“How can you take a girl your girlfriend’s size standing on you?!,” the devil girl said, looking down at me, hands on her hips, and referring to the Nazi girl. I couldn’t believe she was just talking to me like there was nothing going on when I wanted to ask her to call an ambulance! I tried to inflate my lungs and control my voice to keep it from cracking, though I wanted to roll around in pain and thank her for saving me. “Oh, the costume’s…reinforced…I don’t feel…any weight at all.” I had to catch my breath between every few words.
“Told ya,” her boyfriend said. “I knew it! No one could take that.”
“God, that’s wild! It looks like all you’re wearing is a thin little doormat!”, she replied.
“Oh, god, no,” I said, making an effort. “But thanks…it took me hours to…hide all the bracing under my shirt.” I thought how surreal it was that I’m laying on the floor of a stadium looking up at a stunningly beautiful girl in a leather devil outfit carrying on a conversation as she towers over me, getting up the courage to step on me…
“Oh…THAT’s how you did it! That’s so cool! I was worried about my boots on you! She hestitated, then just went for it. Ready?” she asked.
“Always,” I replied, looking at her cruel boots.
If the Nazi woman had on needle heels, they must have been made by the same fetish company as devil-girl’s. And these were metal! As if she read my mind, when she put her hard soled boot on my chest, she said, “I think my heels are gonna go right through that doormat!”
“You couldn’t puncture the doormat if you tried!” I egged her on.
“Ewe…a challenge!” she laughed, terrifying me.
Devil girl stepped right up on my stomach now, her athletic weight crushing the air out of me, and yelled down, “You okay?” She was a fantasy dream! “Can’t feel a thing!” I replied, aching. “Can’t feel this?” devil girl asked. She bounced up and down a little, then gave me a light little stomp with her boot. “No, really…I can’t even tell you’re up there!” “Oh, this is gonna be fun!” she said. “Can’t feel THIS?!” she yelled. She raised her boot until her knee was pointing straight at the sky, held it there, giving me a chance to stop her, and, as I prepared myself in terror, she drove it down in the cruelest, most vicious horrible stomp I’d ever felt -- straight into my stomach, laughing! I thought I’d die. There was this blinding flash of light and I lost my bearings for a moment, as my head bounced off the floor. I couldn’t believe the power of her stomping on me. I’d honestly never felt anything like it! It almost wasn’t human! I started sweating all over from the pain. I really hadn’t expected anything like that to happen. And talking…talking was just a far off dream now, as I tried desperately to breath again.
“Wow! I guess you really can’t feel anything!” She must have thoroughly believed I couldn’t feel anything because no way would anyone do that to another person! I managed to smile, but still couldn’t talk, and it was dim enough she probably didn’t see my reaction.
Now, she started dancing, looking at her boyfriend, her arms wrapped lazily around his neck, thoroughly convinced she was dancing on a hard shell of some kind (though I really don’t know how; at least on my stomach, she was sinking right in). She was stomping so hard, as she danced! The hundreds of impacts of her boots were raining down on me – thundering through my torso. Each stomp was a loud thump in my chest that seemed to bounce all over my insides over and over again.
Again, ignoring me completely, she was telling her boyfriend this was great and she was as tall as he was. Her perfect muscular legs were a vision as she towered over me; her sexy outfit torturing me. The hard stomping soles of her boots hurt like hell! She danced on me and drank for a few minutes, then she looked down at me and talked to me some more, asking how I thought up the costume, and if I’d ever been stepped on for real. I just smiled up at her and once moved my mouth like I was talking but she just couldn’t hear me over the music. I just needed to be visually convincing. Then she asked, “So…can I try?” I could only grunt, wondering what she meant. But then, she just rocked back onto her heels, and, as her and her boyfriend looked down and concentrated, watching the mat (and didn’t even look at my face), she lifted her left boot above my face, holding it there, putting her entire weight on the needle sharp point of the other metal spike, and began to twist it back and forth, grinding it into me, gritting her teeth as she stared at her heel.
It hurt horribly and I couldn’t believe this was happening to me! Then I sort of felt a little crack in the fiber of the mat, and instantly her heel penetrated the welcome mat and the needle heel drove mercilessly directly into my chest, her full weight still on the single spike heel, disappearing into the mat completely. I can’t believe she didn’t hear me cry out because I felt like half the stadium heard it! My whole body started shivering and I was clenching my fists just to endure the ripping pain of her spike heel.
