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Under Her Sole

Part two of four

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by The Barefoot Stallion

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_ _

However, the choice had been made and he was rolled against her foot as the folds of skin tugged and pushed faintly as him while she walked. There was a lot to get used to there and the weight of her crushed down upon him, making his chest seize up for a heartbeat of a moment every time she stepped down, thinking that he was really going to be crushed. And yet the indent in her shoe, as it was designed to do, kept him safe. He didn't know that the dommes at the facility had tested it beforehand with various small fruits and delicate items, all to ensure that he would receive just the right amount of crushing and trampling without endangering him.

The chemicals that he had ingested for the session, however, reinforced his skin and his muscles, even down to his bones. He would not be at risk of anything breaking or snapping or even irreversible crushing affecting his organs in any way. But he was sensitive, too sensitive, wheezing as his breath, minute and tiny, brushed up against the underside of her foot, though it was too minuscule for the dominatrix to even feel that he was there.

Even being in there with fear clawing at his heart with an iron, icy grip, it was hard for him not to become aroused. It was just where he wanted to be, grunting and moaning, trying to calm himself and the frenzied, pounding beat of his heart, because he knew that he was going to be in there for hours upon hours.

Yet it was Mistress Dana, very swiftly, who pulled him back to reality. His neck ached slightly, wanting to move and readjust himself, though the trainers had not been designed for that, not with the indent. There was only enough room in there for him to have his head turned to the side, his left cheek exposed, exactly as he had designed it. And yet a mild bit of discomfort from a sore neck was hardly going to matter at all in due course.

For Rick had not understood how it would truly be to be pummelled under her sole, to feel her foot flexing and shifting above him as she walked, heading out, presumably, to her preferred shopping centre. Of course, she could have driven, but that most likely would not have allowed Mistress Dana to torment him the most and he had seen a spark in her eye before that, when she had been kneading her feet, back and forth, over his body.

Trampling… It was different when he was tiny. He should have realised that, though there was only so much that Rick could have anticipated as he exhaled as softly as he could. And yet…the shoe that he was trapped within was never designed to protect him from the crushing force of her foot in its entirety. There were smaller sensations, pulls and shifts of weight, but the pressure, oh, the pressure… It was inescapable, exactly as it was meant to be.

“Oof… Please…"

Rick didn't know what he was begging for, dimly aware of outside noises, as if there was traffic rolling by on a nearby road, though it sounded like something big, perhaps a bus, was pulling up too. Was she taking the bus? He squeaked, shuddering, his penis trying to get hard, yet it did not feel, even then, that it had the space to grow into. There was just nothing between him and her foot – or, if there was, it was only for a moment. Of course, with Mistress Dana being barefooted, there was the crushing pressure of him on top and a light sheen of clammy sweat there too. It was only noticeable because he was so close to her, forced to take in all the little details. If she had had sweaty feet, that would have most likely been something that would have made him choose or ask for the services of another mistress.

“Nnnggghhhh…"

He couldn't help himself, groaning long and low. The weight of her… It drew his attention back to it, again and again, the rolling, shifting pressure of her foot crushing him, repeatedly. He got a brief moment of respite when her foot peeled up from him lightly, though there was only a sliver of space between her foot and his bare flesh when her foot did naturally move within the trainer. The light coating of sweat on her sole forced her foot to peel away from him, from the heel to the ball of her foot, the sticky sensation standing out in sharp contrast to the bite of pain and pressure.

“Unff…"

Rick didn't know whether he was trying to be quiet or not, though it felt as if Mistress Dana had stopped moving. Still, there was a bubble of conversation around him, something rumbling. Yes, she had to have been taking a bus to the shopping centre, the big mall that had lots of facilities and stores where she could genuinely enjoy herself and his money, but that did not mean that his torment was over.

Because Mistress Dana had a sadistic streak too.

“Oooohhhh…"

He panted heavily, even though he did not need to breathe, trying to arch up, the burn through his shoulders and his chest immense. She ground down on top of him, rolling her foot, slowly, from heel to ball and back again, so that different parts of his body were crushed. The insole of the shoe, into which he was tucked securely, protected him to some extent, though that did not detract in the slightest from how his muscle and flesh were being compressed and crushed.

