Part 2

Chapter 4

He cried.  He pleaded.  Her foot met the floor.

He struggled, pulled down on the harness as hard as he could.

Her foot met the floor.

That inexorable wave of unstoppable pressure, his head squashed flat by murderous heel, by that awful ridged skin, then his body to experience that intense pressure down its length, then for his legs to feel like they were being pulled excruciatingly apart again, dermal whorls biting into his shins, his legs bent horribly backwards by that horrendous stiffening of the ball of her foot, the upcurve of the rest of her foot, as her foot pushed off of the floor again.

And then again, and again, and again and then again!  Unstoppable, without end, she just stepping on him, treading on him!  Would not stop!  Trodding on him over and over again!

He cried out with everything he had, his vocal cords ululating his distress as loud as they could between every step.  He pulled against the harness as hard as he could, struggled against it, he even trying with his fingernails to scratch desperately at the sides of her heel!

Nothing stopped her!  Didn’t even slow her!  Her foot only met the floor again!

Suddenly, though, the walking stopped.

She was crushing him again!

But then, all of her weight rolled down to his legs and then stayed on them, the whole rest of his body raised into the air by her heel and the rest of her foot!  His legs were being pressed flat, stretched to horrible degrees, by the ball of her foot!

A scream blasted up from his throat, his eyes clenched closed in sheerest agony!

She was squatting down!  Had to be!  It was the only thing that could explain this excruciating pressure on his legs!

Then, without any warning, her foot tilted back level to the floor again, taking him down with it, and then she was standing on him again!

He experienced a moment of repugnant bliss under this, feeling her whole, huge foot mashing the whole length of his body now, and not just his legs.  As horrible as this was--her flesh mashing down over him, her weight seeming to want to press everything out of him, to pop him flat beneath its extreme force, every dermal whorl and ridge she had biting down into his skin, gripping down over it like some awful god’s fist, the pressure of her sole immense--it was still better than what his legs alone had just been feeling!

And then, just like that, her weight floated right up off of him again.

Only for her foot to meet the floor again in another horrendous step!

He screamed as loud as he could, only for his scream to be extinguished once again by the thump of her foot’s next step!

His head exploded, that wave of pressure then went down the length of his body again, for his legs to be horrendously stretched again!

Would she not stop?!  Would she not show mercy any on him?!

She didn’t.

Her foot met the floor again.  And yet again, and then again, swiftly, the horrible pressure of her great weight flashing down the length of his body with the normal cadence of her strides, over and over and over again!

Then it stopped again.

Stood pressing upon his whole body again!

He struggled, his forearms pulling down on the harness as hard as they could again, his fingernails scrabbling desperately for her attention again.

Her huge foot rocked subtly on him, mashing him.  The rocking did nothing however, to alleviate any of the pain her foot was causing.  Instead, it made the tendons of her arch do that baseball-bat-like rolling over his ribs and muscles again, as her dermal whorls rocked back and forth on him with excruciating force, tugging horribly at his skin, all as her great weight intensely mashed him!

Then, as before, her weight simply floated up off of him again.  This followed immediately by her just walking on him again!

Step after unimaginable step, her foot mashing him uncaringly into the floor over and over again, again, explosions of pain to race down his body again and again, she simply not stopping, would not stop walking on him!

But then, at last, she did.

Her weight left him this time, instead of just pressing down on him like it had before.

He felt cool air, felt a whole new force, realizing it was a sweeping motion.  Was she picking up her foot?

He tried to focus.  Saw what he thought must be her room through swirling, tear-occluded vision.

Then the motion stopped.

He hiccuped like an infant after a bout of intense crying, trying to squirm against the bonds that held him, the sole of her foot a goliath obelisk of flesh against him.  Cool air bathed his back, tears streaming from his eyes to wet his mask.  Snot ran from his nose to add its wetness, drool from the corner of his lip adding its bit.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she said.

Her voice focused him, caused him to look up.

Inexplicably, he found himself looking up at her face.

Her giant face, framed by jet black hair, short hair.  Her dark brown, almost black, glittering eyes.  It a solid face, her appearance reminding him of that woman who fought Colossus in that first Deadpool movie.  Strangely beautiful, if in that austere way--a woman one would imagine in a fight, and winning it.  Or in a position of physical prowess.  A bouncer at a bar.  A ruthless bodyguard to a supervillain.  Or…

And this thought made him swallow.

A BDSM Dominatrix exceedingly good at her job.

She was frowning down at him, displeased and irked.

