed, placed her sharp metal stiletto heel on the carpet of hundred dollar
bills on his throat – and stepped down on it! His neck collapsed into the bed beneath her
crushing weight, as he began making sick gurgling sounds, watching her beautiful face
far above, staring down at him from atop her tensed thigh, and smiling as the bills
crinkled under her shoe. She’d brought her other foot onto his damaged groin and
mashed her full weight onto it and Phillip had thought he would die! He’d never
imagined being stepped on! The humiliation…the pain…was too much to bear! Then,
Courtney began marching up and down his chest, her sharp gold metal stiletto heels
easily skewering the paper money on Phillip’s body and sinking straight into his chest!
Hundred dollar bills were being punctured and were collecting on her heels like paper
rubbish on a gardener’s stick in the park, as Phillip screamed with the cutting onslaught
of a 6’6” Penthouse Pet walking on him in metal stilettos! He cried as he felt her grind
him deliberately, twisting her heels back and forth and bouncing her weight up and down
on him, cracking his ribs several at a time as she walked on them with her beautiful
bedroom body! Phillip felt some of the bills becoming soggy as they soaked up the blood
oozing from the deep heel marks Courtney was making in his flesh!
Finally, having seemingly decided, Courtney had stopped and put her hands on her hips.
Staring down at Phillip’s contorted face as she felt her heels penetrate his chest, she’d
said matter-o-factly, “See? Your money can’t protect you anymore, Phillip. I’ll need
your account numbers and passcodes, please.” Phillips face must have registered
momentary hesitation because Courtney had stepped fully on his throat in her heels, then
placed her giant foot on his face. “God, these heel marks are deep,” she said. “I could do
this all night and not get tired.” Phillip had shivered as he’d felt her increase the pressure
substantially on his face, her heel digging into his lower lip. “What do you think these
spikes would do to your pretty face, Phillip?” Courtney had asked. She dug her heel in
hard to his cheek, eliciting a cry, and then a pathetic plea, and then, as she’d begun to step
on his face, a final, choking, screaming agreement to give all his login information to
Courtney if she would just stop walking on him. She’d stepped onto her boyfriend’s face
anyway, standing on it in her heels as she reached over to the nightstand and got a pen
and paper, letting her weight press his face into the bed so deeply she couldn’t even see
it, before she’d finally stepped off him.
And Phillip had dictated all his accounts and login information to her as she’d sat on his
restrained chest. Within two hours -- and seventeen different international Internet
connections -- Phillip Magellan didn’t have a dime to his name. Courtney’s ultimatum to
Phillip, which she’d delivered as she clamped her big bare foot on his face and pressed
down hard, was straightforward, and delivered in her sensual, purring voice: “You don’t
understand yet, but it’s a big night, Phillip. Tonight, the Governor’s wife threw the
switch – let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. Everything’s different now, and here’s
how things are going to be. I really do enjoy you, so I’ll restrain myself a bit as far as
what I do to you. You will be my willing foot slave and I’ll let you continue to live in
your house. Only occasionally will I torture you so badly you’ll want to die. I’ll use you
for sex at my pleasure and you’ll serve my every whim – some of them, humiliating
experiments I’ll perform on you in public, in front of your friends, and mine. Sometimes,
you’ll perform for other Penthouse Pets. But, you’ll get to live with a Penthouse Pet of
the Year, and, though I’ll have to be pretty hard on you, I’ll still be your girlfriend and
protect you from the others.”
From beneath Courtney’s powerful size 12 foot, Phillip had agreed instantly to simply to
get her to remove the stunning pressure, though he had no intention of being a Penthouse
Pet’s foot slave! He knew women were becoming a much more dominant force, but he
didn’t need protection from ANYONE! Christ, he was Phillip Magellan III! So, when
Courtney had finally untied him, even licking the rope burns on his wrists – seemingly
turned on by how deep they were – he’d stolen away and called 911 to get help. He was
stunned when the 911 operator just laughed at him, saying, ‘you must have missed the
news,’ before she hung up on him…and he was terrified when the operator called
Courtney back (as a courtesy!) to tell her Phillip had tried to escape from her, Courtney
just shaking her head sadly as she’d listened, staring at Phillip’s pockmarked face.
And, so, with no explanation and no second thoughts, within, fifteen minutes of Phillip’s
911 call, Courtney had sadly carried him in the back of the limo to Little Harlem, sitting
on him the whole way in one of her glittery clubbing dresses, her beautiful tanned legs
pressing heavily over him, squishing him into the rich seats, as she drank a cocktail and
felt the strained, stunted rise and fall of her boyfriend’s little chest as he labored to
breathe under her. The pulled to a stop in the ghetto and Courtney kicked him onto the
sidewalk in front of one of his properties with her big sharp metal heel. Smiling her
dazzling Penthouse smile, she’d called the ghetto girls around and said, “Ladies, this is
the slum lord that has evicted a lot of your community. He’s yours! Teach him that
spike heels aren’t only for show!” And, as the women closed in on a balled up Phillip
Magellan III -- real estate mogul -- Courtney gave him a final grind on the face with her
gold-studded foot, and called lightly, “Good luck, Phillip!” as she tossed her thick, rich
hair and slammed the door, and the limousine pulled serenely away into traffic. And, like
a few hundred white men’s lives in Little Harlem that night, Phillip’s hell on earth began.
“YOU WISH YOU HADN’T BOTHERED ME, KEPT ON, KEPT ON
NOW YOU FEEL MY HEELS WHEN YOU’RE STEPPED ON, STEPPED ON…”
Phillip felt a sharp pain on his cheek that brought him back to reality, as he realized a
third girl had gotten up from the concrete steps and had placed her high-heeled boot on
his face. “Make some room, bitches!” she called and smiled as she stepped onto Phillip’s
face, her heels digging into his eyes. She stood on Phillip’s face for only a moment
before she began a grinding dance, twisting her boots, grinding Phillip’s lips beneath
them. The girl wore tight faded jeans, tucked into her black high-heeled boots. The
gyrations of her body, and the brutal stomps of her boots ripped Phillip’s face apart,
leaving heel and tread marks and breaking his nose for the first of what would be seven
times in the next fifteen minutes, as Phillip looked straight up at her powerful form when
she wasn’t stepping in his eyes…and screamed! Several of the other girls were mounting
the steps to the tenement, lining up to jump on Phillip’s little body, as the next song was
appropriately called, “Jump!”
And, though Phillip Magellan III had no way of knowing it, the same sun that bore
harshly down on him from the mid point of a blue, azure sky, burning him, as he was
stomped into a cracked sidewalk in front of an inner city tenement – was also, at that very
moment – gently warming Penthouse Pet Courtney’s voluptuous oil-covered, deeply
tanned body, as she retied her bikini strap and sensually turned over in her pool lounger
at Phillip’s mansion 20 miles away in the hills – soft jazz on the poolside speakers mixing
with the sound of the ocean, a cool drink beside her, and two young foot slaves dutifully
suckling at her perfectly polished pink toes.
Candy would have liked to watch some more, but she knew she had to get to the
Statehouse. The natives in back were getting restless, knocking on the wall behind the
cab, tentatively asking if there was a problem. Must be hot back there, thought Candy,
smiling a little. She surveyed the rest of the street. She could see at least thirty to forty
other men being similarly danced on, kicked, or ridden by scores of inner city black
women on the narrow main street. A group was even staging a horseback race on ten
Whiteys in a side alley, littered with garbage and broken glass. Across the intersection,
behind a small auto repair shop, a black repairman was working feverishly underneath an
old jalopy from just after the turn of the century, now held together mostly by primer and
rust. Its owner, a strikingly tall black women wearing a short, brightly colored, yellow,
pink and black dress, was standing on the man’s bony protruding legs in her stiletto heels,
shifting her weight back and forth, nagging the man to get her car running. The man was
screaming, as her heels sunk into his thighs almost up to the soles of her shoes. But
somehow, he was still working on the engine, desperate to fix a car that, by Candy’s
judgment, was pretty much unfixable. As Candy watched, the owner got tired of waiting,
and kicked him hard in the nuts with her pointy toed shoe and the man’s arms flew out,
grabbing his manhood, his legs pinned to the ground and unable to roll him into a ball,
like they always did when you kicked them there. The woman pulled out her old cell
phone and struck up a discussion with a friend, still standing on the aching man’s legs.
Pulling away from the curb to continue on to the statehouse, Candy was truly surprised.
She didn’t see any criminal activity at all.
***
Kelly had been relieved when Elena had abruptly gone into the Governor’s office after
their rather icy conversation about Allannis music earlier. It seemed Paula was
uncomfortable with them talking, also. Kelly knew she wasn’t going to like Elena, and
now, she knew why. What to do about it was another question. But she would definitely
do something! She looked up to see the Governor’s interior office door open and both
Elena and the Governor come out, the Governor now wearing a different pair of boots,
but the same tight-fitting outfit. These boots had lower heels, in the shapes of a thin,
crescent moon -- wrapping around the entire back of her boots, but only having a tenth of
an inch of thickness forward, they would leave marks like a thin parentheses in the dirt
she stepped in. Even with lower heels on, Kelly noticed the Governor was still quite tall
for an older woman.
It must be her imagination, thought Kelly, but the Governor had seemed to look pointedly
at Peter, underneath Kelly’s desk, then catch Elena’s eye as she strode forward. The
reason foot slaves’ hands were clamped flat to the floor just out from under the desks was
so you didn’t have to look under the desks for them – you simply looked around the floor
for their hands to make sure they were in place.
Governor Shryver walked to the center of the large outer office, next to the side of
Kelly’s desk. Standing next to the desk, and with her back to its side, she placed her
hands on her hips, and announced, “I’d like everyone’s attention, please.” The six or
seven office staff stopped working at their desks and looked toward the Governor as the
room fell completely silent. Elena walked back to her desk, folding her arms across her
chest in a seemingly satisfied way, now watching the Governor and smiling slightly –
LOOKING right at Kelly!
“The election is next week and it is especially important that everyone connected in any
way with this office, conduct themselves in a mature and professional manner. From my
Chief of Staff, to the lowliest male, it is simply unacceptable to call undue adverse
attention to this office as I conduct meetings with various VIPs and such. All rules and
regulations must be strictly adhered to. It has come to my attention that
certain…new…employees…may not have been properly vetted for their positions, so it’s
important we know we can rely upon them.”
“For example,” the Governor said, glancing down for only a moment toward her feet,
“males are throat-sprayed to ensure they cannot make undue noise before they are
allowed in the building.” She took a half step directly backward toward the side of
Kelly’s desk, as she spoke, seemingly unconsciously. But, Kelly looked down, and, for
the first time, noticed Peter’s hands were clamped to the floor directly behind the
Governor’s cruel boots! Her mouth opened, but she knew she couldn’t interrupt as her
eyes fixed on Peter’s little fingers – and the Governor’s heels! “…I want to make it clear,
however, that ANY noise on the part of a male – even the SLIGHTEST WHIMPER OR
HISS – is unacceptable, and will be grounds for immediate dismissal! If I even know a
slave is present from the littlest bit of noise he makes – I will terminate his employment!”
At this comment, the Governor raised the crescent heel of her boot slightly, and, without
looking, placed it on Peter’s upper ring finger, resting it there. Kelly felt Peter’s entire
body tense under her bare foot, and stole a glance under her desk, to see him staring
wide-eyed at the Governor’s heel resting on his hand! “I’m sure you all understand the
need for each and every employee to understand his or her responsibilities,” she said.
“It’s critical to winning this election.” As Kelly watched, in mid-sentence, the Governor,
almost casually, stepped down on the boot that she had placed on Peter’s hand, deforming
his fingers as she crushed them into the floor beneath her full weight, her sharp crescent
heel cutting brutally into them, most of the weight coming squarely down on his ring
finger! Peter stifled the scream in his throat as he pursed his lips to keep from crying out!
The Governor’s full weight was on the heel of her boot on his finger! Peter’s eyes
bugged out of his head, as Kelly caught her breath at what the Governor was doing to her
husband! Peter started to writhe around under Kelly’s desk, trying desperately not to
make even the smallest sound! Now, the Governor continued to talk, absent-mindedly
crossing one leg around the other, concentrating her entire weight on the single, cruel,
knifelike heel of her left boot as she stood calmly in one place on it – Peter’s fingers
being horribly crushed beneath it!
“I’m sure everyone wants to know they can count on everyone else…,” the Governor was
droning on. Saliva flew from Peter’s mouth as he endured the unbearable crush, and
Kelly clamped her bare foot over it to keep him from screaming in agony! Holding his
head hard against the floor, she tried, through sheer pressure, to keep him from making
any noise! She felt the hot breath from his nostrils against her fleshy instep, as he
hyperventilated with the pain! The Governor seemed in no hurry to shift position,
content to stand on Peter’s fingers as long as she liked! Peter was trying to twist from
under Kelly’s foot now, as he craned his head to look at what the Governor’s brutal boots
were doing to his fingers. He felt a great CCRRAACCK, and watched as his ring finger
finally yielded to the woman’s wicked heel, breaking below the knuckle and allowing the
Ms. Shryver’s heel to grind it even flatter into the floor! A white-hot river of pain
engulfed him! He screamed into his wife’s foot, wetting it with his saliva, but Kelly only
felt the vibrations – no sound came out and she clamped down doubly hard, using most of
her weight to mash her husband’s face beneath her foot to keep it still! Her eyes filled
with tears at what he must be enduring!
Elena stared levelly at Kelly, slightly smiling, watching her as she tried to cope what
Governor Shryver was doing to her husband’s fingers. She was surprised he’d endured it
this long! When she’d casually – or, as casually as she could muster -- worried out loud
to the Governor that Kelly’s foot slave was too weak to accept significant pain and might
embarrass her in public by crying out loud, she’d known the Governor would test him.
And with the boots she’d put on, with their frightful heels, she’d expected Governor
Shryver to be able to slice Peter’s little fingers right off when she stepped down on them.
She hoped the Governor would stomp on them! It would be like being hacked with a dull
meat cleaver! But a long, slow, cutting grind was probably much more painful, thought
Elena. As she stared at the Governor’s full weight casually crushing Peter’s fingers as
she stood on them for eternal minute after eternal minute, never once looking down at
what she knew all too well she was doing to him, Elena was surprised he hadn’t started
screaming. The last time she’d played with Peter at the Allannis concert, he could hardly
take any pain at all! He’d groaned and moaned and screamed and begged and pleaded so
pathetically every time Elena had sat on him, stepped on him, scratched him, kicked him
and ridden him, Elena had little doubt he’d wail like a baby when Governor Shryver
stepped on his little fingers and stood on them continuously! And when he screamed, he
would be terminated -- and he and Kelly would be out of her life forever!
But there was a problem. Apparently, Peter’s wife had given him some pain tolerance
training, though. Because, try as she might, Elena couldn’t hear a single sound coming
from under Kelly’s desk – and the Governor had been standing on his fingers for several
long minutes now!
The Governor talked for several minutes more, then, looking at Elena with a slight shrug
of her shoulders, she seemed about to end her speech – and step off Peter – apparently
satisfied that, contrary to Elena’s supposed “concern,” he could, in fact, pass the ‘no
noise’ test. She was about to release his little fingers from the onslaught of the
continuous grinding pain she was giving him, Elena realized! Elena couldn’t stand that
Peter was not going to be broken! She was so close! Kelly was looking under her desk
and breathing heavily; obviously concerned Peter couldn’t last much longer. It would
only take a moment more! So, Elena decided…it was up to her! And Elena wasn’t
wearing boots – she was wearing her sharpened red stilettos – and she knew from her
slaves’ screams, when she bore down on them with her tall, tall body, how horrible the
crush was beneath them!
Walking out to the center of the room, Elena stood beside the Governor, and, as the
Governor thanked her staff for their attention, and stepped off Peter’s fingers with her
boots and to the side, Elena occupied the space the Governor had been standing in, and
nonchalantly stepped down hard on Peter’s broken fingers, with her five-inch stiletto
heel! She said brightly, “Well, I think I speak for your entire staff, Governor, when I tell
you we’ll do everything in our power to ensure everything runs smoothly through the
election!” She bore down hard, concentrating her entire weight on the nasty spike,
feeling Peter’s bones crunch and grind as she rocked back onto her stiletto heel! She
brought her other high heel onto Peter’s hand and ground it into the center of the back of
his hand, feeling new bones crack and pop!
Peter was frothing under Kelly’s desk, screaming and screaming with his hissing voice
into her foot, as he felt the Governor step off his hand, her designer boot leaving a
brutally deep indention in his fingers – and then, watched in terror, as Elena’s heels
walked slowly across the room to poise for a moment directly above his fingers, before
they stepped down on them, grinding them with a sadistic brutality she must have
practiced for years! His fingers were making sounds like a dog chewing a bone, as Elena
shifted her weight to bear down on them, twisting and ripping them as she smashed them
under the weight of her tall, athletic body! He watched deep gouges being stomped into
his hand, the flesh and bones deformed as the heels now stood stock still, allowing the
crushing weight of their owner to take its toll! Tears ran down Peter’s face, as he realized
these were the same heels she’d worn at the concert! The same, sharpened spikes that
had destroyed Kevin’s hands, as Celia had sat imperially on his back like a horsey rider,
driving a saddle with hundreds of sharp little tacks into Kevin’s naked flesh under her
weight! And Peter knew in that instant, that he couldn’t end up like Kevin! He wasn’t
going to let Elena break him! He wasn’t going to become a poor, emaciated, twisted
mess in the corner! The women had destroyed his body – but they wouldn’t take his will!
Peter forced his body to stop writhing! Then he told his tears to stop! Finally, he
deliberately slowed his breathing, staring straight at the sadistic heels impaling his fingers
under the weight of a goddess! He blinked, trying to keep his mind from rebelling, then
an almost Zen-like calm took over – and Peter – accepted…the pain. Completely. Elena
rocked back onto her heels, and Peter watched, almost as a disinterested observer, as they
casually crushed his hand. He knew he couldn’t keep it up for long – the tears were still
coming in waves – but, maybe he could keep it up long enough!
Kelly was looking at Elena with rage! How dare she?! She was her subordinate in this
office! And she was punishing her husband! And that…that was simply not tolerated!
She should speak out here and now…but the Governor was in the room…and it was her
first day on the job. She didn’t know what to do! She looked to Paula for guidance, then,
suddenly, Kelly felt the resistance against her feet relax, then Peter’s body as a whole.
His rapid breathing against her foot slowed and she looked down at him. Her thick foot
was still clamped over his mouth, the cool, meaty flesh deforming his cheeks under the
pressure, but he was no longer screaming against it – no longer writhing! He
was…almost…calm! Yet, Elena’s heels were still…and then, Kelly understood.
Understood completely. Peter was as tough as she’d known he would be when they were
married. Then, she’d looked up to his strength as a protector – now, she looked down at
him as a…pet, almost! But, he was a tough little guy nevertheless! And he looked to her
for protection!
She gave her husband a proud smile, and slowly lifted her foot from his face, accidentally
scraping his cheek with her toenail and scratching it visibly. Still he didn’t scream. She
stood, and pushed back the bench she was sitting on (noting the depression from her ass
in the cushion slave’s chest as he gasped), to show Elena Peter was on his own. Then,
Kelly stared straight into Elena’s eyes, as Elena looked over her shoulder, suddenly less
than confident. Smiling, and staring at her evenly, Kelly said, “Oh, don’t let me interrupt
you, Elena. Talk as long as you like.”
Elena’s shoulders began rising and falling more heavily, livid that she hadn’t broken
Peter like she’d broken so many slaves before him – leaving them wailing and pleading
for her mercy! Staring straight back at Kelly, Elena lifted her high heel and stomped on
Peter’s hand as hard as she could! Not a sound came from under the desk, though the
whole floor reverberated! She leapt up in the air and began jumping violently on her
heels on Peter’s fingers, over and over! Kelly looked down, and stared into Peter’s eyes
smiling, and Peter stared confidently back, his eyes full of tears, but defiant to the last!
The phone on one of the desks rang and the Governor gave Elena a level stare, as she
looked down at what Elena was doing to Peter’s hands. Seeming to be actually
impressed with Peter, she simply said, “He stays. Better luck next time. Now.
Everybody back to work!” Elena whirled on Kelly, and, having no better way to get back
at her, reached down, and violently twisted the nipple of the slave Kelly had been sitting
on all morning. He hissed in horrible pain, as Elena cut into him with her sharp nail and
almost tore his nipple off! Kelly looked down, uninterested in what Elena was doing to
the poor man. “Why would I care what you do to him?” she asked. Elena released the
man and stomped across the room. Now, as the office came back to life and the
adrenaline left him, the pain came back to Peter like a living thing! And, as Kelly,
understanding what he needed, sat back down on the groaning cushion slave and put her
bare foot back over Peter’s mouth, then forced her first three toes into it like a baby
bottle, pulling his lips almost apart. Peter took advantage, and began to softly whimper
into it like a child, staring at his shredded hands, as he sucked and moaned at his wife’s
sweaty foot! ‘The vibrations of his moans felt really good,’ Kelly thought, guiltily.
***
Candy pulled her paddy wagon up to the guardhouse at the main gate to the statehouse
complex, its big tires stirring up dust from the country road, which drifted across the
grassy fields. The very young, blond, female guard was still wearing her short, white
tennis outfit, and she was still sitting on the face of the young male tied to the front legs
of her tall wooden stool, but she had turned the stool around so she was now facing the
same way he was tied, so she could impale his bare chest beneath her with her high heels,
thus propping her luxuriant legs up and concentrating the weight of her tight little ass
directly on his upturned face. The male’s skin was torn with deep, bleeding scratches
from the many times the girl had ripped her heels down the front of his little body. The
guardhouse was boring duty – especially when her weight eventually became too much
for a male and he was finally unable to service her continuously as she sat on his face.
There was definitely a limit on how long the muscles in a male’s tongue would work, and
she’d found this male reached it at about 10:30 each day if she started at 8:00 am and sat
continuously on his face, letting him breathe only when he was about to suffocate from
her clenched ass covering his nose and mouth completely. She knew she could have let
him rest, taken her weight off his face…but then, she’d have nowhere to sit! So, she
made it a practice to simply lean enough to one side that she uncovered the edge of his
mouth for a moment when he was straining and thrashing at the ropes. She would
immediately feel the desperate sucking in of cool air flowing near her thigh, as the man
got another three-minute lease on life. Then, she would casually rock back onto his face
and feel the air stop completely as her soft skin completely covered the man’s nose and
mouth again. It had taken her a week, when she first started guard house duty, to figure
out why the left half of the man’s face was black and blue every night – until she had
realized she always leaned to that one side to let him breathe and that focused her full
weight on the left side of the man’s face – every three or so minutes – all day long.
The little man had, a couple of hours ago, stopped moving beneath the guard, though his
arms still twitched occasionally. Except, of course, when she ran her heels down his
front, digging them into him with her strong legs. Then, his arms would tense in vain
against the tight ropes, and she would feel the vibrations of his pathetic moans against her
ass, which felt almost as good as his tongue, if she drove her heels down him really,
really slowly! There’d been several cars to check in, which usually required her to stand
up, so he was getting occasional reprieves, although the poor man’s thighs were also now
covered with her heel marks – as was his privates – so maybe it all evened out!
Candy asked the beautiful young guard if she could go to the Governor’s office, and the
girl smiled and spun her whole body around on the stool to get authorization, grinding her
ass hard against the male slave’s face, eliciting a true scream! She’d thought he was
semi-conscious by now. She must have got his nose! Well, if he could scream, he could
play some more! Getting a thumbs up from the pert guard, Candy told her she knew the
way, and the paddy wagon pulled forward, swirling more dust. In her side view mirror,
Candy saw the gate guard now stand fully up on her heels to avoid breathing the dust
cloud, sinking them into her slave’s chest, then shift her weight back and forth, then drop
full weight – very hard – onto his face again as the dust blew by her guard shack. Her
short skirt billowed, then settled quietly over the man’s head, as she ground his face deep
into her ass! Now, he was screaming aloud again, which she apparently really liked,
from the way her eyes closed dreamily and the smile crept over her face, Candy thought!
As Elena sat down with a huff, the resident British staffer, Sandy, hung up the phone and
walked around the side of her desk. Her short white leather miniskirt’s big silver belt
buckle flashed as she turned, catching the lights. Her white lingerie leggings looked
perfect above her bright white, spike heeled aerator boots, perfectly matching her tight
white-laced lingerie top, which complemented her beautiful cleavage nicely. She swung
her long, straight blond hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head, her silver earrings
sparkling. Her eyebrows raised, she announced in her clipped British accent, “That call
was from that Trog’ officer from the dock police – ‘Candy…whatever-her-name-is’. Get
this! She’s here…downstairs…in back. And she wants to bring three ‘visitors’ up the
Governor’s private express elevator so they, quote, ‘don’t see anyone until she gets them
here.’ She wouldn’t say any more, but she said the Governor would understand when she
got here.” She laughed, “These Trogs’…,”
Paula screwed her eyebrows together in consternation, wondering what this was all about.
“Trogs’?” asked Kelly.
“Troglodytes,” answered Paula, smiling and rolling her eyes. “As you know, the
Treatment is like steroids used to be – you need to exercise your mind and your body to
activate the genetic enhancements. If you don’t, you don’t get tall and beautiful, you get
fat and ugly, as the recombinant DNA has all this energy and no way to disperse it.
When the first, experimental version of the Treatment was given to volunteer soldiers and
cops in testing, it didn’t have a ‘motivator gene’ to make them really want to work out
hard in the gym every day. Since then, we realized the problem, of course, and we
changed the Treatment to make a woman go stir-crazy if she doesn’t work out regularly
and now the Treatment works famously. But, the original ‘test cops’ who didn’t care
enough to go back for the version WE all got, just became sloths – or, Troglodytes, as we
call them. This ‘Candy’ cop has been trying to get on to CHP forever, but she can’t
motivate herself to work out and she doesn’t want to bother with another dose of the
Treatment. She’s fat trailer park trash with a little badge!” Paula said disgustedly.
“Whatever,” Paula called to Sandy. “Tell her she can come up the private elevator – if
it’ll HOLD HER! Maybe if we listen to her ranting she’ll leave us alone for a while.”
Sandy’s eyebrows said she didn’t think that was at all likely, but Paula was the boss, and
she spun on her heel to give the gate guard authorization.
“You said, ‘We’ changed the Treatment…did you mean ‘women?’” Kelly asked.
“No, I mean ‘We,’…this office,” answered Paula, smiling at her as Kelly’s face
registered incredulity.
Paula laughed. “It’s not that far out! Look, UCLA discovered the genetic formula with
state funding, so it belonged to California; the formula was tested here…on our state
employees. The first legislation was written here, and it was first administered to the
women of California. The Awakening happened here – just up the road, as a matter of
fact – when the, ahem, ‘previous governor’, tried to limit the distribution of the
Treatment because he was ‘concerned’ by the way the men weren’t, like, in charge of the
WHOLE WORLD anymore – or whatever it was – so his wife had to…um… ‘put her
foot down’ -- so to speak.”
“And it was about time, too,” added Sandy, with disgust. “Because if she hadn’t
squashed the sniveling little runt, a bunch of us on his staff eventually would have! Do
you know how many times he got reelected by the MEN?! How conceited he was about
his so-called ‘hardbody’?! He hired his entire staff because we were all so freaking hot
and he liked to leer at us! Oh, but THAT came back to haunt him in a BIG way! I used
to stand behind him, while he worked at his desk, and offer him ‘neck massages’ after I’d
had the Treatment: ‘Oh, Gov’nor! I know you’re working sooo haaard! How ‘bout a
nice, relaxing backrub on your BIG, STRONG MUSCLES?!’” She laughed, in a
mocking little voice, remembering. “And, he’d try to laugh it off to get out of it because
he was scared of what I could do to him, but too proud to admit it. But, I’d just tell him
how good it’d feel and I’d put my hands on his little shoulders and rub my perfect tits
against his head as I started to knead his muscles. Hard! And he’d always try so hard not
to let me know how much it hurt when I’d really squeeze his muscles to paste!
And then, I’d just get my nails in between two of his neck muscles and grind down on
them! It’d feel like squeezing foam rubber! And he’d start sweating and clinching his
eyes shut with the pain as I squeezed them. You could even see his lips quivering! It
was sooo funny! And, then, finally, he’d groan under his breath and I’d exclaim, “Ohh,
my gosh! Am I being too hard on you, Gov’nor?!”
“And he’d laugh nervously and, of course, say, ‘Whaaat? Ahh yuu keeding?! Du yu
know whu ayAMMM?!’ And then I’d REALLY squeeze…until I could feel each
individual little muscle pulling apart like a rubber band in my grip and I had bent him
over and pressed his head down against the top of his desk. And he’d groan for real!
And I’d just hold his head down against his desktop so he couldn’t get up, and tower over
him and lean on it while I pretended to check my phone mail – and humiliate him while I
stared at him and he finally pleaded with me to stop hurting him!”
Kelly and Paula smiled politely at the obvious pleasure the memory gave Sandy.
“Then, one day, as I was holding his head down with my hand and digging my nails into
his face – ‘accidental-like’ – I realized…I really AM in charge! All he can do is laugh
uncomfortably and try to joke about it! He couldn’t order me around anymore! I – ALL
OF US – were more powerful than he was! He wasn’t going to fire any of us – he’d be
worried about the repercussions with the emerging female-driven political landscape!
And, he certainly couldn’t defend himself against us! He was a puppet! I laughed at
him, then I just hopped up and slammed down on his head with my ass! And I sat on the
side of his head, pressing it into his desk blotter and crossed my legs like it was nothing
at all! I propped my feet up on his chair to concentrate my weight on my ass and
smoothed my skirt over his head so he looked like a headless body sitting bent down over
its desk! I did my nails, took some of his phone calls for him, went over a couple
speeches – all while he was gritting his teeth under my ass and moaning, “OKAEYYY!
OKAEYYY! PPLLEEAACCE NOW! SANDY PLEEAACCCEE!!! And I go, ‘Oh, I’m
sorry Gov’nor! I thought you liked my ass!’” The girls all laughed out loud.
“Then, Omigod! His wife walks in!” Sandy exclaimed.
Kelly’s mouth fell open! “No! With you SITTING ON HIS HEAD?!” she asked,
shocked.
“YES! And I think, ‘Oh, boy, am I in trouble now!’ But, she just smiles as she sees me
and says, ‘Don’t bother getting up on MY account – I just need some money.’ And,
before I can answer, she just walks over, reaches into the back pocket of his pants as he’s
pinned under me, takes out his wallet and removes all his cash! Then, she tosses his
wallet on the floor, walks out, and calls over her shoulder, ‘Don’t wait up, honey…I’ll be
home late…oh, and don’t let the PRESSURE of the job get to you!’ He yells, “HONEY!
PLEASE!!!” through his gritted teeth, and she just laughs as she walks out! I couldn’t
believe it! But, I guess she had had it with him too!”
“After I’d finally gotten up from his head, he couldn’t get up from his desk for hours and
he walked funny for days! The imprint of his head stayed in the blotter for weeks! My
goal was always to cripple him – make him use a cane – but, then his wife took care of
the problem entirely!” Sandy smiled, savoring the moment. “She’s still got the heels –
encased under glass!”
“Anyway,” Paula interrupted, a little uncomfortable with what Sandy had done to her
previous boss, “after his wife, um, ‘took care of the problem,’ as Sandy says, she took
over as Governor and made the Treatment available to the whole world for free…right
from this room…with a stroke of her pen! The whole world watches California – for our
tall blonds, clothing trends…and now, there’s so much gratitude for her giving it the
Treatment…the California Governor’s Office is almost as powerful as the U.S.
Presidency, and so is she! Which is why it’s going to be tough for her opponent to beat
her in next week’s presidential election – as California goes…so goes the world!”
“They used to play with him at their parties, you know,” Sandy blurted out, obviously not
happy with Paula trying to take her off subject. “He kept it hush-hush because it was
sooo humiliating! They’d invite all their rich celebrity friends to these exclusive black tie
parties at their mansion every other week. At first, it was a good mix of men and women;
but then, you know, eventually the women started ordering the men around, telling them
to refill their drinks, or stop talking – twisting their nipples with their nails until they’d
forced them to the ground, then pressing their Manolo Blahniks into their faces and
laughing at them as they begged. And so, the men stopped coming – tough to get an
acting job with a Manolo Blahnik shoeprints on your face! And, finally, Maria’s husband
was the only man among fifty or sixty women at a high-end party! They used to take
turns riding him three at a time, making him whinny like a horse!” She laughed. “Then,
of course, he had to be the doormat for all the women! I always wanted to step on the
Governor, but, alas, I never got the chance,” she sighed.
“I made Peter the doormat at a pool party last summer, but I didn’t really enjoy it,”
commented Kelly.
“What do you mean? How could you not enjoy it?!” asked Sandy, genuinely not
understanding.
“I don’t know. He’s my husband…and all these muscular sorority girls were
just…trampling him with their heels. He was so small and thin compared to them. And
when they would step on him, he would let out this horrible groan and his little body
would just…twist and flatten…as their heels sunk so deep into him, you could hardly
even SEE THEM! His little ribs would bend…And he’d look at me with these pleading
eyes as he was being cavalierly walked on…and I just ignored him.”
“But watching him suffer is the whole FUN of it!” exclaimed Sandy brightly. “Why
would you keep him around if you weren’t going to play with him?! When Elena was
squeezing his balls at the Allannis concert, we –“ she stopped short, realizing she had just
said too much. Kelly stared at her evenly. “I should really get back to work,” Sandy
said.