“Unngghhh… Nooooo…"

He moaned, though there was nowhere for him to go, panic fluttering in his chest, heaving and leaping, twisting and jumping. He didn't think the pain could get any worse, though it was a very different kind of pain. His body instinctively told him that he was in danger, that he was being crushed, that his organs and his bones were at severe risk of harm – if not death! The panic in him was born from ancient instinct, what had kept human beings alive in ancient times, though, to be honest, Rick had never looked back at history all that much.

He was much more interested in the present moment, even though the present time was not all that kind to Rick. As he had wanted. Yet his mind wavered, straining through the pain, the sensation of his thighs being crushed, his flesh trying to spread out to make way for the immense pressure, for her weight was not being it that time.

No… It was intentional that time, not just a natural consequence of Mistress Dana walking around the shopping mall. She pressed down on top of him, the ball of her foot exerting the most strain, even though it felt kind of as if she was trying to exert even pressure on top of his body, all at once. But she twisted her foot back and forth, from left to right, even though it was only a slight rotation.

He howled, pain blossoming across his chest, swelling, aching, his lungs trying to wheeze. Yet the pounding down on him, a long, slow grind, was so much that he could not even hope to take a full breath, not having the space into which to expand his lungs. It was a wonder that his ribcage did not collapse entirely, though that was something that Rick had made sure would not happen due to what he had ingested beforehand.

However, it was hard to remember that at a time like that. It was hard to remember that, ultimately, he was going to be safe, even if Rick beforehand had not truly understood the extent to which he was going to be crushed. What he did remember, however, was that she wasn't going to take off the shoes until the very end of the day, trapping him in there, not giving him even a single moment of respite until his torture had been completed.

There was a deliciousness to the pain, however, even as it sank into him. It was easier, just a little, when she stood again, the bus pulling to its stop and letting Mistress Dana, presumably, out at the mall. That meant that she wasn't focusing as much on him and more on spending his money, his length trying to harden, though Rick could not be sure just how much blood managed to pump into his penis. The bite of pain, sending an aching pound through his shoulders especially, flared up, burning and bright, but he leaned into it.

“Ahhhh…"

That was better. That was what he had wanted, feeling her walk all over him. The only way that that could have possibly been better would have been if he was lying on the ground, frozen in place, while mistress after mistress trampled him. But maybe the constant weight and pressure were good too, never truly relieved from his form as she walked, stepping on him, again and again.

Rick didn't have to know, not as he was squashed, arousal making his body hot, perhaps even warming the sole of her foot a little more than it usually would have been. He did not know what the usual temperature of Mistress Dana's foot was, but it did not matter, not as a rougher patch, minuscule, only a millimetre, maybe, in size, rubbed over his midsection. It was that strange point between his ribcage and his belly, right in the centre of his abdomen, and he locked onto that new sensation with relish.

If he had been normal-sized, that tiny, rough patch of skin was most likely never something that he ever would have noticed. But being able to take in everything in such tiny, intimate detail, well… That was something else.

“Mmmm…"

His fingers twitched, getting into the rhythm of her walking, sometimes hearing music filtering in through the trainers, but never quite being sure what was going on, where he was. It was easy to slip away in there, the heated throb of arousal coursing through him with every beat of his heart, which still kept going, despite him no longer needing to breathe. He had not even yet noticed that he had stopped breathing, even though the crushing restriction in his chest was going to become even more of a defining factor as he was physically beaten up.

The ball of her foot ground down on his chest and even his cheek, which he had thought was going to be more protected than it was. The soft flesh of his cheek indented and he squeaked under her foot, fearing, for a second, that the weight of her was going to bear down on him too much, crushing his bones. He didn't want to consider that happening, even though the fear was there too, a twisting, chilling curl and pull in the pit of his stomach.