“‘Stuck pig’ doesn't quite say it,” she grumbled.  “‘Squealing pig’ would be more like it.  Jesus, I’ve had clients who cried and begged before, but you’ve got them all beat, and we’ve just gotten started.”

He sucked down a sob, tried the bonds of his harness again, writhing and trying to twist against the sole of her foot.

“Please take me off,” he pleaded again, staring up at her past the curve of her large, dermal-ridged heel, his cheek held snug against it, with tears that he hoped would at last convince her.

She turned her foot upward, the motion making her arch flex, the ball of her foot scrunch, it all putting an uncomfortable curve in the small of his back, her thick skin wrinkling and bunching against his front.

“And fuck.  You got dirty quick,” she said, grunting it as if it were just a casual observation of mild surprise.

Her hand swooped in and dusted him off, slapping against his back, just like one would slap-dust dirt off of the sole of their foot.

“Please Mistress,” he begged.  “Please take me off!”  Tears streamed from his eyes, he looking up at her as beseechingly as he could.

“Well, no matter.  We’re going to solve that problem.”

Her eyes met his, hers giant and smirking, his staring back up into them with renewed and growing alarm!

“Both problems, actually.  The noise and the dirt.”

It was like they were holding two different conversations!

“Please Mistress!” he tried again.  “God!  Oh please, just take me off!”

Her foot relaxed.

He started sobbing in earnest again, believing it a prelude to her just dropping her foot to the floor again.

She didn’t, however.  Instead, he saw something that gave him true alarm.

She was unballing a pair of tube socks and getting ready to put them on!

He struggled in earnest!  But as ever, the bonds of his harness held him to her foot as snug as ever!

“Oh god!  Please no!” he wept, crying it for all he was worth!

Her hands pulled the sock up over him, just like she was pulling it up onto her foot by itself, her foot pointing down into it, putting that strain into the small of his back again.  Pulled the sock on as if she hadn’t heard the first word out him!

A true sense of helplessness washed over him.  He knew that inside of her sock, he would be out of her sight, too.  Out of sight out of mind.  She would be able to truly ignore him, pretend he wasn’t down here at all.  He would have absolutely no hope of getting her attention.  He would be doomed to feel her weight and her foot until she decided she was through with him.

Piteous sobs wracked him.  He just lay and cried, relaxing himself into the restraints and against the sole of her foot.  It was hopeless.  She had just concealed him, the rough fabric of her sock tugging along his back then growing taut as she pulled it all the way on.

He felt that sweeping motion again, and then her foot was on the floor again, dropped with an uncaring thump, his sobbing breaths expelled from him in a punishing rush, her foot flexing upon him completely without concern.

All was white now, he unable to see anything but the white of the sock and the creamy-pink color of the bottom of her heel, what small, wild glimpses he had gotten of the room between her steps, now denied him.

Her foot remained on him a while, pressing, rocking subtly, she doing something above him, no doubt pulling on her other sock.

He sobbed, continued sobbing, feeling his sobbing drying up, he soon to have no more tears to give.

Her foot picked up again.

He had no hope now of her taking him off of it.  He knew he was doomed.  He didn’t know why she picked her foot up this time, but he knew it was not for him.  And realized he didn’t care, it all just more motion of what she was doing, he a helpless passenger to all of it.  But then, with renewed strength, his sobs came back with full force again!

His legs felt it first.  A tight squeeze, rubbing, tugging upward upon the sock, it gliding up his legs with enclosing force, pressing his legs deep into the ball of her foot!

A shoe!  She was putting on a shoe!  She had said she had a pair of sneakers!  That was why she had squatted down on him like she did!  She’d been picking them up!  From a closet floor, maybe and then those steps that followed, she going to a dresser to get her socks, then to someplace to sit down so she could put them on!

“Oh god!" he screamed!  "Please no!”

Her shoe came onto her foot as if he had said nothing at all.

It sealed him in darkness.  It pressed him up against the sole of her foot, the pressure of its insole not unlike when she was resting her foot on him, pressing his whole body up into the skin of her sole.

He struggled and begged!  He pleaded!

The shoe found its place on her foot with a final tug.  It began to impart its smell--rubber, the stailer smells of older footwear, the hint of footsweat ground in and cured.  The pressure the insole of the shoe exerted, pushed the weave of the sock’s fabric more firmly against his skin, pressed him more firmly still, up into the skin of her sole.

