Bitch gasped, the blow stealing her scream as the air was forced out of her body.

She landed hard, rolling over, raising her hands to the tan sole that loomed over her, casting her in shadow.

High above her former high school bully and now Goddess, sneered.

‘Beg me Bitch, beg for your life!’

A half-drunk glass of wine hung from one hand, a cigarette in the other.

Bitch barely had time to scream, to plead for mercy before the ball of her Goddess’ foot slammed into her, pinning the shrunken woman to the floor.

Her Goddess’ toes thudded either side of Bitch’s head. The crushing weight upon her chest, the heat, the scent, the taste, the pain; all were familiar to her. The few last years of her life had contained nothing but torture and humiliation, every hour spent in some form of agony.

Almost daily she would find herself in this same situation, begging her Goddess to let her live. Every time she would debase herself, on her knees, praying to the sadistic monster that held her captive. Every time she would be beaten and battered, brought within an inch of her life before the giant woman grew bored and released her.

‘Please Goddess, please,’ she croaked, her voice hoarse. She hadn’t been allowed to drink today, her saliva used to lick the dirt from her Goddess’ running shoes.

She gasped again as the pressure on her chest increased.

‘That all you got?’ her Goddess hissed, ‘that the best you can do? Why should I let you live? Why shouldn’t I just crush you like the bug you are?’

Every time it was the same.

In the early days she had begged and pleaded with a hope that it would end, that something good would happen. The Goddess quickly destroyed that hope.

Bitch’s tiny body was bruised and battered, her skin a criss cross of scars. Cigarette burns dotted her flesh, a jagged scar across her stomach a reminder of the day the Goddess had almost bitten her in half. She lived to cower before her owner, an insignificant creature whose only purpose was to provide amusement for her former classmate.

She had long given up wanting to live.

‘P-please Goddess,’ Bitch could barely breathe, ‘please, let me live, let me live to worship you.’

Every day, after every humiliation, Bitch swore she would no longer beg for her life. If she could hold  out, if she could resist, eventually the Goddess would kill her and free her from her torment.

Let the foot come down, let her tiny body break. Bitch wanted to die, to have her blood and bones and flesh be reduced to goo to bubble through her Goddess’ toes.

She wanted to be reduced to a stain on her boots, smushed into the insole of her running shoes. She wanted to be chewed and consumed, swallowed to dissolve in the giant woman’s stomach. Every time she was used and broken, manipulated into the Goddess’ boiling sex she prayed that she would die.

Every time the Goddess forced her to beg, she promised herself she would hold out until her owner lost patience and ended her life.

She would hold out until she was released from the hell that was her life.

And then her Goddess would break her.

It had always been the same way, ever since she had shrunk in the locker room and woke to see the Goddess and her friends towering over her.

Bitch had tried to avoid them even before she shrank, their taunts and constant harassment making her ashamed of herself. They were all cheerleaders; tall, athletic, beautiful and privileged.

That first day, they had almost beaten her to death.

She had been kicked and stomped on, her blood splattering across their track shoes. Her skin was dark with bruises, her hair torn, saliva slicking her from where they had spat on her.

Sobbing, there was nothing she could do when the Goddess lifted her foot over her.

‘Time to die little Bitch,’ she had sneered as her foot came down, compressing her to the floor as she did now. Only her head and arm poked out from under the massive shoe. Through bruised eyes she looked up at them laughing and mocking and waving to her as she died.

It was then that one of them demanded she beg for her life.

‘Yeah, c’mon Bitch, beg me,’ her Goddess ordered from high above.

‘Kiss her shoe, call her Mistress, call her Queen, do you like this? Do you want to be crushed? Are you a bug? Why do you look like a bug if you aren’t a bug? Why should you live? Do you want me to step on you instead? Would you like that? Lick her shoe. Lick my shoe. Lick the blood off my shoe. Say thank you. Are you a lesbian? Are you enjoying this? Say you’re enjoying this. Say you want this. Call her Goddess.’

She did everything they commanded, anything to stop the pain.

Eventually they relented.

Uncaring fingers caught her, crushing her in their grip before dropping her into a gym bag.

From then on, she was their property.