Yet in how that tangled with arousal was something special indeed, something that could only be experienced when he was truly and completely submissive to someone – someone just like Mistress Dana. Her attention was elsewhere, allowing him to take the roll of pressure down his body more easily – and yet that very pressure was growing and growing.

Was something wrong? His heartbeat skipped a beat, leaping and fluttering in his chest like a caged animal, even if he did not fully understand the reactions of his body. The pressure on top of him ground down and he swore for a moment that his chest was crunching, that his ribcage was finally giving up.

But, no… No. Everything had only just gotten started. His legs ached and his hips shot through with a lancing streak of pain that startled a groan from his mouth. Was his penis hard? He couldn't tell anymore…

Yet arousal so very often faded into the background when it came to pain, when it came to the experience. It bloomed through him, though there was nothing soft or light about him, not a glow like the aftermath of orgasm. No, it was all crushing and stomping, bearing down into him, step after step, walking heel to toe and caring not for a moment of his fate, trapped under her sole.

“Ungghhh…"

Hell, had he made a mistake? His heartbeat raced and he trembled against her, even if he could not be sure whether the vibrations running through him were from his body or hers. It didn't matter, not as his body was pounded and trampled with the most intense massage ever.

“Nooooo…"

He whimpered, his eyes wet with tears that Rick had not even realised were coming. It was a good pain, an exceptionally good kind of pain – but the kind of pain that Rick was not at all sure he could take. If it had only been a moment, he would have been left panting and groaning, sprawled out and a hopeless mess, most likely in the aftermath of orgasm. Yet it was different to that, hour upon hour of delicious torment rolling through him, streaming over him, just a tiny, useless body squashed up into her sole, as if he was nothing more than an inconvenience within her trainer.

“Unnnggghhhh… Please… I need…" It was hard to make his voice heard but he tried, her foot pausing on top of him as if she had stopped to look at something in a shop, annoying, shrill pop music playing in the background. “I need a break… Mistress Dana… Mistress Dana… Please… Have mercy."

Surely, she would allow that? Surely, she would allow him just a few moments, a few minutes, to get himself better acclimatised to being under her sole? He swallowed hard, the burning in his throat growing worse and worse, as if there was no part of his body at all that was not subject to strain, fingers trying to curl into fists. There was no space within the holes for his arms and hands, however, for them to move, encasing him in restriction of the highest degree.

He thought Mistress Dana would say something… And yet she did not. She paused, which made him think that she had heard him, that she was going to slide her foot a little out of the shoe and give his tiny, naked form a break from her stomping, but…it was a false hope. Mistress Dana, after all, had been chosen and agreed to his terms for a reason and if she let him out of her trainer before the entire day and session was up then he was not going to give her the second lot of ten thousand pounds.

And that was not something that Mistress Dana was at all willing to give up so easily, not in the slightest. She had understood their contract and planned everything to taunt him, to torment him, to make him think that he would be getting relief, that all he would be getting was a pleasurable experience… And then she tricked him.

“Unnff! No, Mistress – ah! – Dana!"

He shouted, her foot suddenly bearing down on him as she walked with an even heavier step and gait, as if she was walking as forcefully as she could through a shop without actually looking like she was stomping. Mistress Dana, even then, had to make sure that she blended in, of course, and couldn't make a scene about treading heavily. If she was caught tormenting him, she most likely would be taken in for questioning by the police, considering that there were still laws about causing harm (even if consensual) to another person. It was still very much a grey area in the United Kingdom.

He tried to focus, tried to tense his muscles – yet Mistress Dana made sure that he didn't get the chance to push back up against her sole even the smallest amount. His body was inconsequential to her and she wanted to let him know that, laughing aloud as she ground her foot down into him, though he didn't know that she was getting looks and sidelong glances from others in the shopping centre.

“Nnngghhhh…"

Maybe Rick should have been quiet, but the fact of the matter was that even his own body, the sounds that he made, was not within his control. He could try to clench his hands (when there was no space to do so) and roll his hips up, the strain in his lower back even drawing his attention down. It was as if his body was trying to draw his attention to all the different places that pain was rising, the flex of her sole shifting above him always changing.

