The tingle in her left shoe drew Sarah out her memories, and she looked down at the top of her foot, for the first time in years remembering those early days when she still was confused about tinies being people. Now, she had no concern of what it was like down there for her insert, other than how it felt for her, which currently was like it was kissing the bottom of her foot. She smiled, it was a good sign of her effectively breaking it in; that it was beginning to embrace her sole as his mistress.

Unfortunately for the tiny, it would have to be punished. She hadn't given it permission to kiss her soles. It was harsh, but she knew that the psychological cruelty would be just as important as the physical. It was important that the thing be absolutely terrified of her or any woman. Inserts need to know that even the soles of a woman were it's goddess and owner, it's duty and pleasure. Capable of giving it purpose and capable of removing it from existence.

The lips on her foot made her remember something else. While she was caught up in power trip over the tiny, it had asked for food and water. Perhaps that's why it's licking her sole... hunger. The thought made her happy. If it was starving already, it was just another step closer to serving it's true purpose as Dianne's insert. Hunger or not, it would still be disciplined. Inserts need to know that the purpose of it's existence would also be capable of the most cruel of penalties. It was supposed to be completely subservient. If hunger motivated it more than fear it wasn't broken in enough.

By the end of the weekend, it should be begging to eat the dead skin from her sole. That would be an excellent sign of success. Sarah thought, smiling.

This realization made her recognize something else. She felt a familiar pattern below her foot. Every time she took a step, she could feel it pushing against her arch. But the movement would become less intense, until eventually she couldn't feel it anymore – usually around the time she was done with the current row. She would then move forward, and the feeling would return. Almost like...

She had to be sure. She picked up her left foot, and held it there in the air, the pump still tight but no longer under the weight of her. It only took a second, but then she felt it pushing against her.

Good Sarah thought, unperturbed. It's been struggling for breath. It seems I have developed a natural pattern for smothering it. It was good news for Sarah. She wouldn't have to worry about paying too close attention – god knows the countless number of solid inserts she suffocated unknowingly because her pace was only seconds too long.

It was another incredible stroke of luck for Sarah that these next few hours would be a near endless hell for it, constantly on the verge of suffocation and death, and she wouldn't have to even think about it. She could simply do her job, simultaneously trampling out the rest of it's pathetic humanity over the next few hours. Once broken, the real training could really begin, and it would learn it's new role as Dianne's slave.

This bug was born to be an insert. She paused for a second to feel it struggling for breath under her hot arch. Her normal stride was perfect for inflicting the maximum pain. Instead of worrying about what was happening in her shoe, she could focus instead on methods for training and breaking it.

And I was born to break him. She closed her eyes to relish the feeling of the tiny man squirming beneath her arch. Like, It's rare for a woman to be able to so totally break a man like this. My mother always said I was a natural.

Sarah was right of course. Most woman were either too rough, either not recognizing how rough they were or not being sensitive enough to feel a tiny man as the slowly crushed them beneath their soles. Or they took it too easy on them, making the break in process incredibly long, or god forbid, making the tiny unruly. Sarah seemed to be able to thread the needle like it was tightrope. It was an art - a skill, and she planned on capitalizing on it.

I am literally the best. She thought, the little man underneath her humid arch seemed to be getting weaker. She could sense his movements diminishing and she smiled knowing how gifted she was.

Sarah marveled at how easily time seemed to fly in her work when she had something entertaining to think about. Normally this final food service seemed to crawl by, but instead her mind was focused on breaking in Dianne's insert and the potential business she was developing.

She stopped to deliver the next row of breakfasts, her mind diverted from the tiny training business by her current profession.

“Would you like the Eggs or the toast?” Sarah said.

As she handed out the next tray, she noticed the feeling under her foot again. She had already forgotten about it.

She looked down at her left foot, and slowly shifted her weight onto it, relieving the pressure on her right. Nobody could tell from looking at Sarah the hell going on for the tiny boy inside of her flat.

