I awoke with a sputtering gasp, warm, slick blood pooled around my body. I screamed at the memory of pain immediately, and then her voice echoed all around me. “That took you just under five minutes. Good to know for next time.”

I sat up, eyes trying to focus, and then I saw one leg in front of me, her huge foot flat on the ground. I followed her leg up with my eye, and saw her other leg cocked back behind her as she leaned slightly forward over me, gaze laser focused on my form. I understood what was coming an instant before it happened, and her leg rocketed forward, cutting me off mid-scream as her toes slammed into my chest, crushing just-repaired ribs and covering the top of her foot in a bloody spray from my mouth. I was sent tumbling through the air, crashing into the wall and then crumpled to the ground.

I coughed, blood splatters spreading with each ragged mouthful of air, sharp shards of ribs spiking my tortured lungs. Her footsteps approached, ominous and slow, and I gasped up at her, clutching my ribs, “Why? What did I do to deserve this?”

“Abuse takes many forms,” she started, steps creeping closer, “You never hit me, because I’m sure you knew I would leave right away. But you were controlling, never giving me privacy but demanding your own, and you were cruel, putting me down any time I was excited or happy about any little thing, but most of all, you made me feel small. Worthless. Now I’m returning the favor, and I’m going to make sure you feel small and pathetic, like you truly are. Now, run.”

Her feet had stopped right in front of me as I had barely gotten to my feet, and the vitriol in that final word spurred me to a shambling sprint away from her. I took maybe three steps before I felt an impact crush several of my ribs and send me slamming right back into the wall, snapping my head back with enough force I could hear the crack echo in my teeth. My vision was blurry and dull, from either the pain, a concussion, or probably both, and I crumpled back to the floor coughing blood, feeling my shattered ribcage carry the shape of her foot where she’d kicked me, again. 

Her feet were right in front of me now, my unfocused eyes barely able to comprehend, and I started crawling, sobbing and sniffling, towards her. I pressed my lips against her big toe and kissed loudly, begging her to make it stop.

“Please, I’ll do anything—make this stop, you don’t—you don’t have to do—this to me, I understand, I can’t—can’t handle any more! Please—forgive me, I had—no idea—you felt so bad, please—let me make it up to you! I’m begging you—please!”

I planted wet, sloppy kisses between my words, stroking her toes gently, anything I could do to humble myself before her and be sincere and make it all stop. I heard a click above me, and looked up to see her phone pointed at me, her smiling as she took a picture of me kissing her feet. 

She typed something into her phone, and said, “You’re already making it up to me. This is where you belong, begging at my feet. It’s where you’ve always belonged.”

She suddenly squatted down, lowering herself, casting a heavy shadow over me. I didn’t stop kissing, and even threw in desperate licks to show my subservience, and she taunted me in a low rumble, “One day, probably one day soon, you’ll beg me to crush you under the feet you’re begging at now. And you’ll beg me, not because you want me to kill you, but because you’ll see it as an honor to be ground into paste under me. And on that day, when I’m being cruel to you, I’ll do so by denying you the pleasure of splattering under my soles. But until then, until you are desperate to die beneath me, over and over again, I’ll show you where you truly belong. Now. Keep licking.”

I obeyed, terrified to my core about what the future held, and I couldn’t stop my body from shaking when I focused on the fact that she’d already killed me once, and brought me back. I had no escape from her. I begged with my lips, touching her skin as she flexed her toes up and spent a moment just watching me squirm at her feet. 

A few moments later I felt her fingers, thicker than my arms, wrap around my torso and pull me to her face as she stood up. She held me tightly in front of her, eyes studying my face, and she gave me a smile that conveyed all the horrors she planned to inflict on me. I think the panic showed on my face, because her smile only grew and her eyes burned into me as she began slowly squeezing my tortured ribs, compressing my lungs as I flailed in her grip. I could feel the ribs that hadn’t quite healed yet crack and shift over each other, scraping together inside me in a pain I never would have imagined before now, and I let out more sharp, staccato cries of pain as she flexed. I heard her sharp nasal exhale of amusement, and then her expression shifted, first to one of a sudden thought, and then to a toothy, malicious grin. 

