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Under Her Sole

Part four of four

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by The Barefoot Stallion

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The pain was still great, even though he had not felt it in quite the same way. Time must have passed as she moved around the perfume shop and he wondered whether she was taking her time for him or if he was losing track of her steps. He tried to count them – one, two, three, four, five, six – but lost count when she rocked her weight back onto him while she appeared to be testing out a sweet, floral scent.

“Oh, this one is lovely…”

That made Rick’s stomach lurch. Did she not know how much pain he was in under her sole? Could she even imagine everything that he had gone through that day?

And, still, that was what did it for him. That was what sent another rush of clawing, biting heat into his groin, all when his body felt as if it was far too sore to even consider another climax. It wasn’t the same kind of orgasm, still, that he was used to, his mind grappling with the concept. It was far from a failed orgasm, yet it pooled heat in his groin, making everything more sensitive.

In practice, that just made his penis and testicles and all the skin around them even more sensitive too. Sensitive to the heavenly, glorious pain that she delivered unto him, as if Mistress Dana was an angel from heaven. It was more likely, however, that the mistress that had acquiesced to his request was a demon from hell. He still was unsure which one he would have preferred.

Either way, he was stuck there. Grappling and battling with himself and grunting while she purchased her perfume and headed out.

The body of the mall, where most people in the shopping centre were, coming and going, was just a blur. He tried to focus on something, but the ball of her foot managed to, somehow, compress his chest and shoulders just a little bit more than it had before – and the white wash of pain that swelled within was just something he had to deal with. Accepting it made it easier and yet the threat of a sob clung to his chest.

“Please… A break… A rest… I need space… Too small… It’s too tight in here… Crushing me… Trampling… Squashing… Mmm… Ohhhh…”

He didn’t know if he was protesting, not really, but the power of her came down on him repeatedly, quelling any complaints that, quite rightly, Rick had. They could leap to his lips as many times as they liked, his body twitching inside, the ache from not moving for so long a seductive undercurrent to the trampling pressure.

Still, that fourth orgasm… It drove into him, his greedy little fingers trying to grasp and pull at it. He could have that, yes, he could take it for his own. His stomach flexed slightly as he tightened his abdominal muscles without thinking about it, trying to rock up. The scream of pain that resounded from his back quickly lay waste to that idea, though he kept up a soft, gentle murmur of lust.

“Mistress Dana… So big… So powerful… Your foot… I want…your sole… Please… Release me… Let me… Can’t stay… It’s too much… Always too much… Crushing. Crushed…”

He didn’t raise his voice anywhere near enough for Mistress Dana to hear him, though he did groan long and long as the spike of tantalising need within him drew a sharp line through the pain, only briefly. For Mistress Dana had managed to twist her foot just right that he got another delicious throb of pain-pleasure down into his crotch.

What if all that pressure was concentrated over his crotch? Oh, that was not something that Rick thought that he could ever bear through, no, not at all. But he could, just about, let the pain seduce him when it was spread out through his entire body, swelling through him, his penis trying to thicken up and swell with blood. Mistress Dana, however, put a stop to that.

She paused, though he had no idea where she was. There was a strange rushing noise nearby, something that sounded like it may well have been akin to flowing water.

And then she ground her foot down into him, under the supposed, flimsy pretence of adjusting the position of her foot within the shoe. He cried out plaintively, pain shooting through him, sharp and biting, no longer the intoxicating pulse that had carried him through for the last minutes. A broken orgasm caught him as she displayed the highest level of mercilessness that he had seen from her so far.

He barely even felt his climax. Nor the next one. Or the next one. He could not even be sure that throbs of ecstasy, tangled in agony, were even rolling through him, not as she kept him there, pinned and trapped. She did not walk but stayed where she was, letting it all build to a head with him under her sole, twisting her foot to the right and then the left, rolling her foot across the diagonal. Rick was only very vaguely aware of her scrunching her toes, though that was only so that she could apply more crushing pressure to his chest and head.