“That would be a good idea,” replied Paula, giving Sandy a withering stare. Sandy
turned and walked briskly back to her desk, flopping down on her cushion slave full
weight, which elicited a loud, “Oomph!”
Kelly stared at the floor. “Is it true?” she asked softly. “I figured out it was these girls
that picked up Peter from the side of the road and took him to the Allannis concert. I
assumed they trampled him, sat on him, used all of the ‘pressure-play’ games on him – I
mean, that’s what we DO. But…is it true Elena…violated…him? Crushed his testicles
in her grip? With those nails? Broke his spirit?” It was almost a whisper.
Paula hesitated. “She was…pretty cruel to him,” she finally answered. “And, to be
honest, yes, she violated him. It happened before I could get him away from her.
But…she didn’t really know he was married…I mean, he said he was…but….” Her voice
trailed off.

[DeathXI]

Kelly stared hard at the floor, her tongue licking her pouting lips. Then, suddenly, she
looked up brightly and smiled. “Well, all that’s over now! I suppose I should make
friends with Elena and show her there’s no hard feelings!”
“No hard feelings? Really?!” asked Paula, a little unsure. “She just stepped all over
Peter’s fingers in her stilettos after conniving to have the Governor stand on them in her
designer boots!”
“I know. But he’s really none the worse for wear and he has to get used to being stepped
on. Right?” Kelly exclaimed smiling.
“I – I guess so,” replied Paula, watching Kelly carefully.
“Tell ya what…let’s all have lunch together today and I’ll sit right beside Elena and get
to know her better.” Without another word, Kelly returned to work, as Paula slowly got
up and returned to her own desk, glancing back at her once, thinking.
***
Only a few moments had elapsed since Elena had lost control in front of all of them – in
front of the Governor – and sat back down at her desk in a huff. Paula had never seen her
lose control like that! She seemed to have an almost unnatural hatred for Peter – perhaps
because she hadn’t broken him at the concert, hadn’t taken him from his wife – and,
ultimately, hadn’t gotten to keep him! Kelly looked over at Elena and smiled sweetly.
Elena stared back, unflinching. And Kelly knew it would be up to her to solve this
particular personality conflict.
Elena, for her part, couldn’t believe she had lost control either! This was completely
unlike her! She was always in charge! Always in control! How could she let this –
woman – and her little husband – get to her?! Oh, she HAD molested Kelly’s husband at
the Allannis concert when she’d had no right. And maybe Kelly had a case to be pissed
off at her; but, she shouldn’t have let him out of the house if she was gonna get all pissy
about it if another woman played with him a little bit! She sure as hell shouldn’t be
holding it against her after THIS long! And, besides, she should be grateful she’d even
gotten a job here, let alone become Elena’s superior overnight! That’s what it was, Elena
realized! Kelly had just waltzed in here and taken over the place, when Elena should
have been promoted instead! But, Kelly was Paula’s friend – maybe more, from the way
they occasionally looked at each other – and Elena would have to at least TRY to put up
with her! To calm herself down, Elena removed her sweaty feet from her spike heels and
jammed one into her foot slave’s mouth under her desk, and the other into his face,
pressing his eye deep into his little head like a little grape with her big toe! “Start
sucking…or lose your sight!” she seethed at him, as she stared across the room, trying to
decide how to handle the ‘Kelly problem’!
The Governor had returned to her inner office, leaving the door open, and Kelly had just
sat back down on her cushion slave to work, when a small chime sounded and the
elevator doors at the far corner of the cavernous outer office opened. Kelly found herself
staring at one of the biggest, ugliest women she had ever seen! Paula flashed Kelly a
‘don’t stare at her!’ look, indicating the very fat, but rather short, cop that stood at the far
end of the big outer office, and Kelly closed her mouth, which had been hanging open.
“Well, hello, Officer Fromme, what can we do for you, today?” Paula asked, as
professionally as was possible, staring at the rumpled, fat cop, who, even from this
distance, smelled of sweat and seaweed, big stains under the armpits of her frumpy
uniform.
Candy Fromme was not nearly important enough for any of the staff to get up when she
came in, so all remained seated when she heaved her 400+ pound body out of the
elevator. Most of the girls ignored her, going back to typing memos and dictating emails
in the servers. That is…until three, small, pathetic-looking people stepped from behind
Candy and Candy folded her massive arms across her chest in satisfaction. Suddenly, the
office was starkly silent, as all work fell to a stop and the Governor’s entire staff stared at
the group, their mouths hanging open. Paula and her staff were used to seeing males in
such a state – and far worse – but one of the group was a tiny woman! Only about 5’6”
tall! She was like a midget! And dressed in filthy clothes! She looked as bad as the
men! Tired, worn and frightened, her eyes darted around the office with a mixture of
confusion and relief, it seemed!
The long silence drew itself out and Paula was the first to recover. “What is this?!” she
asked, without bothering to control her surprise. “And why are THEY standing upright?!”
she asked, pointing at the two men. The two men, she noticed, looked at one another
seemingly confused. One asked, “WHAT?!” looking directly at her with – was it –
DISGUST – in his eyes?!
“Well, now…whatcha got here,” replied Candy, with self-indulgent satisfaction, “are
three lost souls who just floated in on a ship – from Africa, no less. This here’s Amanda,
and her, um, husband…Gus. And this…uh…gentleman…is named Timothy.” Candy
was smiling this goofy smile, like she had a secret she wasn’t gonna tell.
“GENTLE…MAN?!” asked Paula, her eyebrows raised. “I can’t remember the last time
I heard that word. DOWN!” she ordered the men, her dark eyes boring into them from
far across the room. Neither moved, and seemed to not have even recognized her
command! Paula’s face registered disbelief as all of the women in the office stared!
They’d never seen a male simply IGNORE a woman’s command to get down on all
fours! Paula placed her hands on her desk, getting ready to stand up and administer a
punishment that would no doubt be remembered for a very long time. “Perhaps you
didn’t hear me,” she seethed!
Candy held her hand up to her face and inspected her stubby little nails. “Oh, they heard
you, I think,” she said without looking up. “It’s just, they haven’t seen a woman – other
than Amanda here –,” she let the silence drag out – “in four years.”
Candy let the remark sink in.
“What are you talking about?” asked Paula.
Softly at first, then gaining confidence, the little woman spoke up. “Look…look…it’s a
long story, and it doesn’t matter anyway. We’re here to report a crime.”
“A…crime,” Paula repeated, wondering if she would ever have a normal day again.
Presidential elections brought out the crazies and it seemed she was about to meet one
face to face. She considered the fact that the woman’s small size might be the result of a
birth defect or something the Treatment couldn’t overcome. But the Treatment overcame
everything. The Treatment was – well – perfect. ‘Four years?!’
“Yes…yes…a crime,” answered the man – Gus, she thought Candy had said his name
was. He was speaking without being spoken to. “This is gonna sound crazy, but…we
stowed away on an oil tanker from Africa, where we’ve been doing research in the jungle
for four years. And the crew of the ship was…was all…these giant, beautiful women!
They were almost seven feet tall and they were torturing all the little men! They
were…WALKING ON THEM – in BOOTS -- and whipping them! Sitting on them,
riding them…it was horrible! The boat’s docked in the harbor! You’ve got to send the
State Police!”
Paula stared at him, wondering what the HELL he was talking about. How could he
think it was a crime to walk on a man?! He was lucky he wasn’t already getting walked
on himself! All three of the little people were staring at her like they actually expected
her to DO something about this! Paula’s mind worked at the speed of light, and she was
working through what was going on, when Candy’s voice cut through the air –
“They’ve been in the African jungle for four years – away from civilization,” she sniffed.
She waited a beat, pretending to be frustrated when Paula didn’t understand.
“They haven’t…had…the Treatment,” Candy said.
Seven mouths simultaneously fell open as the silence became perfect. “That’s
not…that’s not possible!” Paula responded, finding her voice. “Every woman in the
world has had the Treatment!”
“Every woman but one, it would seem,” answered Candy, grinning her toothy grin like a
loon.
“What is this Treatment you all keep talking about?!” asked the little midget woman,
frustrated.
Paula looked around the room stunned! “You’ve been out of touch for four years?!” she
asked the midget woman. “You’ve had no contact? You have no idea what’s happened
in the world in the last four years?!”
The midget woman stared back at her, for the first time wondering what HAD happened
in the world in the last four years.
Paula looked at Carolyn, stunned. Carolyn, her mouth still hanging open, ignored her,
instead, staring at the men like a lion eyeing a gazelle. She said almost to herself,
“They’d have…no…protection…no preparation…it would be…,” she searched for the
word, “…DELICIOUS!” She stared at the men as if they had her winning lottery number
tattooed across their chests and she just couldn’t believe she’d won!
“Oh, ‘delicious’ doesn’t come close,” Candy piped up from across the room, wanting
them not to forget who brought them this prize. “Gus, here? Gus has Aichmophobia.”
She waited, enjoying none of the girls seemed to know the meaning of the word. “Oh,
yes – that’s a fear of sharp objects -- or being scratched or punctured.”
Carolyn let out the littlest – yelp – followed by an involuntary exhalation, as she had to
grip the edge of her desk for support! She stared as if Gus might evaporate right before
her eyes, if she allowed herself a fantasy like this could really be happening to her! She
actually put her hand to her mouth when Gus, objected, “Just what the HELL is going on
around here?!”
Staring straight at him, Carolyn breathed, “Oh…he’s…perfect…”
“What do you want for them?” a strong voice said from behind her. They all turned and
saw the Governor of California leaning against the door frame to her inner office --
poised, beautiful and as non-plussed as always, eyeing the men, who were staring back
and forth at one another, not knowing what to think.
“You’re…you’re…the Governor’s wife!” Timothy, the smaller of the two blurted. The
difference in size between the woman that stood before him and the woman he’d seen in
photos from years ago should have been obvious. But, at her distance in the large office,
since the furniture was also now built a third larger, as was the doorway, she didn’t look
larger than she used to, relative to her surroundings. Neither did the rest of them, seated
at their large desks. And with the light coming through the big glass windows from
behind them, and the cavernous size of the room, it wasn’t immediately obvious to the
visitors how much taller all the women had become.
A slow, superior smile crept across the Governor’s lips. “Way’ll yeah,” she said, in an
exaggerated Southern drawl, her eyes locked on Timothy, “I’m jes’ th’ li’l woman b’hind
the big, strong, mayn!” The staff laughed quietly.
“What do you want for them?” the Governor repeated to Candy, shifting her gaze and
deadly serious again, ignoring the men, who were still looking at each other wondering
what was going on.
“Oh, I dunno,” replied Candy. “Nuthin’ much. For one, I want the Dock Police to be
more like normal cops. For example, I want them to be allowed to run in the Police
Marathon each year in Los Angeles with 20,000 other cops from across the country –
instead of having to clean up what’s left of the men who are laid down on the 26-mile
course after it’s over. It ain’t fair we scrape them up, but all the other girls run over them
for two hours.”
“Done,” the Governor said.
“And, I want another shot of the Treatment – no charge, “ added Candy.
“Done,” the Governor said again.
“And,” Candy took a deep breath, “I wanna be on CHP.”
The Governor eyed her carefully, then looked at the two men. This wouldn’t happen
again. “Done,” she said, finally. “Report to CHP training tomorrow at 8 am. I’ll let
them know you’re coming.” Candy smiled a toothy grin, ear to ear. “You can go now.”
Candy turned without a word, and waddled out.
“Look…look…,” said the man – Gus -- , “I don’t really understand all this, but we’ve
been back in civilization less than five hours, hiding on the docks, and we came here to
report a crime and I think you really need to listen.”
“Oh yes, the ‘giant women’ walking all over the little men on your ‘ship,’ answered the
Governor, in her smoky voice. “Carolyn, would you handle
the…GENTLEMAN’S…complaint?”
Carolyn beamed. “Oh, with pleasure, ma’am…with GREAT pleasure!”
“Bring them in after you’ve completed the…pre-interview,” the Governor said. “I’d like
to ‘interview them’ myself.” She turned, a soft smile forming on her face, and strode back
into her office, letting the door slip closed behind her.
Carolyn called to the three visitors from her seated position at her desk, mock concern on
her face. “Umm, sir…how tall would you say these, umm, ‘women’…were?”
Timothy spoke up, “They were…they were…huge -- giants! Some more than seven feet
tall! You wouldn’t believe it!”
“Really,” replied Carolyn sarcastically. She stood slowly from her desk, pulling herself
to her full height and began to walk slowly toward the small men, the slow, rhythmic
staccato sound of her heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor beneath her long, long
legs. “Were they, for example, taller than me?” she asked, her eyebrows raised, as she
approached.
As she strode toward the men, her full height, as well as her stunning beauty became
apparent to them, as their mouths fell open, along with the woman’s. Carolyn stopped,
directly in front of the men, staring straight down at them and put her hands on her hips.
The men’s heads did not quite rise to her chest level, and they found themselves staring
up at her large breasts.
The visitors were speechless.
“Or, were they more Sandy’s height?” Carolyn asked.
Sandy stood slowly and strode seductively across the large room, her white leather boots
rustling against one another, bare thigh above them, to stand shoulder to shoulder with
Carolyn. Her arms folded across her chest, both vixens dwarfed the visitors. “Perhaps,
they were Allison’s height,” said Carolyn. “Or Denise’s…or Elena’s…maybe Celia’s.”
The other women in the office slowly stood, and walked imperially across the room to
crowd around the now cowering little people. Blocking out their light, they towered over
them, closing in on them, and staring down at them with hard expressions on their faces,
forcing them to the center of a small, tightening circle. The men seemed truly terrified
and bewildered – as if they could hardly breathe.
The midget woman was the first to speak. “What…what is this place?! Where are we?!
What’s going on?!” she said in a small voice, looking up at the overwhelming power of
the women.
“Why you’re back in the good, ol’ USA,” replied Carolyn confidently. “Land of the free
– home of the brave. I’m still curious about these, so-called ‘giant women,’” she
commented. “Did they have nails like these?” She held up her long, sharp nails in a claw
pattern and slowly moved them toward Gus’s face.
“Oh, god! Oh, no! Please!” Gus jumped backward and his collision with Allison’s chest
was like hitting a soft, brick wall! He reacted with absolute terror at his helplessness as
his wife started crying.
Carolyn took hold of the back of Gus’s head like a melon with one of her large hands and
immobilized it, so he could only watch, helpless, as she brought her sharp nails toward
his face. “I’m going to puncture you with these,” she breathed, enjoying how wide his
eyes got.
Gus tried to pull away, but there was no chance. The women crowded around, curiously
watching Gus’s contorted, terrified face as Carolyn grabbed it slowly with her nails –
taking her time – and began to squeeze them into him!
“Remember how fragile he is,” Elena commented. “Remember how easy it used to be to
break them.”
Carolyn squeezed her nails into Gus’s face, sending him out of his mind with pain and
fear. The phobia of sharp objects that had plagued him since his youth had this moment
as its greatest unspeakable terror – being cut and punctured by ten razor sharp talons --
and helpless to stop it! He began pleading unintelligibly, trembling and stuttering, but
Carolyn didn’t even hear him! She concentrated on the first puncture of her nails into his
face, closely followed by the rest. Gus began bleeding, as Carolyn began working her
nails deeper, almost lovingly digging them into his yielding flesh! He was so innocent!
So fragile!
As Timothy tried to grab Carolyn’s arm to stop her, Denise wrapped her stocky, muscular
arms around Timothy and held his own arms to his side, before encircling him in a bear
hug to control him. Then, she slowly began to squeeze him like a boa constrictor.
Timothy let out a horrible, “UUWWWGHHTHHHH,” as she squeezed his torso,
crushing him, lifting him off the floor like a child, from behind. Bending backward,
Denise increased the pressure, looked down and nuzzled his ear, whispering, “Crack…,”
and was rewarded by the sound of Timothy’s ribs cracking and popping! He was white
with pain! She let him drop, and Timothy fell like a rag doll to the floor, his face on her
high-heeled pump. “Lick it,” she commanded. “Lick it, and love it.” Placing her other
pump on Timothy’s head, she bore down, crushing his lips into her foot. Her foot was a
good bit larger than his whole head and she would have to be careful with how much
pressure she applied. She ground his neck under the ball of her shoe, increasing the
weight until she heard his neck popping, as Timothy screamed, his face surrounded by
high heeled shoes!
Amanda began pleading for Gus, as she watched the giant girl bend his head back, her
nails cutting into his face, beginning to force him to the floor!
“Do his eyes,” Elena encouraged Carolyn.
“Not yet. I want him to see all the wondrous things I have in store for him,” answered
Carolyn, her own eyes never leaving Gus’ terrorized features.
Gus was moaning and crying, as his legs gave out and he collapsed beside Timothy.
Elena put her high-heeled stiletto on his face and pressed it into the floor, causing Gus to
scream horribly, as the sharp point of her heel drove into him with so much force!
“Sharp, isn’t it?” mocked Elena, watching the little man’s cheek dent deeply between his
open jaws and into the floor. Elena increased the pressure, pressing Gus’ cheek into his
mouth deeply with her heel, and asked the others, “Should I give him my full weight?”
Gus’ and Amanda’s screams merged as one as Amana began pleading, “What are you
doing to him?! Please, he’s my husband! He’s my husband!”
This caught the girls off guard. They hadn’t considered Gus was under the protection of
a wife. And, even if she hadn’t had the Treatment, a wife’s claim was sacred, wasn’t it?!
Elena held the crushing heel on Gus’ face, but her eyes suddenly looked up at Carolyn,
who also seemed to not to have considered this.
Paula’s voice cut through the uncertainty from across the room. Despite her curiosity,
she’d remained seated, as had Kelly. “Did you hear her, Elena? He’s her HUSBAND!
Haven’t you already MADE THIS MISTAKE ONCE?!” Paula looked down, drawing
Elena’s eyes to the desk where Peter lay at his wife’s feet, then at Kelly, who was staring
at Elena, her eyes locked on Elena’s face, an expression of unabashed threat in them.
Elena rolled her tongue across her ruby lips, considering. Finally, “No fun. Everybody
around here’s married,” she said, pretending to pout. She removed her heel from Gus’
face, smiling at the perfect, round indention she’d left in his cheek, as Amanda dropped
to the floor and cradled her husbands’ head in her hands, looking wildly around at the
large group of giant female feet in high heels surrounding her.
“Is, umm, Timothy married, too?” asked Elena, matter-o-factly, looking straight down at
little Amanda. Amanda looked up, holding Gus’ head, tears in her eyes. Without
thinking, she whispered, “No, he’s only 23…”
“Then you don’t ‘claim him’?”
“Nobody claims him – he’s single!” shouted Amanda, too shocked to lie.
“I claim him!” piped up Carolyn, a hair quicker than the other girls, who all cried out in
unison.
“That’s not fair!” objected Celia. “I wanna ride him! I need a new horse! Kevin can’t
even make it up the concrete stairs with me on him now! Besides…he’s FILTHY! They
ALL ARE!”
Amanda looked back and forth at the women as they argued about who was going to –
POSSESS A HUMAN BEING?! She couldn’t come to grips with what was happening
right in front of her! In terror, she looked down at her husband’s dirty, tortured, bleeding
face and they stared into each other’s eyes, both crying softly. She imagined she looked
as dirty as he did after their long journey in the ship’s hold…except of course for the
blood, oozing from the fingernail marks in his face.
“I was first, and you know it!” Carolyn grinned. The other girls grumbled, acquiescing to
the truth. Carolyn stepped on Timothy’s hand with the ball of her shoe and, applying her
full weight, ground it into the floor until Amanda could hear Timothy’s bones crackling
as he groaned.
“Stop it!” Amanda begged. “He’s only 23!”
“Sorry…he belongs to me now,” she said, gritting her teeth in concentration to grind
Timothy’s little fingers as cruelly as she could; concentrating on feeling how the little
bones were being stretched and crushed.
“I’ll need to get my box of toys,” Carolyn said under her breath. “Ever been walked on
in crampons?” she asked down to Timothy, who was now trying desperately, but in vain,
to pry her foot off his hand with his other hand, his face broken out in a cold sweat from
the crushing pressure. She stepped on his second hand, too, with her other foot, lifting
onto her tiptoes as Timothy cried out in even more pain. Then she began slowly twisting
back and forth on her toes, Timothy’s hand being smashed unceremoniously beneath her
office pumps as her legs flexed, putting her full weight to her toes. Carolyn’s tanned
thighs, under her olive jean shorts, looked stunning as she flexed them, twisting back and
forth on Timothy’s little fingers. She’d switched to her high-heeled office pumps from
her turquoise flat sandals when the visitors arrived. The heels were almost too much for
the outfit, though, she thought, as the way they raised her ass and clenched her strong
thighs, made her look almost like a slut wearing the short, olive colored shorts. Better to
put on some hikers and some crampons – and enjoy the singular opportunity of grinding
an untreated, unprepared, terrified male under the harsh steel teeth! Poor Timothy
probably had no reference point – no basis in reality – to imagine being walked on in
crampons – which made the thought of doing it to him all the more delicious!
Amanda’s eyes were locked on Carolyn’s twisting feet, as she ground her friend’s hands
into the floor! She’d never seen anyone be so flagrantly cruel to a person for the pure
PLEASURE of it! Let alone a woman torturing a man like this! A woman using a power
Amanda had never even imagined before to –
Stocky Denise reached down and yanked Timothy’s head back to make him look at her,
bending his spine backwards until it threatened to break! “She asked you a question!
Have you ever been WALKED ON in CRAMPONS?!” she shouted at him, her meaty fist
full of Timothy’s hair. But Timothy’s eyes were full of tears and he was sobbing in pain.
“Please…,” he begged.
“Hmph. Probably not,” Carolyn answered for him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle…or as
gentle as I CAN BE…we’ve gotta make you last a long, long time…”
“Not so fast,” an authoritative voice said from across the room. The girls turned and saw
the Governor, once again, standing outside her inner office, licking her lips. “Sorry,
Carolyn… I claim him,” the Governor commanded, smiling. Carolyn pouted. The
Governor’s smile grew. “But, you can soften him up first…” the Governor offered.
Carolyn’s smile was like a sunrise! It was going to be a great day! She stepped off
Timothy’s fingers and dropped her bare knee full-weight into the center of his hyperextended
back! Timothy let out a horrible, “Ooffffggg --,” which was immediately cut
short as Carolyn’s 195 pound weight drove all the air out of him as his spine collapsed
into the floor. She bounced on her knee on his back a few times, Timothy groaning,
unable to accept how heavy she was or how cruel she was being by kneeling on him! She
yanked Timothy’s elbows behind him, enjoying his moans as she forced them together
behind his back with her powerful arm strength, wrapping a single big hand around both
his elbows and squeezing them both together and holding them as she pulled back on his
arms, further hyperextending his back, while her full weight drove into the center of his
spine. With her other hand, she reached back between his legs, found his privates,
gripped them in her large fist and squeezed them like paste, watching Timothy’s eyes bug
out of his head and his breath catch in his throat as the pain she was administering
overwhelmed him.
“Oh, Kelly?” called the Governor. “My husband had a small, private apartment built
onto the office a few years ago – before I, ahem, made him part of the landscape?! It’s
through that door. Why don’t you take Amanda and her…Gus…there, and let them rest,
and get Amanda cleaned up. A woman should never be permitted to get filthy when
there’s always a male nearby to service her. Besides, I imagine they’re tired after their
journey. Bring Amanda up to date on the changes since she’s been away, wherever she
was. Then, we’ll decide how to…reintegrate them into society. “Gus may rest on the
floor at his wife’s feet, as long as he’s licking them for her. Might as well get him started
on how a man must please his wife now. But he’s not allowed on the furniture. No
arguments. Oh…and I want both the males vocally adjusted.”
Carolyn looked up from kneeling on Timothy’s back suddenly, at the Governor, a
worried expression on her face. The Governor shook her head softly, holding up her
hand. “Alright Carolyn, alright…you can spray his voice after you’re done…I know how
you like to hear them scream.” A wide smile formed on Carolyn’s face and her tongue
plucked playfully between her perfect teeth, as she bounced on Timothy’s spine with her
thick, powerful thigh, wondering if she had crampons here in the office somewhere.
Kelly reluctantly pulled an aerosol can of throat spray from her desk, then led a stunned
Amanda by the arm, along with her bleeding husband, to the small apartment off to the
side of the Governor’s anteroom “But…he’s bleeding…,” begged Amanda, tears still
filling her eyes.
“He’s lucky he’s not stuck to Elena’s shoe,” Kelly replied under her breath, kicking Gus
lightly with her foot, as he crawled painfully toward the plush lounge, trying to stay out
of the way of her powerful step.
“Oh and Kelly?” the Governor called, raising her eyebrows. “Have a small cage brought
into my office – for later. For Timothy. I had one done for Arnie a while ago, but he
never got a chance to use it. Let’s not let it go to waste.”
Kelly’s eyes clouded over, as she looked over at Timothy, now with Carolyn’s knee in
his back, her full weight on it, and his arms twisted behind him in a painful arm lock she
was experimenting with. Celia was squatting over Timothy’s head, clamping his
prostrate head between her high heeled ankles, squeezing it and forcing his lips to her
toes, as she pulled tightly on the straps of a ballgag, she’d wrapped around his head to
keep his screams muffled “Yes, ma’am. Right away,” Kelly replied sullenly.
As Kelly opened the door to the Governor’s apartment, Amanda turned and again looked
at Timothy. As she did, Carolyn stood, along with Denise and Celia, and all three women
placed a foot on Timothy’s little back and flipped him over, then put their big feet on his
chest. Then, smiling to each other, they looked down on Timothy and simultaneously
stepped onto his fractured ribs with their large frames, giving the little guy his first
appreciation of what it felt like to have more than 600 pounds of brutal pressure crush a
broken-ribbed man beneath it. “Timothy…,” Amanda wailed, seeing Timothy’s head
snap back in an airless scream into the ballgag, his eyes screwed shut, and flecks of saliva
actually flying from his nostrils! “Oh god…Timothy…,” her voice trailed off as she
looked around the office, searching for a friend. Seven pairs of tall female eyes returned
her gaze, with no emotion at all.
It had all happened too fast for Timothy, and his thoughts were just now beginning to
catch up to what was happening to him, the overwhelming shock of the last few minutes
stubbornly receding to allow his mind to try to come to grips with his reality. He
wondered if he was dreaming. It was all too impossible! A girl, right out of the Sports
Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, and almost seven feet tall, had gouged her long, sharp nails
into his friend, Gus, for no reason – his face no less! And another impossibly beautiful
young woman had squeezed Timothy until his insides were jelly! He’d never felt such
powerful, crushing muscles! Like a female bodybuilder – but a hundred times worse!
His ribs had cracked, almost in unison and white-hot pain had filled him and still
consumed him! Now, another of the women was driving her strong knee into his back –
right on his spine – and her weight was threatening to break his back! He couldn’t
breathe! And his ribs screamed under the pressure! Beside his face, two giant feet,
encased in very high heels, were squatting so close, he could smell the woman’s feet and
hear the creaking of the shoe leather as the woman shifted her weight! Her feet were
almost twice as big as his head! He felt his head suddenly violently yanked back by his
hair and glimpsed the massive feminine shins and toned thighs squatting over him,
blocking out the light! He groaned as the girl on his spine bounced on it! The pressure
was incredible! His back was going to break! Then, a huge rubber ball, was twisted into
his open mouth by a giant hand with long fingernails grasping it! And the girl squatting
over his head yanked the straps to the ball so tight, his vision momentarily blurred! She
clamped the strap around the back of his head tight enough to make him dizzy! And
Timothy realized he couldn’t scream…couldn’t even talk! Then, his hands were strapped
behind him and he was unceremoniously flipped onto his back.
He stared up, his eyes wide with fear, as four stunning, incredibly fit, toned, women
towered over him, their long, muscular, tanned legs disappearing into short, short skirts,
their towering physiques rising, seemingly into the sky! One put her foot on his chest,
pressing heavily on his little ribs – crushing them! Another slipped out of her shoe to
place her huge bare foot on his face! He couldn’t believe how large it was! It was easily
bigger than his whole head! She scraped her bare sole over his face again and again, as
she stared down at him smiling and he looked up at her like a terrified child! “You’re
gonna like the crampons,” she mused down to him. Then, as Timothy’s eyes got wide,
all three women pressed him beneath their big peds and, unbelievably, stepped onto him
with their giant frames…and Timothy…thought he would die! And then, the last
reasoned thought that could enter Timothy’s mind amidst the horror and pain, crept into
him: He was just like the poor little slaves on the tanker – and he was being walked on
by giants!
Kelly stopped kicking Gus as soon as she’d closed the door to the Governor’s plush
apartment. She guided Amanda to a deep, black leather couch and Amanda, filthy and
drained, collapsed into it, as Kelly closed a powerful hand around Gus’ neck and easily
pressed him to the floor at his wife’s feet. “I’ll tell you about the world now,” she told
them. “But, the Governor may check on us…so you’d better get going licking your
wife’s feet.”
Gus looked up, horrified. “Wha – What?” he asked tentatively.
Kelly rolled her eyes, then gently removed Amanda’s well-worn hiking boots. She was
momentarily taken aback at how small her bare feet were! She must weigh only a
hundred and thirty pounds or so!” thought Kelly. “A size…eight or nine…maybe!”
Almost like a child’s feet! It was obvious she hadn’t showered in weeks! Her feet were
almost black on the bottoms with filth and grit from the jungle, then from the dirty,
greasy decks of the tanker they’d stowed away on for weeks, then finally from running
around on the docks for hours when they’d sneaked off the ship this morning. The filth
and dirt had easily worked its way into her ratty, torn and damp old hiking boots and
ripped tube socks, now permeating her feet so deeply they might never be clean! When
she took off her shoes, Kelly had actually had to turn away, Amanda’s feet were so
pungent! It would be a hard first lesson for Gus to learn, thought Kelly. But he had a lot
of catching up to do…
Kelly guided Amanda’s feet to Gus’ face and pulled him by his hair until his mouth was
almost up against them. Gus recoiled at the smell! “Lick…them!” Kelly said firmly.
“Oh Please!” cried Amanda. “Don’t make him lick my feet! It’s so humiliating!
And…and they’re so stinky! I was barefoot the entire time we were on the ship! I just
put my boots on when we escaped!” She was almost crying again, but watching her
husband’s face as he was forced to do the unthinkable!
“Lick…them!” Kelly said again, ignoring Amanda and pressing her thumbnail into Gus’
neck.
Gus screamed at the cutting pressure of her sharp nail into his flesh, his phobia of sharp
objects paralyzing to him! Not understanding and just wanting the pain to stop, he began
pleading…but, at the same time, he tentatively stuck out his tongue and – oh, god! –
touched it to his wife’s grimy feet.
“Oh no!” cried Amanda, feeling the first touch of her husband’s wet tongue. “He’s doing
it! He’s licking my feet! Oh, honey, I’m so sorry!”
Kelly pressed Gus’ face hard into his wife’s feet, urging him on, and he began licking
steadily, at the same time pleading, “Ohll goooolld! Th’ ddirlt’s comingk off in miyy
mouhht! Ohlll gooold!” It sounded like a man in pain in a dentist’s chair!
Amanda’s mouth hung open, as she stared at her husband, prostrate before her, licking
the grit from her gritty, wrinkled soles! She raised her foot a little, not knowing if she
should even be helping him perform this vile task for her!
“Keep licking while we talk! Don’t you DARE stop!” Kelly said down to him, pleased
that his tongue was getting black, licking the filth from his wife’s little feet! “Swallow
it!” she commanded, stomping her heel hard right next to his face. She was rewarded by
seeing Gus’ eyes shift over, staring in terror at her sharp stiletto, then his Adam’s apple
bob up and down as he swallowed the sick black grime from the bottoms of his wife’s
feet!
Amanda was still looking down, mesmerized at the pathetic sight of her husband, licking
her filthy feet, his head bobbing slowly up and down as his tongue worked over her
black, wrinkled soles, then around her toes, even as he almost choked on the vile crud he
was licking up and swallowing! She uncrossed them now, she really SHOULD make it
easier for him, she decided, feeling horrible that he was being so truly humiliated – like a
dog, she thought!
Kelly gently lifted Amanda’s chin to look into her haunting eyes, distracting her from the
sad vision of a grown man licking her peds like a dog. “Let me tell you about genetics,”
she said darkly. “Let me tell you about the world.”
Amanda listened with rapt attention, ignoring her husband’s tickling tongue, as Kelly
described the initial experiments with human genetic enhancement therapy; how women
were, inexplicably, almost perfect subjects for enhancement – physically, mentally and
emotionally – while men were much more resistant to the DNA reprogrammers. How the
knowledge explosion was geometric – each experiment’s results instantly shot across the
Internet to expand the knowledge base in thousands of similar genetic experiments in tens
of competing countries! How the first working therapy, developed at UCLA, caught on
almost overnight, spreading like wildfire among women all over the world who wanted to
be dramatically more beautiful, taller, stronger, healthier – initially at the cost of a new
car, but, within a few months, at the cost of a flu shot! And, ultimately, resulting in an
entire race of superwomen – more beautiful than could be imagined, stronger and more
intelligent than could ever be dreamed! Amanda shook her head in disbelief,
momentarily distracted by the tickle of her husband’s tongue.
