Two doormats? $13.00
Duct tape? $3.00
Being happily trampled by fifteen different goddesses, all dressed in fetish gear and boots or high heels? Priceless!
This past Saturday I attended the Halloween Fetish and Fantasy Ball in Las Vegas, dressed as a human doormat. I used black duct tape to tape the ends of two thinner type doormats together, leaving a space for my head and shoulders. Then I hung them over my head, the duct “straps” hanging on my shoulders, like the old sign carriers, one doormat in front, one hanging down in back. Both mats had “Welcome” on them, so there was little doubt what they were.
I had several tequila shots to lower my inhibitions –this is absolutely essential – then the fun began. Two women, both heavier, and in their thirties (not much to look at, but both wearing spike heeled boots) and tight leather fetish gear, and very buzzed, walked up to me in the lobby and asked what I was. “I’m a doormat, of course…but you can call me Matt,” I said, laughing. “Oh, that is so perfect!” one woman exclaimed. “Let me take your picture.” She got her camera up and was about to snap right there, but I said, “Okay, let’s move off to the side.” I walked out of the traffic lanes and laid down without a word. The woman burst out laughing and said, “Oh my God, you want me to stand on you?!”
“ I thought you wanted a picture standing on the doormat?” I said, smiling, looking up at them.
“Oh, no, I just meant…”
“Oh, go ahead,” said her friend.
“I’d kill him! I weigh 160 and I’ve got these boots on!” she said, giving me a good look at her sharp heels. (There were several recurring themes all night long; the first was the woman’s desire to tell me exactly how much she weighed before she stepped on me with that weight. I think it may be reassuring to them to think if they’re light enough that they won’t hurt you by standing on you, they’re doing okay on weight control…THEN there are the opposite women, who know they’re totally hot, don’t worry about their weight and just want to hurt you!).
“Oh, I’ve got a rigid protector under my shirt,” I lied, taking a cue from a fiction story I wrote for the board a few weeks ago. “I don’t feel a thing. That’s why I made it that way.” (another line that changed everything for a lot of women).
“Oh, I didn’t know you wouldn’t feel it,” she said. “Okay, here I go!”
She placed her boot on my chest, took her friend’s arm to steady herself, and stepped on me with her full weight!
Her heels drove so deep into my chest, I thought I’d die! She was standing on my ribcage and my ribs collapsed beneath her. The mat was deformed beneath her heels and offered almost no protection. I had considered using rubber restaurant mats that have numerous holes in them to allow me to feel the spikes in my flesh directly, but got a little worried about the marks and a woman who was heavy set killing me with her heels. Now, I thanked my lucky stars I had gotten regular (albeit thin) mats.
“She looked down at me and said, doubtfully, “You’re not feeling this?”
I used all my remaining breath trying to keep my voice even, as I replied. “Not a thing!”
“’Cause it feels like my heels are sinking right into you a couple of inches!” I just smiled, not having enough breath to reply and the pain being so great that, if I did, I knew she would hop right off.
Thank god for women and cameras! Now her friend started fiddling with the camera, not knowing how to set it and whether she should use the flash or not. Now satisfied that she was not hurting me, the woman on my chest ignored me completely as she talked to her friend about the camera. "It's the silver button! No, the big silver one! Yeah, press that! You need to turn the flash on. No, the little green one…" she shifted her weight unconsciously from one heel to the other, grinding me beneath her and deforming the mat. People walked by with amused smiles, looking at me and laughing. "Want me to help you?” She asked her friend. " No I’m okay, I'll get it," Her friend said, in no particular hurry.
Finally, her friend was ready and snapped the picture. I don't know if the tears forming at the edges of my eyes will show up! The woman stepped off me still laughing and said “Thanks! That was a lot of fun. “Anytime!” I replied.
Already, my ribs felt as if they have been broken! They walked off without even looking back as I slowly got up groaning. They were laughing to themselves. It amazed me, how many people walked by and absolutely ignored me, laying there being stepped on. It was gonna be a good night!