Sarah, however, looked great. And she felt wonderful.

***

I writhed in agony as the pressure increased, the pain across my body intensifying respectively. I no longer had any sense of self, space, or time, my existence was just pain and suffocation, hot foot flesh and brutal impacts from the world around me collapsing onto me, squeezing my breathe out of me whilst threatening to snap my bones as I was further compressed into the white leather ocean of flesh above me and the hard insole floor below.

Thoroughly covered in slick liquid from Sarah's foot, a mix of sweat and the natural oil of her skin, I couldn't feel my own distinct tears that had been streaming out of my face. My eyes and lips burned from the acrid liquid, and I could taste her foot, more strongly tasting like cheese as they remained trapped and within the sultry conditions of her shoe.

I was attempting to scream, but smothered and suffering for however long I had been made it all sound more like pathetic muffled whine, the pain and agony made me no longer conscious that I was even doing it; the sound itself seemed far away, irrelevant to the more pressing concern of trying to simply breathe and survive under Sarah's foot

The pressure increased further, my chest collapsing on my lungs forcing a wheeze of air from the deep recesses in them, my body writhing in agony, locked in place from her flesh, the pain from my muscles spasming causing shooting pain across my body. My vision was blurred, my comprehension confused.

This is it. I thought, terrified. My bones will soon begin to snap. I'll become nothing more than a stain in Sarah's flat. What have I become? Why did I ever go on this trip?

I struggled desperately, more instinctual than anything else, but there was nothing I could do. I felt like my eyes were being forced from my head, and that my stomach was being pushed into my throat. I was slowly being squeezed like toothpaste.

All for the comfort and pleasure of your goddess. The voice sounded like it surrounded me.

I accepted it. The pain seemed to fade along with my vision.

***

Sarah steadily increased the pressure on her left foot, and she could tell by the speed and pressure of its squirms that it was becoming more desperate. She shivered with delight, and took a deep breath of cool air on the plane, pausing for second to stretch her arms upward. It felt good to pause a moment and flex.

As the weight on her left foot increased, the writhing did respectively, up until a point. Then they became slowly less frequent; less force could be felt.

It is suffocating. Sarah thought, taking another deep breath of stale plane air. Best to make sure it's thoroughly submitted. Sarah let her foot linger on the tiny thing in her shoe, until the movements of its body became less and less common, till the point there was no force being exerted on her arch, the twitching of his body fewer and further between each interval.

No longer feeling it twitch below her, she knew that she only seconds to relieve the pressure on it, to allow it to breathe before causing irreparable damage. She took another deep breath to relish the moment.

Like, a few more hours of this and it will be TOTALLY primed and ready for the real training. If Dianne liked it before, she's gonna LOVE it below her now.

She lifted her foot up slightly, and could immediately feel tiny puffs of air against her sole. The feeling was pleasant, but it was important that the tiny didn't get too comfortable. She took another step forward, and the weight of her flesh collapsing on the insert in her shoe meant no more little puffs of air could be felt against the moisture on her arch.

Sarah turned to the next row of passengers. “Would you like the Eggs or the toast?”

Dianne was delivering trays about 40 rows behind Sarah in another section of the aircraft, but she could see her from where she was working. From behind, you couldn't tell anything was particularly different from a normal flight. Sarah seemed to be about the same. But Dianne knew that things were far from the same. They had already been doing breakfast deliveries for almost an hour. She looked at Sarah's white skin, from her black flats which encased her healthy feet, which were connected to her defined calves, all the way up her body to her arms stretched above her. She could tell by the way she swung her hips in the blue skirt that she was shifting her weight onto her left foot.

Dianne could never understand the hell that Mark was going through, but she was concerned, and watched as Sarah finished her stretch before taking a step forward and asking her passengers for the next set of breakfasts.

One of the passengers must have requested something unusual, and she watched Sarah turn around and walk back towards her. As she got closer, her deep blue eyes glimmered, her mouth turned into an obvious smile.