Gus stopped licking his wife’s feet, finding what he was hearing impossible to believe –
‘all in four years?!’ -- until Kelly noticed and looked down at him. “Get between her
toes,” she ordered, nudging his face with the toe of her shoe, and Gus started up again,
staring at Kelly’s wickedly sharp stiletto heel. Amanda, wanting to hear more, pushed
her foot a little toward her husband’s face, trying to get him licking again, so Kelly would
keep talking.
Kelly hesitated a moment, then told the story of the Awakening, leaving out the gory
details, the coup which resulted in the first female President, and finishing with the new
California Governor’s rise to power on the back (or, rather, the chest) of her husband, and
the almost instant and total enslavement of males across the globe, supported by new
laws that allowed it, and the full court press to provide the Treatment to every woman in
every country for free, along with the concurrent – but very different – debilitating
Treatment for the men.
Amanda stared at Kelly for a long, long time, unbelieving. It took Kelly opening the
blinds and Amanda looking across the CHP parade grounds – seeing men being whipped,
ridden like horses and walked upon – to come to grips with the new world! It was
unbelievable! Women had become the dominant gender almost overnight and had used
their newfound power to enslave all men! She looked down at her husband Gus, actually
LICKING HER FEET! His tongue now had black saliva stringing from it and long
patches of her feet were finally white again, where he’d actually licked the dirt into his
mouth and swallowed it! Months of filth from her dirty feet now in her husband’s mouth,
and more swallowed into his body! He was scared and bleeding and beaten. His face
had five deep, bleeding fingernail gouges in it from Carolyn’s nails! Amanda’s eyes
teared up, watching him! But what simultaneously terrified and captivated her…was
how feeling his tongue work its way between her toes -- licking away with no sign of
stopping -- made her feel as a woman…
Denise stood over Timothy, resting her powerful, bronzed leg on his little chest. It
wasn’t fair! He was delightfully terrified, and she could tell just the weight of her leg
was making it difficult for him to breathe! But, when she tried to put her weight on him,
his reaction of incomprehensible pain whenever she pressed her big foot down on his
chest, combined with the caving in of his ribcage almost certainly meant she had broken
some of his ribs when she squeezed him in her bear hug. “This sucks!” Denise said,
rocking her weight onto and off of him as he choked with the pain, his eyes streaming
tears! “If he hasn’t had the Treatment, he won’t heal if we break some more of his
bones! He might even die! And Governor Shryver wants to play with him after we’re
done!”
“Let’s do his privates, then!” called Carolyn brightly. She gripped Timothy’s legs, one in
each hand, and lifted them up, spreading them apart to expose his crotch. Then, she lifted
her high-heeled foot into the air and let her shoe drop off her foot to the floor with a crisp
thud. “I like to feel them squish under my bare foot,” she laughed. Carolyn held her bare
foot in the air between Timothy’s legs and suddenly stomped on his balls so hard she
thought she might have cracked his pelvis! Timothy screamed with the impact, then
gurgled a stifled groan as Carolyn stepped on Timothy’s balls with her full weight on her
bare foot, utterly smashing them! Holding his legs straight up in the air now, she rested
her elbows on the bottoms of his worn shoes, as she continued to stand on his balls with
her big bare foot, feeling the little testicles squish and move under her toes! “How ya
doin’, Slick?!” she asked, looking down at Timothy, as his eyes scrunched shut, enduring
her 195 lb. weight on his groin. She began bouncing fast on him, asking, “Tell me how
much it hurts…can you even TALK anymore?!”
Timothy just moaned, “Oh…oh…oh…pl—pl—uuthheee! Uh…uhhhh….!” But he was
impossible to understand through the rubber ball gag.
“Know what?! We’re the same age!” Carolyn called down brightly. “Can you imagine?
We were two babies in two different hospitals, born the same year – and now I’m more
than a foot taller than you – and I’m jumping on your balls!” All the girls laughed.
“Okay,” Carolyn said, her forehead glistening with sweat from the exertion of jumping
on Timothy’s testicles, “enquiring minds want to know…does it still hurt a guy when a
girl kicks his balls…if she’s already been stepping all over them for several minutes?!”
She stepped off Timothy, still holding his legs in the air, drew back her bare foot, and
delivered a brutal snap-kick directly to his balls with the top of her foot. Timothy
screamed and tried to pull his arms from under himself to protect his manhood as the
impact of Carolyn’s foot actually slid him several inches across the floor, but the wrist
restraints held fast and he began crying at his helplessness.
“Hmph! I guess it DOES!” Carolyn laughed.
A small chime stopped Timothy’s torture. Paula answered her phone, saying, “Right
away, ma’am”
“The Governor wants Timothy in her office,” Paula told the girls.
“But…what about the crampons?!” pleaded Carolyn.
“Now!” Paula affirmed. “And, take off his filthy clothes first.”
Grumbling, Carolyn jabbed her needle sharp metal stiletto into Timothy’s upper chest
and ripped it across his shirt, instantly tearing the material to shreds, and scratching
Timothy deeply. He twisted in pain, as she did the same to each pant leg, then his
underwear, then skewered his shoes, ripping the leather with her strength and the metal
heel. The girls then dragged a moaning Timothy into the Governor’s inner office, pulling
him by his arms as his legs slid helplessly across the floor.
He was a pathetic sight! Naked, frail and dirty, except for the tight straps holding his
arms behind his back and the ballgag, with its bright red rubber plug sticking in
Timothy’s mouth, he was dropped in front of the Governor’s desk between the four
stunning ladies’ legs. Celia’s stiletto nudged against his nose, threatening to skewer him
like shish kabob if she stepped sideways without looking!
The Governor stared imperiously down at him from across her desk. “Well?” she asked,
raising her eyebrows.
“He’s really, really frail,” Carolyn answered. “He’s not gonna last long if we put our full
weight on him. You should see how he caves in when I just press my foot into him! So,
we’ve been working on his gonads instead!”
“I see you have!” the Governor answered. Timothy’s privates were swelling up
substantially from the brutal trampling and kicking Carolyn had given them with her bare
foot. “Too bad they aren’t ALWAYS that big! the Governor laughed. “We might
actually be able to USE them for something!” The other girls smiled, staring down at
Timothy. Timothy tried to painfully raise his head to look at the Governor and Denise
lifted her boot and placed it on top of it, then slowly forced Timothy’s head back against
the floor, even as he tried to resist the pressure. When his head was flat again, Denise
pressed much harder, making him plead thorough the gag as she pressed heavy tread
marks into the side of his face.
“Hmph. Reminds me of Arnie,” the Governor mused, staring at Timothy beneath
Denise’s big boot. “I guess we could let him rest a while,” the Governor commented.
“Put him in the floor. But, leave his privates exposed.” She licked her dark lips and
watched as the girls lifted Timothy and placed him face down on the hardwood floor in
front of the Governor’s desk, his face against a glass panel in the floor. Carolyn, smiling,
removed a wood plug from a little hidden hole in the floor at his waist and roughly
guided Timothy’s genitals into the hole as they laid him down on the floor. Timothy
groaned as Carolyn squeezed him. Then the girls strapped him to the section of floor he
was laying on.
“Oh, look!” exclaimed Elena. “His little ass is sooo pale! Isn’t there something we can
do about that?!” The Governor smiled. Reaching into a drawer in her desk, she brought
out a wicked looking switch and handed it to Elena without comment. “How hard?”
Elena asked the Governor.
“As hard as you like,” the Governor answered, staring into Elena’s eyes. Elena’s breasts
rose in anticipation of what she’d just been given permission to do, and the other girls
stepped back to allow her to swing freely. She brought the switch high above her head,
and with all her strength, then, pausing for only a moment, whipped the switch
downward! The switch hissed through the air! With a loud snap it cracked against
Timothy’s bright white butt cheeks, causing him to buck and scream with a sudden
surprised flash of burning pain! The first red welt had hardly begun to form when Elena
brought the switch over her head for the second strike. She brought her arm down even
faster than the first time, hearing the telltale whoosh through the air and the sudden crack
against Timothy’s unprotected skin! Timothy jumped so much that the other girls
stepped back in to pin him to the floor, stepping on him with a substantial amount of their
weight. Elena couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed a beating so much! The way
Timothy jumped and bucked at the switch across his skin was so much more animated
than most males who had been beaten for years! Elena looked at the Governor,
questioning.
“By all means,” the Governor nodded. “Go to town on him.” Elena didn’t need any more
encouragement. With a blinding ferocity, she began switching Timothy’s small ass as
hard as she could swing! The loud cracks were coming so close together, it was almost
impossible to distinguish one from another! Timothy’s naked body bucked around as if
he was having a seizure and he was sobbing with the never-ending sting of Elena’s
switch! His ass was a deep red-purple as she beat him again and again, raising the switch
high above her head to hit him as hard as possible! His little butt was mottled with
prominent welts from the latest, individual strikes! Timothy cried like a baby, as Elena
blew a lock of hair out of her face that had come untucked with the exertion, but she
never slowed down! She put her heel on the small of his back to brace herself, pressing
him down hard so he couldn’t buck away from the sting! Her short skirt rode even higher
on her well-tanned thighs! Finally, spent, Elena panted, “Whose turn next?!” as she
handed the switch back to the Governor, and Timothy’s sobs reverberated beneath her
foot.
The Governor looked at Timothy’s candied ass. She smiled at the burning she knew
would just now begin to take it over. Burning that would not subside for days and would
then give way to welts he might have for a long, long time. His skin was torn in places
and looked as if it was peeling! ‘Elena had done a thorough job,’ thought the Governor,
as she glanced at Elena’s perfect features, glistening with a sheen of sweat. She liked
thoroughness.
The Governor considered taking a turn, but she knew she could be even more cruel than
Elena if she gave in to temptation, and she DID want to make a gift like Timothy last a
long time. She put the switch back in her desk, taking a moment to listen to Timothy’s
childlike wails, which had hardly subsided since Elena had stopped beating him. She
could see him trying to cover his burning bottom with his restrained hands! ‘No such
luck, Tim,’ she thought.
She pressed a small button on her desk and the floor section Timothy lay on suddenly
flipped upside down 180 degrees, causing Timothy to flip into the floor. Almost
comically, suddenly he and his wailing were gone – disappearing into the small,
soundproof cavity under the floor – the ‘shallow grave,’ some slaves called it! As
designed, though, Timothy’s genitals, which Carolyn had fed through the floor hole
before the Governor had flipped him, had now flipped topside and lay in the middle of
the expansive floor like some cheap rubber novelty item! ‘Like a fake rubber pile of
dogshit!’ thought Maria. The Governor pushed another button, and listened, as a
hydraulic hiss of air was now raising up against Timothy from beneath him; the bottom
pad of the shallow grave, pressing Timothy’s body up against the bottom of the office
floor, fully forcing his genitals upward and spilling them onto the floor, testicles and all!
His face, in turn was pressed against the underside of the little glass plate it had lay on
and all the women could see poor Timothy’s sobbing features “under glass,” though
100% soundproofing kept them from hearing the tiniest peep!
The Governor stood luxuriously, and strode around her desk, holding her spike-heeled
boot out for a moment, before stepping onto the separate section of floor Timothy was
housed beneath. She felt the trapped door platform sink under her weight a little and saw
a corresponding change in Timothy’s features as his little body accepted her full weight
under it. She had had the hydraulic pad designed to press the male’s body up against the
floor so hard from underneath, that it wouldn’t be too obvious to a woman walking on the
platform, that it was sinking beneath her weight and crushing someone trapped beneath it.
But, Timothy’s breath was forced out of his mouth and instantly fogged the little window
he stared up from, letting the Governor know she was DEFINITELY crushing him! He
was screaming – or trying to – but not a whisper came through the soundproof floor!
Maria had kept the floor platform a secret from the staff for quite a while. There was a
time before the Awakening (hard to imagine now), when, even though the girls had had
the Treatment and were six and a half feet tall, they would actually have been reluctant to
step on her husband for fear of losing their jobs! Only a wife or girlfriend could get away
with it then. So, there was no better fun, than sitting at her husband’s desk, promising to
relay a staff briefing to him “when he got back” – and watching Elena, Carolyn, Denise,
Celia, and Paula, standing right in front of her briefing her – while unknowingly crushing
her husband beneath their combined 1000 pounds of stunning beauty, as they stood on
the platform! Seeing them step onto the platform with their long, strong legs and
watching it sink down onto her husband, was an absolute rush and made her feel like a
giggly little girl again!
Alas, when Sandy had seen the former Governor’s contorted face in the glass plate one
night, suffering under her strong, lithe British body, the jig was up! Maria had thought
Sandy would be stunned, even though Sandy had already been caught sitting on her
husband’s head on his desk by then, but Sandy (in typical British understatement) had
simply commented, “Oh, there you are, Gov’nor! Is this you having a look up my skirt,
then?!” Then she’d stepped squarely on the glass plate, smashing Maria’s husband’s face
directly beneath her shoe. And, as she watched his nose turn bright white and squish with
the rest of his contorted face under the glass as Sandy stared down at him sternly, Maria
had known it would now be open season on platform crushing in the Statehouse. But,
since unknowing crush was its own special pleasure, the Governor had often placed small
males under the platform before receiving a large group of women in her office, even
after the staff knew about Maria’s little invention.
Only a few weeks ago, she had had a meeting with a contingent of young women from a
fringe group called the Male Empathy League. A group of 25 or so, all in their late teens
and early twenties, they asked her to support reducing the use of males as arbitrary
doormats and sidewalks for pure sport, instead using them only when necessary – when it
was muddy – when males were useful to keep women’s heels dry. Like the errant hippies
of the ‘70’s, these women were preaching sympathy and tolerance, instead of torture and
servitude for men. They would never have any political traction and even their own
membership was dwindling as more and more women got additional splices of the now
much more aggressive form of the Treatment and changed their political views! The
Governor had smiled a lot and listened politely, to the group, all the while watching the
women’s combined weight standing in front of her on the platform, unknowingly
crushing a small, young, screaming male beneath it! If they’d seen what was left of him
after all 25 had stood on him for half an hour, they would have regretted ever asking for
the meeting! 5000 pounds of female crush did a real number on a man’s little body! She
could only imagine what the women had looked like to the little male, as they towered
over him and he literally became part of the floor beneath their shoes – even as they
pleaded with the Governor to stop their torture! The poor male’s little body looked like it
had been run over by a truck when the women had walked off the platform and out of the
office. He had been flattened like a cartoon character with a rolling pin, to only inches
thick! Now, the Governor looked down into Timothy’s tearful eyes, as she did the same
to him! Life was grand!
Paula opened the thick mahogany door to Maria’s private apartment and slipped inside,
carrying some children’s clothes she thought might fit Amanda. Little blue jeans, a metal
fashion belt, a pullover shirt with “Wonder girl” stenciled on it, and little black size 81/2
“biker boots” with 3” spiky heels. She put the clothes down and nodded to Amanda,
smiling. Gus’ tongue was coated slimy black now, and his face was screwed up from the
sick task that had been forced upon him, but his wife’s little feet were pearly white, Paula
saw with satisfaction. She imagined Kelly had hated to be so hard on Gus, but it would
prove helpful, as both he and his wife needed to learn a harsh lesson so Paula could have
a very important talk with them. An idea had been swirling around in her head, and she
thought she just might be crazy enough to try it!
“Your feet look pretty good now, Amanda,” Kelly said. “You did a good job, Gus.”
Kelly patted Gus on the head. “Now, Amanda, let’s get the rest of you cleaned up.
There’s a luxury spa bathtub in the Governor’s bath down the hall, fresh, pre-warmed
towels, and aromatic bath moisturizers, shampoos and body washes.” Take a good, long,
luxurious bath and then we’ll all go to a late lunch. It’s well past our normal lunchtime
and you must be hungry. You can put on these fresh clothes Paula brought you when
you’re done.”
Amanda was actually starving! And she could sure use some new clothes. She nodded a
slight ‘thank you,’ to Paula, who smiled in return. “But…what about Gus?” she asked,
tentatively.
“Oh, he can wait. Besides,” Kelly said, eyeing the grime from Amanda’s feet on Gus’
tongue, “I think he’s eaten enough. As a matter of fact…why don’t you let him wash
you?! It’ll be good training for him.”
“But –,” Amanda started to object, and then remembered what the women had done to
Timothy when he’d resisted them. It would give her a chance to be alone with Gus,
where they could talk about what to do – and she could apologize for making him lick her
filthy feet clean. She faked a smile. “Okay.”
Amanda padded down the hall and entered the bath, Gus following on all fours after
almost making the mistake of standing. Kelly’s hard heel stomp against the floor had
cured him instantly of that insolence. Within five minutes hot, mineral water cascaded
over Amanda’s skin, filling the tub with warm, luxurious bath beads and thick, white
bubbles, and washing months of dirt away. Gus, dutifully and very gently washed her
with a soft body sponge, as Amanda closed her eyes and relaxed in the spa-like
environment, bubbles swirling around her in the tub, as its gentle rhythms swirled her
stress away.
“Amanda…Amanda,” Gus began, when they were alone. “Can you believe what’s
happened in the world?! What are we going to do?! Did you see what they did to
Timothy?! What they did to me?!”
Amanda let her head fall to look at her husband. No question, he was a pathetic sight!
And she needed to comfort him. “Gus, I’m so sorry about what happened to you! But, it
may have been a miscommunication. Kelly and Paula are being nice to us…let’s give
them a chance before we jump to conclusions.”
“Jump to conclusions?!!!” They were stepping on Tim! We have to escape!”
“Shhh!” Amanda looked at the closed door to the bath. “How can we escape?! We’re at
the State Office Tower and the police academy is right next door! And, where would we
escape TO?! Do you think we can just go home?! Do you think your old friends at just
hanging out over at the college?! Gus! Everything’s different now! And there’s no
where to run!”
Gus’ face contorted and it looked like he was about to cry! She ran her fingers through
his matted hair, then gently took his chin in her hand. “Don’t worry,” she said.
Apparently a wife can protect her husband. And I won’t let them lay a hand on you.” She
would have kissed him, but she couldn’t even look at the filthy grime on her husband’s
tongue, knowing it came from her own feet! So, she released his face, letting his
downcast eyes go toward the floor, and leaning back herself, to enjoy the luxurious hot
soak.
After forty minutes of soaking, a refill of the tub with clean water, and a final, short
shower, while standing in the now-gray water, she was a new woman! She’d tried to talk
to Gus occasionally, to tell him everything would be all right, but he didn’t to want to talk
much. Either his tongue was swollen from all the foot-licking, or his phobia of sharp
objects had finally sent him into shock after what he’d experienced in the last hour. She
assumed he’d be all right after some time had passed since his rather cruel humiliation.
At any rate, there was little she could do to help him at the moment, and the water felt
incredible!
Paula sat with Kelly in the living room of the apartment off the Governor’s office talking
in hushed whispers, Paula having taken the opportunity to change from her business suit
to a more casual outfit and redo her hair. She wanted Kelly to be receptive to what she
was going to talk to her about, and Paul knew from the way Kelly looked at her in the
office, that the sexier Paula looked, the more receptive Kelly would be. She was now
wearing a black khaki miniskirt over red stiletto heels, with a white, loose-fitting halter
top, that showed off her ample, natural breasts. A silver chain was wrapped lazily around
her smooth, bare, tanned midriff, just at her navel. Her thick, black hair hung with loose,
wet-look curls framing her stunning face. She was absolutely breathtaking – and Kelly,
from the way her own breasts were rising and falling – was obviously noticing. “So,
what’s this big idea of yours?” Kelly asked, her eyes full of interest.
Paula hesitated, gathering her thoughts. “Why don’t you like hurting them?” she asked
Kelly tentatively.
Kelly’s eyes grew serious. “Who? You mean the men?” Kelly asked in return. “It’s not
that I necessarily like it or DON’T like it, I just don’t get a rush out of it…at least not like
some girls do. I mean…I enjoy it well enough, but…I keep feeling like there’s
something…I don’t know…not quite right about doing it so much. Why?!”
“I wasn’t going to tell you this until later,” Paula answered, “but my experience,
watching what the girls did to Peter at the concert -- what I did to him -- well, it changed
me. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have a woman as tall as me
standing on the inside of his cheek with my spike heeled boot for most of an hour, as he
was helpless to stop the pain. I didn’t even know if he was dead or alive when I stepped
off his face.” She remembered Peter screaming into the mud, biting at her sharp spiked
boot heel, as she’d stood on his face, pretending to be oblivious. Kelly nodded, looking
down, imagining the scene of her own husband beneath Paula’s spike heeled cowgirl
boots. She’d done more than her share of damage to her husband over a period of months
herself. The silence drew itself out, Kelly instinctively knowing she should wait for
Paula to continue.
Paula looked down at the floor. “I had an old boyfriend once,” she said softly.
“Sometimes I dream. I dream…that I drowned him…by standing on his face on the
beach…squishing him into the sand until the waves washed over him…right after I’d had
the first Treatment. But…it’s like I have a daytime memory that he was just a short term
boyfriend and didn’t matter – that I enjoyed it – then I have the recurring nightmares that
he was much more…and I tortured him by riding him, walking on him…until his little
face just sunk beneath my feet for the last time, as he strained to breathe, pleading with
me with his eyes.”
“My God!” Kelly stared at her. She reached out and touched Paula’s arm and saw goose
bumps form on Paula’s smooth skin as their eyes met.
“I’m just having second thoughts about how cruel we are to the men. I know they’re just
pets…but, I’m confused. I was confused the night of the concert, when Peter reminded
me of Todd, my boyfriend. And, seeing Peter again…I’m confused now. I thought…I
thought you might feel the same.”
“Paula! I DO feel the same!” Kelly answered in a harsh whisper, gripping her arm
tighter. “Sure, I’ll step on a guy – even an old man – if he’s in my way, or if he deserves
it. And god-knows I love having my feet licked and my toes sucked, but, geez Paula, I’ve
beaten so many little males with whips I’ve lost count! I’ve stepped on so many of them,
it’s like second nature, keeping my balance when I walk on them. I don’t even notice if
they’re choking or screaming beneath me anymore
“And I can’t help thinking…did I always feel this way? Did I always DO THIS to them?
Or --,” she hesitated.
“Or did the Treatment make you this way?” Paula finished the sentence for her.
Kelly stared at her, incredulous! “Yes! Exactly! It feels so natural so just step on my
husband – as natural as stepping on a crack in the sidewalk. Or to beat him! Like that’s
what he’s there for! But, I don’t remember doing it while we were dating – or, even after
we were first married! Why didn’t I walk all over him then?! Why didn’t I ride him out
of the church horsey-style after the wedding like all the young brides do now?!” Why do
my OLD SHOES not have any blood on the soles, while all my newer ones DO? I’ve
worried about the Treatment making us this way. But…what can we do?!”
Paula hesitated. This was the moment. “Amanda.” Paula replied. “She’s perhaps the
only woman in the world who hasn’t had the Treatment.” She paused. “Her DNA is
clean.”
“What do you mean?” Kelly asked.
“Don’t you understand?!” Paula’s voice was strained. “Amanda’s DNA is the key to
reversing whatever in the Treatment gives us the biological need to hurt the men! To not
feel empathy for them! Kelly! Amanda’s DNA is our trail of breadcrumbs back to the
way it used to be!”
Kelly’s mouth fell open, trying to come to grips with what Paula was suggesting. “But –
even if we can isolate the aggression receptors by comparing Treated DNA like ours to
Amanda’s, women aren’t going to want to go back to being 5’7” tall midgets like her! I
know I’m not going to!”
“We don’t change the whole Treatment – we just change the one receptor that causes
such aggression and lack of empathy for the males!” Paula replied, still whispering.
“With two comparative models and Amanda’s contacts at UCLA, it won’t take a
supercomputer there more than a day to isolate the responsible receptors – if they exist!”
Kelly stared at her, her eyes boring into Paula’s! It might just work!
“The only problem,” Kelly sighed, “is that we – the Governor’s office – MIGHT be able
to order a change in the Treatment formula for California – make it easier for the males
here by removing an aggression receptor – but the rest of the world will still enslave
them.”
“No they won’t!” Paula answered enthusiastically. “Kelly, as California goes, so goes the
world today! California was the birthplace of the Treatment! It’s the home of the tall
California blond! Add to that, that Governor Shryver is almost a shoo-in for the US
Presidency in the election next week after President Modonnah finishes her term, and
EVERYBODY in the world is taking their cues from California! Any change ordered for
the Treatment in California – by the new U.S. President no less – will instantly be copied
throughout the world! The last time we changed the California Treatment, the change
was copied around the world within a WEEK! And a change like this will be so subtle,
it’ll never be obvious what it actually means! The current generation of women will
continue to use men as their personal playthings, but the next won’t. As little girls get the
new strain for their first Treatment dose, they’ll grow tall, muscular, intelligent and
perfectly beautiful – but they won’t want to trample or beat the men! One generation
from now, males will have nothing more to fear from the superior race of women. They
may be treated as pets…but they WON’T be treated as playthings! And, the world will
be more or less, back to the way it was Before. We won’t be able to help the men of
today, but in ten or twenty years, this will all be a bad memory for them -- maybe even a
good one!”
Kelly stared at Paula for a long time, thinking. Finally, she asked, “Okay. What do I
have to do?”
Amanda stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in a thick, furry bathrobe, and found the
fresh set of clothes in the vestibule to the bathroom. She looked the other way when Gus
slowly dipped his own face in her dirty bath water and rinsed his mouth out with it, too
embarrassed for him, as he humiliated himself by drinking in the gray water. Poor Gus!
The taste of her foot grime must have been horrible all that time!
Kelly came in, having changed clothes for a late lunch herself and said she’d clean Gus
up while Amanda blow-dried her hair and put on makeup. Closing the inner bath door
and hearing the blow drier start up on the other side of it, Kelly looked severely down at
Gus. He stared up at her in a mixture of awe and terror. He waited for her to speak,
glancing at her high heels, wondering what was in store for him.
Kelly put her hands on her hips and stared down at Gus as he cowered in front of her on
the floor. She could see him taking in her long, perfectly tan, bare legs as their tone was
enhanced by the very high heels she wore. Her dark skirt was a little too short, and Gus
might be getting a ‘show’ from his perspective, Kelly realized. But she doubted his fear
would even allow him to notice. ‘Poor little creature!’ she thought. She knew she was
beautiful. And seeing him, fearful of her, yet unable to take his eyes off of her, only
confirmed what the poor guy must be enduring emotionally! Kelly really didn’t want to
do what she was about to do to him. But, it was the first step in Paula’s plan. She needed
to know. She needed to know if Gus could endure what he would have to, to allow the
plan to work – and perhaps save him and every other male from generations of slavery!
And…she needed to show. She needed to show him what his life would be like if he
didn’t do what he was told to do. And, to make it real, she would have to be quite
stern…..
“You need a BATH, Gus!” she said coldly. “That’s right…you need a BATH!” Kelly
exaggerating the B-A-T-H-word like she and Peter used to do with their dog to watch his
tail go between his legs at the word, and him skulk away. Kelly laughed, as Gus
crumpled almost like her dog! ‘He must not like baths, either,’ she thought comically.
“I should just use the high pressure hose on you,” she spoke down to him. “But, I’m
going to be kind. I’ll allow you to get clean in your wife’s dirty bath water.”
Gus looked forlornly over at the gray, lukewarm water.
“Go ahead, Gus,” Kelly commanded. “Get in the tub. But, take off those filthy clothes,
first.”
Gus hesitated, so Kelly brought her hand up and looked absently at her own long,
polished fingernails. “Do I need to do a ‘Timothy’ on you, Gus?” she asked, letting him
see her sharp talons.
She actually saw a harsh rippling shiver run the length of Gus’ body as he stared at
Kelly’s nails! Gus tried to hide his embarrassment, as he slowly, painfully removed his
clothes in front of Kelly, while she stared at him, cowering at her feet. He was
emaciated, after weeks without proper food, and his little ribs showed through his skin.
He would never had survived an encounter with Elena, Carolyn or Celia! Thin and small,
compared to the incredibly stunning, healthy, 7-foot tall beauty in front of him, she
watched as he tried to hide his privates from her evaluating eyes.
“Don’t bother,” Kelly said. “I know how small they are. You can hardly even see them
anyway, so why cover them up?!” Gus blushed bright red as Kelly stared down at his
manhood, pointedly shaking her head.
Gus slowly lifted his small leg over the lip of the large, round marble tub, looking at
Kelly once, unsure, and slowly stepped into the fast-cooling water. He shivered
involuntarily as he lowered himself down, and the cool water covered him. The bubbles
had all but dissolved and it looked like sewer water – the dirt from Amanda’s body
thickening it to the gray of a perhaps-stormy day. He brought his knees up to his chest
and wrapped his arms around them to keep warm, as his teeth started chattering.
“All the way in!” Kelly commanded. “We need to get you clean!” She knelt down, her
skirt riding up her muscular thighs, placed her large hand on the top of Gus’ head and
slowly pushed it straight down, forcing him under the water. She paused when she’d
forced him down up to his nose, saying, “Deep breath, Gus!” Then, as he inhaled through
his nose, she pressed the rest of his head under water and held it there. Kelly took a
washrag from behind her in the black marble alcove, and began roughly scrubbing it
across Gus’ fragile skin. At first, she heard a muffled moan from his head under the
water, so she went a little more gently, but not much, as she had to get him clean!
Occasionally, she knew she was scratching him with her long, sharp nails, as Gus bucked
and screamed in terror with each scratch, but that couldn’t be helped. She had very little
time and needed to accomplish this task in order to put her and Paula’s plan into motion.
She’d almost forgot how long she’d been holding Gus’ head under water, as her thoughts
drifted off to what she planned to do to save him and the other males. Finally, she
removed her hand from the top of Gus’ head and his face shot out of the water, coughing
and gagging for air! “Sorry,” Kelly said, as he choked. “I wish I could say it was gonna
get easier. But, actually, I need to be more thorough with your cleaning – And, Gus? I’m
sorry…but I need to know what you can take.” She stared down at him, apologetically, as
Gus’ face registered uncertainly – then, abject terror, as he looked at the stern expression
on Kelly’s face.
Kelly stood, bringing herself to her full, towering height, and stared down at him. She
was about to violate his wife’s protection, which was a grave offense. But, it couldn’t be
helped. She had to know what Gus could endure – and she had to show him what could
happen if the world didn’t change. It might be key to the plan working! “I won’t use my
heels, yet,” she said, looking down on him as he held his head out of the water,
plaintively, his little teeth chattering, and the rest of his body submerged. “Amanda will
be doing that soon enough.” Gus recoiled! Amanda would never do such a thing to him!
He tried to call out to her, to get her to protect him, but the fear was so great, he couldn’t
scream more than a whisper!
Kelly lifted her strong leg onto the rim of the tub and reached down, slowly beginning to
unbuckle the little straps of her stiletto heel, as Gus stared at it, mesmerized. She
removed the rigid high-heeled shoe, then did the same with the other one. Now barefoot,
Kelly stood again to her full height and stared directly down into Gus’ eyes. “I’m really
sorry,” she said down to him. “But I have to know what your limits are.”
Kelly lifted her powerful leg over the rim of the tub, and dipped her toes into the tepid
water – no wonder Gus was shivering – and placed her big bare foot on Gus’ stomach, as
Gus tried in vain to avoid her foot, slithering across the tub like a little tadpole! Gus’
eyes went wide with fear, and it seemed he was trying to speak, but the words just
wouldn’t come! Kelly pinned Gus under her powerful foot, pressing him into the bottom
of the luxurious tub, feeling his heart beating frantically in his chest -- then transferred
her weight very slowly to Gus’ torso, watching his face for the tormented expression she
knew would be there. She knew she had to give him time to accept the crushing pressure
of her tall, athletic frame! His head arched back, and a long, drawn-out,
“OOUUGHHHHHHWWWWIIIIEEEEKKCHHKKK!” escaped from his mouth, as both
his hands grabbed Kelly’s ankle in a vain attempt to hold off some of the pressure! It felt
like stepping on a slimy fish!
Kelly brought herself fully over Gus’, seeing his little body distorted by the ripples in the
water beneath her big foot, as she brought her other foot to bear on his chest! Though her
feet were actually standing rather close together, one was on Gus’ stomach, and the other
standing squarely on his upper sternum. Gus began to cough and choke with the crush
under Kelly’s tall, perfect body, vainly grabbing at her ankles, and running his hands up
her smooth, glistening calves, in a wild attempt to stop her from crushing him. His legs
were flailing wildly, sloshing water out of the tub, like a fish trying desperately to get out
of a bucket after it’s been caught! Kelly knew, as she stood stock still, gazing down at
the struggling man, that it would only take about 30 seconds before he simply had no
more air with which to even cough, or resist. Then he would endure her standing on him
in absolute silence, just an occasional creak from his throat when she shifted her weight.
His little stomach was almost flat against the bottom of the tub, and was bright white all
around where her toes pressed into it, Kelly saw. She shifted her weight fully onto it,
feeling Gus’ abdominal muscles (such as they were) finally give way to her, and rend,
allowing her to sink her foot fully into his stomach! She felt his little internal organs
moving individually beneath Gus’ skin as she rocked her weight onto them! Gus’ body
was now a ‘V’, depressed in the center at his stomach with both ends rising around her
foot there, her powerful, tanned leg a pillar pressing straight down onto them! Gus was
desperately trying to keep his face out of the water and his face was turning purple! And
his expression! His contorted, gasping face, frantically trying to breathe! His tongue
lolling out of his mouth pathetically! He was DEFINITELY feeling the pressure!