The shoe began to tighten, tighten more, he realizing he could hear her working the laces on top of the shoe.  It pressed him to her foot with enough force to seal him into a state of almost utter immobility against it, he feeling her skin pressure-contour-forming down around him.  Pressed his upper arms snug against the sides of her heel.  It felt almost like she was standing on him again, if the pressure wasn’t so acute.  But forcefully holding him against the sole of her foot, making any movement he might try to make, save for ineffectual tugging with his muscles, impossible.  It was a tight prison of absolutely no escape.  Of complete darkness, of inescapable tightness, of old foot smells, of hopelessness.

A state of apoplexy came over him.  Of surrendering.  No hope.  No mercy.  He to get precisely what she promised him.  What he had asked her for.

Breathing was difficult.  Not just for the force with which the shoe held him to her foot.  Staleness of the air, too.  The warm stench of exercised foot smell grown old, it slightly vinegary in essence, like ammonia left to linger too long, losing its potency, but still there to be smelled, slightly nose-burning but tolerable.  These smells were every breath he pulled, every pull of it an exertion, his chest heaving for every one, up into the close-pressed flesh of her foot’s arch.

He felt movement, felt the weight of her foot rest on him again.  It felt almost… good.  A tight squeeze, warm, her supple flesh doing that tendon thing on him again, but everything much tighter now than it had been before.

He let his eyes close.  He let his body start to drink the feeling in.  It was irrational, he knew.  He should be begging her, trying to get her to take off her shoe.  But knowing that she wouldn’t, knowing it deep down in the core of everything he was, he decided that giving over to these sensations was all he had left.

He felt the dermal whorls of the ball of her foot pressing down over his shins and the insides of his feet.  Felt the harder ridges of her heel press-formed down over the side of his head, holding his head solidly in place.  Felt the wrinkles of her arch form and flex over his lower torso and chest, felt them glide with warm, pushing wetness over his loins further below, her foot starting to sweat slightly from the enclosing warmth of the shoe.  Felt this subtly undulating pressure over his thighs, warm flesh pushing down over them, flattening them to levels of exquisite comfort.

To these latter sensations, his loins and thighs, he moaned.  It felt, despite everything else, exquisite.  He was getting hard again.  What if he came?  Would she notice it?  Would she care if she did?

Intense pressure came on him in a rush!

He gagged!

The sole of her foot squashed down over him, pins and needles of excruciating pain!  But he also felt… the sole of the shoe... push up around him, too!

Or he down into it!

It was a sensation of intense agony, But it also felt… good!  A total encapsulation of his body, it sealed away with entombing force, but it didn’t hurt as much as it just lit up every nerve of his being!

He let out a silent, “Ohh…!”  His head was fully enclosed, his whole body pressed beneath tons of squashing flesh.  Breath was impossible.  He felt his pulse through every inch of his body, throbbing, dull, a feeling of blackened agony, but it was, he realized, exactly how being stepped on was supposed to feel!

It was glorious!

The power of it surged through everything he was, crushing agony, but amazing!  It culminated in his loins in a sensation of extraordinary ascendance!  For an instant, he didn’t feel her weight at all!  All he felt was this!  Bliss to overwhelm everything, realizing he was orgasming, feeling the surge of it push all other sensations before it, sweeping them away like leaves before a storm, even the crushing pressure of her foot's skin!  A golden feeling sweeping his whole body, bringing every nerve alive with the majesty of its feeling!

It rocked him!  It splintered his mind!  It had been unlike anything he had ever felt before!  He felt the wetness of it between himself and the tightly pressing sole of her foot.  Wished he could dip his fingers into it to see how much it was.  Smelled the astringent odor of it, man-semen, nose-cloying and potent.  Acrid.  Every nerve in his body still tingled with that sensation, he basking in it, in the feeling of her great foot upon him, loving it for being on him!  Loving her for standing on him!

Suddenly, her weight was off of him again.  He felt the motion of what he recognized now, of she lifting her foot again.

“Huh,” she said.  Her voice was greatly muffled by her shoe, but he could hear her clearly.

“Had I’d known you’d do that, I’d have put my shoes on when we got started.”

There were a pair of impacts, he realizing she must be slapping the bottom of her shoe!

They were slaps of approval!  He’d heard the approval in her voice, too!  She was pleased that he had orgasmed to what she was doing to him!

She was a professional!  Her whole goal with every submissive she worked with, was to bring them to this!  To experience this level of bliss!  If they did, she considered her job done well!

Also, maybe, would she let him out now?  That goal reached, so no further need for him to be there, had come to pass, too?

She dashed that hope, and quick.

She patted the sole of her shoe again, only once this time.

“But better save’em.  We’re just getting started and we've got the whole day ahead of us yet.”