She looked gleeful, and it made her quite attractive. Her long blond hair and the curves on her body made her quite a beautiful young woman.

As she got closer her lower half of the body was cut off by the cart. She looked at Dianne and grinned.

“Hey, do you have any red wine?” Sarah said, leaning her forearms against the cart and looking down at the spattering of items.

Dianne shifted her focus back to her work. “Yea, give me a second” She leaned around to the right side of her cart, bending down to a side pocket near the floor to ruffle through it for an individual bottle of red wine. Beyond the side of the cart she could see the skin of Sarah's left leg below the knees, it was perfectly smooth, recently shaven, and almost perfectly white, unmarked by any blemishes. Her skin wasn't pale, but wasn't tan either. A light healthy look.

As Dianne traced her eyes down she saw the top of Sarah's left foot entering her flat, and watched as she lifted her feet onto her tip toes, before slamming her weight down onto her heels, repeating the process once or two times. Dianne continued to rifle around the pocket, each time the flat crunched with an audible stretching noise.

She found the wine, and looked up to Sarah, who smiled at her and winked. She had an idea of what Dianne was thinking.

“It feels great” Sarah said, answering a question Dianne wasn't going to ask. “Don't worry. I'll make sure there is some left for you” She let out a dainty laugh as she took the wine from Dianne, putting her weight from her tipsy toes back onto her feet, and walked away.

Dianne didn't feel any better from the response. She hoped Mark would be alright.

Sarah walked back up to her cart and continued making deliveries. There weren't that many more breakfasts, and there wasn't that much time between when breakfast should end and when the plane would start making it's approach to land. It was really the last leg of the journey; between the work, the thoughts of her future business, the insert comforting her already sore foot, and her daydreams of previous days, time was really beginning to fly.

She seemed to be going through the motions on the plane as her mind wandered. At first it was on the the little insert which seemed to move less and less under her crushing weight as she handed a tray to a customer. She asked the customer next to her what she would like, and by this point the bug was barely moving, only the faintest stirring of it could be felt every few seconds. This customer wasn't adjacent to the isle, so she had to lean forward to reach her, in so doing lifting her heel off the ground for a only a fraction of a second – but more than enough time to make her insert come back to life – feeling it writhe around desperately below her, little puffs of warm air against her sole tickling her arch and sending shivers up her spine, before she leaned back onto it, feeling it compress below her, a tiny gust of air more accentuated as she collapsed his lungs and forced all the air from her body, which oddly made her feel like the area at the base of her spine was being tickled – really quite pleasurable.

As the little bug below her writhed less and less as it suffocated, her mind continued to wander. She finished her deliveries, and started clean up – the last task for her to do before the plane made it's final approach. Thoughts were now on her tiny training regimen, and how she would finish breaking the insert below her. She fully expected that by the time it would be seen by her again it would be primed and ready – it should have suffered enough that it would be time to create the habits and behaviors that would govern it's existence for the rest of it's life. It's one thing for an insert to passively serve under a woman and obey her commands – it's another to get it to do things on it's own, and to enjoy doing them – or at least appear to. She didn't really care if it did or not. She figured at the hotel tonight she'd have plenty of time to begin it's training with Dianne, and they'd have to be up early the next day for their hike – which meant they wouldn't be able to further train until they camp they next evening. Still, she had a few ideas for the hotel – and she's was sure that more would come to her on her hike. She would have a long day of beautiful scenery to think about it.

***

I was writhing in agony and couldn't breathe. I'd been under Sarah's arch for so long I had lost all sense of space and time, and it seemed that I couldn't recall anything before I had entered Sarah's flat. My broken nose could barely be felt in comparison to the massive bruising across my body, most pronounced where my flesh was pressed into my bones.