“I really am sorry,” Kelly called down to him calmly, feeling his torso struggling under
her crushing weight and herself begin to really sink into him. She stood tippy-toe, then,
she walked onto his upper chest, feeling his ribs rend beneath her as he groaned,
“AHHHHGGGVVKKKKKKKKKTHH!” Kelly admired the way her powerful, tanned,
perfectly smooth thighs looked in the full-length mirror, when she walked on her tiptoes
– like a tennis athlete, she thought!

[DeathXI]

She placed her big foot on Gus’ upturned face, dwarfing it with her size 14, and gave him
a minute to try to breathe in, before she pressed his face beneath the water, shifting some
of her weight onto it. Of course, she realized, he could never breathe with her 235
pounds of athletic muscle standing on him, so she gave up waiting and just stepped on his
head fully, violently forcing it under the water and against the bottom of the tub, next to
the drain. She stepped fully onto his head to reposition the foot on his chest onto his
groin, then threw all her weight to the other foot, crushing his groin into his bladder and
causing his head to shoot violently out of the water, as she took her weight off the foot on
his face! Gus choked and gagged on the filthy water and the ache that flooded his
testicles! Kelly was reminded of what the college coeds had done to Peter at her pool
party in the backyard, and felt a momentary pang of regret. Then she put her left foot
squarely on Gus’ face and stepped down again, smashing it under the water!
Kelly rocked back and forth, from one foot to the other, squashing Gus’ groin and
stomach, his head flying out of the water, then back onto his head, smashing it into the
bottom of the tub, for several minutes. With all the water sloshing around, she was glad
Amanda was still running the blow dryer in the outer salon, covering the noise. She
pressed her toes into Gus’ eyes, then clenched them, pulling the skin down from his
lower lid, exposing his eyeballs to the dirty water, and forcing him to look up at the
vision of Kelly Cole, supermodel, standing on his face! As Gus feebly tried to grab her
ankles with the new pain flooding his eyes, Kelly lifted her leg, easily slipping it out of
his weak grasp, and stomped down hard, pinning both Gus’ hands to his own stomach
under her big ped! Suddenly, as Gus was held completely immobile beneath her, there
was absolute stillness in the bathroom, as Kelly looked down on the suffering man she
was fully standing on! Unable to move, unable to breathe, helpless in the dirty bath
water, Gus suffered in silence as Kelly stared down at him, absently fingering her perfect
teeth with her long fingernail!
A single bubble escaped Gus’ mouth and drifted to the surface. A single drop of water
fell from the tub’s faucet in absolute stillness. Minutes crept by as Kelly stood
motionless on Gus, her mighty weight squashing him like jelly! Finally, when she knew
Gus could take no more, she stood on her tiptoes on his stomach, to give him the
maximum effect of her concentrated weight, then began tiptoeing roughly all over his
naked body under the water, leaving her footprints in his pale flesh!
Kelly grabbed Gus’ nose between her strong toes and pulled his head out of the water by
it, staring down at what was left of him! He didn’t even seem to know where he was
anymore! ‘That should do it…” she thought. She slammed his head back under water
and stepped off his little body and out of the tub via his collarbone, shaking the water off
her foot onto his face, then dragged Gus out by his hair, dropping him on the rug at her
feet. She prayed he was alive! Suddenly, he started coughing and gagging violently and,
rolled around on the floor, throwing up dirty bath water!
Kelly squatted down and grabbed Gus by the hair, raising his head so he looked into her
eyes, trying to remain conscious. There was a giant footprint imprinted across his little
face! “Remember this, Gus,” Kelly said knowingly. “Remember what it was like…and I
wasn’t even trying! I am going to ask you and your wife to help me save you.
Remember what you can endure – and remember that this will happen almost every day
for the rest of your life, if you don’t help me change the world. Don’t think Amanda
won’t get accustomed to it if she gets the Treatment. Even though I love my husband
too, I do this to him. I walk on him like he’s nothing. And often, I wear my heels. If you
think Amanda won’t do it to you, you’re living in a dreamworld.”
Kelly drew her hand back and slapped Gus hard across the face, then stood, kicked him
onto his back, raised her leg and heel-stomped hard on his stomach, gritting her teeth!
Frothy water exploded from his mouth and he began coughing even more violently!
“Now…get dressed,” Kelly said, not even looking behind her as she kicked him back
over, then stepped squarely on his spine, feeling it crack along the length of his back, and
walked out of the bathroom, carrying her lethal spikes and choking back the guilt at what
she’d just done to such a small, weak, innocent male.
“You’re really quite attractive!” Kelly said, as brightly as she could, when she rejoined
Amanda. Amanda had finished blow-drying her hair and was applying lipstick too
thickly; perhaps trying to make up for all the time she hadn’t been able to wear makeup,
or the fact that she alone was not a supermodel in a world of suddenly-supermodels!
“Th-thank you,” Amanda said softly. Despite what the other women had done to
Timothy before Kelly had ushered her to the Governor’s apartment, Kelly had not
participated; Kelly had actually been very kind to her. Amanda hesitated. She knew she
had a healthy, outdoorsy look to her – and she’d certainly had no trouble getting guys to
notice her at UCLA, but now – with the way all the women looked…how could she ever
compete?! She took a chance at conversation with Kelly, still a little afraid, but less so
after such a luxurious bath.
“Compared to you,” said Amanda, “I’m so ugly now…”
Kelly tossed her thick, playful curls over her shoulder and flashed her bright eyes at
Amanda. “Well, let me help you with your makeup and we’ll see where we end up.” She
smiled, and Amanda smiled back.
“Oh, um, where’s my husband?” Amanda asked.
“Taking a bath,” Kelly answered, “he’ll be all right.” She was thinking Gus had probably
not even been able to get up yet, after she’d trampled him under her full weight as harshly
as she had. Besides, the footprints she’d left all over him needed time to fade…..
Amanda looked downright cute when Kelly had finished fixing her up. Paula had found
some little kids’ clothes that fit her quite well, The blue jeans were a little big and long,
but Paula had also brought along some little girls’ black biker boots with low, sharp 3”
heels. When Amanda stuffed her Wranglers into the boots, then put on the little t-shirt
(which was also too large, despite being made for a 10-year-old) she looked like quite the
little biker chick – and she had quite a nice little body, although, obviously it was hard to
notice all that under all the baggy clothes when she was only 5’6”!
When Amanda was clean and fresh again, Kelly escorted her to the living room and Paula
slipped in and clicked the door closed behind her. Kelly retrieved Gus from the bathroom
floor, where he still lay, her big footprint still visible in his bare back. She put Gus’ dirty
clothes back on him and let him follow her powerful gait, crawling behind her, back to
his wife. She noticed his eyes were locked on her bare feet, as they walked just in front
of his face. Doubtless, he was imagining what they were doing to the rug they stepped
on!
When Gus saw Amanda, he almost cried out! She was so clean! So pretty! He knew
better than to tell her about what Kelly had done to him in the bathroom, so he crawled to
his wife’s booted feet and lay down at them, trying to curl behind them for protection.
Amanda didn’t remember her husband looking quite so beaten up when they’d arrived,
but he was cleaner, so she assumed it was just because he now contrasted with her in her
new clothes and clean, fresh makeup. She was still worried for him, though, with the
way these women now thought of all the men.
Kelly formally introduced Paula as the Governor’s Chief of Staff, and Paula sat next to
Amanda, taking her little hands in Paula’s big ones. “Amanda,” we have to talk to you,”
Paula began, “Not everyone wants to hurt little guys like Gus. Kelly and I want to
change things in the world, but we need your help –and Gus’s. You two are very special.
And, believe it or not…if you’re willing to play along…you can save the men all across
the planet…..”
Amanda looked down at Gus, as Paula related her plan to her. “Basically, what we need
from you, is to play for time while we compare your DNA to our altered DNA and
officially order an appropriate change to the Treatment strain – one that removes any
aggression receptors. It will be hard on you…and even harder on your husband, as you’ll
have to act like you enjoy torturing him and other males, in order to get a job on staff
here, so you can stay and have your DNA tested. You’ll have to be cruel to him. And
you’ll have to pretend to have had the Treatment yourself.”
Amanda let Paula’s words sink in. ‘Torture her own husband?!’ She didn’t think she
could do that! She looked down at Gus, who was clearly terrified, looking at the cruel
little heels of his wife’s boots! “I don’t know…,” Amanda’s voice drifted off.
“Just try it – as a practice run,” Paula said. “Let Gus get used to it…”
Gus recoiled! Amanda was not a giant, like Kelly, Paula and the other women, but she
was a robust young woman…and in those boots…Gus broke out in a sweat, imagining
the sharp, cutting tread of those heels slicing into him, his wife’s full weight standing on
them! He knew Amanda knew of his terrorized phobia of sharp objects, and he knew she
would never agree to do this to him! Then, he remembered the horrible, heavy tread of
Kelly’s brutal bare feet as she padded around on his naked body, crushing it and mashing
it into the bottom of the bathtub! He didn’t know which was worse, but he knew
somehow Amanda – as his wife and protector – would save him from what Paula was
suggesting.
“I don’t think he can take my full bodyweight,” Amanda answered.
“Oh, I have reason to believe he can actually handle you quite nicely,” Kelly commented,
lightly brushing her bare foot across Gus’ nose.
Amanda knitted her eyebrows. “What do you think, Sweetheart?” she asked, looking
down at her husband.
Gus thought he hadn’t heard her right. “Wha—What do you mean?!” he swallowed.
“I think we need to consider Paula’s plan. We could save the whole world! I think you’ll
be able to take it if I’m gentle when I walk on you. At any rate, it won’t be any worse
than being made to lick my feet clean.”
“Oh, no, Amanda…you’re wearing boots! They’ll dig into me! Those heels will—cut
me to ribbons! No! I can’t take that!”
Amanda looked at Kelly, who nodded to her.
“I’ll just practice for a couple of minutes, Gus,” Amanda said. “You’ll be okay. Trust
me.” She uncrossed her legs and stood, her pencil-thin boot heels sinking into the plush
carpet.
“Amanda…, honey…,” Gus began, fear enveloping him –
“Poor guy,” Amanda said to the girls. “He’s not going to be able to do this without
help.”
“We’ll help him then,” Paula answered. Paula and Kelly took Gus’ arms and legs and
forced him down onto his back, as he begged them not to do this, then slowly unbuttoned
his shirt, exposing his bare flesh, as they smiled down at him. Their strength was
amazing! They handled him like a child! The rough way they treated her husband made
Amanda uncomfortable, but she decided not to say anything to them. Her walking on
him HAD to be better than THEM walking on him – which might be the alternative!
And Amanda was smart enough to realize she had to make friends with these women to
have any chance at all of protecting Gus – even if it meant occasionally doing distasteful,
humiliating things to him! Anyway, she’d just walk on him for a minute or two! And, if
the girls saw he really couldn’t take it, maybe they’d think of another plan!
Amanda placed her spiky biker boot on her husband’s chest. She felt the little heel settle
in between two of his ribs. She couldn’t believe she was about to step on someone! She
was no lightweight, but at least she wasn’t a giantess! In fact, she guessed it was a good
thing she’d lost weight during the journey on the ship to the United States, scavenging for
food as they did, so she probably only weighed around 115 now – well down from her
average stocky weight of 135!
Gus tried to twist away when he felt the cruel heel, but Amanda pressed it down harder
on him, pinning him beneath it, giving him a look that told him it was for his own good!
Honestly, she couldn’t believe he didn’t understand she was stepping on him for both of
them! “Okay?” Amanda asked Paula. Kelly and Paula squeezed their hands tight around
Gus’ arms and legs, holding him fast against the ground. Amanda, bit her lip, then
stepped down on the boot on her husband’s chest, feeling it sink into him and seeing an
expression of pure, unadulterated pain on her husband’s face! His eyes scrunched shut as
she stepped down on him and felt both her heels sink the full three inches deep into his
flesh!
“Oh…Oh…goddd!” cried Gus. “Honey…honey…I can’t…catch…my…breath!
They’re so…sharp! Oh…god! Please…stop!” Amanda tried to shut her ears to Gus’
pleas! She swallowed hard! She couldn’t believe she was actually walking on her own
husband! The little heels felt like they were just sinking completely into his flesh! Her
full weight was leaning back on the heels and Amanda almost lost her balance! She
tipped forward suddenly and had to rip her heel out of Gus and stomp it down in front of
herself to break her fall. And the stomp was not gentle! She drove her boot hard into
Gus’ chest and mashed her full weight onto it, then rocked back onto the other heel,
trying still to balance! His gut sunk deeply under her boots! Gus groaned under her
weight and she felt terrible! She knew that must have hurt!
Now more in control, Amanda began to walk around all over her husband’s chest, harder,
then softer, feeling the sinking heels, then raising up on her tiptoes to concentrate her
weight on the toes. She tried bouncing on the heels a little, then stomping on his ribs.
She felt terrible about the way his ribs seemed to bend beneath her and the way his face
looked – all screwed up and turning red! She stepped too far to the side and instantly her
heel ripped down Gus’ torso, and he screamed! “Sorry, honey,” she said. She tried to get
her balance, but the other heel ripped down Gus’ other flank, gouging deeply into the
outside of his rib cage! Gus screamed again! She decided she would do this for only
three – okay, five – minutes to see if he could get used to it, because it felt like she
might have scratched him that last time! She wouldn’t have looked behind her at where
her heel had ripped down him but she didn’t want to lose her balance again!
Amanda could see Gus’ neck muscles straining under her cutting tread and his fists were
clenched, trying to take the pain! It was like walking on an old couch thought Amanda,
wondering what it really felt like for him – to have your wife walking on you like an old
couch! Gus began coughing and screaming and Amanda closed her ears to it. She
looked away from his terrified eyes, staring up at her like slits! This was necessary and
he had to learn to take it so he didn’t have to take worse! Kelly and her friends wouldn’t
be so gentle and caring when they walked on him and Amanda knew it! She looked over
at Kelly’s big, buff body and knew if she ever walked on Gus, he’d almost certainly be
crushed to death!
Lost in thought for a moment, Amanda stepped too far up Gus’ chest and her boot slid
into his throat, making him gag and Amanda leapt backward, terrified she’d almost stood
on her husband’s throat! She resolved to walk around much lower on his stomach,
backing up so she could see his contorted face. She had no idea her heels behind her had
found the tip of his manhood and that the sudden childlike scream that came from her
husband’s mouth was the result of her little spike heel impaling his shaft under her full
weight!
“I’m not doing anything! I’m just standing here!” she said to him. “Honey, it’s just the
phobia…it’s not that bad!” Gus, gurgled an unintelligible plea. “Is it too hard on your
stomach?!” She took a step back and accidentally crushed his whole member under her
boot, the little heel now grinding between his testicles! Gus’ hands were like claws,
trying to raise his arms from the floor, but Kelly and Paula easily held them down. They
could see what Amanda was doing to Gus’ privates, and even Kelly had to look away for
a moment! What would it be like to experience that for the first time in a male’s life, she
wondered!
At the end of five minutes, Gus gasping and screaming and crying the whole while,
Amanda slowly stepped off of him, watching him curl into the fetal position, crying at the
pain of being beneath his wife’s cruel boots!
Well, this was certainly an uncomfortable moment. Waiting for your husband to recover
from you walking on him so he could talk again.
“Was I too heavy?” Amanda asked, leaning down to cradle Gus in her arms. “Was it too
much?” She gently turned Gus over and saw his chest literally covered in her brutal heel
marks, gouges and boot prints, and Amanda exploded into tears! “Oh my GOD!” she
cried! “OH MY GOD!!! Oh, Gus, oh honey! I had no idea I was doing that to you! OH
MY GOD! Oh, Gus, I didn’t know!” She traced the outline of some of the deepest welts
from the cruel little heels, sniffling back tears! She had never seen anyone covered in
heel marks before! “Oh, honey! It must have been horrible being walked on! Please
forgive me! I had no idea how sharp these boots were! The way they must have dug into
you! I had no idea I was that heavy! Oh, Gus! Oh you poor baby!”
Amanda lifted her boot and examined the little heels. My god!
They’re…they’re…hollow—like soda straws! They’re razor sharp steel edges with no
center! To have my full weight on them! Oh, my god!”
“They’re kids boots,” replied Paula. “They’re so even a little lady can make heel marks
like her mom.”
Amanda closed her eyes in silent acceptance of what the world had become.
Gus was still rolling around on the ground in pain, unable to speak! Amanda looked at
Kelly and Paula. “I CAN’T do that to him! I’m sorry! I just CAN’T! Look at his chest!
It’s covered in heel marks from my boots!” Kelly and Paula looked down at Gus’ chest.
No question the boots were quite cruel, being designed to rock their owner’s full weight
back onto the low heels to exacerbate the crushing pressure beneath them, as well as
being made to easily rip across human flesh if the wearer wasn’t too experienced with
trampling a male yet.
“All right,” Kelly sighed, “you’ll have to fake it,” Kelly answered. “We’ll get you a
research liaison job in the medical lab here at the statehouse and give you a desk. You
can keep Gus under it most of the time and just rest your boots or your bare feet on his
face, making him lick and suck them all day. If you agree to administer pain to other
males, no one will suspect you haven’t had the Treatment until we’ve gotten the answers
we need and have changed things.”
Amanda looked doubtful.
“The alternative, Amanda, is a woman my height walking on him in heels when you
aren’t around.” She looked down at Gus, raising her eyebrows and stepping toward him
with her stiletto heel, watching the abject fear on Gus’ face.
“But – I’ve never deliberately caused pain to anyone,” Amanda replied.
“Honey…honey…I can do that,” Gus pleaded, still in tears, terrified of the prospect of
feeling the weight of a seven-foot tall woman in heels stepping on him.
“Are you sure, Gus?” Amanda asked.
“I’m…I’m…sure. I’ll lick your feet from sun up to sun down…like a man possessed,”
he answered breathlessly, still groaning from the ripping heel marks and footprints all
over him.
Amanda smiled, looking down at him. ‘That wouldn’t be all bad,’ she thought, and then
was immediately ashamed of looking forward to humiliating her husband beneath her
feet. It would be horrible for a proud man like Gus to have to endure her feet on his face
all day. ‘Still…’ she thought….
There was a knock at the door, and Elena stuck her head in. Her eyes bored into Amanda
and Amanda was, at once, afraid of her, yet stunned at her height and beauty – the rich,
sexy way she dressed and the elite way she carried herself. ‘To have that kind of persona
– that kind of power,’ Amanda thought! She looked away from Elena’s penetrating stare,
as Elena announced, “The Governor wants to see her as soon as she’s cleaned up.”
“Okay, Elena,” Kelly answered, and Elena’s prissy smile told Kelly they wouldn’t bury
the hatchet any time soon.
Elena continued to hold the door open and Kelly very directly turned to her and pointedly
said, “Thank you…Elena.”
Elena hesitated, then coolly closed the door and Kelly turned to Amanda. “Okay. Not a
word of what we’re planning to the Governor! She would never allow it! She’s one of
the cruelest women males have ever had to suffer for!”
“But – but – I’ve seen her pictures!” retorted Amanda. “She’s Maria --,”
“I don’t care what you’ve seen,” Paula interrupted. “People change! And you’d do well
to remember your husband’s fate is in her hands!”
Amanda swallowed, looking down at Gus. “I will,” she promised softly.
Amanda took a look around at Paula, Kelly and Gus, gave them a ‘cross-your-fingers’
sign, and opened the door to find Elena standing just outside, dwarfing her with her sexy
height. Elena’s smile seemed genuine, as she escorted her across the room. “Don’t
worry about the Governor,” Elena said, seeing Amanda’s hesitant expression. “She’s
really a great lady! You two will hit it off famously!”
Amanda didn’t know who to believe, as Elena led the way across the room, her perfect
ass swaying provocatively in her tight skirt, her frame towering over Amanda’s face.
Amanda looked around the office, but now Timothy was nowhere in sight! ‘What had
become of him?’ she wondered. Her eyes gazed across the cavernous room, tall,
unbelievable supermodels working diligently again at the seven or eight desks – their feet
resting on the faces of terrified males and absently grinding them under their big,
powerful peds.
The Governor had been standing on the platform section in the floor, crushing Timothy
beneath it, talking to him just as she might talk to a child. His breath hardly steamed the
little window framing his face in the floor anymore, as she’d probably crushed most of
the air out of him by now. She had opened the little glass plate in the floor and given him
a good, harsh vocal spray. Now he was frothing, spewing saliva all over himself as he
tried to breathe with her standing on him, his eyes bugging out of his head, and hissing
like a madman! She glanced over at his genitals popping up through the hardwood floor,
and had an irresistible urge to step on them! ‘All in good time,’ she thought, smiling to
herself. ‘All in good time…’
“Well! ‘Timothy,’ is it?” the Governor called down to him imperiously. “You’ve
certainly had a busy first day back! I thought you might like to see your friend, Amanda
again! I think she’ll make a real – impression -- on you, the way she should be dressed
and cleaned up now!” Timothy’s eyes registered recognition and Maria enjoyed the way
they looked frantically back and forth, even as his eyebrows knitted together futilely
trying to endure her crushing weight. His expression looked like Arnie…
As if on cue, a small chime sounded, and the Governor said, “Oh, that must be her now!”
She reached over to her desk and pressed a button and the little light in Timothy’s
compartment that had enabled her to see his face through the glass plate went out,
converting the plate back to a little one-way mirror. Now, Timothy could easily see out,
but no one in the office could see him under the floor! The Governor pushed another
button and dimmed the lights and closed the electric blinds. In front of the desk, you’d
have to look pretty carefully to even SEE Tim’s little testicles on the floor. The
Governor walked back around her desk and sat down on her cushion slave, scooting him
in so it wasn’t so obvious what – or, who – she was sitting on. “Come in,” she purred.
The door swung open and Elena’s tall silhouette was followed by a much shorter one.
Maria still couldn’t get over how small Amanda was! She must be no more than 5’8” or
5’9”, even wearing the spiky boots Paula had obtained for her. Despite this, she was not
really unattractive – despite not having had the Treatment. The Governor couldn’t
believe THAT either! She looked, well, not bad in the baggy jeans stuffed in the spiky
boots. A little motorcycle queen! Maria leapt up with enthusiasm, which caused
Amanda to hesitate (so cute, her fear!). But the Governor gave her one of her most
disarming smiles as she walked energetically across the room to shake hands with her.
“Hi, Amanda! It’s so nice to finally meet you formally!” the Governor gushed. Amanda
tentatively stuck out her hand and the Governor shook it vigorously. Amanda smiled
back, looking up at her, amazed at how tall she was now, as Elena lightly ran a caressing
hand through Amanda’s hair, like a mother might do when her daughter meets another
adult.
“Hello, Mari—I mean, um, Governor,” Amanda offered.
“Oh, please!” the Governor answered. “Call me Maria! We don’t stand on formality
here!”
The Governor wasn’t at all like Kelly and Paula had made her think she was, Amanda
thought! She was just like she’d seen in pictures and interviews over the years! Smiling,
energetic, lighthearted…instantly likable!
The Governor led her over in front of her desk, then walked around to flop down behind
it herself. The cushion made noise when she dropped on it, Amanda noticed. It was
probably old. There were no chairs close by, so Amanda stepped directly in front of the
Governor’s desk and stood there, looking around the office. She thought she felt the
floor move a little, but she figured she just was just a little dizzy from the hot bath and
little food and needed to eat something!
Timothy was elated when he saw Amanda walk into the room! He didn’t know if they’d
hurt her and Gus, and it was a tremendous relief to see a familiar face after what he’d
been through! He didn’t imagine Amanda could save him, but just to have her
acknowledge him – notice him when she looked down at the floor and saw him through
the glass plate – would give him courage to endure this nightmare! And she looked – she
looked pretty! She was cleaned up and had fresh clothes on – sharp looking clothes! But
then – Amanda had continued walking – right onto the platform that covered Timothy!
He gasped as he felt her weight crush the platform down upon him at the same time the
hard hollow sounds of her boots stomping onto the platform reverberated in his ears!
She’d stepped onto him and let him feel her full weight standing on him! And while
Amanda’s weight was nowhere NEAR as bad as the Governor’s, he couldn’t believe she
was actually standing on him! He was having trouble catching his breath now, with the
previous damage the Governor had done, as Amana continued to crush him under the
floor, and he looked up at her body towering over him, her boots very near the glass
window from which he stared up at her!
Amanda strained to see adequately in the dimly lit room. There was a painting – a huge
painting – on the wall behind the Governor’s desk. It looked like the Governor standing
behind a podium giving a speech to an outdoor crowd. But the details were lost in the
darkness of the dimly lit room.
“I like to take some time and collect my thoughts in the afternoons,” the Governor said,
as if reading her mind. “I turn the lights down to make it a little easier to relax and think.
I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Amanda replied, surprised a famous celebrity would even care what she
minded.
“Nice boots,” the Governor commented.
Amanda looked down, seeing a curious little mirror in the floor, then admired the boots
she was wearing. “Paula found them. She said they were children’s clothes. I guess it’s
all that will fit me,” she answered demurely.
“They look nice on you,” the Governor said. “And, I think you’ll find them functional as
well.” Amanda never thought about her heels sinking into her husband when the
Governor said it.
It was getting harder for Timothy to breathe! But, most uncomfortable was the fact the
Amanda had looked down – right AT HIM – and still not stepped off him after clearly
seeing his face imprisoned in the glass! Why would she still be stepping all over him?!
He groaned as she shifted her weight, crushing the platform into him! The other girl –
Elena – he thought – was clearly watching and enjoying what Amanda was doing to him!
But, at least she hadn’t made a move to participate herself! “A...Manda! Plea-se! I’m
under…the floor…and you’re…standing…on me!” Timothy groaned. But the sound
came out only as a slight, inaudible hiss. The Governor smiled to herself as she started
up a conversation in the quiet office.
Maria enjoyed talking to Amanda, as she and Amanda talked conversationally about her
studies in Africa, her escape and the world today. The Governor glanced down from time
to time at Amanda’s boots, seeing the wicked little heels now only a few inches from
Timothy’s genitals protruding up from the floor, as Amanda, becoming more animated as
she relaxed, moved around, shifting her weight from foot to foot and stepping sideways
occasionally. The Governor smiled. This would be fun!
Amanda found Maria tremendously engaging! She’d never met a famous person before
and Maria seemed so friendly! She didn’t doubt she was a tough businesswoman, but to
wield the kind of power she did, you HAD to be tough!
The Governor casually moved sideways on her cushion slave, covering his mouth to stifle
the expected groan as her ass now sat on his head. Amanda, correspondingly, stepped to
the side to stay in front of the Governor as they talked. Now, the heel of her right boot
was less than an inch from Timothy’s genitals! ‘Would she even feel them when she
stepped on them?!’ The Governor wondered. She leaned forward, offering Amanda a
glass of wine. Amanda leaned forward to accept it, and when she stepped back again, her
cruel 3” heel landed squarely on the shaft of Timothy’s flaccid little member poking out
of the floor! She just stepped right down on it, mashing it flat against the floor with her
heel, never even knowing it was there, as she stood on it! Maria felt the vibrations in the
floor from Timothy’s sudden screaming hisses, and reveled in the knowledge of the pain
that must be exploding in the pathetic little man’s brain right now! She slipped out of her
own boots and put her bare feet flat against the floor to enjoy the vibrations in it, the only
sound in the office, her weight shifting on the soft human being she was sitting on!
The shallow grave Timothy was imprisoned in reverberated with his screaming hisses
over and over and over again! He shook his head violently back and forth as his screams
filled his ears with a deafening horror, though no real sound came out, as he stared
terrified through the glass at Amanda’s boot heel, enduring Amanda suddenly stepping
on his genitals with her low, cruel spike! He clenched and unclenched his fists, as he
looked up through tear-filled eyes as she calmly stood on his penis, her heel directly on
its shaft! He’d never felt a pain like this before, as his organ was mercilessly crushed
against the hardwood floor, his friend’s wife’s full weight smashing it flat! The horrible
cutting of her sharp heel was making him insane with the pain! Never had he imagined
she could do something like this to him! Yet, there she was, calmly ignoring his screams
as she laughed lightly with the Governor and sipped her wine! He banged his head back
and forth, side to side, screaming and screaming and screaming…
Amanda tipped her boot backward as the Governor told a joke and they laughed lightly.
Her heel alone now bore her weight, its corner cutting sadistically into Timothy’s fragile
flesh! When she put her boot back down, she stepped squarely on his ballsack with the
toe of her boot, mashing it utterly, and brutally popping both his testicles under her boot!
They were so soft; she never even felt them squish under her foot as she smashed them
flat – like little dumplings! Her heel now rested at the seam between the head of his cock
and its shaft, as she stepped down on the whole boot again, its toe crushing Timothy’s
ballsack, and the heel impaling his shaft. The only sound Amanda heard was a
Grandfather clock, ticking in the corner!
Timothy prayed and screamed for a way to endure what Amanda was doing to him! He
tried to comprehend how a woman could actually step on a man’s genitals, while
laughing! But when Amanda stepped on Timothy’s testicles, a pain he did not know was
possible exploded in him, as his testicles exploded under Amanda’s boot! He felt bile
rise in his throat, as he became hoarse from screaming inside – unable to stop!
“What happened to…you know…the former California Governor,” Amanda dared to ask,
the only sound, light background music in the quiet office.
“Oh,” Maria laughed. She paused and smiled, thinking. “I guess he couldn’t handle the
pressure!”
Amanda laughed politely and, looking down, saw she was standing on what seemed to be
a rubber toy of some kind. Curious, she ground her boot back and forth on it a few times,
like she was grinding out a cigarette, but it just felt slimy, a little. She knitted her
eyebrows and looked closer, still not able to tell what it was. Then, as she stepped off it,
she realized it appeared to be a flattened novelty sex toy – in the shape of a male penis!
“Oh, my God, Maria!,” Amanda said laughing, feeling the little buzz happening from the
wine on an empty stomach, and using the Governor’s familiar name without thinking.
“Someone’s left a rubber sex toy on your floor, and I’ve been standing on it in my boots
since I walked in!” She laughed, though she thought it was strange someone would leave
a sex toy in the Governor’s office!
The Governor laughed too. “My staff is always doing things to slip me up in meetings!
Just kick it into the far corner, would you?!”
“Sure.” Amanda drew her boot back and kicked the little penis at her feet with the pointy
toe of her boot, hard enough to send it careening into the corner! Only the Governor felt
the hard thud beneath her feet, as Timothy’s head smacked into the bottom of the floor
with the pain. She actually had to hold onto the edge of her desk, the excitement of
watching Amanda kick his penis was so palpable! She couldn’t wait to play the video
from the underfloor camera later.
“It’s umm, stuck to the floor,” Amanda commented. She kicked it again, even harder,
with the pointy toe of her boot, hooking it upwards and stretching it with the impact of
her boot, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s still stuck!”
“Try to…scrape it off,” Maria breathed, her eyes closing in satisfaction. She began to
breath huskily as Amanda placed the toe of her boot under Timothy’s ballsack and tried
to pry it upwards. It stretched but didn’t pull free! She then placed the heel of her boot
against the little penis, shifted her weight onto the heel, and RIPPED IT FORWARD,
scraping it harshly across the ballsack and the shaft, which looked, she thought, really
real! Still it wouldn’t come off the floor where it was stuck! She did it a couple more
times, so that she seemed to be ripping it apart with her sharp heel, but it was no use,
though it seemed in the dim light, she had partially torn it apart!
Maria was getting lightheaded, watching this little munchkin so effectively destroy her
own friend’s genitals! She DEFINITELY had potential! She gripped the edge of the desk
tighter, as she saw blood start to seep from around Amanda’s boot as Amanda stepped on
the ballsack again with her full 120 pounds! She licked her lips, trying to keep herself
calm, but wanting, more than anything, to join in the play herself!
“Don’t worry, I’ll have it taken care of,” the Governor gushed. “It was so nice meeting
you! Why don’t you go have some lunch with the other girls now?!”
“Thank you, I AM hungry!” Amanda giggled, the wine giving her a pleasant little buzz
for real now! Elena walked up and wrapped her arm around Amanda and began to lead
her out of the room. Amanda happened to look down and saw Elena step directly on the
rubber sex toy with the toe of her very high stiletto heel, then snap-twist it to the side
under her full weight. The sex toy made an obvious, wet, squishy sound! As she
watched, the toy seemed to be seeping red! ‘Why would it be seeping red?’ Amanda
wondered, looking over her shoulder in consternation as Elena led her out of the office.
The Governor smiled, fingering her intercom. “Celia, would you come in, please. And
cancel my next appointment. I appear to have some damaged genitals growing out of my
floor…and they need to be stomped flat.”
“Yes, ma’am,” came Celia’s creamy voice. “I’m excellent at dick-stomping! I’ll be in
right away!” From beyond the door, the Governor heard the unmistakable sound of high
heels clicking heavily on the hardwood, approaching her office.
“I’m really sorry about what happened to your husband,” Elena said to Amanda, as she
led her out of the Governor’s inner office. “I didn’t know he was married. Spousal rights
are considered sacred, so you’re the only one allowed to play with him, unless you give
your permission to another girl. Please accept my apology for my inflicting pain on
him.” Elena’s haunting eyes bored into Amanda! She was so cosmopolitan, thought
Amanda! So powerful a personality…and simply stunning in her beauty! ‘To have the
kind of power she did! To be able to ORDER a man – ANY MAN – to bow down and
worship you! What would that be LIKE?! To walk on a human being like he was
nothing!’ Oh, she hadn’t enjoyed walking on her husband – the heel marks she’d left in
him had absolutely terrified her – but to walk over another man – that might be
different… ‘oh god, how could she be thinking like this?!’ She glanced in front of her at
Elena’s creamy tanned thighs and for just a moment, had a vision of them powerfully
squeezing her husband’s head between them, his face all squished up as he begged her –
Amanda – to make Elena release him from between her crushing legs! She pushed the
vision out of her mind! How could she imagine that happening to poor Gus?!