His neck screamed and heat lurched into his loins. That was why pleasure and twisted climaxes could come through, though it felt as if he couldn’t possibly have gotten a single drop more from his abused testicles. They would have been in a right state if not for what he had ingested to protect himself, but he couldn’t even be grateful for that, not then. Not when pain rippled through him, the tread of her foot crushing down upon him, closing down his world, narrowing his grasp on reality.

He may have accepted his fate, yet it was harder still for Rick to accept his reality, his chest juddering while he tried to suck in breath after breath. Arousal clawed at him, whimpering and trying to make itself known, though he was too tired, even then, to work out whether it was something worth still paying attention to. It was just so hard, so very hard, the unrelenting pressure of her foot so easily dominating him, as if Mistress Dana did not have to think at all about what she was doing to him. What was natural to her was excruciating for him.

And the pain, even at that point, squashed and trying, despite everything, to flinch away from her sole, had different levels to it. It came in waves and lightning strikes, sometimes electrifying his body into cramped rigidity and at other times flowing through him, from his toes where her heel came down first all the way up to his head. Whenever he thought that he had found a way, dazed and whimpering soundlessly, to bear through her torment, Mistress Dana relieved him, only a little by changing the way that her sole came down on top of him, twisting her foot – and thus bringing a fresh flare of agony.

Even the sound of her foot coming down with a crunching ripple over him was malicious, drawing a shuddering, broken sort of climax from him. Oh, Rick was aware of that, though some sane part of himself, set so far away, laughed at himself. How silly he was to think that his orgasm was at all meaningful in the grand scheme of things. If he was small, then his orgasm was small, his body no more than a piece of grit, an annoying, squirming thing under her sole.

So, she walked. And he went right along with her, trembling, moving his lips a tiny modicum up and down, open and closed, muscles twitching as his body, despite everything, tried to relieve the strain. He would have thought that his body would have worked out by then that it needed to relax, that it needed to accept everything, to bear through it, even if he didn’t have the energy to grit his teeth and clench his jaw, not anymore.

A deep, throbbing orgasm rose within him, though every pulse of desire came with a greater thrum of pain, as if his own body was encompassing the pain that she delivered to him too. Her foot came down on top of him to deliver that seductive anguish, yet his body was so beaten and broken – if not permanently, though he would be viciously sore even after his release – that it could not take any touch at all. Even the brush of a finger down his midsection would have sent him twisting and writhing in agony – and her magnificent foot was so much greater than that.

Dimly, so very faintly, he was aware of orgasm. The bite of pain, the slice of it into his nervous system. How his flesh compressed, encompassing the span over his thighs, his crotch, his stomach, the softness there. Nothing was left untouched as he left his eyes closed, slickness sliding around the head of his cock. Not that he could tell all that much through the billowing, swathing pain, but it didn’t feel like he had spent all that much in orgasm anyway.

The dream and the nightmare, after all, was in being trapped under her sole, the darkness of her foot overcoming him, bearing him down and down and down.

Heel to toe, heel to toe. The fold of her foot sealing over him, the twist and the grind. How she stomped a little harder at times, as if he was trying to keep him either still or quiet. Yet Rick had no further protests left for her, if he had ever even been loud enough for anyone else to hear him anyway. He didn’t think that anyone would have come to his rescue, even if they had heard him. No one would have believed that there was a tiny, shrunken man under the sole of a dominatrix and he doubted that anyone would have challenged Dana anyway.

All there was left for him was to hold on through the anguish, the rake of it, how the pain even tried to make him numb in places. Yet all that did was draw his attention to the parts where sensation remained and ached deeper than ever before. Like anything else, it was a double-edged sword.

He barely even realised when she had taken him back to the foot fetish brothel. It was ridiculous, truly, that he had not felt the rumbling sensations of the bus trembling and vibrating into his body through the sole of her shoe. Yet the pain had been so great, as if his body had been pounded and stomped into a pulp, that he had not even been able to focus on anything other than getting through to the next moment.

And the next one.

And the next one.

And maybe the next one too.