She adjusted her grip, snaking the fingers of one hand around my thighs, just below my hips, and then the other moved slightly up my chest, pinning my arms to my sides and leaving the lower part of my stomach uncovered. I didn’t understand what was happening until she was holding me horizontally in front of her. The edge of her palm came just past my chin, and I peered at her eyes as she studied her grip and then looked right at my face. She said nothing, but just slightly raised her eyebrows as she started to bend me, first causing my muscles to strain in protest, and then my joints insisting they not be stretched in that direction. As pressure mounted, my spine fought back as fiercely as it could. I felt it creak, and crack, and then things start to slip out of pace as she slowly applied the torque, as if she was determined to make my thighs lay flat against my back, and I screamed in pain and wiggled my feet, the only movement I was capable of in her grip. The pressure continued, and I felt as if I would snap into two pieces, a clean break like the frail branch of a tree, and then she looked me dead in my eyes and spoke. 

“It’s nice to see you bending over backwards for me, for a change.”

She smirked at her cruel little joke, and then the pressure spiked, and my body lurched with a crunch, several things snapping all at once and then the backs of my shoulders were touching ankles that I could no longer feel. Half of my body was numb, cold and lost to all sensation, the other half was screaming fire, lamenting with its own pain and the pain of its silent brother. 

She turned me in one hand and held me in front of her face, my new posture giving me an upside-down view and making her appear unrecognizable and monstrous. 

“This is a good look for you,” she said, baring her teeth at me joyfully, and then I saw her other hand move and I felt the pressure of a leg being pulled on above my hips, the sensation below gone completely. 

“Can you feel this?” She said, and then I turned my head and saw her finger dig into my leg from the peripheral of my sight. I felt nothing, but heard the slick sound of her nail puncturing skin and a tiny burst of blood squirt from the fresh gash. I hadn’t stopped yelling and begging and crying the entire time, but the pain, or lack thereof,  didn’t cause me to scream in any new way, and she noticed. I saw again as her other hand reached and grabbed, and then I heard the disgusting crack of my bones breaking, and felt the vibration of the incident once more above my leg, but the bones she broke sent no signal to my brain, all dark below my hips. 

She smiled big, and dropped me to the ground, more things cracking and crunching on impact. I had not a moment to rest, as she inched her toes under me and flicked me away from her, rolling to a crumple several yards away from her, relative to me at least. I could feel blood dripping from my mouth and flowing from various cuts as I lay there, staring at the feet that had already murdered me once, her big toe the size of my skull. Those same toes wiggled happily in front of me and then I heard the voice that had once said ‘I do’ so sweetly to me tell me, “Crawl to my toes and worship, worm.” 

My body felt like it was full of broken shards of glass, but I reached out and began dragging myself forwards with my arms, legs scraping uselessly behind. An eternity later, slowly dragging myself between cries of agony, rolling side to side in a feeble attempt to gain extra millimeters with each pull. I was nearly there, a few good lurches away, when some of the feeling in my legs returned, and while the first signals they sent were only pain, I forced them to move just a bit, and push me forward to her just that much faster. 

Above me, she tutted, and then took one step forward, planting both feet right in front of me. I kissed desperately, hoping for a small measure of approval, and she said, “I’m glad you’re learning your place. But you’ll have to crawl again.”

She lifted one foot and I felt her place her strong heel on the small of my back. Panic sweat erupted from my body and I kissed and licked the toes of her other foot manically in an attempt to avoid whatever was next. 

“Worms don’t get to use their legs.”

With scary precision, she pressed her bare heel down into me and twisted sharply. I felt my healing spine separate and crush under her weight, and my legs went dark once more as I whimpered through the fire erupting in my back. 

She removed her foot, and unceremoniously kicked me backwards again, past where I’d started from previously. 

“Crawl, worm, and make it to your God before your legs heal. I can play this game with you all day.”

Tears were flowing down my face and I began again, the frenzied energy propelling me forward faster and more recklessly than before, causing myself more jagged pain at the cost of speed. I made it nearly to her, just a few brutal pulls away when I felt sensation start to return to my legs. I let my legs dangle behind me, hoping to hide the fact, and closed the gap, leaning forward and planting tear-stained kisses on her fragrant toes, the dull, thick smell of her feet mixed with the coppery boos leaking from my body and dried onto her punishing soles. 

She hummed thoughtfully, and then asked, “Do you have feeling in your legs yet, worm?”

I shook my head back and forth, practically motorboating the space between her toes as I prayed she wouldn’t notice my lie. 

“I guess I’ll have to check.”

My blood ran cold as one foot lifted from in front of me and then I felt her heel rest directly on my ankle. I prepared myself for the unstoppable hydraulic press of her weight, but instead, her foot violently jerked into the air, and then slammed back down on both of my battered legs, fresh crackling crushed from both as blood splashed out in a red spray. I bit through my own tongue hiding the pain, and rubbed bloody kisses on her foot to hide it, feeling the mangled muscles and tendons of my legs mash under her as she slowly ground her foot into me. 