Simply recalling her breaking my nose in the bathroom seemed like a fuzzy, distant memory, let alone my previous time with Dianne, which I could no longer recall being terrible. In fact, I found myself strangely thinking about my time almost drowning under Dianne's toes as something pleasant.

I would have shuddered, but I couldn't breathe, and the memories disappeared as torturous pain rolled over my body. My muscles tightened with nowhere to go, completely locked in place under Sarah's arch. Viscous foot oil continuously poured over the tiny gap of my face that was still exposed between the arches flesh that consumed the left side of my head; the right side was forced painfully into the hard flat's insole. In the stinging burn of oil over my eyes, I could make out the faint light in the shoe, the foot above me a strange white ocean, glistening with a liquid sheen, bits of gray dirt and hardened skin juxtaposing amongst the white rippling waves of her flesh.

All I knew was pain which would oscillate to suffocation until I'd lose all feeling and drift into a blissful sleep, only the occasional beat of Sarah's pulse felt over the intense pain. But before I would lose consciousness, I would be splashed with a breath of air I didn't want, suddenly awake, deathly afraid as I knew I had just a fraction of a second before the living roof above me would slam my pitiful body mercilessly, restarting it's never ending torture. I just wanted to die, but my body wouldn't let me.

I have no idea how long it took before I gained some clemency; I hadn't heard the goddesses asking the others for breakfast, and the torturous suffocation no longer returned. Sarah was walking, and I would be slammed with pain, the air forced from my lungs, before being released as her foot rose with myself pulled into it. The process of walking suddenly feeling like I was heaven, my naked skin against her oily flesh pleasant to the point I found myself in an strange state of bliss, before I was slammed painfully into the sole, knocking the wind from me.

This pain and pleasure oscillated back and forth for I don't know how long – I had trouble thinking clearly, time seemed to jump from point to point. I'd find the wind being forced from my lungs as I was viciously slammed by the leather wave above me, my body surrounded by pain, to being airborne, my naked body grinding against the grooves of her hot soft arches' flesh, the sultry conditions in the shoe making it feel like I was in an out of control sauna, but causing me to glide tenderly under her skin, so pleasant in juxtaposition to everything else I started to become aroused.

But then I was suffocating again, the massive slamming blow across my body giving me a headache and making every limb on body feel like it was forming a massive bruise.

And then – nothing. It was strange. I'd been slammed and suffocated for so long that without Sarah's walking, without the slow suffocation I experienced to the point of falling unconscious – I no longer had a sense of time. It seemed to linger like this forever. I had no idea how long I experienced this strange reprieve but I slowly began to feel something over the lingering pain of my body. It felt like a persistent drum, slowly gaining in intensity. It took me too long to comprehend what it was, so battered I felt punch drunk. The pulse – I'd been in so much pain I'd been numb to it. The space under her arch was still difficult to breathe as Sarah's viscous foot oil poured over my face and body, the environment humid and incredibly hot; I couldn't move my body between being wedged into her flesh and the flat behind my back – but it was heaven in comparison to the hell I was previously in, and I found myself thanking the goddess above me for answering my prayers. I was crying in joy, praying to the flesh above me as if it were god itself. The pulse continued to drum, enhancing a blissful reprieve with a strange vibration; and I pathetically found myself becoming aroused.

I was praying to the godlike arch above me when I was suddenly blinded by light, and a rush of cold air sent shivers down my spine, the arch lifted off me slightly, almost like my prayers were answered. With the fresh air contrasting the sultry environment I was in, I suddenly noticed the smell. Sarah's foot smelled strong and distinctive. It was like a pungent cheese. I noticed my stomach rumbling, I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I found myself recalling Sarah's words – to eat the dirt form her toes.

I hadn't reached that level of hunger yet, but I wondered at what point the skin that lingered near my face would become appetizing. My stomach rumbled at the ripe barnyard smell; I had the bizarre inclination to nibble at a chunk of cracked dried skin above me.