He did feel the long, long walk back to the brothel though. It seemed to drag out forever, as if he was trapped in the cycle of being squashed and relieved with the impact of her foot, again and again. Of course, there was no true relief, not even then, pain pulsating, yet there was barely a moment between each pulse, a deep, dull ache underscoring everything.

He caught the shift of her weight as a bit of gravel caught under her shoe and she had to grind her foot down, apparently, to remove it. Rick moaned inwardly, not even able to verbalise anything aloud, even feeling as if his ribs were just a little bit splayed out, like the shape of his body had been permanently altered.

What if he came out of her shoe and the special insert…and didn’t even look like himself anymore?

Rick’s eyelids fluttered, though he was too small for the fluttering of his eyelashes, on the left side of his face, to tickle her foot. That was a good thing, even if the jump and twitch of her foot, if she was rendered ticklish, could have been intoxicatingly erotic too. That could have been erratic in how he was crushed, pinned and pressured, but Rick, thankfully, did not have to go through that. After all, not tickling her was the reason that his arms had been slotted into the holes within the insert in the first place.

Heel, mid-sole, ball of foot. Up.

Heel, mid-sole, ball of foot. Up.

Blood tried to flow back to the parts of his body that weren’t being squashed at a particular moment, though his body was never given enough time for that truth to become known. It was the rhythm of it, however, that crushed his spirit as much as his body, his neck feeling as if it was set at an odd angle to his body, everything broken, in the incorrect position. Even his inner thighs ached furiously, his groin…

Yeah. Perhaps his groin was better left alone, Rick shuddering mentally at the notion of putting his attention there. He didn’t have the strength in his body to shudder physically, of course, yet his arousal had sent a lot of blood to the sensitive parts of his groin and especially his penis. It was definitely soft then, having sustained too much crushing stomping to even fill with blood again.

He didn’t think his penis would be fully hard again for a long, long time, if he was fully honest with himself. That wouldn’t be much of his concern while his body ached with need, throbbing and pulsing, wanting more and yet…needing to stop.

And that was fair too. Even with the sharp, strangely gut-twisting ache in his testicles too. It was a different pain to any foot fetish-related CBT that he had undergone before, taking his lust for anguish to a new level, but it sank into him. It was just as well, for Rick, that he didn’t have anything in his stomach to come out, though he most likely wouldn’t be able to eat again for a good while.

He would make sure he was taken care of during his recovery, for the arrangements had already been made, though Rick did not hold them in mind at that time. He didn’t have to worry about it.

“Past Rick” had taken care of that for him.

Despite him knowing that he had gone far too far, far beyond any limits that Rick had ever considered setting for himself, he drifted. In a way, he accepted his pain. He accepted that there was no escape to be had, even as she slowed the roll of her gait, rocking her foot back and forth on top of his body, pounding his less-than-fragile bones. Her skin did not even pull or peel away from him when she picked her foot up from the ground to step forward, his body so close and intimately bonded with her sole that he could not even tell where her foot ended and he began anymore. In his broken mind, hazy and floating in agony-ecstasy, he may as well have fused with her sole.

That would have been another fantasy, however, even if one that Rick was not even sure was capable of being lived out. Yet, his fate had been sealed already, his body and his mind safe despite the exquisite torment that he had lived through. And yet it had been everything that he had wanted and more, even if it had been vicious to his psyche and the physical form of his body.

And then – the pressure was relieved. And the pain reverberated through his body, ice cold and throbbing, surprisingly, where blood rushed back to parts of his body that were compressed. His lips parted in a silent scream, though no sound came out, his chest slowly filling with air.

Yet there were parts of his body that had been squashed that had to flesh out and fill out again, swelling once more. It was not as if it would have been an obvious thing, if someone had been holding him to feel his body reverting to the norm, but he felt it. Oh, Rick felt it intimately, his muscles relaxing a little, though it was hard for anything to feel relaxed at all when fresh pain was bursting through his limbs.