She moved around one of the shops, something that he dimly thought might have been one that sold jewellery, imagining her dripping in diamonds and gold, or whatever was “in" at that time. He didn't know if styles and trends for jewellery were the same in the United Kingdom as they were in the States, although it did not really matter. He just liked the idea of her revelling in luxury, even if he didn't know if she had had that kind of lifestyle before. The brothel had high rates but who knew how much of that went through to the mistresses there?

He hoped she was doing well for herself. For he most certainly would be back to give her even more money to walk all over him, all day long…

Maybe he could even get her to trample him for multiple days? Would he even be able to survive that?

Rick groaned, his head spinning. She was moving again, heading on out of the shop and something about her tread seemed heavier that time, like the push of her weight was coming down more heavily. He wriggled a little, testing the limits of his confinement. It felt smaller, somehow, and also as if the special insole within the shoe had squashed down around him.

His heartbeat leapt, thudding painfully in his chest, though it was just another note of pain for him to grind his teeth through. Did that mean that the insole around him, where he was inserted, was softening and easing down under the weight of her body?

He hadn't accounted for that…even though he was practically indestructible under her. It was not as if he had wanted to die under her sole, of course, so precautions had been taken, though the pain… It burned through him, arousal searing through, as if the pain was a tangible thing that was wrapping and cloying and pressing, something that he could touch physically if he wanted to. Rick should have pulled away from it but the masochist in him leaned into it hungrily, the fresh edge of pain crushing his hips in particular striking a note deep within him that he had not before considered being there.

“Unff… Mistress… Ohhhh…"

Rick could not be sure whether he was begging for relief or for more pounding stimulation, though it did not matter. If she heard him, she ignored him, striding out in long, ground-covering strides through the shopping centre. Where was she going? He parted his lips, her sole rubbing over them, mashing and squashing the flesh of his face as the ball of her foot less than lovingly teased down into him.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

_ _

She may have been something of a light stepper usually, yet the deep, resounding feel of her crushing him echoed through his mind, a bellow like that of a wild beast. It was carnal and every thud around him came with a fresh swell of pain, some parts of his body faring better than others, though it was simply different levels of pain.

He had not known before that his fingers could ache so much, the strain burning up into his wrists and forearms, even though they had a small bit of padding and protection on top of them. It didn't do much good as Mistress Dana traipsed through shop after shop, rolling her foot down in a tight seal, every time, over him. The creases in the underside of her foot no longer seemed to draw his attention as much anymore, as the battering ram of her sole demanded that he give it more attention.

Vaguely, he wondered if it would even be possible to orgasm while she was trampling him, or if it was pain itself that would stop him from reaching that kind of high. He felt like he was in sexual bliss and yet…physical pain? The two things were exquisite when they came up against one another and a particularly devious throb of pain swelled up through both of his legs at once, his shins stiff and biting with a deeply rooted ache. That teasing flush of pain blossomed into his thighs, increasing the hurt that was already clawing its way deep into them, his hips throbbing with another pulse of hurt.

“Nnnngghhhhh… Mistress Dana… Please… Please…"

Was it too much? He groaned deeply, lips moving.

“Mistress Dana… I need a break… Please… Please, give me a break. Please, I'll go straight back into your shoe. I promise, I'll be good, I'll worship your feet, I'll be a good little foot slut still after all this… I'll… I'll… Mmmph!"

Rick startled, his neck aching, eyelids fluttering. He hadn't expected her to stand up with the ball of her foot pressing down, her foot in a position that would have been more natural, perhaps, if she had been wearing high heels. He hadn't wanted her wearing heels, though his penis pulsed and throbbed ardently, even if it still felt like it was mostly soft from the pain, at how she bore down into him. The crushing intensified, locking down his chest and, if he had even still been able to breathe, restricting his lungs through any range of motion that a human being should ever have been able to live through.