Paula stuck her head into the Governor’s inner office to ask if she was going to take a late
lunch with the rest of the girls. As she opened the door, Celia looked over at her, her
strong leg poised above the floor in mid-stomp, her heel inclined slightly forward, so as
to deliver a crushing impact to the soft object on the floor at her feet. The Governor
stood beside her, her boots covered in something Paula preferred not to think about.
Paula winced as Celia delivered a brutal stomp, the crack of her heel against the floor
echoing off the rich walls! She could only imagine what would be left of Timothy’s
private parts when they were done – and he hadn’t had the Male Treatment – he wouldn’t
be able to heal properly! “It, umm, looks like you’re pretty well finished there,” ventured
Paula, hoping to stop Timothy’s senseless torture.
“Oh, not by a long shot!” Maria replied, “Celia wants to start on his hands next.” She
blew a lock of brunette hair out of her eyes and bounced her weight on the platform.
Paula swallowed hard. Timothy would be feeling the combined weight of Maria and
Celia on his little torso – something shy of 400 pounds! She dropped her eyes to the floor
in resignation. “Okay, then, I’ll see you in a little over an hour.”
“Take your time,” the Governor answered, tossing her long thick hair. “We’re having a
good time here!”
Elena led Amanda out of the Governor’s office, and, for the first time, Amanda could
easily see the various males laid prone around the office to lick the tall women’s feet
from beneath their desks and serve as their footstools. She remembered Gus licking her
feet and Kelly suggesting that would be his new permanent job if she became part of the
staff – a prospect that seemed all but certain, given how little she knew about operating in
this new world and how much she needed a safe environment to learn in. She was taken
aback, however, by the fact that all the benches at the desks had a small, young man
strapped to them – a young man that was being sat upon by the tall, muscular women of
the Governor’s staff! Her mouth hung open as she watched Carolyn, her perfect, high
cheekbones framing her stunning face, absently typing a memo, seemingly oblivious to
the fact that a man struggled to breathe under her ass, his eyes bugging out of his head
after what must have been hours of unending crushing pressure! Carolyn’s feet rested on
a foot slave whose tongue lapped slowly at the soles of her shoes. As Amanda watched,
Carolyn made a typing error and cursed under her breath, stomping her foot on the little
man’s face, who was trapped under her desk! Amanda couldn’t believe how hard she
stomped on his face!
Elena looked down at Amanda, enjoying how her mouth dropped open with this
expression of incredulity on her face! She decided to give her the full show. “Let’s go
over and see if Carolyn needs any help,” Elena said to her. Amanda hesitatingly
followed Elena over to Carolyn’s desk, standing behind the bench, as Elena stepped
around in front of it, her short, red leather skirt a perfect contrast to her dark brown,
smooth, powerfully-toned thighs. “How’s it coming, Carolyn?” Elena asked. She
positioned herself directly over the little slave’s pelvis, looked back at Amanda, and
slowly lowered herself onto the man’s stomach, her red leather skirt expanding and filling
itself with her perfect ass, as she sank into his stomach with her full weight! Elena lifted
her high heels and jammed them into the face of the slave at Carolyn’s feet, who tried to
recoil, but there was no where to go. She pushed her heels in hard and the little foot slave
hissed in pain!
“Come join us,” Elena said to Amanda. Carolyn turned and smiled, patting the cushion
slave’s face. “Yes, have a seat,” she said.
Amanda stared at the slave’s upturned face, his eyes bulging from his head and now
glistening with moisture at enduring both Carolyn and Elena sitting on him! Clearly,
Carolyn intended her to sit on the man’s head, but she could NEVER do that! She felt
pity for the young man, who seemed to be imploring her with his eyes to help him!
“Amanda,” Elena said more firmly. “You’re going to have to get used to it! Besides, it’s
fun! AND…there’s no where else to sit!”
Amanda remembered Paula’s admonition that she would have to hurt other men in order
to quell suspicion about not torturing Gus. She would have to be ‘one of the girls,’ at
least until Paula and Kelly could change the Treatment! ‘Oh, god! Was she actually
going to DO THIS?!’
“Amanda…,” Carolyn chided. “If it makes you feel better, I’m gonna sit on his head if
you don’t…so he can have 210 pounds on his face or 120…which do you think he’d
prefer?!”
Amanda looked at the piteous creature straining to breathe under Carolyn’s ass.
She cautiously stepped forward, and around the front of the bench, now standing over
him, her own ass directly above his face. ‘Oh, god!’ she thought!
The man looked up at her. Resigned to what was about to happen to him, he closed his
eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.
There was no way to do it gently. The bench was so high, being built for the much taller
women, that Amanda had to hop up onto it to sit. She wished she could have made it
easier on the man, but there was no other way. She steeled herself, then jumped up and
landed directly on little man’s face, slamming down hard on it with her ass! The man let
out a muffled, “Oooowwff -- !” which was instantly cut short as his cry disappeared into
her baggy Wrangler blue jeans. Her legs dangled from the higher than normal bench,
unable to touch the floor, so she truly was sitting on him with her full 115 pounds!
Amanda felt the man’s features conform, then yield to her weight! She tried to hold her
weight off him, but she couldn’t do that for long, so she settled down onto his face full
weight, letting her 115 pounds press his head into the hard wooden bench! She felt him
trying to move beneath her – struggling – but even her weight was too much! The baggy
jeans allowed his features to move up into her ass as they were crushed into his face! She
felt his nose drive up into her blue jeans, then squish, as the full weight of her body
pressed it flat into the man’s face! His nose was deep up into her ass, the baggy jeans not
restricting it from driving up as deep as her weight pressed it in! She could feel and
identify his features – his eye sockets, nose, mouth, teeth and chin – conform to the shape
of her ass as she pressed them into his head! She wondered if his face would be
imprinted on her naked ass later, when she undressed! The man strained against
Amanda’s weight, and she rolled forward slightly, hoping to relieve the pressure
somewhat, pulling his head sideways with her as she moved. But, that seemed to make
the man groan a lot more, as his features were ground beneath her ass, pressed to one side
and mashed into his face! Not knowing what to do, Amanda rolled backward again, and
just sat full weight on the man’s face, feeling him strain to breathe and endure the
pressure beneath her!
Carolyn and Elena were working on an election memo, but all Amanda could think about
was how helpless the man beneath the three of them was! She looked straight down,
spread her legs a little and rolled backward slightly. Looking at her own crotch, she
could see part of the man’s face beneath it, one of his eyes gazing up at her, blinking
rapidly, suffering in silence, unable to breathe, the rest of his face contorted and smashed
by her weight! She had pressed his nose flat to the side and into his face under her ass,
and his whole head was misshapen, his skin pulled taught, in an agonizing display of
what her 115 pounds could do! She looked back up, abhorred at what she was doing to a
helpless man! But, she couldn’t keep from glancing back down at his one eye, twitching
and blinking, glistening with tears of pain as it stared up at her frantically as she sat on
the eye’s face! ‘So helpless,’ she thought. ‘So helpless against my weight…’
Amanda rolled back upright and adjusted (grinding the guy a little) reaching down with
her hand to force his nose straight up into her ass again, centering herself so it could go as
deeply as possible. She reasoned that if his nose was so deep into her ass, she might
prevent it from being crushed! That didn’t do much for the pressure on his cheeks or
mouth, but it might relieve his suffering a bit, and maybe even enable him to breathe –
though she wouldn’t have wanted to know what the air quality was like from right there!
Amanda was surprised at how his nose tickled deep up in her, as she pressed down on it
with her full weight, and adjusted now and again, moving herself around on it a little –
‘just to get comfortable’ – though not enough that anyone would notice. It wasn’t right
that something that obviously hurt him so badly, could make her feel
so…well…good…she pushed the thought from her mind, sickened that she’d entertained
it!
When Elena and Carolyn had finished the memo and got up for lunch, it just seemed
easier for Amanda to get up herself by rotating her whole body to the side (ass and all),
grinding the man’s face beneath it. She could have hopped lightly up off his face off the
side of the bench, but, instead (she didn’t know why), she stretched her legs out straight
in front of her and SLID forward, her full weight on her ass, riding over the man’s face
with her full weight, from his chin to his forehead, pulling his head backward and his
nose upward deeply, the length of her ass-crack, effectively wiping herself with it, as it
was buried so deep inside her! Amanda imagined it had to hurt the poor man a lot, but it
really was the safest way to get down! And the long, rolling tickle, as the man’s nose
itched so deeply along the entire the length of her ass, wasn’t half bad either! As a
courtesy, she apologized once more, then thanked him for letting her sit on his face, her
eyes clouding over when she noticed the seam lines from her jeans embedded in his
cheeks, and the bright white of his nose – very obviously misshapen! ‘So helpless…’
Elena grabbed her foot slave from beneath her desk by his hair, stepped on the heavy foot
switch that released his manacled hand from the floor if pressed with 200 pounds of
force, and yanked him onto all fours with seemingly no effort at all! “Exercise time!” she
said down to him, as he blinked with the force of being yanked upright so hard! “C’mon
Amanda, hop on!” Elena called, smiling.
Once more, Amanda was taken aback by her cruelty and power! “I’ll just…walk
alongside you,” she tried.
“Don’t be silly!” Elena chided. He’s been looking forward to lunch all day! Haven’t
you?!” she asked, looking down at the man and placing her stiletto on his hand, pressing
down hard. The man’s head began bobbing vigorously up and down and Elena released
his hand from beneath her foot, leaving an obvious heel mark in it.
Amanda walked slowly over to him. He was covered in footprints and heel marks, the
remnants of what might once have been a T-shirt torn and ripped by Elena’s spikes.
Amanda looked away, stunned at how filthy and pathetic he was! Elena threw her
powerful bare leg over him and dropped full weight onto his back! The man collapsed
instantly under her impact with a loud, “Oofffghh!”
“He always collapses,” Elena mused. “But, he always gets up, too.” She pulled
backward on his head with fistfuls of his hair, now in both her big hands, and waited
patiently, as the man struggled to lift himself from the floor with Elena’s weight on his
back. Finally, his arms shaking, he managed to get back up to horsey position and
Amanda swung her own leg over his, sitting down softly behind Elena. The poor man
didn’t even have kneepads, she noticed.
“Oh, I was gonna ride on him with you,” Carolyn pouted. She was bending over, putting
on spurs, Amanda noticed, in horror!
“Oh, well…you can ride Amanda’s husband…that is, if you don’t mind, Amanda,” Elena
smiled sweetly.
“Umm…umm…well,” Amanda stalled, staring at Carolyn’s wicked spurs. “The thing
is…the thing is…,” she looked at the door to the Governor’s apartment, where Gus was
recovering, just as the door opened and Paula stepped out. “The thing is…I already
promised Paula she could ride him to lunch,” Amanda stammered, looking pleadingly at
Paula. She was horrified she’d just condemned Gus to being Paula’s horse, but it was the
best she could do to save him from Carolyn’s spurs! The other girls turned and Paula
stared evenly back at them, thinking.
After a beat, “That’s right,” she answered coolly, folding her arms and leaning in the
doorway. “I’ll be riding Amanda’s husband to lunch.”
Elena shook her head, rolling her eyes at the obvious ploy, while Carolyn seemed
genuinely disappointed.
“Okay,” Elena called, nonplussed. “We’ll see you there.”
Elena slammed her knees against her ponyboy’s ribs and the man seemed to have to think
about how to carry her and Amanda’s combined weight. Amanda thought he would
collapse again, now with well over three hundred pounds on his little back! But, he
somehow stayed up and lumbered off slowly carrying both women on his back, as it bent
deeply beneath the two women! Amanda looked back at Paula, and Paula gave her a
reassuring look. She would try to go easy on Gus.
Amanda didn’t know what to do with her hands, and had trouble balancing as she rode
the middle-aged man, so she looked up and tentatively wrapped them over Elena’s large,
tanned, v-shaped bare shoulders, then, searching for a better way to hold on, ran her
hands down Elena’s bare back, unable to resist feeling her thick, strong muscles just
beneath the skin, exposed by her strapless top. She realized Elena might almost think it
was a sensual act, the way she ran her hands over her skin, and she certainly hadn’t meant
to give her that impression! Elena could slap Amanda silly if she ever did anything to
offend her!
She hoped she wasn’t being too familiar, but Elena – as all the girls – had been treating
her like an honored guest – in stark contrast to how they’d treated her husband and
Timothy! As she placed her hands flat around Elena’s front, she realized Elena’s
powerful back was nothing compared to her rock hard abdominals, which roiled up and
down like smooth, thick ropes with the motion of the man carrying them! As if to
assuage her, Elena clasped one of her own large hands over Amanda’s, pressing them
hard against her own abdomen. “That’s exactly right,” Elena said.
As they slowly made their way into the hallway, the little man breathing hard and his
arms shaking beneath them, Amanda was stunned to see the building filled with beautiful
women riding men’s shoulders or horsebacks, sometimes two or three at a time, some
whipping them freely and yelling cruelly at them when they weren’t going fast enough
for them! The hall was filled with stunning women, and poor, broken men! Until this
moment, she’d never appreciated the breadth of what had happened to the society she’d
left only a few years ago! Now, as Amanda watched the small young man laboring
beneath her, making slow progress to the cafeteria, she wondered what his life had been
like before the world had changed – before he’d become a worthless slave to the whims
of the cruel, female-dominated society. Elena’s muscular thighs – the thighs of an
Amazon – hung heavily around the man’s midsection. Amanda had no doubt Elena
could crush him with them at her whim, leaving him broken in the hallway, at the mercy
of the mass of women. She had no doubt the man knew it too, and so, would carry them
until he collapsed to avoid that fate. She squeezed her own thighs together around him as
an experiment, and felt him speed up dramatically – almost frantically – probably
concerned she was about to do the same, though she doubted her legs were powerful
enough to do much of anything. But, feeling his fear of her was something she’d never
experienced before…..
They slowly hobbled by a very young staffer, no older than 18, Amanda was certain, of
exceptional height, who was standing over a cowering middle aged man she had kicked
into the corner. She had long, straight brunette hair, adorned with a pretty pink barrette,
and thick dark eyebrows – a little like Brooke Shields. She wore a very short green plaid
skirt, white blouse and navy blue blazer with an emblem, over tall, white socks and
cloggy, thick-soled office shoes. She was obviously going for the European schoolgirl
look and had a wonderful innocence about her. Amanda looked almost straight up at her
as she and Elena rode by. The tall staffer had placed her thick, rubber-soled shoe on the
man’s face and was stepping forward on it, slowly grinding it back and forth into his
cheek under her weight, smashing his face into the tile floor, the hard rubber twisting his
face brutally, as the man begged for mercy. She stared down at him with an expression
of nothing more than curiosity, Amanda thought, as she deformed his face beneath her
shoe. She didn’t say a word to him or admonish him in any way, she just continued
grinding his face into the floor, staring down at him, occasionally raising her eyebrows at
a particularly terrible expression of pain. There was no clue if or when she might stop
and she seemed to be content to just stand there, grinding on the small man’s head with
her big foot!
Amanda felt tears form in her eyes at what the tall girl was doing to the older man, but
she choked them back! She leaned forward and asked Elena softly, “What do you think
he did wrong?”
Elena seemed to have to take a moment to figure out what Amanda was referring to.
“Oh,” she finally said, looking over at the man, “Who said he did anything?!”
Amanda, her mouth hanging open, looked back as they slowly turned a far corner in the
hallway. The tall girl had now slipped off her shoe and was grinding the screaming man
absently, under just her white tube sock, with no sign of stopping.
If Amanda thought she had come to grips with the “New World” before, the sight, upon
entering the cafeteria, totally changed her mind! Hundreds of women staffers sat, talking
and laughing – as in any cafeteria – at rows and rows of long picnic-type tables lining the
room. But there were no chairs! In place of the benches, the well-dressed crowd of
women, from 6’5” to well over 7’ tall, sat at the tables on the backs of the small men
they’d ridden down on, still in the horsey position, or grabbed from along the walls,
where, apparently extra males were stationed to be taken as seats by the women! Some
of the men – those beneath the tallest, heaviest women, were shaking their heads back
and forth, their arms shaking with tension, as they endured the weight of the oblivious
women laughing and talking above them as they ate! Dog bowls full of food had been
left in front of many of the men, but it was immediately obvious that none could bend
down to eat from them because the weight of woman above would collapse them into the
floor! Some men looked at each other under the tables, between the forest of strong,
bare, female legs, as if attempting to give one another encouragement not to collapse – to
just hang on a little longer! Others – especially the younger men – were crying
unabashedly as they were sat on!
As Amanda watched, a stunning brunette, took a morsel of food from her plate and
absently reached down and fed it to the little man she was sitting on, letting her fingers
linger in his mouth, the slide in and out, as he suckled them hungrily. The heel of her
black pump dug gratingly into the man’s hand, where she had, no doubt placed it without
even thinking! She was young, probably about 24, but about 6’6” tall, and she had a
huge diamond wedding ring on her finger! The little man she sat on had a matching gold
band on the hand beneath her heel! Apparently, Kelly and Peter and Amanda and Gus
weren’t the only wives and husbands who spent their days here together! The cute girl
laughed at something the woman across from her said and bounced on her husband. He
staggered with the impact of her weight bouncing on him, almost losing his balance, his
eyes clenching shut! Then, she fed him another bite of food, her long nails pumping in
and out of his mouth without even looking down at him, as he sucked at them dreamily,
looking up at her with total obsession!
Elena guided the little horsey-man they rode up to the picnic table designated for the
Governor and her staff, by yanking his hair to the side and squeezing him with her legs.
The man was wheezing from the exertion of carrying them on his back and Amanda
doubted he could have gone another thirty feet! ‘His poor knees!’ she thought! Now, as
he stopped with both of them in position to eat, it seemed it was the first time he realized
his ordeal was not over! He would also endure them sitting on his back throughout their
lunch! Amanda knew he couldn’t take their combined weight for that long, so, when
Elena told her to grab herself a seat, Amanda took the opportunity to get up and walk to
the side of the cafeteria where the extra men – ‘males’, she corrected herself – were kept.
She didn’t know exactly how to go about asking a man to be her seat, so she tentatively
picked a male that looked a little less beaten down than the others and, looking down on
him on all fours, softly asked, “Umm…I need…I guess I need to…sit on someone…you
know…while I eat…if you wouldn’t mind…” The man leapt forward, against Amanda’s
leg, apparently ecstatic to volunteer to be sat upon by such an incredibly small woman’s
weight! He hissed and smiled at her, obviously grateful! It was so impossibly strange,
Amanda thought, to have a grown man nuzzling your leg like a pathetic dog! She
tentatively grabbed him by the hair, as she’d seen the other girls do, and gently led him
over to the table. He came willingly, which surprised her!
She led him crawling, by a table where a super-tall bleach blonde was almost in tears.
She was dressed as a staffer, but her demeanor suggested she’d be more at home in cutoff
shorts and a bikini top. Her little coffee-clutch of friends – all really young – were trying
to comfort her, apparently. “I just feel so bad!” she sighed, as one of her friends put her
hand on her arm in a gesture of sympathy. “I really liked Ronny…but my mom was
adamant! She said I couldn’t marry a guy unless he could support me!”
Amanda thought that bitchy attitude had gone out in the fifties, but then realized what the
conversation was really about!
“And we tried! I mean, I tried putting my weight on him slowly…going barefoot when I
walked on him so my heels didn’t make holes in him…but he just couldn’t take it! I got
such increased bone density and muscularity from the Treatment, I’d always be breaking
his ribs or snapping his fingers when I stepped on them! And riding him! He just
couldn’t carry me no matter how hard he tried! Not even five steps! And he really did
try! We used to practice in my back yard! I guess I was just too heavy for him! I just
felt really bad about my mom making me stomp him like that! Even at 18, he was just so
small! You should have seen what he looked like when I was done! My footprints were
all over him!” The girl pouted. “I miss Ronny a lot!” she sighed, fingering the straw in
her Coke.
It was hard to tell how tall the girl was at such a young age, as she was sitting down, but
Amanda could tell from the expression of pure, unadulterated suffering on the male she
was sitting on, that she must be much, much heavier than she looked! The male she was
leading also looked over at her, an expression of fear on his face…as if he had once
endured her sitting or stepping on him, too!
They made their way back to the staff table, just as Kelly and Paula rode up; Kelly,
horseback on her husband Peter, settling next to Elena; and Paula riding – Amanda had
trouble gazing at the scene – her husband, Gus! Gus looked as if he was barely conscious
after carrying Paula’s heavy frame down the long hallways, then the elevator, and finally
to the first floor cafeteria! His knees were misshapen and horribly red, with red, wet
stains at the knees of his jeans, and his hands were purple! He kept blinking his eyes and
it looked as if he’d been crying! Paula was a giant sitting on his back! ‘My poor, poor
Gus!’ Amanda thought – but there was nothing she could do for him! Paula squeezed
him between her thighs and he choked as his ribs were crushed! Somehow he supported
her weight as he laboriously carried her on his back to the table across from Amanda!
Amanda resolved right then and there that only she would ride him from now on! Her
weight would be better than being made to carry women the size of Elena or Paula, no
matter how much she had to ride him!
Then, Amanda looked at Kelly’s husband, Peter! Both men looked exhausted, but
Kelly’s husband looked particularly worn! For the first time, as they sat side by side,
Amanda noticed how much bigger than Elena Kelly actually was! She’d thought of
Elena as a giantess! But, Kelly sat several inches taller than her and seemed about thirty
pounds more muscular! And, it seemed Kelly worked out like a fiend, as she was
significantly more bulked up! But, not like a female bodybuilder, Amanda realized…just
heavier…more stout…more solid! She wondered if Kelly even appreciated what she
was, no doubt, doing to her poor husband as she rode him with her muscular frame! The
poor man looked positively dreadful, sweating and toiling under her tall, tanned body!
Amanda couldn’t understand how Kelly could want to save the men…and yet be grinding
her husband’s knees and hands into the floor with every step she forced him to take with
her full body weight on his little back! Perhaps women today just forgot what it was like
for the men they enslaved without so much as a thought!
Amanda led her male to sit across from Kelly and Elena, and Paula sat beside her on Gus’
back. Still standing over her own male, she glanced at Kelly, wondering if she should
really sit on this man, but Kelly didn’t even seem to notice something as mundane as
sitting or riding on someone, so Amanda slowly sat down, feeling the man beneath her
tense up a little to accept her 115 pounds. She looked softly down at Gus, right beside
her, and he seemed in disbelief that his wife was actually sitting on a human being – like
it was nothing! Then, Paula shifted her weight unconsciously and Gus blinked rapidly,
devoting his full concentration to enduring her full weight on his back!
A waitress came over to take drink orders and knelt on the back of an unoccupied man at
the end of the table absently, as she copied the staff’s orders on her little pad. She was
dressed in a tight-fitting tank top, like one the ‘Hooter’s Girls’ from the old days. The
man reeled at the sudden onslaught of her big knees grinding him under her stout, perfect
thighs, and she reached down and slapped him brutally on the ass to calm him down!
When she brought their drinks two minutes later, she walked around the table stepping all
over the men’s calves as she put down the drinks! The men hissed in pain as the backs of
their legs were sadistically walked on by the waitress’s brutal heels, but none collapsed
and allowed the women sitting on them to fall. Gus screamed in horrible hissing as the
waitress stepped on his legs and Amanda realized Paula had probably sprayed his throat
so he couldn’t make noise. It was horrible to think she could no longer talk with her
husband! And watching the tall waitress stepping all over him, Amanda almost begged
her to stop, then thought better of it. Gus’ bare calves beneath his torn clothes were
covered with her deep heel marks when she finally stepped off of him, and Gus looked as
if we was going into shock!
Helpless to stop what fate had befallen her husband, Amanda resolved to try to fit in for
the time being. The food was delicious and Amanda ate ravenously, secreting crumbs to
Gus whenever she could! She noticed Elena drop a plate of food in front of her ponyboy
and step all over it with her shoes, before nudging the mashed food in front of his face.
Perhaps she would get up eventually and let him sink down to eat the mess.
Occasionally, she would glance down at Gus, his little arms shaking as Paula’s weight
bore down on him. Paula seemed to be cognizant of him being beneath her, but there was
little she could do about the pressure she was crushing him with.
The girls were in animated conversation, Elena so poised and beautiful the way she
carried herself, her dark eyes staring straight into Amanda’s when she spoke to her.
Amanda noticed, though, that Elena and Kelly, though they happened to be sitting sideby-
side, hardly talked. And once Elena very obviously reached directly across Kelly for
the salt, instead of asking her to pass it. She was still wondering what the certain iciness
meant, when Kelly fed her husband from the table and Elena looked down also.
“How’s your husband holding up? ‘Peter’ is it?” Elena asked, her eyebrows raised.
Paula looked over at her with an admonishing look and the other girls seemed to
suddenly very deliberately ignore them.
“He’s holding up fine, Elena,” Kelly smiled sweetly, staring unabashedly at her as she sat
right next to her. “And, yes, his name is Peter.” She waited a beat, seeming to consider,
then added. “But then, I’m sure you remember that.”
The table was suddenly, starkly silent as all the girls stared right at Kelly.
Kelly smiled, continuing to eat, ignoring the sudden tension.
“Well, I’m not sure where I would remember his name from,” Elena replied, seeming
trying to search her memory. “ ‘Peter’… ‘Peter’…no, I don’t believe I’ve met any
‘Peters’…”, Elena replied, still seeming to be thinking.
“Oh, sure you must remember him,” Kelly answered, still chewing a mouthful of food.
“You know…you met him at the Allannis concert last year!” she said, smiling a big,
generous smile. “Would you pass me the bread?” Kelly asked Carolyn sweetly.
Peter, still on all fours beneath Kelly’s powerful body, couldn’t believe what he’d just
heard! She knew! She knew what Elena had done to him at the concert! He sat in rapt
attention, now hanging on every word!
Carolyn, looking at Elena, silently passed Kelly the bread. The tension was palpable, as
the other girls’ mouths fell open.
“Well…,” Elena began, “I…meet a lot of people,” her voice drifted off.
“Oh, well I doubt you would have forgotten someone who you tortured…someone you
molested…a MARRIED SOMEONE…you molested,” Kelly was still smiling her big
smile, disarmingly. “I mean…PLAYING with a male who is under his wife’s
protection? Gotta remember THAT!”
“Well,” Elena began, “perhaps I wasn’t aware at the time that a certain male WAS, in
fact, UNDER A WIFE’S PROTECTION.” She said the words, slowly, emphatically.
“Nope. Don’t think so,” Kelly answered, matter-o-factly, shaking her head. “I believe
Peter told you in advance he was married and loved his wife, AND I believe you then
humiliated him by forcing him to violate his sacred oath to me. You know…when you
jacked him off against his will?!” She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders,
still very matter-o-fact about the whole thing.
Elena didn’t know how to read her. “Well, then…Perhaps…perhaps…,”She searched for
words.
Kelly suddenly laughed. “Oh, geez, relax, will you, Elena? You think I care after all this
time?! C’mon! It was almost six months ago! How could I possibly hold you
responsible for something that happened so long ago?! And, hell, it was Allannis! I
know how she gets the crowd worked up after everybody’s had too much to drink!”
Kelly’s smile was sunshine!
“Well,” Elena sighed, looking slightly relieved. “I suppose I – WE – had all had our
share of alcohol!” She laughed politely.
Kelly smiled even wider, laughing out loud now, and shaking her head, and Elena had
begun to smile too. “We all have THOSE KIND OF NIGHTS!” Kelly laughed, her eyes
lighting up her gorgeous face. “I bet Peter was so fragile that night! I mean, he’d had
absolutely no experience being trampled on!” She leaned over and covered her mouth,
confiding a secret: “I’d never even walked on him at home!” Kelly half-whispered,
playfully, bouncing a little on Peter’s back and smiling.
“Well,” Elena confided, pretending to talk in a low, secretive voice too, “he WAS pretty
squishy!” They both exploded in simultaneous laughter, Kelly patting Elena’s thigh!
The girls at the table all joined in as the tension abruptly lifted.
“And his testicles!” Elena laughed, getting carried by the moment. “His testicles were
SO TENDER!” She put her hand to her mouth to match Kelly’s, laughing at the memory!
“He tried so hard to resist my touch! But, of course, there was just no way he could have
handled me pleasuring him! But, then I made up for it by inflicting a LOT of pain!”
Kelly was still doubled over laughing! “Oh, you are too much! Did you ever think what
it must’ve felt like for him?!” Kelly almost couldn’t get the words out, she was laughing
so hard! “What it…what it feels like for ALL of them…when…when you…STOMP
ALL OVER THEM?!” She was laughing so hard, she couldn’t catch her breath!
Elena doubled over, laughing equally as hard! “No, I can’t IMAGINE!” she gushed.
“Oh, my gosh!” Kelly wiped tears of laughter from her eyes! “It probably feels a lot like
this!” Kelly still laughing heartily, reached her hand casually up behind Elena’s head,
over the top, jamming her fingers hard into the sockets of Elena’s hypnotic eyes, then
brutally yanked her backward bodily off her ponyboy, slamming her on her back on the
floor behind her, her legs still resting obscenely up on the ponyboy’s back! Kelly deftly
spun around on Peter, swinging her long, long leg around in back of herself, and
slamming her foot into Elena’s neck, clamping her stiletto-heel right on Elena’s throat,
driving it into the floor as a dozen staffers around her suddenly leapt up aghast, their
mouths hanging open!

[DeathXI]

Kelly threw her napkin to the table as she stood up from Peter’s back! As she now stood
tall over Elena and Elena’s hand shot to her throat trying to remove Kelly’s foot, Kelly’s
face grew dark. “THIS is what it feels like!” she seethed. Kelly stepped down hard on
Elena’s throat with her full 235 pounds, her muscular leg tensing, as Elena made a
horrible gurgling sound, her throat crushing under Kelly’s high-heeled shoe! Lifting her
other foot off the ground, Kelly stepped squarely onto Elena’s stomach, sinking deeply
into it on her sharp heel! Elena screamed as she felt the full brunt of Kelly’s weight and
Kelly began to march on her, stomping hard and bouncing on her heels! Elena’s hands
shot up, terrified, trying to grab Kelly’s powerful legs, helpless against a women four
inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than she was herself. She screamed as Kelly
stepped directly on her perfectly round breasts, flattening them and gouging them with
her pencil-sharp heels!
“No..oh…god! Please!” Elena begged, all pretense of her polished personality gone.
Kelly just stared down at her, her teeth gritted, as she felt Elena’s body yield to her
powerful physique!
“This is for my husband!” Kelly fumed, gritting her teeth.
As the first of the staffers recovered a little, and moved toward Kelly, Paula interceded.
“Stay back!” Paula commanded. “This is a spousal rights issue!” The girls’ mouths hung
open anew, in disbelief, as they stayed were they were, not wanting to interfere in so
serious a matter. They stared transfixed, in utter denial at what they were witnessing!
Women staffers, who were, themselves, standing on the backs of small males in their
heels to see the action better, were seemingly stunned! “But…but…she’s WALKING
ON HER!” one commented, as if she’d never heard of anyone doing that to someone,
even though she, herself, was stepping all over her own boyfriend as he groaned under
her heels! “My…my…god!” another chimed in. “She’s got heels on!” the women yelled
terrified, seeing the wicked marks Kelly’s heels were making in Elena’s flesh!
Kelly stood now, rocking back and forth on Elena’s breasts, letting her sharp heels sink
into them, as Elena screamed and clawed vainly at her legs, suddenly bursting into tears
at the horrible pain! Kelly rocked back onto her heels then heel-walked up Elena’s chest,
watching deep, cutting marks being punched into Elena’s beautiful body! She felt her
ribs separating as the spikes drove into them like stakes! Elena stuttered, trying to
breathe. “PL…PLEASSEE….,” she whispered, coughing, her eyes full of tears. Kelly
lifted her foot directly over Elena’s face and gave her a chance to stare at it in shock, as
she slowly lowered it onto her face! “No!” Elena pleaded.
“YESSS!” Kelly answered. Now stepping onto Elena’s upturned, contorted face, Kelly
began to walk in place, letting her heels do their wicked work! She felt Elena’s lips crush
under her heels, then her nose flatten, as she scuffed around, covering Elena’s face with
welts, bruises and pockmarks. She stepped so close to Elena’s eyes, she thought she
might accidentally slide her heel into them! “This is what it feels like to the men you step
on, you arrogant Bitch!” Kelly seethed. “How do you like it?!” She stomped down
Elena’s body again, stepping on her pelvis, sinking deeply into her, and feeling a bone
crack! Elena screamed, “Oh God!”
Kelly stepped on Elena’s collarbones and felt them crack too! The weight must be
incredible, she thought! The she trampled harshly all over her ribs, finally stepping on
her hands, bouncing on the little bones there.
Paula caught her eye, and nodded ever so slightly, her eyes saying, ‘That’s enough,’ and
Kelly looked down at her handiwork. Paula was right. Elena was covered in horrible
heel marks, cuts, bruises and welts. Her nose was deformed and her face was brutally
stomped! Kelly was certain she had broken a few bones with her powerful, ripped
physique!