When he returned to his normal, full size, the pain was worse. Much, much worse, for there was more of him to take the pain while his mind fought vehemently to process it all. Yet the aftercare was sorted, soft and gentle, the final bank transfer completed with a touch of his finger to an acknowledgement agreement on their touch screen payment system at the brothel. For Mistress Dana had done everything that he had asked of her and so much more.

So very much more.

He would be back, even though Mistress Dana had not had to stick around to see how he fared when he came out of her trainer. For her to be cruel to him, it made sense that there was a bit of distance between them, that she did not know him personally – and most certainly that she did not care for his pain and the aftermath. If she had seen just how badly she had trampled him, she might have not wanted to do it again.

And he wanted to do it again… Even though it would take him a long time to recover from that first real trampling session, he would end up wanting it again. He would end up not remembering just how bad the pain had been and craving it once more, regardless of the cost to his body and his bank account.

For when it came to being under the sole of Mistress Dana, or any other mistress who was willing to tread on him all day, Rick would find himself coming back again and again. It was not something that he could get anywhere else, not when his fetish and inclinations were as niche as they were. He could have tried other brothels that catered to more niche sexuality activity, sure thing, but they wouldn’t have managed to give him what he wanted, not then. Not after he had experienced the most exquisitely horrifying foot torture and trampling that there was to take.

His dreams after the event may have haunted him. But Rick would find himself coming back for more. Time after time again, draining his bank balance of every bonus and more that he earned at work.

And that was okay. Because it was his fetish and his fetish alone, all to be played out exactly as he wanted it to be. He could take all that he craved with a dominatingly cruel woman to stomp all over him…and let his dreams carry him through between visits.

Under her sole, despite the horrific fear and thunderous pound of her foot coming down crushingly on top him, over and over again, was all he craved.

And…he was permanently shrunk, yes, forever. There was no going back from that moment, never again, able to do his bio-engineering work, now, from anywhere in the world. No one would know that he was tiny, that he was indulging in being a foot fetish slave to mistresses in a brothel, feeding his wildest, kinkiest, most dire of crushing fantasies.

When he was finally out of her shoe (barely even realising when he was removed, for the pain still blistered through his veins like dragon fire) and cared for by the brothel attendants, he blinked, slowly, back to his senses. It seemed that his body was too sore (even if not damaged) for him to go back to his accommodation that night, so temporary accommodation in one of their long-stay rooms was prepared for him, even if it was laughable too big for him.

Rick didn’t care, soaking in the relief, the feeling of prickling sensation leaping back to all the numb, horrified chunks of his body. It would only take him days to recover enough physically to do his normal “life” things, but he would remember the trampling for weeks to come in the physical effects on his body.

Mistress Dana too had to come to see for herself that he was not harmed and Rick did his best to sit up, tiny against an oversized (normal-sized for non-shrunken people) pillow, to show her that he was okay. He knew exactly what to say to her.

“I want to hire you,” he said softly, using a small microphone that they had given him, which was still bigger than his entire torso, so Mistress Dana could hear him. “Mistress…Dana, that was the most incredible experience ever. Please, allow me to pay you, to hire you. Name your price.”

Dana’s eyes gleamed, though Rick missed the look.

“Of course,” she said smoothly. “Double what the brothel agreement was? It shall be a start, my trample-toy…”

“Yes… Oh, yes, please!”

He was sure that he could manage it, living out his wildest dreams, all while he navigated the world as a much, much smaller man than he had once been. Despite the pain, and the brutalising of his body, his infatuation with being under her sole was far from gone.

And it would always be there, regardless of what he asked Mistress Dana to do to him, he was sure, finding new and even more torturous ways to abuse his body, all for the sake of an all-encompassing fetish. If Rick had the money with which to do so, why shouldn’t he indulge his fantasy and fetish, after all?

No… No, there was never any reason for him to do that. And he could trust Mistress Dana, yes, he was sure of that, she would take care of him, even while he was under her soul, exploding with crushing pain. A world of foot torture had opened up before him and he was determined to snatch it up with both hands.

There was no world for him that was not under her sole.

He’d already decided it was so.