“See?” devil-girl said. “Told you I could puncture it! These heels are sharp, man!” Then, to me, “I hope your bracing works! ‘Cuz, you’re fucked if it doesn’t!” I just smiled, trying to outwardly control the pain as I felt my skin tearing under my shirt!
Then, she did the same with the other heel. When her second heel punctured the mat and crushed in between two ribs, I thought I’d go out of my mind! She was laughing with her boyfriend while she tortured me under her spike-heeled boots with no restraint. Now, she was dancing mostly on the heels, but still stomping, trying to puncture the mat with them while she danced! And she was enjoying the attention of the crowd, as they gathered around to watch this absolutely hot woman dance provocatively on a man’s chest.
After another couple minutes, she asked if I wanted her to get off. “You must be getting bored!” she yelled down to me. I was a lot of things, but ‘bored’ wasn’t one of them! “He’s not bored! He’s enjoying the view!” her boyfriend said, referring to my being able to look up her short skirt. “Is that true?” she asked me, looking down from so far above. I tried to shrug my shoulders because I sure couldn’t talk. “Okay,” she laughed, “you enjoy the view!” ‘Think I betta dance now’!” She went back to dancing freely on me. She was twisting cruelly with her boots. Then, she stomped and shifted her weight, as I suffered. She didn’t care a bit! She was talking to her boyfriend about the after-hours party, seemingly forgetting I was beneath her, though I was feeling every single step in those red boots and watching her muscular legs reverberate above me! Occasionally, she would step through one of the holes she’d made and into my flesh again, her heel disappearing into the mat. When this happened, she’d continue to dance and the mat would move up and down, stuck to the shaft of her heel! So, her heel would crush into my chest over and over, penetrating me and she never knew. I was feeling what I would have felt if I’d bought a mat with holes in it. I thanked god I hadn’t…I never could have endured that and she would have seen the blood by now. I could feel I was bleeding a little, my black t-shirt becoming moist. I was gritting my teeth, suffering under this devil goddess, and they were talking nonchalantly about the next party! It was like a fantasy ‘hell’!
After an eternity, she stood still for a couple of minutes, finishing her drink, asked me if I wanted her to get off (I just looked at her and shook my head and she laughed). I had a little chance to recover. Then, she finally stepped off, saying “Thanks! That was wild! That was the highlight of the party for me!” Her boyfriend said, “Yeah, thanks dude! Do you want some help up?” I knew I couldn’t stand – but I was sortof able to talk by then – so, I just made a dismissive motion with my hand and said, haltingly, “I’m good.” Then, I had an afterthought…
“I wonder what it would feel like if I COULD feel it?” I said up to her.
“With these boots?! You wouldn’t even be alive right now! I weigh 130!” (I will never forget her absolutely electric sexy smile)!
“Tell ya what, step on my hand with your heel…see if I can take it!”
Oh, yes! She didn’t even hesitate! She put her metal stiletto heel on my hand and asked, “How much of my weight?”
“All of it!” I replied.
Devil-girl replied, “Remember you asked for it!” and just stepped on my hand with her full weight on her metal spike.
Now, I was free to scream! And, luckily, because I could never have endured the pain if I hadn’t! She smiled at my pain as I yelled through gritted teeth, trying to keep it down, but she didn’t get off right away.
“Had enough?” she asked.
“Okay, yes…yes, that’s good,” I moaned.
“You sure?” She kept her weight on the heel.
“Yes…please!”
“Ewe, he’s begging!” she laughed. Still, she didn’t step off.
Then her boyfriend said, “Okay, okay, you’ve done enough damage…” and she relented, picking up her heel, but stepping on my hand with the sole of her boot, then twisting it as she stepped off.
“Oh, so sorry!” she laughed playfully. Without any concern for what she’d just done, she said, “Seriously, thanks! Maybe I can dance on you more at ‘after-hours.’” I tried to laugh off the pain and said it was my pleasure. “Sorry dude! She’s crazy sometimes! Where’s your girlfriend?” her boyfriend asked.