Then the floor below me shifted, putting me at an angle, and my slick body slid down the floor. I was too exhausted to resist, and I helplessly watched the leather wave above me shift upwards as I slid down the hard flat's insole, which was greased from the oil of Sarah's foot. As the viscous liquid collected on my exposed skin that dragged across the surface, I felt like I was on some terrifying water-slide. I tilted my head down, helplessly watching as I saw foot pit below me narrowing between the sole and the wave of flesh above me, I felt my bruised feet make contact with the skin as I continued to slide, and it became more and more enveloped in Sarah's soft hot oily skin, beginning to slow down from the new source of friction it provided. It passed over my legs like a soft couch, hugging me, as I sank further into it, and then began to reach my thighs.

With the fresh air suddenly invigorating and chilling me, the ripples of oily flesh slid up my sides as I slid deeper towards this alien pit. The folds of her flesh and the swirls of her skin created a strange kneading like effect, relaxing my battered skin like a massage. In my crushed state it felt akin to dreamlike pleasure. I continued to sink between the oily skin and the insole, oil and detritus from the shoe gathering over my body as more of my body was pressed between both. As the flesh slowly crept up and over my upper thighs, tingling sensations were being shot up my body, and my arousal was enhanced – blood shot to my naked member giving me the start of an erection. I could feel my feet becoming constricted between the narrowing space, no longer able to be moved, as Sarah's skin passed over my crotch. My johnson then touched the hot wall of living leather, which was pushed upward as I sunk lower, and I could feel the flesh shift and contort around it like a hot leather wave, the sensation felt strangely divine, until it completely covered my crotch. I continued to sink, my johnson now surrounded all sides by Sarah's flesh, expect for the top which was against my chest. Flipped up like this, the remaining sides of my johnson were being kneaded by the ripples of skin and squeezed by the contorting waves of leather. I was becoming helplessly aroused – before the pulse of Sarah's foot pushed me beyond it, the thrum, thrum, thrum, of it vibrating my body and rushing the blood into my johnson, giving me a throbbing erection to the point where I felt like I'd never felt harder. I was so delirious and confused; the very flesh that had tortured for me for so long I found myself strangely attracted to. In this bizarre state I continued to sink into the foot pit. It passed over my chest, until eventually the front of my face started to scrape against it, the lower half of my body now further restricted and making it difficult to breathe, my crotch throbbing with arousal. I looked up and could still see the leather white flesh where the larger gap of the arch was remaining still slightly lifted above me. I could see it brightly lit, shifting like living wave, glistening with liquid.

As my slow sliding ground to a stop between the warm flesh and the insole, I knew I was stuck wedged between the two. The flesh near my legs felt different – harder. In my confused arousal I barely comprehended where I was. I had slid all the way down to the end of the arch where it meet the heel, and I could feel the edge of the callous here – rough, like thick dried leather. I made no attempt to struggle and free myself,s too exhausted and aroused to even attempt it. The blinding light coming from the side of the me made it so that I could see only the cave like environment around me, a huge leather ceiling of dirty rippling flesh above me, the hard insole floor below.

Everything smelled of ripe cheese, the foot in front of me made my stomach gurgle, pangs of hunger caused a bit of drool to come out of my mouth. Then the pulse of Sarah's foot would combine with the ripples and flexing flesh, squeezing and caressing my battered body, the stimulating feeling filling me with lust and instinctively causing me to attempt to thrust forward. But I could do nothing more than just push with my hips, the flesh in front of me like a giant pillow merely contorting further around me, but nonetheless serving it's purpose to me. There was conscious pang of sickening awareness – I was attracted to the bottom of my goddesses foot – this thing that had tortured me. I couldn't control myself, and I thrust again, I couldn't stop myself.

A strange voice echo'd in my mind. You are a bug. You should be thankful.

I didn't speak, but I agreed. I'm a bug. This is more than I deserve. I was no longer in control, my the arousal in contrast to my torture a suddenly level of ecstasy I had never experienced. I was humping the very foot that had tortured me for the last few hours.