No doubt, Kelly was a big girl and Elena was being taught a lesson she would never
forget! But there had to be one, final humiliation…for Peter! Kelly stepped squarely on
Elena’s stomach feeling it sink beneath her. Elena erupted in a coughing fit, her eyes
watering, trying to plead between her coughs – and trying to breathe in short, little gasps.
“Lick. My. Feet!” Kelly ordered Elena, placing her stiletto-heeled foot in Elena’s face.
Elena stared up at her through tear-filled eyes. Kelly bounced hard on Elena’s stomach,
her full weight on her spike heel! Elena’s head shot backward, veins popping from her
neck and her face turning purple! She stared at Kelly as if she couldn’t believe this was
happening to her! Kelly stomped on her fingers with the foot over her face, then placed it
back over her mouth! Elena groaned at the crush of her fingers. Slowly, tentatively, she
stuck out her tongue and began to painstakingly lick the dirty sole of Kelly Cole’s shoe as
she sobbed – as so many males had licked hers through the years. Kelly smiled with
satisfaction, watching Elena’s tongue receive the dirt from her shoe. She lifted the spike
over Elena’s face, watching her eyes go wide in fear, then deftly slid it into her mouth,
enjoying watching Elena’s thick, pouty lips form around the stiletto heel and suck it clean
like a straw, as she stared up at her, deprived of desperately needed air under Kelly’s full
bodyweight, and feeling the vicious heel cutting into her stomach! She looked down at
Elena. “Think this was bad, Elena? You even look sideways at my husband again, and
the next time, I won’t go so easy on you!”
Kelly slowly stepped off Elena, taking her time, as Elena clutched her throat, trying to
breathe again, her legs rolling upwards to protect the pain in her stomach! Kelly looked
down at Peter, who was suddenly beaming with pride at his wife. “Well?” she asked
him, raising her eyebrows. “Are we about finished with lunch?” Peter happily spun
around on all fours, offering his back to Kelly, still beaming with pride at the vengeance
she had exacted for him, as she sat down on him regally! He smiled from ear to ear as he
proudly carried her magnificent body out the doors of the cafeteria, hundreds of female
eyes following his every labored step!
The Governor and Celia were extremely thorough with Timothy. Having utterly
destroyed his genitals by stepping on them repeatedly in their pinpoint heels, they then
exposed his hands and casually walked back and forth across them, stepping on them
with the balls of their feet, then the ruthless spikes, then the balls again, for almost an
hour, as they listened to the little bones cracking and popping in between his screams!
Even as the vocal spray had begun to wear off, Timothy’s voice had gone hoarse from
screaming incessantly, which had finally diminished their fun. The Governor was also
concerned that, without the Male Treatment to help him heal quickly, he might be
permanently damaged and subject to an infection from the dirt on their shoes, which
might make him useless for the big plans she’d been thinking of for him. Maria stepped
onto Tim’s hand and calmly stood on it – letting the crush get fully debilitating – and
stared down at him, just as the soft intercom chime sounded and two young, hot staffers
brought the cage in.
“Oh, looks like your new home is here,” the Governor commented down to Timothy,
smiling at his fingers, crushed to bright white under her shoes. “You’ll be happy to get
out of that damp hole in the floor, anyway, won’t you?!” Timothy stared up at her from
behind the little glass plate in the floor, shivering in pain and fear! The Governor pressed
her desk button and flipped Timothy topside again, unclamping him. He had obviously
been flattened by their combined weight, the pattern of the underside of the platform
deeply etched into his features and the rest of his body! Celia lifted Timothy by his hair
and dragged him, half unconscious to the four-foot tall birdcage, throwing him in
unceremoniously and slamming the steel door behind him. The cage had spaces for a
male to extend his head through the bars at the bottom for foot-licking, or his hand for
finger-crushing; even his foot for the occasionally toe-stepping events the women liked to
sometimes perform. Timothy balled up into a corner, cradling his broken hands and
crying piteously.
“Oh…poor baby!” Celia imitated whining in a child’s voice. “Did the big, strong, ladies
crush your little wee-wee?! Or are your little fingers hurting more?!” She reached
between the bars and yanked his head through the circular head opening, clicking the
latch behind it to trap it there. “I played sand volleyball today on my morning break and
my feet are filthy! Suck them clean!” she ordered. She jammed her giant foot into
Timothy’s face, forcing two of her toes, then three, into his mouth. Timothy yanked his
head backward, reviled at the clammy stench of Celia’s dirt-covered foot, but his head
was trapped! Celia forced her foot farther into his mouth, threatening to dislocate
Timothy’s jaw as his mouth opened so wide taking it in, he thought it would snap! She
wiggled her toes around, pressing down on his tongue. “Suck it, Bitch!” she commanded,
as the Governor smiled wanly. Timothy began sucking the vile dirt from Celia’s foot,
then licking at it. He looked up at her powerful, fully-extended, tanned bare leg, to her
cruel face towering over him as she jammed her foot into his head harder, somehow
forcing a fourth toe into his stretched open mouth! Timothy moaned as his lips
threatened to separate! He felt her wiggle her giant toes some more and gagged on the
toe jam that he was licking from between her toes, as the crumbs came off and he
swallowed them. Celia glared down at him. “Is it painful?! Am I too cruel?!” She
pushed her foot into Timothy’s mouth so hard, his hands left the ground and he began
crying as he sucked it! She could almost feel his tonsils as she wiggled her toes! Celia
pushed down on Tim’s tongue with her big toe, gagging him and cutting him with her
sharp toenail, as Timothy choked! He felt the rough wrinkles of the meaty bottom of her
foot – the coldness of the flesh there! Celia pulled her foot partially out of Timothy’s
mouth, then jammed it back in hard, now foot-fucking his gaping mouth, slamming his
head against the latch behind him over and over as he suffered the indignity and
humiliation! Finally, she laughed at him mockingly, as she slowly withdrew her big foot,
taking time to grind his face with it, twisting his features before she deftly slipped her
foot back into her high heel as Timothy stared at its size in fear. “You are pathetic!” she
laughed. “Welcome to your new life as a footsucking slave!”
Timothy stared at her. She had her hands on her hips, standing over him regally, as all
the places she’d hurt Timothy coalesced into one enormous soreness he couldn’t believe!
He saw his saliva covering her foot and the way she looked down at him – like an insect!
And Timothy knew his life as he knew it was over and he had nothing more to lose. He
stared at her, feeling rage building in him, replacing the fear! Timothy summoned the
last vestiges of the will they had broken in him, and with his last ounce of resistance –
and in horrible pain, and what little remained of his castrated voice, he called out a oneword
insult -- “You…Bitch!”
The room was suddenly icy silence, as Celia lost all pretext of teasing him and just stared
at him, her mouth frozen slightly open. Her lower lip began to quiver! She wavered on
her feet, seeming to lose her balance a little! She just kept staring at him, her eyes locked
on his, until Timothy’s eyes looked away, suddenly terrified at what he’d done! The
Governor, her mouth hanging open also, gathered herself and walked slowly around the
cage, her heels clicking staccato on the hardwood floor! Stooping down to inches away
from Timothy’s defeated face, her eyes bored into him! Without looking away from him,
the Governor softly told Celia, “We’ll arrange the Treatment for him tomorrow…a very
special dose, I think. A dose made just for Timothy! He’ll start to heal quickly after he
gets the gene splice. Then…we’ll proceed.”
Then, to Timothy, she said quietly, “I’ve got big plans for you, little one. You’re gonna
be famous.” She stood slowly and walked around the cage, Timothy’s eyes locked on her
wicked heels. Timothy looked up at her, towering over him.
“Governor…Maria --,” Celia began, almost hyperventilating, her hands clenching into
claws.
“I know what you want to do to him, and the answer is, ‘No,’” she said. “I suddenly have
a very special solution for Timothy planned. And clawing him to death now, will
interfere with it. Anyway, I think you’ll enjoy Timothy’s punishment for his insolence.”
“One thorough scratch, then!” Celia begged. “I…NEED IT!”
Maria glanced over at Celia, her eyebrows raised. “One -- and only one.”
Celia reached through the bars, grabbing Timothy by the hair and pulled him so his back
was before her. Reaching in with her other hand, she drove her sharpened fingernails
fully into Timothy’s back, up to their bases. Timothy screamed and contorted with the
pain. Slowly, as she held him fast, Celia ripped her nails down Timothy’s bare back,
enjoying the breathless, hoarse screaming that filled the room! She left five wicked
raking marks down his back as he pleaded for mercy, his flesh being shredded by her
talons.
“That’s enough,” said the Governor, as Celia released him and he shrunk, crying, into the
corner. “Trust me,” she said. “He’ll regret ever using the ‘B’ word.” She stared directly
at Celia and Celia looked down at Timothy and smiled. She had never been disappointed
by Maria’s imagination before…
It took Paula a few minutes to calm down the cafeteria, but finally she was successful.
Carolyn and Allison helped Elena slowly and painfully lift herself to her feet. It appeared
she could walk – just barely – but she looked terrible, and her collarbones looked as if
they were both fractured. Her stunning face was horribly marked by Kelly’s stilettos!
Paula knew the Treatment would start her healing immediately, and her body would be
good as new in a couple of days, but her spirit and her attitude, well, that might be
another matter entirely! She sure seemed to be in a lot of pain now, Paula thought,
eyeing the welts and bruises that covered her! Elena, trying hard to regain her elite
composure, looked at Paula with a hateful stare, but Paula just shrugged. Kelly had
exacted a wife’s vengeance. And, no matter that Elena was supposed to be Paula’s
friend, she had needed an attitude adjustment for a long time; and who better to
administer it, than Kelly, Paula’s new lover!
Paula walked from the cafeteria, entirely forgetting about Amanda amid her distraction!
Amanda now had absolutely no idea what to do! But she’d come down with Elena, so
she tentatively went to her to help her along, with some other girls. At the door, Elena
suddenly shrugged them all off, saying she was fine and to leave her the hell alone! But,
Amanda, having nowhere else to go, followed her out of the cafeteria and into the
hallway, eventually coming up beside her simply give her some company. After a long,
uncomfortable silence, Elena confided. “I’m fine, all right?! I’m just going to stop at the
medical lab to get a Treatment booster for all this – these bruises!”
“I’ll go with you,” Amanda replied. “You shouldn’t be alone right now, anyway.” Elena
gruffly accepted Amanda’s company, and the two walked slowly down the hallway,
Elena’s head throbbing, as she limped slowly toward the medical lab, leaning a little on
Amanda and Amanda struggling under even the weight Elena was leaning on her with.
This world was too difficult for Amanda to really understand. “How can Kelly just step
on people if she really plans to save all the men in the world from the same thing?”
Amanda muttered under her breath, as Elena looked down at her, a question slowly
forming on her pockmarked face.
It had been almost an hour and Amanda hadn’t returned to the Governor’s office. That
both of them had accidentally left Amanda in the cafeteria after Kelly had trampled Elena
had become obvious to Kelly and Paula as soon as they were together upstairs.
“I should go find her,” Paula said. “She would have found her way up here on her own
by now if she was able to.”
“We should probably both go,” Kelly replied. “She doesn’t know her way around and I
don’t think Elena will even bother coming back up here today, looking the way she did
when I finished with her.” She looked down at her sharp heels, then over at Gus in the
corner, as he was staring at them also. He seemed as afraid of Amanda not getting back
as he was of being alone with Kelly and Paula. Kelly wished she could have explained
that her trampling him, and Paula riding him, were really for his own good!
They were about to get going when there was a small, tentative knock at the door.
Relieved, Paula hopped up to open it. But, swinging the door open, the first person she
saw was not Amanda, but – Elena! Kelly’s mouth opened and her body bristled, ready to
pick up the beating where she left off. Amanda slipped from behind Elena, in through the
open door underneath and between them while Elena and Paula stared at each other,
looking uncomfortably at Kelly as Amanda joined Gus in his corner.
Elena looked terrible! Her face was covered in deep purple bruises, cuts and gouges,
Kelly saw. Perfect circular impressions of Kelly’s cruel heels covered her face! Her
clothes were torn, her body peppered in welts and heel marks! But, Elena’s face didn’t
show anger. In fact, beyond the pain, it looked as if she was…sad – almost forlorn, Paula
thought! There were fresh tears in her eyes and she was downcast, looking at the floor!
“May I…May I, come in?” Elena asked, in a small voice, grabbing herself with her arms
folded in front of her like she was cold suddenly. “I’d…understand if you…don’t want
me to.”
Looking for a moment at Kelly, without a word, Paula let the door come fully open and
Elena slowly walked in. Kelly noticed she’d been treated for the injuries with salve from
the medical lab. There was also a pressure-hypo mark in her neck, probably from a
Treatment booster for quick healing, Kelly surmised.
Elena sat down wearily on the couch, looking once at Gus, then quickly averting her
eyes, as if she were embarrassed he was there. Paula had never seen her like this. She let
the silence run out.
Elena rocked forward, her arms still folded into her stomach. The silence played out. “I
didn’t…know,” she finally said in a barely-audible whisper, her voice catching in her
throat, as if she might cry. She pursed her lips against new tears. She shyly lifted a
portion of her torn dress to cover some of her exposed breast – still beautiful and full,
despite the bruising.
“I’m sorry?” Kelly asked, her eyebrows raised, still ready for a fight.
But there seemed to be no fight at all left in Elena. She looked up, fresh bright tears
suddenly springing from her eyes. “I didn’t know…didn’t…understand…,” her voice
trailed off.
“What didn’t you understand?” Kelly asked, a little less aggressively.
“What…it was like,” Elena replied, her lips pursing, unable to continue.
Kelly and Paula looked at each other, uncertain, deciding to let Elena continue when she
was ready.
“Do you know how much it hurts them? Do you know what it’s like…what it’s
REALLY LIKE…to be walked on in high heels?!” she asked, looking up in tears. “I
never thought about it, never…appreciated…what I’ve done to them. Walking on
them…crushing them. It’s horrible…what we do to them…I’ve never…experienced
such pain! I prayed I’d die!” She shook her head, in a daze. Then, she looked up at
Kelly, tears running freely down her face. “I’ve been so cruel…I’ve hurt them…so
much. I didn’t know…God forgive me…I didn’t really know what it felt like…” she let
the tears come freely, dropping her head into her hands.
“Elena, umm…,” Kelly didn’t know what to say, then Elena suddenly lifted her head.
“I’m grateful to you!” she pleaded through tear-filled eyes. “Grateful to you for showing
me! For giving me a taste of what I’ve been doing to the men! I’ve got so much to
answer for!” She looked at Gus. “I’m sorry!” she said softly. “I’m so very, very sorry!”
Kelly and Paula sighed, looking at the floor. No matter what they’d thought of Elena, it
was hard to see her like this. Kelly felt momentarily sorry for marking her so badly with
her heels, then realized Elena might never have seen the light if she hadn’t.
“Elena…your bruises and stuff…they’ll heal after a couple of days,” Kelly offered.
“I don’t care about my bruises!” Elena shot back in frustration. “I care that I tell as many
women as I can about what it’s like for the men we step on! I’ve got to – I’ve got to
make them listen! As bad as it was for me, it’s much worse for the men because they’re
so much smaller and weaker! I can’t imagine what they feel when we walk on them!
I’ve got to make a speech! I’ve got to do SOMETHING!”
Kelly looked at Paula and Paula at Amanda in the quiet room. Within a few seconds,
there was silent agreement among them, as Paula slowly nodded.
“Actually, Elena,” Paula said, “if you can keep a secret, we know exactly what you can
do to save the men.”
Elena’s mood had gone from irreconcilable depression to hopeful excitement in just the
few minutes it took Kelly and Paula to relate their plan to her. “Oh, yes! I want to help!
I CAN help!” Elena sputtered. “If you can distract Governor Shryver with the election, I
and Amanda can work in the medical lab, identifying the bad DNA receptors and altering
the Treatment formula. I’ll work day and night! All we need is Amanda’s DNA sample
and one of mine – or yours! And dedicated 24-hour computer time! We should have a
new Treatment version in a little over a week! Right after the election, in fact!” Though
Paula and Kelly had had doubts about how easy it would be to actually carry the project
off, Elena’s excitement was contagious!
“The only thing we’ve got to make sure of,” Paula warned, “is that no one actually allows
Amanda to receive the Treatment and corrupt her DNA – in fact, no pressure-hypos near
her for ANY reason, just to be sure!”
“Pressure-Hypo’s?!” Amanda asked, looking nervously at Elena. “But --,”
Elena immediately replied sternly, “She means it, Amanda…you’re not to let anyone put
a pressure-hypo on your neck, no matter what – you’ll just have to live with Kelly and
Paula’s plan and forego being stronger and more beautiful in order to do your part!”
Amanda continued to look uncertainly at Elena, seeming about to speak, then thinking
better of it. She continued to stare at Elena, questioningly. Kelly cut in, “Remember,
you’ll have to pretend you’ve had the Treatment, though…being cruel to the males,
forcing Gus to be your foot slave, and the like. Do you think you can do that?”
Amanda continued to stare at Elena, who stared back at her. Then Amanda slowly
looked away. “Um…yes,” she replied tentatively, glancing back once at Elena. Then,
with more confidence, glancing at Kelly and Paula, “Yes, I’m sure I can.”
“Send up a ponyboy,” the Governor called into her intercom. “I’m ready to go home.”
She clicked the button again. “A young one.”
Promptly five minutes later, Carolyn led an extremely small, emaciated male in on a
leash. The Governor could see his little ribs he was so thin! His hand nearest Carolyn’s
spike heel already sported a couple of deep, crushing heel marks and he was limping on it
slightly, trying to keep from crying.
“Carolyn,” the Governor chided, looking at the male’s misshapen hand.
“It was, umm…accidental,” Carolyn replied, smiling.
The Governor smiled too. “Uh-huh. You girls have a nice evening,” she said. Carolyn
turned, leaving as quickly as she’d come in.
Maria eyed the young man. He was thin and pale and beautiful, and wearing only
underwear, as she liked them. ‘Like one of the little males in the old Calvin Klein
commercials,’ she thought. Even better, he was obviously quite terrified of her, now
glancing at the cage in which Timothy lay curled up in a ball at the far corner!
She picked up a crop from the holder near the door and lightly brushed it over the
ponyboy’s back. “Well, hello, little one,” she said.
A shiver ran down the little male’s naked back, and he offered a tentative, “He—
Hello…ma’am, ” looking down at the floor. So sloppy, she thought. Late in the day they
always forgot to spray their vocal chords! Well, this would be fun, then!
She ran the crop down his back again, slowly, as she paced by him in her stilettos.
“What’s your name?”
“Ch—Charlie.”
“I haven’t seen you around here before, Charlie,” the Governor said.
“I – it’s my first day here, Ma’am,” the young man responded fearfully.
“Really? Do you like older women, Charlie?” the Governor asked amused, eyeing him,
as she slowly swung her leg over his back, standing tall over him, straddling him.
Charlie let out a single whimper, but remained silent, shivering steadily now.
“I’m ready to go home, now, Charlie,” the Governor said matter-o-factly, watching him
swallow. “Since you’re here to serve me, I’ll be riding you out of the building to my
limousine. The reason I’m telling you this, Charlie, is because it’s rather a long way
down the hall, then three flights of stairs to the ground floor – I don’t like elevators – and
I’m told my weight can become quite – well – significant, by that time, if a male is not
ready for me. And you are very small and puny, Charlie.”
Charlie seemed to want to say something, but was afraid. “Hmm? Something you want
to share?” the Governor asked.
“I—I’ve…never…been ridden,” Charlie said softly, his voice almost inaudible.
“Really, Charlie? Well, I hope you get the hang of it quickly! Once I had an
inexperienced male who was carrying me collapse, Charlie. And, Charlie? I think he
really wished he hadn’t let that happen. It was embarrassing to me. Know what I
mean?” She snapped the riding crop hard on Charlie’s naked flesh, eliciting a loud yelp!
“Y—Yes…,” Charlie stuttered.
“Don’t collapse, Charlie,” the Governor warned. “No matter how your knees and arms
burn from being ground against the floor. No matter how much your back feels as if it
will break. You can whimper all you like…scream if you must. But, don’t collapse. I
won’t be kind if you do. Do we understand each other? Charlie?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie swallowed. It was a whisper.
The Governor thwacked Charlie with the riding crop again, extra hard, leaving a wicked
red welt. He shuddered, but made no sound. “Better,” she said.
The Governor looked more closely at Charlie. “You say it’s your first day here? How
old are you, Charlie?”
The young man hesitated. “It’s…my eighteenth birthday…today,” he said hoarsely,
fearfully.
The Governor smiled wanly. “Well…Happy Birthday, Charlie…”
She lowered her full weight onto Charlie’s back, as Charlie suddenly gasped under the
pressure, feeling her ass settle into the bend she made in torso and her powerful thighs
hang down around him.
“Ohhh,” Charlie breathed. “Ohhh…my…” he panted.
She squeezed Charlie’s little frame hard with her thighs, enjoying the wonderful little
moan that escaped his lips as his ribs bent inward under her leg strength. The Governor
sat regally on him, feeling him trying desperately to hold her atop his small,
inexperienced frame, as her much older, more powerful one pressed heavily down on
him. “Yes, Charlie, I think you do like older women,” the Governor mused, digging her
long nails into his pale skin to hold on to him, as Charlie’s teeth started chattering with
the pain!
“Eighteen years old today! How exciting! You have your whole life ahead of you!” she
said, looking down at him as his skin started seeping blood from around her sharp nails
and little Charlie began carrying her laboriously on the long crawl to her car, his eyes
clenched against the rivers of pain that tore through his young body, as he struggled
under the weight of the tall, powerful woman, rocking precariously on his little back as
she rode him like a mule!
It was just after 5pm, and the other girls had already mounted their slaves when Charlie
arduously carried the Governor into the outer office on his pale little back. Looking
around, Amanda thought it looked like a sort of “posse” off to track down a cowboy
criminal! The six or seven hypnotically beautiful young women on the Governor’s staff
sat on the backs of horsey-men across the large outer office, dwarfing them with their
size, crushing their spines beneath their weight! Gus, lying at Amanda’s feet where he’d
been told by Paula to lay quietly, seemed distraught by the scene. The Governor’s
slave’s knees and hands were already bright red from being ground against the floor as he
crawled and his face was a picture of pain! Amanda hadn’t seen her be cruel to a man
and had fantasized that perhaps she was as kind to the men as she’d been to Amanda.
But she was really hurting the poor guy! Amanda guessed she had to keep to ceremony
for her staff. Amanda felt a twinge of guilt for the poor ponyboy, then saw the Governor
glance over at her. Afraid of appearing too sympathetic, Amanda casually lifted her boot
and placed it on her husband’s face, driving her sharp, hard heel into his cheek, then
pressing down even more forcefully in case she wasn’t convincing enough. She smiled at
the Governor.
“Thank you for offering us the use of your office apartment here until we get settled,” she
ventured sweetly. She glanced down and noticed Gus’ eyes watering and his hands
tensed, trying to keep from grabbing at her foot to stop her from gouging it into him.
“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” the Governor answered. “It looks like you’re coming to an
understanding with your husband,” she commented.
“Well…at least HE’S coming to an understanding,” Amanda replied, swallowing hard.
She pressed her foot forward, rolling her husband’s head to the side so it faced the
Governor, as she stepped down hard. He groaned under her tread as she said, “Say
‘thank you’ to the Governor for letting us stay here, Gus!”
“Th…Thoowwchhkk Wuu…,” Gus groaned through his squashed cheek from under his
wife’s boot! The throat spray, which was just wearing off made it sound like a hoarse
whisper. It was pathetic. Amanda beamed proudly!
The Governor smiled. “Why, you’re welcome, Gus! I’d love to stay and chat, but, I
don’t think poor Charlie here is doing too well.” She looked down at the little man she
was riding. He was gritting his teeth and tears were running freely from his eyes as he
almost hyperventilated under her weight. She raked her long nails over his back, making
him shudder. “Denise, would you give Charlie here some encouragement?” She smiled.
“Certainly, Ma’am,” Denise replied, yanking hard on her own slave’s hair to force him to
crawl over to the Governor. She pulled a wicked switch from her side, raised it high
above her head, and brought it whistling down upon Charlie’s backside! Charlie howled!
“Giddy up!” Denise yelled, switching him again, as he struggled to crawl forward.
“See how many switches it takes to make those welts turn bright red,” the Governor
mused.
“My pleasure, Ma’am,” Denise replied. As the procession of tall, beautiful women began
to move forward out of the office for the day, Denise put her full strength into switching
Charlie repeatedly, he howling and staggering from the burning and cutting of the switch
and the weight of the stunning brunette woman on his back as he crawled forward, welts
forming on his skin. The other slaves just kept their heads down in silence; afraid it
might be them next if they did otherwise! Kelly, her strong tanned legs hanging down
over her own husband as he labored to carry her 6’7” frame, turned and gave Amanda an
encouraging glance. ‘It’s okay,’ she mouthed. ‘It’ll be okay…’. Amanda smiled back,
nodding slightly.
When the big outer office door closed, there was silence except for the sound of Charlie
the new slave wailing down the hall to the repeated snaps of Denise’s switch. She heard
a few staffers giggling as they walked by in the hall – the last stragglers emptying the big
Statehouse office complex.
“They will not,” one of the staffers was laughing. Eyeballs are attached by muscles!
You can’t just get them to pop out of a guy’s head!”
“Even if you jump on him really, really hard?!” the other asked.
“Look, when we get home, I’ll show you. You can make their eyes bug out of their
heads, but not POP out of their heads!” She laughed and all the girls joined in, as their
voices and laughter receded down the hallway.
As the noise died down, silence replaced it, all the bustle of the workday fading for the
night. There was then complete silence in the cavernous building and for the first time
Amanda was alone with her thoughts in the whirlwind of this new society she’d come
home to. Gus groaned from under her boot, and she looked down at him. His eyes
pleaded up at her. “Umm…let’s wait a few minutes before I let you up, okay, honey?
I…umm…wanna make certain they’re really gone.” She looked down, watching her heel
sinking deeply into her husband’s face. The jeans she’d been given fit her well and she
liked the way her svelte legs flowed down to her designer boots. Clucking her tongue,
she wondered what Gus was thinking, staring up at her from beneath her heel. ‘This must
really hurt,’ she thought.
At last, she sighed, removing her spike-heeled boot from her husband’s face and allowed
him to get up. “Jesus, Amanda, that HURT!” Gus complained, rubbing the heel mark in
his cheek. Amanda, ignoring him, walked to the window, looking out across the
Statehouse lawn, watching hundreds of women leaving for the day, riding on the backs of
small men or being carried on their shoulders. She watched them plop down hard on men
lying on the seats of their cars as they got in them to drive home. A “deck” of men had
been laid by the curb and about fifteen extraordinarily tall women all stood on them in
their heels and business suits, waiting for their rides to pull up at the curb stop and pick
them up. All of the women laughed and smiled, so happy – so healthy and vibrantly
beautiful! Amanda gazed at them, thinking. “AMANDA!” Gus pleaded, as she ignored
him. “MY FACE!” Without looking away, Amanda replied absently, “It’s for your own
good. Get over it.”
Gus’ mouth hung open as he stared in shock at his wife. Finally, Amanda turned from
the window, regarding him. “It IS for your own good, Gus! Do you know what they’ll
do to you here if we don’t play along?! The only way we have of staying together and
keeping you in one piece is for me to be cruel to you occasionally. We’ve got to keep up
appearances! And YOU’VE got to learn to TAKE IT!”
Gus took a step back, his mouth still open in shock.
Amanda’s face softened. She walked over to him, reaching up to run her finger lightly
over the heel mark she’d left in his cheek. She smiled seductively. Gus jerked away.
“Aww…did I do that to you, honey?!” Amanda whined. “Lemme make it better” She
pulled him close and kissed him hard, passionately forcing her tongue into his mouth,
leaving him breathless with the intensity of her kiss. “My God,” Gus breathed, his knees
suddenly weak. “Where did you learn to do THAT?! You’ve NEVER done that!”
Amanda smiled lustfully. “I just have to be excited enough,” she said. Her eyes bored
into him, sizing him up.
“Well…what’s…what’s gotten you so excited?!” Gus panted.
Amanda fingered the heel mark she’d left in him again. “Oh, nothing…nothing at all,
baby.”
She walked him into the Governor’s apartment, putting her arm around him and
squeezing his side, turning to take a last look around the now silent, dusky office. She
flipped off the lights, seeing the silhouettes of the hand shackles in the floor and the
benches where men were laid during the day to become cushions for the women. She
looked at Elena’s desk, seeing her sitting there swiveling on a slave in her mind’s eye.
Then, she turned and followed Gus into the apartment, closing the door behind her.
She let Gus take a bath (he was filthy from laying on the floor all day), and then
welcomed him to her bed. ‘Okay, the Governor’s bed,’ she reminded herself. She could
have taken him, but she decided he should sleep. He was so tired; he fell asleep almost
immediately under the soft covers. She pulled them back and stared at the tens of heel
marks she’d made in his chest while trampling him earlier that day, exhaling slowly.
He’d had a reasonably nice chest – just a little emaciated from the lack of exercise and
food, she decided. A little bony, truth be told. It must have hurt horribly, she thought.
Being walked on in stiletto heels by your wife! She felt her boots sinking into his soft
flesh all over again in her head.
She flipped on the TV and watched the news. It was good to watch the news again, but it
was obvious the stunning anchorwoman was sitting on a male behind her desk as she
delivered it. Once, Amanda even saw the man’s head pop up as the woman adjusted her
position. It was unusual to see story after story about women, the few stories about men
being delivered in a derogatory light. In what seemed a nightly event, the anchorwoman
described a list of males that were missing and needed to be recovered. The first picture
she showed to help the public identify a missing male showed his face in absolute terror,
under a female sandal, it’s big foot obviously putting extreme pressure on his face! In the
photo’s background a group of teenagers laughed, as if the photo had been taken at a
party! How anyone could identify a man whose face was so squished in the photo,
Amanda had no idea! Maybe they’d have to step on anyone who looked similar to see if
it was really him! The broadcast continued with more photos, all in compromising and
usually painful conditions. ‘No wonder they’d gone missing,’ Amanda thought! Finally,
Amanda switched off the TV, shucked off her jeans and top, and lay in the dark, her
husband sound asleep beside her. She hoped he didn’t dirty the bedclothes by laying on
them. The days’ events swirled around and around until Amanda, too, finally succumbed
to sleep at just after 10pm. Her last thought as she drifted off was how she couldn’t
believe what had happened to the world…and she couldn’t WAIT to implement their
plan and work with Elena on altering the Treatment…
Despite having gone to sleep at ten, Amanda awoke at four am, with a start! She’d been
dreaming and couldn’t remember the dream, but she was very sure she’d snapped awake
with the vision that her husband was tied to a steel trellis, and the Governor had just
kicked him brutally in the testicles with her pointy toes boot! She’d jumped awake at the
moment her boot had thudded against Gus’ balls and he’d screamed! But, there was Gus,
laying softly beside her, his testicles in tact!
As she came fully awake, she realized she had gotten only six hours of sleep, but she felt
completely refreshed! Even better than refreshed! So alive! As if she’d slept a whole
weekend! The stress had seemed to melt off of her and she smiled at how good she felt!
Her joints, which had been tremendously sore from the cramp quarters on the ship they’d
stowed away on, felt brand new – almost like a little child’s! And she was ravenously
hungry! Gus was still fast asleep, so Amanda popped out of bed in the white underwear
panties and bra Paula had given her. They had seemed to fit a little loose before, before
but had apparently shrunk a little during the day, and now felt comfortably tight,
wrapping her breasts and ass securely in their lacy fabric. She opened the closest door
and removed a man’s shirt that was hanging there. She wondered why a man’s shirt was
in the closet, then, slipping it on, realized how big on her it was and realized who it must
have belonged to. With Maria’s extreme growth in size, it probably fit her by now, and
Amanda imagined she’d kept these shirts around as a reminder of her husband. She
wondered what had happened to him.
Amanda made herself a cup of hot coffee and grabbed a high protein yogurt from the
fridge. She knew she needed to eat more to gain back all the weight she’d lost on the
journey from Africa and she decided she’d better get started! She grabbed a second
yogurt after she’d scarfed down the first. The Governor certainly had the apartment fully
stocked with food! She walked to the door of the apartment and opened it onto the
darkened office, leaning against the doorframe. ‘Surreal to be leaning against a
doorframe in the middle of the night in the State Office Complex wearing only a bra and
panties and a nightshirt while eating a yogurt,’ she thought. She thought she must look
seductive, spooning her yogurt out and licking the spoon in the dark, the blue moonlight
casting shadows over her naked body. ‘Geez, when have I ever thought of myself as
seductive?!’ she asked herself. She sipped the coffee, and then suddenly was struck with
a thought! With all that had happened to her and Gus during the day, coupled with her
overwhelming fatigue, she hadn’t even thought about what had become of poor Timothy.
She hadn’t seen him since the Governor had ordered him into her office. Then she
remembered the Governor’s request for a cage to be brought in.
‘Was it possible?’