Exhilaration surged through him, perhaps adrenaline finally kicking in, though it would not do him any good. Not as he wheezed, lips parted, his eye smooshed from the weight of her foot as she stayed there, putting all of her weight down on his head, neck and chest.

“Nngghh… Mistress…"

He moaned, though he could barely talk with his face being squashed like that, his body trying to heave, trying to pant, all too conscious of the pulse of blood through his body. Little good it did him then, however, as her foot moved off his legs and feet, allowing him the tiniest bit of relief in that position.

Of course, it was short-lived. Rick could not decide whether to be glad that she returned to walking, dispersing the pain more evenly across his body, or simply in agony that the pain was not solely centred in one spot anymore. It was the kind of pain that only seemed worse with the beating of his heart, drawing his attention to the crushing of his stomach. Without his ribcage to protect his belly, there was more sensitivity there, his guts twisting and churning as if he was about to lose his stomach. Yet that was just his body rebelling, trying to make sense of everything that was happening to him. There was nothing in his stomach and no fear, truly, of that happening.

That didn't stop him from grunting and shuddering. He shook bodily as the strain on his belly increased, the pressure grinding down, feeling as if his organs were being forced to shift and move out of the way just to make space for her. That was what a mistress, after all, demanded of Rick – what he wanted them to demand of him. He wanted them to force him, to make him feel useless and small, to render his world all the way down to one of pain, as if nothing else, for him, had ever existed at all.

“Nnfff…"

That was barely even a sound, everything that he wanted to say, everything that he wanted to groan, swallowed up by her sole. Maybe there really wasn't anything else out there for him other than her foot, her sole, the grinding, crushing pressure. Maybe that was all there was for him.

His whole body shook even harder and she paused briefly, adjusting the shoe on her foot by pressing the toe into the ground and twisting her heel back and forth.

“You have a good few hours left," he heard her say, though it hardly even sounded like Mistress Dana was talking to him. “So, you'd best get used to being stuck under my sole."

“Mmmm…"

He trembled more softly at that, his shoulders aching fiercely. Her words helped a little, even though they were only said with the intent to torment him further. It was the good kind of torment, however, the kind that made him want to be there more, to do more, to never again be released from the weight of her sole.

However, it was not all about the crushing weight of her. It was about the feel of her foot shifting and angling slightly over his body, striking down on him from the heel first. Rick felt it all, for there was nothing else for him to focus on as she took quick, snappy steps, her foot coming down from the heel, over the middle of her foot, down to the ball. It was a quick motion and yet, for him, it felt like it was dragged out in slow-motion, all so that he got to feel every exquisite moment of it.

And, when she took her next step, her foot softly peeled from him, even though there was barely any space between her foot and him, only a slight lessening of the pressure for a moment. He heaved and grunted, eyes screwed up, wondering, again, if he had gone too far and bitten off more than he could chew, the relief faint while pain resounded through his body. His chest and head throbbed the most when her foot lifted from him – but it was only a moment before her heel came down again, her foot laying down over him lovingly with a bite of pain. It could have been a lover's kiss – with the fangs of a wolf attached to it.

“Unnnggghhhh…"

Rick trembled. It was getting worse, so much worse, everything feeling like he had run a marathon at the very least. That had to be what the pain was like, though his head would not have been pounding with the worst of headaches, pain spreading across his head from the left side of his forehead all the way around as if a band was around his head, exerting pressure, squeezing more and more tightly.

He moaned, the softening of the insole around him forcing his body to take increased pain. His collarbone ached as if it was going to snap as her foot ground bitingly over him, the skin tugging at him as if her sole wanted to take him up and out of the shoe with him. It was only a momentary sensation, so fleeting that he barely even had a moment in which to register it before it was gone, though it was enough, more than enough. Enough to put him in his place, under her sole, right down where he belonged.

“Unff… Please…"

Too much…

Much too much…

He knew that he could not be maimed or even die under her sole. No damage would be lasting.