I next made my way into the venue. The party was held on the main floor of a darkened sports arena. I felt a little like a gladiator in a coliseum full of cruel women! We’re talking maybe 6000 people, all in fetish garb, walking around. A band on the main stage, which also hosted burlesque acts. A separate stage with “fire dancers,” and a center stage on which volunteers were being lightly whipped, spanked and caged. The action here got much more intense as the evening wore on. And vendors upstairs, selling every manner of fetish clothing. Every single woman had on spikes or big black boots!
Things were really slow for a while, and I was beginning to doubt this was going to really work. But, as the crowd got drunker, I heard more and more women walk by exclaiming, “Hey, he’s a doormat!” and excited and amused tones.
It was almost a full hour later, when I was standing in the crowd drinking and I heard a woman behind me laugh, “Hey, a human doormat!” I turned around to two gorgeous friendly women just having a good time. Both wearing short short skirts and heels. I made small talk with them, then told them, “I’ve had about 20 women who took pictures standing on the doormat!” (make it impersonal…they weren’t standing on ME…they were just standing on the DOORMAT).
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to stand on you,” the short-haired cute one said, “I’d just want to use you for back rubs, and giving me baths and things like that!”
I laughed, not being drunk enough to push the issue yet. Luckily they were. After a couple of minutes, I had turned back around to watch the show, when one of the women, out of the blue said, “Hey, doormat! I’ve changed my mind…Lay down!”
I immediately fell to the ground on my back, “accidentally” putting my fingers under her friend’s heels as I laid down. Her friend stepped brutally on my third finger with her heel and stood on it for about thirty seconds before she moved it. She never knew. And it hurt like hell! The first girl took my hand to steady herself and immediately stepped up on my chest. She wasn’t too heavy, but she started dancing and bouncing, throwing her weight around. It was a total rush to see her literally dancing all over my chest, having the time of her life, while I lay beneath her.
She hopped off and her friend had that glint in her eye. (Another theme was that women everywhere get ‘that glint’ in their eyes when they see another woman trampling you. The only thing that stops them from asking themselves is their inhibition…that’s what alcohol is for!). I said, “Your turn….go ahead, step right up!” Her friend asked, “Are you sure?” I laughed and said it’s no big deal. Then she stepped up and did the same, thanking me profusely after she was done. Thanking ME profusely?!
I took a break to get nice and drunk after that, and when another girl asked, “Are you a doormat?” I just laid down in front of her. This girl put her boot on me, but wouldn’t step down, so she straddled me and danced over me, then she sat down full weight on my chest, with her back to me, while her girlfriend did the same to my legs. She bounced hard on my chest, such that I thought my ribs would crack! She was obviously drunk and had no inhibitions at all!
The trampling flood gates opened after that, as the crowd got drunker. I had just gotten up from the floor, when I saw this big goddess, at least six feet tall, with big bare legs, and with a very heavy-set frame, dressed in a white button down uniform shirt, and short black skirt, with a Nazi-like cap on, and carrying a riding crop. She had short-cropped black hair and was standing alone at the side of the floor, leaning against a railing. She was wearing really severe makeup and really high sharp fetish heels, not platforms, and stood about 6’5” in her heels. Her large heavy frame weighed in at about one ninety, I thought, but she was only about twenty two, so she looked heavy, but GOOD…and very cruel! She wasn’t just here having a good time. By her expression, she did this stuff for real! At the time, our eyes just locked and I smiled at her, but she just stared at me -- not looking away, and not smiling back.
I had turned away from her, a little uncomfortable, and was watching the fire dancers, when there was a heavy tap on my shoulders. I turned again and saw I was staring directly into the huge breasts of ‘Nazi-girl’ only inches in front of me – well into my personal space deliberately. She looked down at me, a serious expression on her face.
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