Amanda padded softly across the office in her bare feet and slowly opened the door to the
Governor’s inner office. The big door swung smoothly and silently open into blackness
and all Amanda could see were the dark shapes and silhouettes of furniture across the
room, lit by the very dim Emergency ‘EXIT’ sign at the very back of the room. Then she
heard a soft shuffling noise off to the side and walked silently toward it, her feet quiet as
a church mouse on the hardwood floor. The room had been almost completely dark but
Amanda could pick out details rather easily now, which surprised her. Her eyes had
adjusted to the darkness easily. As she approached, she saw the large, domed cage on the
floor in the corner, a mostly naked man curled in the fetal position in the far corner. His
legs shuffled back and forth across the floor over and over as if he was in pain and his
head was buried in his hands. She stared at the sight a long time, swallowed, and then,
tentatively called out, “Timothy?”
The figure stopped moving, listening intently, and Amanda called softly to him again.
Slowly, Timothy painfully turned toward her, pulling himself around on his elbows.
‘Something must have happened to his hands,’ thought Amanda. He looked up, his eyes
wide, looking around the room for her. “Who – who is that? Please – I’m sorry! I’m
sorry about what I said!” He was looking right at her, and, although the room was dimly
lit, he didn’t seem to see her.
“It’s Amanda, Timothy,” she answered. “What happened to you?”
“Amanda! Where are you?!” he called again, though she was standing right in front of
him.
“I’m right here, silly!” I can see you pretty clearly, why can’t you see me? Are you
blind?”
“No, but…the room is almost pitch black…I can see shapes…and the light in the hall,
but…how can you see anything in here?”
Amanda considered. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem that dark to me.”
“It’s nearly pitch black,” Timothy repeated. “Amanda…WHY?!” It was a baleful plea.
“Why did they put you in a cage? I don’t know, Tim,” Amanda answered. “But I’ll have
a word with Maria about it in the morning.”
“No…why did you…stand on me?! Why did you do what you did to my…my…with
your boots…” his voice cracked and he couldn’t continue.
“What are you talking about?!” Amanda asked. “I didn’t STAND ON YOU!”
“You crushed them – ground them into the floor,” Timothy said softly. “You stood on
me for half an hour…then…you stood on THEM.”
Amanda tried to understand what he was babbling about.
“They’re smashed forever…it hurt…so…much…how could you DO THAT TO A
HUMAN BEING?!!! It stills aches…so horribly!”
She looked down at his lower body, focusing in the dim light on his privates, then
suddenly felt flush as she remembered the standing on the squishy toy on the floor in the
Governor’s office! KICKING AT IT OVER AND OVER!! ‘Oh my God!’ she thought!
‘OH MY GOD!!!’
“Timothy…I…I didn’t know…”, Amanda’s voice was unsteady. She pictured herself
standing on a man’s privates without a care in the world, grinding them under her boots
as she calmly talked and laughed with the Governor for almost half an hour! She felt
flush again, and lightheaded, thinking about it, and she told herself again it was because
she was so horrified!
“Do you…umm…need…anything?” Amanda asked, hoping to change the subject.
“New testicles,” Timothy answered morosely. Then, he seemed to accept her
explanation. “I’m pretty…hungry,” Timothy finally answered, his eyes hollow, his voice
vacant.
“No problem! The Governor has let Gus and me use her apartment across the office!
The refrigerator is chock full of the best food you can imagine! Steaks, wine, salad, fresh
bread and coffee cake…I’ll never be able to eat it all! I’ll make you a nice juicy steak
and bring it in here, how would that be?!”
Timothy seemed taken aback when Amanda told him how well she was living! “Gosh!
A steak would be…would just be…so wonderful! Thank you! I’m so, so hungry!”
“Not a problem,” Amanda answered.
“You really didn’t know you were standing on me?” he asked.
“Scouts honor,” Amanda replied sweetly, holding her hand up in the scout promise
symbol. Then her face clouded. “What did they do to you?!” she asked.
“My hands…then my…,” his voice cracked again. “They walked back and forth over
them – with their high heels! I called one of them the ‘B’ word. After she made me lick
her feet. They said they had…special plans for me. I don’t they have good plans…”
Timothy’s voice shook.
“You licked…her feet?” Amanda asked, her eyebrows raised.
Timothy buried his head in his broken hands and choked up. “It was the most
humiliating thing I’ve ever done! But what choice did I have?! They were walking all
over me and they’re GIANTS! I didn’t know what to do!”
Amanda found herself unsteady on her feet, imagining her friend Timothy being made to
lick a woman’s feet against his will. She looked down at her own feet.
“Maybe,” she ventured, “Maybe you should try to look at it in a different light.”
“What – what do you mean?!” Timothy asked.
“Well…I mean…since apparently you will have to do it from time to time…maybe you
should try to accept it…maybe do it again so you’re desensitized to it, if you think it’s so
vile. Maybe you’d decide it isn’t as bad as you thought.” She looked down at the pathetic
male – ‘MAN’ she corrected herself – in front of her. “They made Gus lick my feet,
too,” she added. “I felt horrible for him, but he did all right. It was better than the other
things he could have been made to do.” Timothy lowered his head.
“If it means anything…it wasn’t vile for me,” Amanda added, looking down at him. “In
fact…”, she didn’t bother finishing the thought, as Timothy’s head snapped up!
“In fact, WHAT?!” he cried.
“Nothing! I’m just saying the women whose feet you lick probably appreciate it and are
grateful to you.” She let the silence linger. “I know I would be.”
Timothy just stared at her! “What are you SAYING, Amanda?!”
“Nothing!! It’s just…my feet are dry right now – and they’re clean – well, pretty clean,
anyway – and it seems it might help you get desensitized to do more…feet-licking.’
“FEET-LICKING?!!! As if that’s an actual WORD?!!!” Timothy shouted.
“Timothy…calm down,” Amanda said. “It actually IS a word…well, now it is, anyway.
And until it’s no longer a word, it might be the only way for you to survive! Licking my
feet might actually be good for you! Besides, if I’m gonna make you a steak, don’t you
think you could do a little quid pro quo?”
Amanda gently extended her bare foot between the bars of the cage onto the floor in front
of Timothy. Apparently Timothy still couldn’t see it in the darkness (perhaps the lack of
sleep was affecting his vision), so she lifted her toes to gently touch his face. He recoiled
from them! “C’mon, Tim. Is it really such a horrific request? To be asked to lick the
feet of your best friend’s wife?” She smiled, extending her foot a little further to touch his
face again. “I’ll make your steak right after. You look really hungry, Tim.” Timothy
looked broken, but this time, he didn’t recoil. He closed his eyes in fatigue and
resignation and…breathed…the scent of her foot. She tapped him lightly on the nose
with her toes. Still, he hesitated. “C’mon, Tim.” She nudged him again.
Hesitatingly, scrunching his eyes closed, Timothy’s tongue came out of his mouth and
touched Amanda’s toes. He gently ran it over them, sobbing once, as shivers ran up
Amanda’s spine. She was glad he couldn’t see her eyes close in pleasure! She licked her
own lips, enjoying the sensation of a colleague she’d worked years with, debase himself
by actually licking her feet! Of course it wasn’t fair to him – wasn’t fair to ANY of them.
And, of course, she would work with Elena to change the Treatment so men weren’t
treated this way anymore! But, in the mean time, she couldn’t see why she shouldn’t get
to experience a few short weeks of the kind of worship women around the world had
demanded for more than four years! And as it was temporary, she drunk in the sight of
her husband’s best friend, now running his wet little tongue all over her glistening toes.
“Do my soles, too,” she commented down to him, and was rewarded by Timothy slowly
running his tongue the length of her foot, as his eyes teared up, licking the dirt from the
floor off of it, wetting it down and caressing it in a way she’d never thought she would
experience – especially from a man who, just a few short hours before – had been her
peer. She slowly lowered her foot to the floor, pulling Tim’s tongue along with it, until it
was flat on the floor and just her toes were raised to let him get at them. Then, on a
whim, as Tim’s tongue moved beneath her big toe, she pressed it down against the floor,
trapping his tongue beneath it as she shifted her weight onto it!
Timothy screamed an unintelligible scream, trying to tell her something that was
impossible to understand because she was stepping on his tongue against the floor! She
asked, “What’s wrong, Tim, I can’t see well enough! What’s wrong?!” She shifted her
full weight onto his tongue, feeling it flatten like a little rubber worm under her big toe.
“Ohhwwthth…you’th thanddiink en mwa tuungthh,” Tim screamed. Amanda closed her
eyes. It was enough.
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, Timothy!” she exclaimed, jumping off his tongue. “I couldn’t
see! Are you all right?!”
She watched Tim slowly, carefully pull his tongue back into his head. It was swelling up
fast. “Just…just…go,” Timothy begged.
“Okay, I’ll go make you a nice, juicy steak now. It’s the least I can do for you after
doing such a good job with the foot-licking!” She watched him for a time knowing he
couldn’t see well enough to know if she’d gone or not. Then, she playfully kicked him a
little in the face with her toes, which gave him a start! “Okay, I’m leaving now,” she
said. ‘Too bad you didn’t get to see me in my bra and panties,’ she thought. ‘Your loss!’
Then, Amanda spun around and left the Governor’s office to throw a steak on the grill.
Gus must have been really out of it! He didn’t even hear her playing in the kitchen,
making the midnight snack! The steak was so juicy as it cooked; she thought the smell
alone would rouse him! She’d gotten it onto a plate, still sizzling hot, then dropped a hot
baked potato next to it, along with some vegetables, and was about to go feed Timothy,
when the heavenly smell was just so great! Despite the two yogurts she’d eaten, Amanda
was still ravenous! She decided Tim could wait while she made another steak, and she
sat down to eat the wonderful meal. Almost inhaling it because it was so delicious, she
was finally satisfied, and set about making another steak for Timothy. Twenty minutes
later, she had an identical meal prepared and softly padded across the outer office to feed
it to him. She opened the door to the Governor’s inner office, feeling her eyes adjust
almost immediately to what had been pitch-blackness, so she could see everything in the
dim room. Then, Amanda proudly walked to Tim’s cage thinking she might tease him
with the food just a bit to have a little fun with him. But, as Amanda walked up to the
cage, she looked inside. The cage Tim had lay only forty minutes before was empty!
They came for Timothy at just before 5 am, when the new day was still only a vague
promise in the eastern sky. The heavy door to the governor’s inner office swung slowly
inward, bathing the darkened interior in light from beyond, the blackened silhouette of a
very tall, clearly female form filling the doorway. Timothy turned toward the light, and,
for a moment, as he blinked against the brightness, he thought he could smell the faint
scent of the thick steak Amanda had promised him. But the figure in the doorway was
much too tall to be Amanda, and Timothy had only a moment to feel disappointment
before fear overcame him and his teeth began chattering.
The tall, lithe woman wasted no time in bringing up the lights to half-bright, as she
padded across the floor without hesitation, as if she was just making rounds in yet another
office. She was of Indian descent, and about Timothy’s age, her olive skin even richer
and smoother than it might have been in the dim light. She had jet-black hair, tied above
her head efficiently, and her eyes were perfect brown pools of softness, deep liquid
Bambi eyes you could get lost in if you stared into them! Her cheekbones perfectly
framed thick, dark lips that accented a small nose, and Timothy knew her teeth would be
bright white and perfect, too, even though she didn’t smile.
She wore a white lab coat over green surgical scrubs, her large feet wrapped in soft,
plastic booties. Her long, long legs rose to a slender, very fit torso, and the surgical top,
while loose, couldn’t hide how obviously well-endowed she was. She was so
breathtaking; Timothy couldn’t will himself to look away!
She didn’t even look down at Timothy as she walked straight to his cage and lifted a
small clipboard hanging from one of the bars, apparently with the governor’s instructions
on it. She raised her eyebrows slightly as she flipped to the second page of instructions,
as if she was surprised by what was written there. Still acting as if he weren’t even there,
she removed the instructions from the clipboard, neatly folded them into her pocket, and
bent down to the padlock.
Timothy scrambled backward, away from the cage door like a roach running from the
light, as she calmly touched a ring she wore to the lock. A little flash of green light came
from the ring and the lock neatly popped open, allowing her to swing the door open.
“What do you want?! What do you want?!” pleaded Timothy. “Please! What are you
here for?!”
Without even acknowledging he had spoken, the beautiful lab technician bent down and
reached deep into the cage, grabbing Timothy by his hair! She brutally yanked him out
as you’d pull a dog from its cage in the pet store without a thought! Timothy flew onto
the hardwood floor as the 6’7” woman put her foot on his head and pressed it into the
floor, absentmindedly crushing it beneath her cloth bootie! Timothy felt the bootie’s soft
sole form fit around his head as his face was deformed beneath it! She made a notation
on a yellow tag she pulled from another pocket and clipped the tag to the cage.
Timothy’s face was scrunched under her foot when, still ignoring him, she reached down,
removed her foot, grabbed him by his hair once more, and began dragging him from the
room, her slender ass above his head as she dragged him next to her thigh, walking
quickly as Timothy desperately tried to get his legs under him so he wouldn’t be dragged
along like so much garbage!
“Please! Please! Where are you taking me?! What are you going to do?!” Timothy
cried, as the cold woman pulled him out of the office anteroom and down the hall, his
head tight against her thigh, her white lab coat rustling in his ear! His scalp was hurting
terribly from her strong grip pulling his hair out and her long, sharp nails digging into his
head.
The technician dragged Timothy down the dark hallway as he begged her to tell him what
was going on, to the elevator, where the doors opened immediately. She tossed him
effortlessly into the elevator car and stepped on his upturned face with her foot when he
begged her to just please explain this to him. She was pressing his nose flat under her big
foot, threatening to break his face with the pressure as she stepped down on it, never even
glancing at him! Timothy’s one eye was still not covered by her bootie, and with it he
could see her towering form rising above him, oblivious to what she was doing to him as
they rode the elevator downward! The woman shifted her weight, pressing her foot into
Timothy’s face even harder, crushing the cartilage in his nose and making his eyes water!
When he tried to speak, the technician adjusted her foot over his mouth, forming a perfect
seal as she stepped down so hard Timothy thought his jaw would break!
When the elevator arrived at the lower floor, the process repeated itself, as Timothy was
unceremoniously yanked by his hair from the car, and once again dragged down the hall!
Timothy was able to gain his balance enough to reach up and grab the woman’s wrist
above his head with his own hands to try to alleviate the pain. But, in a practiced motion,
the Indian girl jammed her manicured thumbnail into the underside of Timothy’s soft
wrist so deeply, she instantly drew blood, and Timothy screamed with the unexpected
pain!
“Please! Oh, god, please stop!” Timothy begged, as he felt her working her nail even
deeper into his flesh. “Where are you taking me?!!!”
They turned a corner and the woman pushed Timothy from the darkened hallway through
a set of double doors stenciled ‘Medical Lab.’ Timothy suddenly struggled anew as he
was thrust into a room brightly lit with fluorescent lights! It smelled of alcohol and
antiseptic! Surgical green walls framed cold steel tables and stools and an even colder
tiled floor! Medical instruments lay on long lab tables among beakers and centrifuges!
Timothy could see two more lab techs calmly working at microscopes. They ignored him
completely! Then, Timothy saw rows of cages lining the walls of an inner, glass
enclosed room – just like a kennel – but the cages were man-sized!
“No any any a!” Timothy wailed. “Why are we HERE?! What are you going to do?!”
The technician calmly handed the paper from Timothy’s cage to another lab tech, a
beautiful blond, who looked at it, knitting her eyebrows. “There must be a misprint on
the Treatment order for this one,” the blond girl said. “The number of doses is too high.”
The first lab tech didn’t even look over at her as she forced Timothy to the floor and took
off her lab coat, letting the loose green surgical garb show off her stunning, tall body.
“There’s no misprint,” the Indian girl answered. “The number was written out.”
“Yes, but…TWELVE doses?!” remarked the blond girl. “There has to be a balance
between his ability to sustain damage and his ability to move under his own power. You
can’t just turn him into human jelly! We’ve done three doses – four in one case where a
young staffer wanted her husband to be able to suffer exceptional pain without permanent
damage. But, with even four doses, her husband would get tired after walking less than a
block! TWELVE DOSES…,” her voice trailed off as she looked at the signature at the
bottom of the form. “He won’t be able to MOVE…” She looked up, suddenly blinking.
“This is straight from the governor!”
The first technician looked right at her. “As I said, no misprint.”
The other lab tech pursed her lips, then looked down at Timothy with something like
sadness in her eyes. “I wonder what he did,” she muttered. Then, squaring her shoulders
and smiling, she said, “I’ll program the genetic alteration. Go ahead and strap him down
in Treatment #2.” She spun on her heel and left the room.
Timothy’s eyes flitted back and forth! ‘Strap him down?!’ The fact that the beautiful
raven-haired technician completely ignored him was terrifying, Timothy thought! She
didn’t even look at him! He was completely helpless and he had no idea what was going
to happen to him here! He desperately tried to calm himself to try to make sense of what
was happening and to get the woman to just listen to him! She dragged him into a large
exam room off the main hallway of the medical lab. Recessed into the middle of the
cold, smooth tiled floor, and surrounded by high-tech equipment, tubes and wires, was a
thin, leather-covered mattress, in the same cream green as the walls and the surgical
scrubs all the techs wore beneath their lab coats. ‘Oh, No! Oh god, no!!!’ The lab tech
pinched Timothy’s neck between her sharp nails, bending him forward, then forcing him
down onto the green mattress onto his back, as he tried with everything he had to pull
away from her. Placing her large foot on his chest, she held him down effortlessly with
her leg weight as she looped a thick fixed belt from the floor over his chest, then stepped
down fully as she pulled upward on the belt, tightening it so much Timothy could hardly
breathe! He let out a pathetic, “Oofghhh!” as his ribs compressed under her foot! She
was so incredibly heavy for such a beautiful, fit girl!

[DeathXI]

“Please…please…,” Timothy stuttered. “I’m a…a…scientist…too! A graduate
student…I…I…study…Gorillas!” His teeth were chattering again.
The woman’s haunting eyes focused straight at him for the first time, completely
emotionless. She walked around him to his left arm, stepping down hard on the front of
his shoulder, as he groaned, as she flattened it into the floor, allowing her to tighten
another strap around Timothy’s shoulder by pulling upward on the strap as she braced
against him with her powerful foot! Timothy gasped as his shoulder felt as if it would
snap under the extraordinary pressure she effortlessly applied.
“I was…in…in…Africa…it wasn’t…this way…before…I’m just trying
to…understand…,” He stared up at her in wonder and terror – amazed at her beauty and
cruelty, as she made her way to each of his limbs in turn, stepping down on them to
tighten various straps so he couldn’t even budge! Each time she would step down, her
liquid eyes would stare straight into his as he winced, without the slightest emotion! She
stood now, towering over him, staring at him as he lay motionless and helpless, securely
strapped to the floor at her feet!
The tall Indian technician walked slowly around Timothy, ignoring him once again, as
she bent down and began to efficiently fit various electrodes to his body, then strapping
tubes to his arms. He was a testing animal – a lab rat! Timothy craned his head in terror,
trying to see what she was doing to him, begging her to just tell him what was going on!
She looked down at him once more in silence, then she stood, turned her back on him,
and made adjustments to the high tech equipment mounted on the wall, finally flipping a
red switch, which elicited a buzz from the machinery.
Timothy felt the tubes tense against his arms, as a lime green liquid began to flow slowly
from the machinery down the clear tubes toward him. ‘Oh, No! NO!!!’ He broke into a
cold sweat as he struggled violently against the straps, but it was no use! A large red
display illuminated on the far wall, displaying, ‘Dose 1: 6 Minutes, 0 Seconds.’ The
timer began a countdown, second by slow second.
Timothy’s was wild-eyed! “Please…don’t do this!” he begged.
The hauntingly beautiful lab technician walked to a small desk, looking around,
apparently for a chair, but there was none. She seemed slightly frustrated by this, then,
looking across the room, she thought a moment, then walked slowly around him to the
corner of the room, retrieving what appeared to be a tall, steel walking cane with an metal
egg-shaped plate mounted flat against it 2/3 of the way up. Carrying the cane over to
Timothy, she stared at him a moment, then placed its point on his bare chest at the bottom
of his rib cage, staring at him as he desperately tried to understand what she was doing!
The lab tech reached up and flipped the egg-shape down horizontally on its hinge and
waited while Timothy processed what he was seeing, finally seeing recognition creep into
his eyes!
‘Oh, god!’ thought Timothy. ‘It’s a…seat!’
The Indian girl smiled the faintest smile as she swung her long leg around and straddled
Timothy’s chest, one leg on either side of the cane, as she positioned her ass directly
above the little metal seat. Then, slowly, she lowered her full weight onto the seat,
pressing the point of the cane deep into Timothy’s chest, as she sat down on it! The dull
point of the cane sunk deep, deep into Timothy’s chest, almost to his back under the
staggering weight of the Indian goddess calmly sitting on it with her full weight!
Timothy’s mouth opened in an airless scream and his head shot back, as his hands vainly
tried to grab at the cane to stop it from impaling him, but the straps held them fast! The
lab technician extended her long, long legs to either side of Timothy’s head, allowing her
full weight to bear down on the seat as she calmly stared into his eyes! Smiling slightly,
she pulled a small PDA from her pocket and began to play Solitaire while she waited as
the clock clicked over to, ‘Dose 1: 5 Minutes, 14 Seconds.’
He looked feverishly at the countdown clock, believing if he had to, he could somehow
survive five minutes of the woman sitting on the cane on his chest – somehow endure the
liquid flowing into his body! As if reading his mind, the woman glanced up at him, then
at the clock. Smiling she told him, “There are twelve doses…you’ll be here for more
than an hour.” She smiled softly again, rocking her weight back and forth, digging the
cane deeper into him!
Timothy tried to cry out, but there wasn’t any air! He watched in terror as the green
liquid entered his arms, desperate to stop the crushing pain of the woman calmly sitting
on the post that was impaling his body without a care! Suddenly, mixed with the
crushing pain, he felt a buzzing – a tingling – in his arms, then his torso, and finally his
brain, as the Treatment created genetic havoc in his body! The woman stared straight at
him, emotionless, as he slowly became less than a man before her! On a whim, she
flipped off one of her booties and luxuriantly dragged her long, strong foot over
Timothy’s face, feeling his features with her toes, pressing her big toes into his eye
sockets, pressing his eyes into his head, scratching them with her toenails!
“AACHHHGGG! PLEEAACHGGUUHH!” Timothy choked! But the lab tech just
calmly watched him suffer without a word! She looked down at the base of the cane,
completely disappearing into Timothy’s flesh and smiled at what she knew she was doing
to him. Just a little smile, though.
Timothy drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes due to the doses of Treatment,
which came one after the next, sometimes due to the crushing force of the woman
impaling him under her 6’7”, 238-pound frame. Once, his own moans woke him up!
Then, the blond lab technician entered the room, wearing extremely high, metal heels.
She looked down at Timothy, placed her foot on his face and turned it to the side, then
placed her stiletto heel into his ear! Timothy screamed at how sharp her heel was! It was
like a needle! “What…WHAT…WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!!!” he choked out.
The blond looked down, perhaps pitying him. “It’s a surgical procedure,” she answered
calmly. “Sinus expansion. It’s to help you. It will enable you to have life-support
breathing through your ears so you can’t suffocate, no matter how long a woman is sitting
on your face if your nose and mouth are covered.” Before Tim could process the horror
of what she was saying, she stepped onto his head with her full crushing weight and
drove her stiletto heel straight into his ear!
Tim’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the vicious spike drive straight into his head,
easily crushing through everything in its path. He saw the blond woman looking steadily
down on him above the high arch of her shoe as she rocked her weight onto the heel, then
felt something come OUT OF THE TIP OF HER HEEL and begin working its way into
his inner ear, drilling into him like a terrible insect! Timothy screamed until the blond
lab tech began twisting her spike heel into Timothy’s head under her weight. Then,
clawing in futility at the air, he was instantly shocked into blessed sleep!
Kelly smiled unconsciously in her waning sleep as the morning California sun, shining
brightly through the big bedroom picture window, cast its warm light across her perfect
body. She stretched and curled across the covers of the big bed seductively, rolling
around as she awoke -- her tight, lacy lingerie slipping to expose a beautiful breast as she
twisted around on the covers – her toned, tanned legs sweeping the sheets back and forth.
Paula stirred too, making soft, sleepy, “Mmmm…,” sounds Kelly thought very alluring as
she felt Paula’s long nails lightly trace over her curves half-consciously. Another
fantastic night’s sleep!
“Hi,” Paula murmured, dreamily, smiling.
“Hi, yourself,” Kelly replied, moistening her lips and gazing into Paula’s deep liquid
eyes. She helped Paula roll partially on top of her, feeling her lithe body press down on
her. Despite being so perfectly proportioned, Paula was certainly no light-weight. The
sheer size of her six-and-a-half-foot-plus frame made for a lot of weight no matter how it
was apportioned. Kelly knew her body was now much the same. Even at well over two
hundred pounds, she looked positively thin and toned she was so tall! It was an effort to
breathe beneath Paula, though Kelly sure liked how she felt laying on her. She wondered
what the pressure was like for a much smaller, weaker person – like her husband Peter.
Thinking about him, she smiled even wider.
“Are you awake, Peter?” Kelly asked in a slightly louder voice, staring at the ceiling,
listening. No answer – or, perhaps she just couldn’t hear him.
Paula giggled. “Think he’s still with us?!”
“I don’t know. Let’s see how he did,” Kelly laughed.
Rolling over the edge of the bed, both women sat for a moment, Paula bouncing once on
the mattress, her full breasts almost popping out of her own lingerie top, laughing lightly,
as Kelly gave her a mock look of rebuke, then giggled with her. Finally Paula stood and
they both leaned down and picked up the heavy mattress, lifting it off the bed’s box
springs. Peter lay between the mattress and box springs, his body twisted and flattened,
his face misshapen slightly with prominent marks from the buttons and seams in the
mattress bottom pressed into it in a deep pattern. He groaned weakly.
“Awww, how did ya sleep, Sweetheart?” Kelly asked. “I guess we were pretty heavy
after a whole night, huh?!” she exclaimed brightly. Peter just groaned again, weakly
trying to move one of his arms.
“C’mon, sleepy head! Time to get up!” Paula announced. “Another day at the office
grind! – oh, sorry, I shouldn’t call it a ‘grind’ around you, should I?” she teased.
Peter tried to speak through twisted lips. “Ohhhh….my ribs….didn’t you hear
me….pleading to be…let out?!”
“Sorry, Sweetie,” Kelly answered sympathetically. “We couldn’t hear much from above
the mattress…especially with the TV on all that time before we finally went to sleep.
Besides, YOU”RE the one who asked if we’d let you sleep in the bed with us last night.
We were only trying to accommodate you!” She laughed.
Peter groaned again. “I don’t think he’s ready to wake up yet,” she said to Paula. “Let’s
help him get moving!” Both girls giggled as they unceremoniously dropped the mattress
back on top of Peter’s little body.
They looked at each other, eyes dancing, as they both stepped up onto the bed and stood
on top of the mattress, towering over the room. They heard a muffled moan from beneath
the mattress as their feet sunk deeply into the soft cushion. Laughing, Kelly and Paula
started jumping on the bed, just like when they were kids, their thick hair flying up and
down, their breasts rising and falling with the rhythm of their sexy bodies. “Didn’t they
used to….shoot Playboy videos…of girls doing…this…with each other?” Kelly laughed
breathlessly. She smashed down on the mattress with her husband beneath it,
occasionally hearing a short, muffled groan as her weight slammed down and the
mattress compressed beneath her powerful impacts! Paula laughed playfully with her,
clasping her arms to enable her to jump higher!
“Kelly-and-Peter-sittin’in a tree,” breathed Paula. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love –
then comes marriage…then comes Peter being jumped on in a matt-ress!” Both girls let
their legs come out from under them and came down hard on the bed on their asses,
collapsing in laughter! Rolling over, staring at the ceiling with her beautiful hair
cascading around her, Kelly called out, “How ya doin’ NOW, Honey?! Are ya awake?!”
Both girls listened intently, but there was only silence. “Okay…I guess you want more!”
Kelly laughed.
“NOOOO! PLEEAASSEE! THERE’S A SPRING IN MY EAR!” came a muffled voice
from under the bed. Both women exploded in laughter! Finally calming down, Kelly
said, “Okay, Peter…no matter how you want more…playtime’s over! We have to get to
work!”
She laughed lightly, as they heard another moan from beneath their voluptuous bodies.
When they arrived for work, a sullen Peter still had embarrassing mattress imprints in his
face -- a fact that made the other girls in the office smile when they saw him. “Rough
night, Peter?” Celia called out. Peter sullenly crawled to his place at his wife’s feet under
her desk preparing for another day of licking and tonguing her feet while she worked. He
hoped she remembered he was there. She had very sharp heels on today!
Elena rose from her desk and walked urgently over to them as soon as Paula and Kelly
had sat down on their cushion slaves, bringing Amanda with her. Her face was already
healing nicely from the stomping Kelly had given her the day prior. There were a few
spots where the crescent marks of Kelly’s office pumps could still clearly be identified in
her smooth skin, but mostly, the Treatment booster she’d obviously taken had caused the
rest of the marks to look like nothing more than little bruises across her body – and most
of these were covered by a light layer of makeup. Kelly withdrew her heels under her
desk when Elena unconsciously focused on them, a little sorry she’d been so cruel to her,
even though it was obviously the only reason Elena had had a change of heart and been
able to empathize with the plight of the men.
Elena turned to sit down on the cushion slave’s face beside Kelly, then, seeing his little
eyes go wide as her ass loomed over his head, she thought better of it and remained
standing. Elena looked at Peter’s face with concern, then at Kelly, raising her eyebrows.
“It’s okay, Elena,” Kelly offered. “We may have taken certain…liberties…with him.
But we didn’t truly hurt him. It was all in fun. Peter likes a little rough play now and
again!”
Elena seemed to relax a little. “How are you feeling, Amanda?” Paula asked. “I know
yesterday was a lot to take in for you!” She expected Amanda to be withdrawn, still
getting used to what had happened to the world and to her husband, Gus. But Amanda
seemed in good spirits, little of yesterday’s revelations bothering her!
“I feel…gosh, I just feel…fantastic! Incredible!” Amanda exclaimed. “My appetite is
just amazing! I’ve been eating –,”
“THAT’s what a good night’s sleep will do for you!” Elena interjected. “Look,” she said,
her eyes darting toward the door to the governor’s office, “the governor sent Timothy for
the Treatment early this morning. Amanda said one minute he was caged in her office,
the next he was gone. Isn’t that right, Amanda?”
“Umm,” Amanda replied, trying to change her mood to seriousness and looking at Elena,
“Umm, yeah, yeah…I thought he escaped, but he was too weak…someone must have
taken him.” Her tone was matter-o-fact.
Elena hesitated. “I called down to the med lab. The Treatment order is for…twelve
cumulative doses.”
“Twelve doses!” Kelly cried out. “No male can take twelve doses! Are you certain?!”
“What does she mean?!” Amanda asked, looking back and forth at them.
“Amanda,” Kelly explained. “The Male Treatment makes men more resilient, but at the
same time it weakens them. It’s a tradeoff. Of course, we generally WANT them to be
weaker, but not so much they become a burden or have to be carried around. I’m not
about to start carrying my foot slaves around with me all day because they can’t move by
themselves! Two doses, three maybe, keeps a man from being broken during routine
punishment and rough play, yet leaves him able to function enough to run errands,
service us, etc. Twelve doses will leave Timothy almost impervious to lasting damage –
he’ll heal in minutes – though the pain will, of course be just as real. But, he won’t be
able to hardly MOVE under his own power. What could the governor possibly want with
a slave who is almost indestructible, yet can’t even move?!”
“I’ll try to find out,” Elena answered. But, we may be running out of time. The election
is in a few days and we’ve got to get the Treatment changed while such a popular
governor presides over the new formula if we’re going to have a chance to save the men.
Amanda and I are gonna take a Treatment sample from the med lab and spend the day at
UCLA analyzing it and trying to alter the genetic sequence. She’s still got access to the
anthropology mainframe over there because she’s still technically a graduate student, and
she knows some genetics because of her work with gorillas. I can supply the intellectual
ability. Can you cover for us with the Governor?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Paula answered, proud of what Elena was risking for the secret
project. Analyzing the Treatment was highly illegal! But Paula was hopeful for what it
would mean for all the men. “Good luck!”
Elena took Amanda’s hand and led her quickly from the room before anyone could say
another word.
***
Timothy awoke on a padded floor in a large, open aerobics-type room. His stomach was
horribly sore where the cane had impaled him, the haunting medical technician’s full
weight sitting on it! He figured he was still strapped down somehow because he couldn’t
move his arms. Then he realized he couldn’t even raise his head, though he couldn’t feel
a strap on it. Painfully, he was able to turn his head and look down at his own body. He
was clothed only in black Speedo shorts – and he was NOT strapped down! Yet he still
couldn’t move his arms or his legs! It was like he was paralyzed! With maximum effort,
he was able to slowly slide an arm a little across the floor! Then, sweating from the
effort, he moved one of his legs! He couldn’t believe how weak he was! He looked
around the room slowly. A large bank of numbers on the wall glowed along with an
EKG line. Somehow they were monitoring his vital signs! Then, he heard a sound…a
long, low female chuckle!
“Well, hello, Bitch!” a cruel female voice growled. “That WAS what you called the
governor’s staffer, wasn’t it?! BITCH?!”
