“Hi,” I said. She didn’t say ‘hi.’ She just looked down at me square in the eyes, reached up and fingered the thin texture of the welcome mat, looked down at her heels, taking my eyes with hers, brought my eyes back up and said, “One chance. Yes…or no?” My mouth hung open, not knowing what to say, but knowing there would be no discussion. I hesitated. Up to now, the tramplings had all been in the spirit of fun. I could easily pass them off that way to the crowd as they walked by. But this would be different. She wouldn’t be laughing as she stood on me and that would make it obvious to the crowd that I was truly her doormat – there was a humiliating aspect to it.
Also, she would be, by far, the heaviest woman I’d ever had trample me…and in HEELS. I didn’t know what it would be like, but I knew I wouldn’t say ‘no.’ I was thinking of all the lies I’d had to tell other women about this just being a fun costume, or not feeling pain through the mat just to get them to trample me. All the lies she would have instantly seen through – because she KNEW. Because it was obvious she wanted to give pain as much as I wanted to receive it. Actually, as it turned out, she wanted to give pain even more than I wanted to receive it! I just whispered tentatively, “Yes.”
This girl held lightly onto the edge of the welcome mat, as she led me to the side where she had been standing. Her heels slammed heavily into the floor, as she swayed her ass when she walked. She was mesmerizing. At the edge of the floor, by a railing, she turned toward me and raised her eyebrows like ‘well?’. Without a word, I laid down. She towered above me, looking down at me. Then, also without a word, she placed her heavy leg on my chest and gave me a moment to appreciate how needle sharp her heels were and how big she was. And she was big and her heels WERE like needles! Then (and I think I gulped) she very slowly stepped up on my prone body, one stiletto heel on the center of my breastbone, and the other, squarely on my crotch. She seemed to know she had to give me a chance to deal with the weight.
Oh my god did it hurt! She was so unflaggingly heavy and her heels so sharp, I couldn’t contain my groans. I started groaning almost immediately and couldn’t stop. I was also coughing, trying to get my breath! My rib cage depressed and bent almost into my back! Nazi-girl didn’t even look down. She wasn’t even curious about how much pain she was causing – she didn’t even check on me when I coughed. I mean, not once! She’d done this to a man before – maybe lots of times! She just went back to drinking her drink, staring at the crowd, while standing on me with her enormous frame, crushing me completely under her high fashion fetish heels! People were walking by looking amused, some shaking their heads, having no idea the extreme pain I was in, and thinking we must have come together – that I must belong to her – since she was ignoring me like she would stand here all night. It’s rather frightening not knowing the woman and believing she’s not playing a game…that she really enjoys being this cruel; especially, since she’s completely ignoring you. After a while, I could even see her lips moving absent-mindedly, singing with the band. I realized…she REALLY HAD forgotten about me, or really did consider me of absolutely no consequence. Or the pain she was giving me.
I endured her standing on me for a good seven or eight minutes, her never looking down once; NOT ONCE! But I was now groaning audibly and my face showing the pain, as I swung it back and forth, trying to endure it. People were now walking by going, “Shit! Look at that guy! Geez…she’s really giving it to him!” One guy said to her, “Hey, you better check your doormat – he’s getting worn out!” She looked at him, expressionless, then back at the band. Not once at me.
Finally, I couldn’t take it any more. I coughed weakly, “Hey, um, my chest is really starting to hurt a bit.” She ignored me. “Um, I’m not kidding…I’m in some pain here. You’re really heavy.” She waited a moment, then, almost grudgingly, looked down, evaluated my facial expression, then shifted all her massive weight off my chest and directly onto the spike heel on my groin! When I let out a huge, “OOFF!” and started coughing continuously at the onslaught of her concentrated weight on my manhood, she smiled slightly, and said, seriously, “Be careful what you wish for…”, then went back to watching the crowd. I was in love with this girl! I’ve met very few true dominatrixes in my life, but she truly enjoyed this. Her heel was pressing almost through my groin, and I was gritting my teeth, trying to endure the pain for her. I had no idea when she would release me. She would shift her weight back to my chest, rocking back on her heels, occasionally repositioning them, but showed no sign of getting off anytime soon. I was coughing constantly now, and suffering greatly, but still she showed no sign of stepping off me, or of even caring. I had this picture of the party ending and the janitor finding me hours from now, dead with strange holes in me, and her doing her bills at home without the slightest care at what she’d done to me!
I was getting seriously worried. I couldn’t roll over, I couldn’t move her, and the one time I tried to grab her ankle when she shifter her weight really hard, she had picked up her foot in a practiced motion and tried to step on my hand with her heel. Like she’d done that before, too. I thought, if she stepped on my hand, she might just stand on it all night, too. And that would be far more than I could take. I yanked my hand away, just before she smashed it under her heel. I was coughing and groaning and thinking of calling for help…as humiliating as that would be; but, I didn’t think even that would work. The music was too loud to hear me, and she’d just tell any passerby to mind their own business, that I begged all the time. Maybe not, but I could see it happening.
Then, the wildest thing happened. This absolutely stunning, really athletic twenty-something, with muscular legs like she lived in a gym, wearing red metal spike heeled boots with all manner of silver buckles, walked up to the woman standing on me. She had an absolutely perfect athletic body! Her boots were right by my head. I could have licked them, but thought better of it. The girl was dwarfed by the height of Nazi-girl, standing on me and had to look way up at her. She was wearing a tight leather red devil fetish outfit, complete with tail and had beautiful tussled blond hair. She had a really tall boyfriend with her about 6’5”, and she probably stood about 5’11” in her boots. She said, kind of sheepishly (and drunkenly), “Okay. Okay…um…my boyfriend wanted me to ask…we were wondering…is there any way I could use your, um, doormat…so I could dance face to face with my boyfriend for the first time in my life? So I could be taller? I mean…would he do that?” “O my god,” I thought as Nazi-girl shifted her unbelievable weight again, causing me to groan. “If you don’t want to,” said the devil-girl, “it’s okay. We just thought…cause we saw other women standing on him…”
The nazi woman looked down at me, my teeth chattering now from the pain, and shrugged her shoulders. “Sure,” she said simply. And she stepped off me, holding her massive shoe over my face a moment too long, as if she might step directly on it. She thought better of it and stepped right beside my head, missing my ear by millimeters, and walked into the crowd. My ribs ached so much, I really need a break…but there was no way I could have gotten up. “Oh, thank you so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!,” The girl said to me. “I can’t believe you’re gonna let me do this!”
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