The first year of her new life she had been passed around, reduced to a toy for their amusement. She had later discovered that they had secretly all committed to keeping her alive. This however had only made her life worse as each of her new Goddesses were eager to see how far they could push their helpless captive.

Though the Goddess she served and the torment they liked to inflict would change, one thing remained the same: they would always make her beg.

She would beg as they abused her. Begging for mercy as they crushed her underfoot, forced her into gym shoes, enclosed her within fists. She would beg for food as she sat in the dirt at their feet, starving as they ate above her, begging to lick stains from their shoes for sustenance, to swallow wads of food they had already chewed and spat out. Dangling above their mouths or pinned beneath their feet she would beg for her life, for them to keep her as their slave.

When they desired it she would crawl between their legs, begging to be allowed to taste them, to bring them to climax, to be used as a living sex toy. Their juices would fill her lungs, bringing her almost to death by drowning or compression as she was thrust forcibly inside of their hot and hungry womanhoods. She would gasp for air, squeezed between the cheeks of their asses, licking and worshipping as their powerful fingers plunged deep inside themselves.

This was her life, passed from torment to torment in a never-ending cycle. She was theirs to use as they wished and they would make sure she begged them for it.

‘Why would I want a dirty, worthless bug like you?’ The Goddess scowled, the faintest slur on her voice, ‘Did you even finish cleaning those shoes I left you?’

A bolt of agony shot through her body as the Goddess flexed her foot.

‘N-no Goddess, I...I tried,’ Bitch could barely breathe, each word coming out like a knife,’ I...I’m sorry Goddess, I-‘

The Goddess ended her pleas with a push, Bitch’s body reaching breaking point. Her heel lifted from the floor as she focused her weight onto the tiny woman, ready to snuff her out like a cigarette.

‘You useless fuck. After all I have done for you, you can’t even finish a simple job?’

Spots flashed before Bitch’s eyes, pain shattering her mind as the huge foot twisted down upon her. This was it, this was the time the Goddess would go too far.

This was the time she finally died.

‘Answer me, Bitch!’

Bitch could no longer reply, could no longer breathe. The scent of her Goddess drowned her, the heat from her foot making her head swim. Her ribcage was almost at the point of collapsing.

‘Please,’ she croaked at last, her spirit breaking again, ‘Goddess, I’m, I’m sorry. Please…don’t kill me.’

The Goddess’ eyes narrowed as she pulled on her cigarette. Bitch was consumed by agony, the world darkening as her life bled away.

Above her, the Goddess stood all powerful. A paragon of perfection, her skin immaculate, her hair and make up flawless, her form toned and sculpted. Never had the differences between the two women been so apparent as the Goddess looked down upon the dirty, stupid, weak little creature that gasped beneath her foot.

‘Pathetic’, she sneered, releasing a plume of smoke from between ruby red lips.

Bitch gasped as the Goddess’s foot moved away. Smoke laced air filled her lungs as she sucked in ragged breaths. Sobs of pain shook her as she shivered on the floor, curled up in a trembling ball.

The creaking of a chair as the Goddess took a seat rumbled through the air.

Bitch knew she would have to move if she was to avoid further torment.

Her bones screamed as she rose to her knees, crawling across the floor like the wounded animal she was.

She kept her head bowed, feeling the presence of the Goddess above her. The smell of her perfume tickled her nostrils as she approached, the heat of her skin bleeding towards her.

Her eyes lifted, only a little, beholding a wall of pink flesh. She didn’t know if the Goddess would be watching her or just idly flicking through her phone. It didn’t matter, she knew what she had to do.

On her knees, she leaned forwards, hips lips pushing against the toe of the all powerful deity that owned her.

‘Thank you Goddess,’ she creaked, her voice still hoarse, ‘thank you for letting me live, thank you for letting me worship you.’

The mantra would continue, the worship repeating, toe to toe, foot to foot until she was commanded to stop or given another task. This was how she spent her life, humiliated and broken, thanking the evil being for the chance to be humiliated and broken further.

She breathed the Goddess’ air, lived on the Goddess’ ground. She had nothing and was in turn nothing. All she had was her purpose, to serve and be used until she was no longer considered worth keeping alive.

Bitch tried and failed to hold back tears as she worked, crying silently as she kissed the feet of her former high school bully now God.

This was her life now.