The EKG on the wall shot up to over 160 beats per minute and an amber chime started
going off on the monitor as Timothy’s heart beat out of his chest! This elicited another
quiet laugh. At first, he couldn’t see her, then, she walked into view, towering over him
in her tight, short gym shorts and workout halter-top! She was a goddess – dirty blond
hair falling messily about her strong shoulders, thick lips and deep brown eyes encased
within high cheekbones! She was powerfully built, standing at least 6’6” tall with welldefined
muscles throughout her body! She looked like a women’s pro volleyball player,
but her sneer was pure hatred! She was joined by another woman, equally cold-looking
who walked up beside her! Their legs and big bare feet were only inches from Timothy’s
head! And he couldn’t move to crawl out of the way!
The blond raised her bare foot and placed it heavily on Timothy’s face, enjoying that he
couldn’t pull away. “Hi, I’m Sarah,” she said playfully, mocking him. Then her visage
turned to pure rag! “SUCK! MY! FOOT!” She pressed her toes into Timothy’s mouth
and he tasted the vile dirt of her foot, as his tongue began moving across it out of pure
fear! “I was told you didn’t like doing this!” the girl glared down to him. “I was told you
might – RESIST! Oh, I hope you do! I HOPE you resist! I’ll jump on your face ‘til the
cows come home if you resist!” She forced four of her five toes into Timothy’s mouth,
nearly splitting his lips open, then, impossibly, ALL FIVE TOES AND THE FRONT OF
HER FOOT as she pressed down on his tongue, gagging him, then foot-fucked him,
humiliating him as she pumped her large foot in and out of his mouth, jamming it into the
back of his throat! “He’s nice and elastic now,” she commented as he choked on her giant
ped.
Timothy’s eyes moved about frantically. WHAT WAS HAPPENING?! WHY WERE
THEY DOING THIS?!!! The other girl, a haunting brunette, called down to him.
“Welcome to ‘Quality Control,” she said. “You know what’s coming. Just try to endure
it.”
“Actually, he DOESN’T KNOW what’s coming,” the blond replied. “He’s the freak they
yanked off the boat from Africa yesterday. This is his first Treatment!”
“Really?!” the brunette replied, laughing a little herself. “Well then, we should explain,
Timothy,” she said sarcastically. “Our job is to make sure the Treatment worked. That
you’ll heal quickly from the intentional infliction of pain and damage. The governor
asked us to be VERY thorough! She’s apparently got BIG plans for you!” she said, her
toes curling around Timothy’s nipple and squeezing it until he screamed into the blonde’s
foot.
She continued to work his nipple between her toes.
“Do you know WHY they hire us for this job?” the blond asked him. “Because we
HATE men! I mean, we DESPISE THEM! And we LOVE seeing them in PAIN! Get
him up!” she commanded the dark-haired girl. “I’m ready to begin his session!”
The brunette easily lifted Timothy from behind with one arm, expertly twisting his arms
behind him like a pretzel, as the blond girl, Sarah, paced around in front of him. He was
so terrified he doubted he could speak, and he was trying to think of something to say
when her first roundhouse kick hit him square in the jaw! He hadn’t even seen her move,
then her big foot was suddenly up against him, toes curled back, the ball of her foot
coming at him, smashing into his face, her long, muscular leg extended, propelling it like
a soft sledgehammer! His head snapped to the side and the brunette let him fall to the
floor, then dropped on him, sitting on him full weight, straddling him with her powerful
legs! “Let’s test the sinus expansion first,” she said.
She lifted her knees onto Timothy’s arms, sitting up to concentrate her weight as she
knelt on them and crushing his little arms under her full weight, pinning them to the floor
as he groaned, his arms screaming as they were ground into the floor! She then leaned
forward covering his mouth with one hand, and squeezing his nose with the other! Her
smooth torso accentuated her breasts, which dangled invitingly above him as she stared at
him, cutting off his air! “He still has air in his lungs,” she commented absently.
Suddenly, just as she moved her hand for a moment, Timothy felt a vicious kick to his
balls from Sarah’s powerful foot, followed by her laugh! The force actually moved him
on the floor! He grunted, as the pain exploded in him, all the air coming out of his body
as the horrible ache flowed across his body! Instantly, the brunette clamped her hand
over his mouth again! “That’s better,” she mused.
Timothy tried to curl his legs into the fetal position to manage the mind-numbing ache
that came from his testicles! But he couldn’t lift his legs! He was just too weak! His
eyes flickered as he went out of his mind from the lack of air! He was suffocating
helplessly! The blond kicked his legs apart then kicked him hard in the balls again with
her bare foot, but this time, there was no air…only a searing pain as his testicles exploded
into his groin! “His face is purple,” the brunette mused. “I love how they change
colors!”
Timothy knew he would die without air! He was terrified, gasping for a breath that
would never come! In horrible pain! He could see the brunette loved it! Squeezing his
nose closed, she sat on him with the cruelest smile on her face! ‘Bye-bye,’ she mouthed,
towering over him, as his vision clouded. Desperation crept over him! It couldn’t end
like this! He was so young! She was too beautiful to be this cruel!
Suddenly, Timothy’s ears began ringing and he felt – a rush of air? – THROUGH
THEM! He still felt he was suffocating…but somehow…he just WASN’T! And then, a
terror so deep he could hardly comprehend it, overtook him! He was somehow breathing
shallow THROUGH HIS EARS! And that meant…he couldn’t die…which elated him
suddenly; and then, as he realized the import of what they had done to him, terrified him
even more!
After almost ten minutes of cutting off his air, the brunette removed her hands, calmly
saying, “Sinus Expansion okay! He can get life-support breathing through his ears. Let’s
do the rest of him!” She stood, towering over him, and put her hands on her hips as
Timothy convulsed, desperately sucking in life-giving air! His eyes watered as he
coughed horribly! Even though he apparently wouldn’t actually die of suffocation, the
FEELING of suffocating was exactly the same!
Smiling, the brunette lifted her bare foot and stomped as hard as she could on Timothy’s
face! His head bounced off the floor and his eyes rolled back in his head with the
stunning impact! His nose was completely smashed! The blond stepped onto his groin,
crushing his privates once again, as he moaned in pain, walking up his chest! He
couldn’t believe how heavy she was! The pain was unbearable! His rib cage crushed
under her big bare feet as his head stretched back, the veins in his neck exploding
outward from the pressure! “Pl….Pl…!” he couldn’t get the plea out, as the brunette
suddenly stepped up with her! They simultaneously began stomping powerfully all over
his body as they squished him under their big peds! “He’s so soft!” the blond remarked.
“I’m leaving footprints on his stomach!” She stepped on Timothy’s throat with her full
weight, making him gag and choke, effortlessly crushing it into the floor as he gasped! “I
can feel his windpipe…or what’s left of it!” the blond laughed. She bounced on his
throat, watching his eyes bulge from their sockets!
“Respirations are zero!” the brunette said, glancing at a soft, incessant chime on the wall
display. “He’s not breathing.”
“Oh, that’s right,” the blonde replied. Even through his ears, the air can’t get to his lungs
with me standing on his throat!” She pressed down harder, watching Tim’s eyes roll
back in his head and his face change once again to dark purple, as her bodyweight kept
him from having enough air to even gag! The brunette pressed her toes into his eyes,
driving them deep into his head. Timothy felt his eyes roll and flatten under her big toes
as thought he would go blind under the pressure she applied!
A red warning light began flashing on the wall display, so the blond finally stepped off,
deliberately stepping on his wrist, crushing it, snapping the bones there. Timothy
screamed as the air rushed back, which made her smile! She calmly walked to the wall of
the large room, pressed a small button, and watched as a large door slid aside, exposing
shelves and shelves of closet space. The giant closet was filled with all different kinds of
shoes! She turned toward Timothy. “It’s gonna be a long day, I’m afraid,” she said
smiling.
For the next hour, the girls trampled Timothy in every kind of shoe imaginable! First,
came the hard rubber tennis shoes, with their cruel tread, then the cleats. Spiked golf
shoes with hard little hard plastic disks followed, leaving their little disk patterns all over
him. They were breathtakingly painful on the feet of a 230-pound aerobics queen
grinding them into a man’s face and marching heavily across his soft, naked flesh! Then,
there came the Manolo’s! Sharp, ripping heels that accentuated the beauty of the
goddesses, even as they punctured Timothy’s fragile body as they calmly walked around
on him like a doormat! His hands desperately tried to reach up weakly to protect him
from their powerful steps, but the inherent weakness brought on by 12 full doses of the
Treatment, made his vain attempts look pathetic! He was covered in their heel marks
from head to toe! Whenever he would drift off from the trampling, his screaming and
groaning stopping for a second, the blond would kick him hard in the side with a pointy
toed boot, her powerful leg damaging a different rib each time! Then, she would drive
her heel into the damaged area and work it around, making Timothy scream until he was
hoarse! Standing on Timothy’s face in five inch spikes, marching in place on his broken
features with her perfect legs, staring down at him as she cut his face to ribbons, she
laughed at him, watching him moan and scream in terror; it was like music to her ears!
When the blonde kicked Timothy over onto his stomach, he was a rag doll! He could
barely even scream as both women stomped hard up his back in their Manolo’s! The dull
thud of their heels slamming into his back as they stomped and marched up and down
him could be heard across the room! Timothy’s back looked like a pincushion! Deep
gouges, cuts and welts covered it as the towering models trampled him without reserve,
sweating from the effort!
Eventually, the girls tired and Sarah, the blond, calmly sat down on Tim’s face, mashing
his head under the crushing weight of her ass, her long legs bent ahead of her body to
concentrate her weight. She adjusted to be certain she completely covered his nose and
mouth again as she felt his face deforming under her. Sure enough, she eventually could
hear the little wisp of air flowing into and out of Timothy’s ears, even though he was
suffering in complete silence! She could only imagine the fear and pain he was
experiencing as she sat on him, though he couldn’t make a peep or move a muscle! She
casually looked over her shoulder at his head under her ass, cavalierly deciding to sit on
him another half hour before getting up – the better to crack his skull, she thought!
A soft chime sounded at the door and the athletic woman standing on Timothy’s face
stood still for a moment, her crushing weight bearing down on Timothy’s distorted
features! She loved the feeling of the skin on skin contact of the cruel sole of her foot
and the fragile features of the male’s face.
“Now, who could that be?” she asked to herself. She ground her bare foot hard against
into Timothy’s nose as she walked over his head to answer the door. Timothy groaned as
he felt her foot twist his features brutally beneath it, as it slid off! He prayed for a
reprieve from what the women were doing to him! He could barely lift his head as he
heard the door open and a third woman’s voice greet the clinician who had been using
Timothy’s little body as a trampoline for over an hour. The voice was familiar!
“I know you gals are thorough, the new woman said, “but I thought I’d stop down and do
some additional ‘testing’ to personally verify to the Governor that the mega-dose
Treatment allows even rather – well – ‘EXCEPTIONAL’ damage – to quickly heal.,” the
woman said.
“Sure,” the clinician answered. “Anything for the Governor’s staff!”
There was a moment of expectant silence in the room, then the visitor waited a beat and
asked, “Would it be possible to have some privacy?”
“Oh…oh…sure!” the young clinician gushed. “Absolutely!”
Timothy heard the door whoosh open and closed once more, and then silence, as the two
girls who had been trampling him for more than an hour left the room. He knew he
wasn’t alone, but couldn’t crane his head to see who the visitor was! The fear of the
unknown gripped him! What was going to happen to him now?!
He heard the squeak of the hard rubber floor as the visitor walked slowly around him,
taking her time. Tim clenched his eyes shut, praying for it to be Amanda! She could take
him away from all this and plead on his behalf!
But it wasn’t Amanda.
Celia slowly walked into view around Timothy’s head, her long, tall legs moving slowly
– luxuriantly – into his field of vision. He stared straight up at her as she towered above
him, the mere sight of her enough to cause his lips to start quivering uncontrollably! She
had changed into skin tight, black leather pants and a black bodice that showed off her
perfectly curvy, tall, lithe form. She had put on her trademark cowgirl hat. In another
life, the cat-like tone of her lithe body would have left Tim unable to look away from her!
In another life. In this one, the terror he felt as he stared up at her left him stuttering in
fear as he remembered what she had done to him in the governor’s office – and what he
had said to her in a moment of foolish courage! Her long, tussled brunette hair hung
around her face, making her look like a cover girl model as her electric blue eyes bore
right through him! She held a rather large, rectangular cardboard box in one of her
slender hands, and stared at Timothy, a slight smile forming on her face, as she knelt
down silently and put it on the floor beside his head. Her black, high-heeled designer
boots squeaked as they twisted on the padded rubber floor. Tim remembered what she
had done to his fingers with them!
“Hello again,” she purred, showing her bright white teeth as she smiled down on him.
She squatted down near Tim’s head and put a soft hand on his face, slowly caressing it
with her fearfully sharp nails as Tim recoiled. “Tim, isn’t it? Tim. Such an innocent
name.” She thought a moment. “You called me a Bitch, Tim. In front of the governor,
no less!” She paused. “Now, what are we gonna do about that? Hmm?!” She raised her
eyebrows, thinking. “What ARE we going to do about that?” She tightly traced her finger
over Tim’s jaw line and up around his ears, feeling his whole body start to shiver! “You
know before, when I wanted to punish you and the governor wouldn’t let me? She was
right, of course. She’s a very smart lady. I guess she’s had a bit of personal experience
with letting herself be too hard on a male that’s pissed her off, know what I mean? Or
didn’t you see the portrait above her desk? Yes, her husband didn’t last nearly as long as
I would have thought, given the shape he was in!” She flitted her tongue between her
teeth, thinking, staring at Timothy with hypnotic eyes.
“But now…now you’ve had this new multi-dose Treatment that is supposed to make you
pretty much indestructible, haven’t you?! Now, you should be able to take all manner of
punishment and just keep healing and rehealing…forever! Isn’t technology wonderful?!”
She squeezed Tim’s face between her fingers, listening to his terrified breathing. “Which
is why it’s really ironic that I don’t want to punish you anymore! You see, Tim, after the
governor made me leave before I ripped you to shreds with these wonderfully sharp
fingernails I have, I thought about what you called me. It got me to thinking. And,
seeing my boyfriend, Kevin, in the corner of the office in the condition he’s in – what
with all the gouges from my spurs, the heel marks from my spikes and the little tacks
some of the girls drove into him earlier, and the burns from the hot coffee that I’ve spilled
all over him for years…not to mention the alcohol I douse him with every night to keep
the hundreds of saddle tack punctures in his skin from getting infected – what with all
that – I decided, the truth is, I really AM a pretty sadistic bitch! I mean, it’s really hard to
argue the point! So I can hardly punish you for simply speaking the truth!” She spoke
matter-o-factly.
“So…I’m not going to punish you for calling me a bitch! Doesn’t that take a load off?!”
She gave him a stunning smile! “However,” she tapped her finger on Tim’s face, “I think
people should be who they are, ya know?! Not be afraid to find their destinies! And MY
destiny…as you so eloquently stated – is to be, a Bitch!”
Celia turned her ass to Tim’s chest and sat down heavily on him. ‘God, was she heavy!
Her long, lean legs stretched out to the side of him as her ass crushed his already bruised
and battered chest! Timothy groaned beneath her weight!
“I mean, if you’re going to label me a bitch, I can’t really argue about it, so I might as
well earn the title!” Her smile widened wonderfully as she bounced playfully on him!
“So, I suggested to the Governor that I do sort of a personal ‘quality control check’ – you
know – to make sure the multi-dose Treatment truly enables you recover quickly. I
mean, that would be rather, ahem, cruel, wouldn’t it, to not ensure you have the ability to
heal from any injuries you receive now that you’ll be serving the governor personally?”
She smiled again, as Timothy swallowed; terrified of her crystal clear blue eyes that
stared through him, as if she’d just proposed they go have a drink together!
As the Timothy tried to breathe beneath her, Celia set her cardboard box on the floor and
calmly lifted off the lid. Glancing at Timothy once, she reached into the box and mattero-
factly pulled from it, a very hard, heavy climbing boot, rippling with large, jagged,
triangular steel teeth around the border of the sole in two jagged rows!
“No…NO!” Timothy whispered hoarsely – fiercely, trying in vain to crawl away, but
making only pathetic gestures on the floor with his hands as Celia’s body weight
prevented him from even budging! Celia glanced over at him again, her playful tongue
stuck between her bright white teeth as she raised her eyebrows, as if to say,
“Actually…yes.”
“They’re called crampons,” she calmly informed him. They have them in a lot of
different colors, but I like the dark blue.”
Removing the other boot from the box, she held it in front on him. “They’re mostly used
for ice climbing. Of course, today they’ll be used for – ‘Tim climbing!’”
Timothy stared at the heavy, brutal boot, beginning to hyperventilate! Its hard rubber
tread was studded with two rows of steel jagged teeth in irregular rows that looked like
shark’s teeth! They were almost too sharp to even touch! The thought of them stepping
on him under Celia’s full weight made the red chime go off on the wall as his heart beat
out of his chest! ‘No…NO!’
Celia nonchalantly slipped off her own boots, pulling one of the heavy crampon boots to
her slender foot and sliding it on! Staring at Timothy, a knowing smile on her face, she
began to lace up the boot! She was sitting just under Tim’s face, looking down at him,
and her leg was slightly bent. She swiveled to the side, placing the wicked boot right
beside his head as she continued to lace it up, exposing the bottom of the crampon’s sole
to Timothy’s face as she tied its laces. The vicious rows of steel teeth, glinted off the
lights in the room, making Timothy’s jaw start to quiver uncontrollably to match his lips!
“No…No…No…, “ was all he could make himself say!
Celia laced up the second boot and, hesitating only a moment, stood to her full statuesque
height directly over Timothy’s head! He heard the crampons’ wicked steel teeth rip into
the rubber floor like butter under Celia’s weight, making loud popping sounds as the
rubber was destroyed as the teeth sunk into it, Celia shifting her weight, as she stared
down at the boots, thoughtfully. She still looked sexy, even standing in the heavy, brutal
boots!
“Well,” she said, placing her hands on her hips, “I guess it’s time we got started. Let me
know if this is too much for you, Tim.” She laughed. “I won’t stop of course…but I’d
like to know!”
Celia lifted her heavy boot over Timothy’s face, watching his eyes grow like saucers as
she stared up at its jagged sole. Very slowly, she lowered the cruel steel teeth onto
Timothy’s helpless face!
“Wow!” she commented, staring down at him. “They didn’t do too much to your face
with their heels, did they?! It’s like a blank canvas! And I’m the artist!” Celia gently
touched Tim’s face with the heavy steel teeth of her climbing boot, the steel teeth sinking
straight into his flesh as he suddenly screamed like a madman! She hadn’t even begun
pressing down yet! She watched him from above, staring disinterested at his contorted
face with her lifeless blue eyes, as she began shifting her full weight onto his little face!
Gritting her teeth, she said, “THIS is what a Bitch is!”
“EEAACHHHGGUUUUU!!!” Timothy screamed as the twin rows of steel shark’s teeth
ground mercilessly into his soft flesh! He stared at the teeth right in front of his eyes, as
they filled his vision, digging into his features as Celia slowly shifted her weight,
stepping onto his face! He felt rivulets of blood trickle down the sides of his face as
Celia stepped fully onto his face, sinking the steel teeth of her crampons straight to bone
under her crushing weight!!
“AAAAUUGGHHHTTHHHHHEEEAAAACCHH!!!” Timothy screamed.
Celia now stood on Timothy’s face with her full weight, her sexy body rocking back and
forth in her black leather pants! She was a goddess, staring down at him, watching his
face bleed freely as the crampons did their wicked work! Stepping around slightly, she
enjoyed the little crunching sounds as she ground his face beneath the crampons!
The brutality of what was this incredible woman was doing to him was so stark – the
violence so complete and powerful – Tim could not comprehend it! His screams filled
the air as the monitors on the wall went berserk! Celia began stepping in a small circle,
slowly rotating her beautiful body, rolling her beautiful ass sexily, as she marched in
place in Timothy’s face!
Celia slowly stepped onto Timothy’s chest, letting the teeth sink into his flesh in a perfect
ring pattern of the shape of her climbing boot, made in ripping red cuts! She looked
down at what was left of his face – just a mash of deep cuts and brutal tears, some still
recognizable as footprints! In less than a minute, she had made Timothy nearly
unrecognizable! Only his screams seemed familiar as they continued unabated!
Watching him stare up at her long, lean body in her black leather slacks, she turned and
walked the length of his body in the crampons. There was almost no resistance from his
flesh as they sunk into him under her crushing weight! The teeth sunk into him to the hilt
with every heavy step!
Timothy couldn’t believe what was happening to him! His mind wouldn’t accept what
this terrifyingly beautiful woman was doing to him without a thought! He heard his own
screams coming from his throat as if they were someone else’s as he watched her long leg
extend itself for yet another step into his soft flesh! He felt like a shark attack victim
must feel! The steel teeth under the crushing weight of the goddess walking on him
seemed to be literally ‘chewing him’ likes a relentless animal! He knew he was being
ground like so much meat under her heavy boots! All the while, her face registered no
more than minor amusement as she watched what she was going to him with her heavy,
cruel boots!
Turning around, Celia stood motionless on Timothy’s chest, softly rocking her crushing
weight back and forth on his ribs, sinking the jagged teeth into, then out of him, as she let
her weight press him into the floor sadistically under the cutting bite of her crampons!
His tongue hung out of his mouth as he stared up at her with glassy eyes, which pleased
her no end!
She smiled down at him. “Oh, gee…it looks as if I’ve gotten my boots a little dirty,” she
said calmly. “I’ll just wipe my feet and see if I can get them clean.”
Timothy couldn’t even speak as he felt her lift her left boot slightly, holding the teeth
biting deep into his chest, then rip them down him, as she began to wipe her feet on him,
tearing deep gouges in his already torn flesh!
He suffered in silence – just an occasional whimper – as her weight pressed the air out of
him and he couldn’t scream anymore! He felt himself broken and bleeding from virtually
every inch of his body! Still the ripping continued as Celia wiped her crampons down
what was left of his chest!
“That’s better,” she said finally. She stared at him, watching him intently, her hands on
her hips.
“Am I heavy?” she finally asked, her eyebrows raised, acknowledging for the first time
what she knew she was going to him. She smiled. “Gotta hate those teeth, huh?! Gotta
hate those teeth diggin’ in!” she rocked onto her toes as timothy gasped!
Celia squatted down on his chest, concentrating her weight on the teeth under the balls of
her feet, then rocking back and forth, driving the crampon teeth in and out of his flesh,
making squeegee sounds as the blood seeped over her soles! “I know what you’re
thinking,” she said seductively. “You’re thinking I’m beautiful, aren’t you?” Timothy
was almost catatonic with the crushing pain! She reached forward, lightly tracing her
long fingernail over Timothy’s torn face. “They’re like knives, aren’t they?! Look at
them, Tim. Look at them sinking into your flesh!”
She withdrew her finger and lightly licked a drop of blood off of it. “Poor baby,” she
purred. “This is all new to you, isn’t it? Well…it won’t be new for long. And you’re
gonna look like Kevin before it’s all over!”
Celia stood, bringing herself to her full, six-and-a-half foot height, staring down at the
pathetic male she stood on. A warning chime sounded more incessantly, and she finally
glanced over at it, satisfied. The pain index marker was off the chart! “Call me a bitch
again, Tim,” she said.
Slowly stepping off Timothy, she calmly said to no one in particular. “Now we’ll see
how resilient he is.” Licking her finger once more, as she looked down on what was left
of Timothy, she turned and walked to a nearby bench to take of her boots, the jagged
teeth ripping up the floor with every step!
When she had changed back into her designer boots, she took one more walk over
Timothy, who was lying motionless, moaning softly. She let her high heels sink into his
wounds, digging deeply into him under her magnificent body! The mega-dose Treatment
had obviously worked. The horrible gouges she had made in his face when she’d first
stepped up on it, were already starting to heal! While still unrecognizable, it was clear
Tim would be his old self again – albeit with some new scars all over him – within a few
hours! Pleased, she painstakingly pulled her phone from her skintight leather pants to
call the Governor! She would be able to use Timothy exactly as she had planned!
***
It wasn’t like her to be nervous, but then, she’d never run for the office of the President
before, had she?! The governor sat back in her thick, black leather office chair, wearing
only skin tight black sheer lingerie, her beautiful tan body looking better than it did when
she was twenty – and it had looked GOOD when she was twenty! The pre-election
opinion polling was in full swing, and she had been in the process of changing clothes for
a press conference, when the phone had rung, and that interruption had stretched to over
an hour as she went over the long list of celebrity guests that had attended her parties
over the years – and who might now attend her inauguration, once she was elected in –
she looked at her watch – a VERY short time now! Distracted, she pulled her pantyhoseclad
left knee into her chest, extending her spike heeled foot straight in front of her,
casually but tightly gripping the short hair of her little foot slave, Charlie’s, head, as she
held his face close enough in front of her, as he knelt on the floor, to absent-mindedly
mouth fuck him with the five-inch stiletto heel of her shoe as she talked on the phone.
She could see it was almost – embarrassment – on his face, being so close to such a
beautiful, sexy celebrity in her lingerie, her transfixing body only inches away from
Charlie’s! She noticed the bulge in his pants – he was only eighteen, after all and thought
it adorable! Looking straight into his eyes as she talked, Maria squirmed around in her
chair, moving her crotch, and he inhaled sharply and averted his eyes! It was so cute!
She’d taken quite a liking to Charlie! He was so young – so completely terrified, yet
mesmerized of her – it only exacerbated her feeling of absolute power of him! Even
now, his eyes were as wide as saucers as he strained to repeatedly take the full length of
her sharp stiletto heel down his throat without gagging as she pumped it in and out of his
mouth! She knew she’d gouged the insides of his mouth numerous times, but he was
swallowing the blood without complaint – like a little pro! And she loved the way he
called her, ‘Ma’am!’ He had done well yesterday, coming close to collapsing only once
as she rode him horseback. It had been hard on him, as small as he was with his spindly
little arms, and she was proud of him for enduring not only her riding him down three
flights of stairs, but also for surviving her sitting on his back in the limo for most of the
evening as she went to various functions. And then, of course, there was the whipping
when she’d arrived home! From his reactions, it seemed he had never been whipped
before – at least not like she knew how to whip! Her husband had been forced to tolerate
her beatings for months, always explaining the occasional cuts and welts he couldn’t hide
with clothing or makeup, as a spill on a motorcycle or some such adventurous thing, to
the press. And she’d reveled in taking photos of him helpless and restrained to the rack
as she beat his muscular body until he cried like a baby, then threatening to make his
humiliations public! Charlie had cried like a baby, too; but now, here he was, suckling
on her spike heel like a good little foot slave!
She cupped her hand over the phone momentarily. “Do you like my body?” she asked
Charlie. Then she laughed as Charlie turned beat red, averted his eyes again, and
whispered glumly, “Y…Yes, Ma’am.”
The governor pulled her heel from Charlie’s mouth, scratching his tongue with it, then
kicked his face away, as she had to concentrate on her phone call with Eva L, a new
friend she’d made who didn’t feel the need of a last name to define her since her
worldwide success on a major Sunday night TV series a few years ago. Angry that
Charlie’s face was still in front of her after she’d kicked it away, she drew her hand back
and brutally slapped him across the cheek, raising a tortured red welt! When his head
still hadn’t moved, she had realized she was still gripping his hair with her other hand,
holding it in place. No matter! It was still his fault! She snapped her fingers and pointed
to the floor and Charlie was on his knees instantly!
Charlie?” she asked, cupping her hand over the phone again, and acting like it was just
another item on her list, “Would you like me to fuck you after my phone call is over?
Hmm? Would you like that?” Charlie’s breath caught in his throat, but his body reacted
almost instantly, as any other 18-year-old’s would have! The governor watched the bulge
expand in his underwear until the little whitey-tighty’s seemed three sizes too small for
him, as he began continuously moistening his lips where his mouth had gone dry! Then,
carefully noting the distance of his balls from her shoe and the appropriate angle of
attack, Maria shifted, drawing her leg under her chair. She gave him her most sensuous
stare, watched his breath begin coming in little gasps, then, when she could see he was
already getting unsteady on his knees just thinking about her fucking him, she drove the
pointed toe of her high-heeled shoe so hard into his inflated balls, she thought they’d
come out his mouth! Her kick was perfectly placed, and literally lifted him off the floor,
as he grunted, his mouth hung open in a kind of gesture of surprise, and his hands flew
too late to protect what little manhood he had. Then, aching, and having not a breath of
air to escape the black hole of sick pain she had just kicked into him with her Italian
stiletto, his eyes turned glassy and he simply toppled over like a sack of potatoes and
curled into the fetal position! “Oh, sorry, Eva…No, just playing with my new boy,
Charlie! Oh, no, nothing like that, he’s too inexperienced! Just his balls this time!
Right!” she laughed.
Reaching down, the governor lifted her weight from the chair, placed one of its wheels on
Charlie’s hand on the floor and sat back down, as Charlie whimpered as the chair’s wheel
ground his hand beneath it, his legs still arbitrarily thrashing slowly on the carpet as the
ache in his groin came fully alive. “I don’t think you’re in any shape to have me fuck
you, do you, Charlie?”
Then Maria placed her heels on Charlie’s bare back and ripped them down his back,
scorching his pale, fragile flesh with scores of deep, red gouges, as she tried to stay calm
about the election, concentrating on her phone call. Eventually, Charlie could not control
his wails and Maria leaned down and put a tight ballgag in his mouth, before standing
and walking down his little back in her heels, pacing back and forth on him, as she
finalized the guest list. To anyone looking through the windows, the sight of the tall,
toned woman wearing only panty hose and black lingerie, casually walking in high heels
on the bare back of such a small male would have seemed like recreation. But the
governor had always like to combine her work with her play, especially when it might
make the time go by faster until the election was over and she was the new U.S.
President! One thing was for sure: Given her jitters, there would be a lot of heel marks
in little Charlie’s back before she was done!
***
The main entry door at the front of the med lab complex opened and a stunning, but
sloppily-dressed young Goth-girl, covered in tattoos, entered, carrying two large flat
briefcases. Her hair was orange and purple and she was dressed in black leather and lace,
wearing big black heavily-treaded biker boots. The cute, well-manicured medical
receptionist in scrubs and a white lab coat looked up. “May I help you?”
“Kaleidoscope Body Paints,” the Goth girl replied. “You have a project for me?”
“Oh, yes, we’ve been waiting for you!” the receptionist replied. “He’s in Kennel 14.
He’s being kept drugged and unconscious, so he should be easy,” she smiled.
Walking neatly down the hall, her tight little ass swaying provocatively in her green
scrubs, the receptionist opened the door to the kennel room, turned and signaled for the
tattoo artist to come ahead.
“Can you do him while he’s caged? He’s healing nicely but he still can’t move on his
own because of the multi-dose we gave him.” she called.
“Don’t care where I work – or what he looks like,” the girl muttered, walking
nonchalantly past the receptionist and into the kennel area where she began unpacking
her equipment. “I can tattoo on anything.”
***
‘I’m a dog,’ Gus thought. ‘Maybe not even a dog.’ With Elena and his wife, Amanda,
gone to UCLA to try to change the Treatment, Gus felt very vulnerable. Paula had
agreed to watch over him, but he quickly learned her protection carried certain –
obligations – that he was now forced to fulfill. He lay under her feet at her desk each
day, and, as promised, tried to learn how to be a good little foot slave until Amanda came
back. Paula’s feet were huge and powerful and he had trouble straining to lick the entire
foot because he couldn’t crane his head upward that long at one time. Like the dog who
lies quietly on the porch, Paula never even glanced down at him. She sat at her desk for
hours, never even acknowledging him, as he licked the soles, then the toes of her feet
over and over, in a never-ending monotony. She took it for granted he was down there
doing this for her – expecting it without even knowing she did – ‘like always having air
conditioning,’ he thought. But it could be worse. Paula’s high heels, which she kicked
off at the beginning of each day, lay only inches to the right of Gus’ face. And he had no
illusions about what she could do to him with them. He could actually FEEL the
punctures happening in his mind, and the thought of it made him shiver and made his
eyes tear up! ‘Damn this phobia!’ he thought! He lived his days in abject terror – afraid
of every unconscious movement of Paula’s feet, then afraid to move himself when she
placed them on his face without thinking and he painfully tried to keep licking one, while
the other was pressing his face into the floor!
When Paula unconsciously began sliding her foot in and out of his mouth, he tried to
open wide to accommodate as many of her toes as he could, but her foot was simply too
large! She drove it deep into the back of his mouth as she made corrections to another
staffer’s speech proposal, or talked on the phone, then rested it on his face, her big toe
forcing his eye down into his head and blurring his vision with the pressure!
Sometimes, his head as flat on the tile under Paula’s desk under her big, bare foot, he
looked up at the poor man she had been sitting on for all those hours! Clearly, it could
have been worse, as he could hardly breathe under her weight! She wasn’t trying to be
cruel to him, but she couldn’t help how heavy she was and she couldn’t very well hold
herself off of him all day every day! Still, the crushing pressure of her beautiful body
was obvious as the man’s chest seemed to have been permanently flattened in the one
spot where she sat, over time. Gus had tried to whisper up to him when he didn’t have
Paula’s foot in his mouth, but the man obviously didn’t have enough air to even answer!
?Every day, Paula would ride him to lunch, and every day he would witness the horrors
befalling other men and count himself lucky she wasn’t more cruel! And, at the end of
every day, Paula would chain him outside in the cool night air in the glade behind the
giant stone building; and for a few short hours, with the stars up above, and the innocent
noises of crickets in the trees, Gus could try to pretend none of it was real!

[jennylee324]

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[mexes]

anywhere to find the rest of the story? thanks