That didn't mean that he was able to take the pain. That didn't mean that soft, grunting grasps didn't break from his lips as her foot twisted with a bearing grind over him. He was tugged uncomfortably, a passive player in his own torture, as she twisted her foot within the shoe. Rick had not thought that there would be all that much room in there for her foot to move and twist like that. And yet there was, a roll of flesh, however small it was, twisting over his chest at an angle and compressing across him, from his left shoulder to the right side of his abdomen.

He groaned, head spinning. That… That was a lot. It couldn't get any worse than that, however, could it? That wasn't a question that Rick should have been asking himself, considering how many hours he had left trapped under her sole, the grind of her foot bearing down on top of him almost casual in its cruelty.

“Ooof… Please…"

His cries were weak, tears pricking tenderly at the corners of her eyes. He hadn't expected it to hurt quite that much – and he was a masochist! Surely there was a limit to what a human mind could take, even if his body was temporarily safe from harm? He couldn't take it… Maybe she would relent if he promised her the money either way? Rick most certainly could not say that he had not already had his fill from her.

His lips parted as she walked again, landing heel first and striking down, the crushing roll of her foot slamming down on top of him like a rolling pin that was set to roll out, over and over again. He could shout, he could scream… Mistress Dana might have heard him.

And yet, he did not. He held back, shuddering as another exquisite flush of pain seared through his body, the rolling pressure of her foot striking down upon him and peeling up again rhythmic. It was so very satisfying that he couldn't help but lean into it, grunting faintly, groaning lowly, at such a low tone that it was for his ears and his ears alone.

For there had never been anything quite like pain to get his shaft hard. His penis had always risen to full attention at a smack and a pinch, though it had been crushing, driving pressure, preferably under the foot of a mistress, that had done it for him. Things just needed to be whole and throbbing, experiencing it all on a grand scale – a scale that he could not acquire all on his own. Soft, tender sensations, the stroke of a lover's hand, were not for him and, while nice, did not arouse him.

And that was okay too. Rick understood what he needed for himself and, unlike some others, he understood exactly how he needed to strike out and take it for himself – even if that came to paying a mistress to dominate him and trample him.

The warmth of her foot seeped into him as he walked, even if only that was not enough to distract him from the pain. Even the pain felt hot as the heat of her body became the heat of his, becoming an accessory to her sole, nothing more than that. He couldn't do anything more and he couldn't do anything less, existing exactly as he was.

The clamminess of her foot, despite it still being tiny as the trainers were designed to better allow airflow around her foot, clung to him with every step. It was not even in how her skin peeled away from him, for the insole had sunk just enough around him for him to take more pressure and be neatly ground up against her sole at all times. Still, there were brief, incredibly fleeting, moments when his thigh or his shoulder, perhaps even his belly, were free of her cock, the release of pressure sending a rush of blood back to those parts of his body. The bite of pins and needles snarled to life and yet he barely had a moment in which to acknowledge it and breathe out, not before her sole came down again with the crushing force of a rampant mare, wild and set to take him down.

She was not an animal and yet it was hard not to think of her being so big and so dominant, so powerful, when she was stomping down on him. Rick grunted, lips parted, heat shooting to his crotch, as she took a particularly savage step, grinding down with the ball first that time, subverting his expectations of the pain to come.

“Oooohhh, ohhhh, fuuuuck!"

It was not like him to swear. In his line of work, he was expected to be smartly dressed and smart of mouth too at all times, so it was more often than not something that he tried to bring into his personal life too. Sure, he got comfortable in his clothes at home but he was careful with what he said.

The moment called for a curse. All as the ball of her foot, going the opposite way, fervently, ground down over his head and chest, the pressure increasing sharply to the point where he feared his skull was about to be crushed – and then diverting down his body. The pressure rolled, giving him the worst kind of massage ever with his loins throbbing viciously, all the way down his body, from his chest to his feet.

It was so different, even though it was the same, just in reverse to how it had been before. It caught him off-guard and he grunted thickly, eyes watering, even if the tears spilling down his cheeks were swiftly wiped away by her skin rubbing across his face. The scent of her sole was something that he could cling onto, holding close to him, shaking his head – or, at least, trying to. His body had tried to do the motion before his mind had caught up with what was going on, momentarily sending a flare of pain through his head and neck that was not due to her crushing him.