It was in this state that, dazed, confused, drooling, in pain, and with a throbbing erection, that the light that poured in from the side of the exposed flat shifted. I was about to attempt my third hump against Sarah's hot flesh, when it became dark for a second, filling me with dread of this new unknown terror. I felt a pinch around my chest that increased in pressure, slowly forcing the airs from my lungs until I couldn't inhale. No longer aroused, I was against suffocating as the light became blinding; the air became frigid and I was freezing, except for the heat that wrapped my chest.

I could tell that I was now flying through the air, but I was so confused and blinded I couldn't understand what was happening. I had no energy to resist, and simply felt my limbs and arms dangle in whichever direction gravity or momentum would pull them.

I blinked and my eyes had adjusted to enough of the light. I was out the flat in the plane, I could tell that the color of the fingers that Sarah had me pinched. I didn't have any energy to resist, so my head simply fell backwards with the force of gravity, and I was looking upside down off into the distance of the plane. I could see a blue mountain, which seemed to convert to a brown peak – it had two green pools on it.

I didn't understand what I was looking at, I wasn't sure how long I was even in the air. But before I began to descend – I understood. It was Dianne. She was looking right at me, and her expression seemed strange. I was confused by her look – I have no idea what it meant. But whatever it was – it made me nervous.

And then I was in free fall. I didn't scream at all before slamming into a hard surface, my vision was completely blurred. Then the sky began to darken, and the familiar stuffiness and smell came back to me. I was back in the flat. Everything seemed the same at first, the environment a stuffy mix of oil and cheese. But then I realized the orientation was inverted. I was in the other shoe – the right one now. She had moved me to her other foot like she was flipping a pancake. The exposed side of the flat slowly closed, and I stared at it helplessly as the leather arch slowly descended onto me. I was confused, terrified but oddly aroused, too weak to resist, my body too wet with oil to feel any of the tears that poured from my face as the arch collapsed onto me and left me in trapped against her hot wet flesh in utter blackness.

***

Sarah's focus snapped back when she heard the captain say they were making their final approach. She had just finished cleanup, so she walked back to her seat and sat down, the little insert in her shoe creating a stark contrast between her two feet, her right foot now aching.

Dianne was already there, one leg crossed over the other, the heel of her brown foot exposed as her pump dangled below it.

Sarah sat down next to her and stretched her legs, allowing her feet to rest on her heels, and causing her shoes to scrunch, creating a gap between her shoe and her arch which exposed the bottom of her foot to fresh air. She felt the tiny man tumble down before being wedged into the space just above her heel, his tiny puffs and struggles pronounced as she thought he tried to free himself from the narrow pit.

She let her legs and feet relax like this for a few seconds, and the tiny inserts body rubbing itself into the bottom of her arch brought her attention back to the sensation in her feet. It was remarkable how much better her left foot felt now than her right. Even though they were coming in on approach, they still had another hour so of work on the flight, and another hour or so after that before they got to the hotel. It was important that she not overwork her right foot – she didn't want to develop a condition. In situations like these, it was important to rotate your inserts so that one foot didn't get more overworked than the other.

And Sarah, forgetting all of the protocol around tiny smuggling, simply reached into left flat and pinched the lifeless boy, She wasn't even looking at him. As she held his limp body in the air while she reached down with her right hand and lifted her right foot out of its flat.

Dianne watched Sarah all the while, and hoped Mark was alright. She didn't have the courage to ask how he was, she didn't want to expose him, so she just remained silent. Sarah was stretching her legs out before her. Dianne was in the seat on her right, as she turned to look at the flat that Mark was in, she could see a gap between Sarah's flat and her foot as she picked her toes up, warping the black material of the flat.

Even from this range, she could see the tiny man. From this position, being able to see all of Sarah in relation to the thing, he was truly tiny. And he'd been in Sarah's flat for at least an hour and half. He seemed to be alive – she could see him moving, but she couldn't really make out any of the details.