“Look up at your God.”

I craned my neck backwards, fearfully meeting her skeptical gaze as she twisted her foot, watching me carefully for any reaction. I hid the pain behind my fear and tears, and waited for her verdict. 

She stared so long I was certain she knew the truth, but then she huffed, and said, “What do you say when I grant you the privilege of kissing my feet, worm.”

I could taste the disappointment in her voice and held it as a small victory in my heart before I answered, mush-mouthed without my healing tongue, “Sthank-you, Gobbess.”

She looked down at me, hopefully attributing my slurred speech to my sobbing, and then said, “You will refer to me as your God. To you, there is no one above me. I am not a woman to you. I am your God. The closest thing to a Goddess you will ever have is my feet. And if I ever feel like using your pathetic body to pleasure myself, my cunt. They will be your Goddesses, but I, I am your God. Do you understand?”

Terrified, exactly like an Israelite looking at the burning bush, I was terrified beyond belief. I felt the truth in her words, and said back to her, “I understand, God.”

She smiled down at me, and then used her toes to flip me onto my back. She pushed down enough to ensure my discomfort and let it stay there, soaking in the power. She got out her phone and took another photo with a click, and then smiled at her phone. 

“Let me show you what you look like on the inside,” she said, flicking through some pictures and leaning down, popping a rib or two and making me feel like she would push my guts out of my mouth. She bent over, and watched my face with glee as she exposed her phone to me and made me look at my stomped form from earlier, her heel print clear where it had nearly bisected me, slamming flat against the floor below. My guts had sprayed in a starburst in every direction, and a jet of blood had burst from my eyes, but also my ears and behind my eyes, which were wide open in a frozen expression of pain and terror. She swiped her screen and showed me another photo of her toes poking and prodding at the shredded part of my guts, pulling a torn bit of intestine from my remains. I wanted to puke, staring at the visceral reminder of my death, and my resurrection, and looking past the phone to her face, I saw she was absolutely reveling in my misery, a schoolgirl playing with her favorite toy. She flipped a few more times and showed me the most recent picture of me sloppily kissing her foot, exposing me to how pathetic I looked down there, brutally beaten and smashed, bruised naked body looking incomparably frail next to her powerful foot. 

“I finally have pictures of who you really are.”

Her teeth were shining, white and menacing in her predatory smile down at me, and she pulled her phone back to her face and stood, keeping me pinned underfoot. She fiddled with her phone for another moment and said to me, “I wonder what will be more fun ultimately, breaking your body or your spirit. In the meantime.. let’s show my friends your new position in life.”

I heard the ringing of a video call, and squirmed, panicking at the idea that someone else had helped her do this to me. Who else could hate me so much? 

She smiled, big and happy at her phone, and said, “It’s done girls! I no longer have a husband, and now have a fun new toy to play with! I’ve broken him in a little already, but there’s still plenty left to do. I’ll be sure to save some for you two. For now, how about you take a look at my new slave!” 

She turned the phone to me and on screen I saw her two best friends, cheering enthusiastically. Aly, a fiery little woman who, despite being maybe 5’2” herself, was a cop, with a reputation for being particularly aggressive with males, and Neely, a tall blonde who was an ICU nurse, one of the most considerate people I’ve met. Aly I understood being in on.. this, and I thought whatever was happening to me might even have been her idea, and she convinced my wife to do this, turned her against me, but Neely.. Neely was the only one of my wife’s friends that I liked. She was sweet and bubbly, and hot, and I couldn’t believe that the both of them were on this screen, cheering as they watched my broken form kiss at my wife’s foot as it pinned me to the floor. 

Aly spoke up first, “Oh my god Char, he looks so fucking pathetic down there, this is definitely where he was meant to be. I can’t wait to watch it all in person, take videos for us until then!”

Neely was right behind, “I am so glad you actually used everything I gave you, Charlotte. Both of you deserve this, and I’m very proud of you for taking such a big.. step!” She laughed at her little joke and there was happy agreement between the three of them as they continued talking. 

Then I heard Aly say, “Any chance we could see it in action? I know Neely here has done this before, but it’s my first time and I just can’t wait till tomorrow to see it in person!”

My wife said, “Oh, I’d love to give you a little demonstration, girls.” She looked past her phone down at me, and said, “How about it, worm, are you ready to die for your God again?”

I wailed and kissed at her foot as I squirmed futilely beneath her. 

She laughed loudly, and turned the phone to show her friends as she said, “Well ready or not, here I come!”