He panted heavily, ignoring his eyes watering. Yet he did not get any air into his lungs, not as she returned to walking. Mistress Dana, however, seemed to be taking a meandering route through whatever stores she wanted to go through, as if he had slipped her attention from the moment. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to where she paused and came around corners, sometimes walking more quickly than others.

That meant that the roll of her foot, coming back down on the heel first, was more erratic. Her foot could move within the sneaker too, shifting to the right and the left, as if she was not quite walking evenly. He grunted, struggling to take it all in, his skin on fire, even his glutes aching where his body was borne down into the trainer.

I should have gotten her…better…sneakers…

_ _

The thought came dimly, as if he couldn't raise his internal voice like his external voice too. If he had better trainers for her, maybe the case would have been that her foot would not have slid about so much, twisting from the left to the right as she paused suddenly and came to a dead stop with all her weight resting on the foot that he was trapped under.

“Oooohhhhhh…"

That groan was the longest and the loudest of all, screwing up his face, accidentally biting the inside of his lower lip, into the flesh of his mouth. He would later find out that he didn't need to swallow either, that the functions of his body, just like breathing, were being taken care of for him. So, the metallic taste in his mouth was there to stay, at least for a little while, just another bite of sensation that he was going to have to deal with.

“Hm…" Dimly, he heard her talking about him, perhaps in a quiet spot of a clothes shop, for he had thought that he had caught the rattle of hangers moving along a clothes rail too. “Which one should I get? Best try all of them on!"

He trembled, hoping against hope that she would let up on him, that she would stop, if only for a moment, in her relentless crush. With all her weight on one foot, his body screamed and he sweated furiously, even though Mistress Dana was not sweaty at all, not like that. There was a big difference to the natural, very soft dampness, barely even noticeable if he'd been at his regular size, to her feet, which was only present due to her being barefoot in trainers. It should have been soothing and comforting, if not for the pummelling pressure that crushed him.

Down and down and down.

“Nngghh…"

His groan was more of a squeak as he trembled. Was it still going? Was she still putting all of her weight on him? It was hard to say – until the moment that he heard her grunt and lurch away from him. Had she been trying to shove him down especially? Trapping him and genuinely making him feel like his life was at risk, even for a heartbeat of a moment? Yet those moments had dragged out and out and out, his guts churning, grumbling as his body tried to respond in any way it could.

The relief… Oh, it was beautiful, though he wanted to lean into her foot, of his own free will, just to have the comfort of it. He knew the pain that her foot could deliver to him, his head aching terribly still, but he wanted it too. It was a toxic relationship, the kind of relationship that he wanted and hated at the same time. He could long for the pain while his body burned for relief and respite, torn between two deliciously furtive opposing courses of action.

“Unff…"

He groaned, Mistress Dana stepping out again, her rolling gait not even a relief to him anymore. The press of her foot sealed brutally over him, his penis squashing down a little more between his thighs, as if it was seeking solace from the driving pressure, pummelling, pounding.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Again and again and again. It came, one step after the other, down and up, down and up. Of course, it was the “down" that was the most important part for him, that point at which the pressure shot up sharply, pain escalating, throbbing and swirling through his body. She must have been going easy on him before that, for her foot twisted and ground forcibly over him, the ball of her foot doing the most work as she stepped onto him.

“Nnnfff…"

Somehow, he must have taken a breath of air, for there had been some in his lungs to puff out. He groaned, head swimming.

“Please… Need… Break… Break… Please…"

He tried. He really tried. But it was hard to find the words as his stomach finally took a leap, flipping over itself. It was too much, her foot rolling lightly from left to right with every step, grinding down over his head and shoulders. His back screamed with pain and he tried to fight it, fighting the urge to arch up, to push away from the point of the worst pain. There was no way to twist away from it and he could not stop the natural reactions of his body, how he tried to force his way back to some semblance of peace.

He had gone too far. Oh, hell!

Continued in part three of four.