Then Sarah did something she didn't expect, she reached into her shoe with her left hand, and brought the tiny boy out into the open in front of her, whilst simultaneously popping her right shoe out from the below her.

She stopped herself from saying something – she didn't want to draw attention to themselves, but what Sarah was doing was reckless. She had no idea if they were being actively monitored, and any passenger who saw what they were doing would have given up the game. But they were lucky, since they were on approach everyone was back in their seats, and people were staring out their windows. Nobody seemed be looking towards them for the few seconds the little man was suspended in the air.

What she saw was disturbing. The little man had blood caked onto his face, and his whole body was turning a purplish color – his skin seemed puffier than she had first met him, like he had a massive bruise. He looked almost lifeless. His head and limbs just hung limply below him, his hair greased with wet oil that seemed to cake his entire body.

And something else surprised her. It looked like he had an erection. She had no idea what to make of that, she wasn't entirely sure it was an erection at all – perhaps a trick of the light or just a misreading on his tiny penis. But then she turned to make eye contact with him, his expression didn't seem like one of joy. He seemed utterly defeated – just a pathetic, pleading look.

And then Sarah let him go, and she watched him fall helplessly through the air, not making a peep. His body lifelessly bouncing in her flat. She stared fascinated as Sarah callously began to lower her foot back on top of him, and watched the little man, who could nothing but lay on his back and look terrified, and as the foot continued to lower, encasing him in the shadow of her sole, she could have sworn she saw his penis stiffen. And then Sarah's foot was on top of him. Almost like he was never there.

Dianne didn't know what to make of this. He looked horrible. But was he enjoying himself? How could that be possible? Perhaps it wasn't an erection?

Or – perhaps it really wasn't that bad. Perhaps the stories Sarah had told her were true – perhaps little men were supposed to be underfoot – perhaps it was their natural place.

No. Dianne thought, not believing it. She smuggled enough tinies and spoke to enough people to know that it was fake, merely propaganda. But still – she suddenly had pangs of doubt.

But the doubt was enough to give her a new idea. Whatever the case is, I'll have time to figure it out with Sarah this weekend. After I contact the railroad I will determine the truth.

She began to think about all the things that Sarah said about the comforts a tiny man could provide. In light of Marks' pleading to get out from under her foot and his pathetic lifeless form she just witnessed, she couldn't stop thinking about the erection she thought she saw, giving credence to Sarah's words.

She thought about the days previous events. How cute he looked when he drank up the water between her toes – like a mama bird feeding her chicks. She smiled at the memory. And she did really enjoy having her feet pampered – when he wasn't being lazy, he did an excellent job. And he was kissing and licking her feet. Why else would he have done that if he hadn't enjoyed it? And for her part – the sensation was wonderful.

As she pondered over the situation in her mind, something strange occurred to her, she hoped he liked it. It was now, only without him, that she realized she missed having him underfoot. Perhaps Sarah treated him too harshly – maybe that's why he's bleeding? Or it was an accident. But he was still aroused.

I'll never be like Sarah with a Tiny. Dianne thought. That's perhaps why he looked so beaten. If Mark really does enjoy it – perhaps it's just the extreme style of Sarah that makes him look disheveled?

Whatever the case, Dianne was going to find out. Between the hotel and the days hiking, she was certain she'd have time to. But between her experience today, and the words of Sarah, for the first time she prayed for something she never prayed before. Her own tiny man – and Mark would be the perfect candidate. Whatever happened, she'd have to keep in open mind to Sarah's lifestyle. Perhaps she was onto something.

And for Sarah, the sensation of Mark under right foot was immediately pleasant. She pressed down onto the tiny boy and knew soon the suffocation she inflicted would cause him to writhe in pain . In about 45 seconds she was entirely correct – and she found herself thinking back on that very first Christmas.