“Oh, she’s around,” I said.
The couple walked off, and I felt under my mat the six or seven very deep heel marks she’d left in me. One is honestly like a serious hole, and not just a deep impression. I wondered if she’d find any blood on her heels later. I hurt like hell everywhere and decided I would need to do some serious drinking to endure and continue. Which, of course, I did.
In another half hour, I was somewhat recovered, but very sore. I took a break to go to the Men’s room and look at the twelve to fifteen really wicked, deep and bloody heel marks devil-girl had left in my chest. I had thought there were only about half that many until I got a look at my chest! Two were so deep, trickles of blood were oozing from them down my front. I couldn’t believe how much it hurt to touch them! But I was totally pumped about the rest of the night!
I was now more than buzzed enough to ask directly if someone would take my picture while standing on me and I wanted to go for multi-trample, which I have never experienced. There was a group of girls in a Little Bo Peep theme, with spike heels and white socks, and a guy with them dressed as a sheep (women after my own heart!) and, after I’d recovered a bit more, I just walked up and told them I’d like to get a picture with the four of them standing on the welcome mat. My camera wasn’t really working (separate story that could only happen to me), but I handed it to one of the guys with them anyway, as they happily obliged.
For them, all of them stepping on me was an exercise only in balance. No one considered their total weight (about 500 pounds), and no one asked if I could feel the crush. They just stepped on me for a picture. For anyone who’s never tried it, there needs to be a big caution here. The total weight of a group of girls on you is more overwhelming than you can possibly imagine! When the first girl stepped up, she was not too heavy, but her heels were like dull stakes through the mat. The weight of the second girl changed everything! My ribs crushed beneath them and I couldn’t breath well at all. When the third girl got up only a second later, I thought, “Oh god! I’m in real trouble! My ability to breathe stopped completely and I felt completely squashed into the floor. The fourth girl stepped squarely on my groin in her heels and the total weight was debilitating! My mouth hung open, as I stared up at an entire crowd of women in heels, all standing on me, ignoring me as they smiled and jostled for the camera! The other thing that was killing me was the constant shifting of all those heels around! The exquisite pain of eight different spikes constantly digging into different places on me, and my inability to control or even respond to all the new pain. Again, as before, the girls seemed oblivious to what they were doing to me! Not one looked down, except to reposition herself. And, almost totally divorced from the pain, was the overwhelming crushing force!
The minute or so it took to “take the picture” seemed like an eternity! One girl’s clear spike heel was stepping heavily on me right in front of my eyes! She was huge from my vantage point, and she was constantly shifting her weight, picking up and putting down her sharp spike, over and over as she leaned to one side or the other. Finally, the guy snapped the picture and they all stepped off me with no more rigmarole than if they’d posed on some steps, never giving me a second thought! One of the guys helped me up and handed me my camera. “Thanks,” I said. “No problem. Is it going to be in the magazine?” (still don’t know what he meant). “Yeah, absolutely,” I replied.
I was recovering, watching the band, when, as had happened all night, a beautiful girl, about five seven, wearing white high block elevator boots and a dress MADE ENTIRELY OUT OF WHITE ROPES (I think every woman in the free world should have one), said, “You’re a doormat?” “That’s me!” I replied. “So…if I needed to wipe my boots, I could stand on you?” Instantly I laid at her feet. She put her boot on me, then hesitated, so I reached up for her hand. She took it and stepped heavily on my stomach, then walked over me, grinning from ear to ear. Short but sweet! Then, she said, “Thank you! You’re such a good sport!” “My pleasure,” I replied.
After a while, as the room was thinning out, I found another smaller room, still filled with a couple hundred people, dancing to a DJ. I was walking around checking out the women, when the lights came up. The Ball was over. I should have been major depressed, but I was honestly really sore all over. I got in line to go out through the door, and just before I passed through it, I heard a girl’s voice behind me say, “Lie down, Matt!” She had to say it again before I realized she was talking to me! Without turning, I just dropped on my stomach in the doorway to let her walk over me. But she didn’t just walk over me! She stepped on my back in her heels and started bouncing and dancing! Heaven on Earth! She danced for a good minute, before her boyfriend told her there was a line forming behind her and she walked over me and out the door.
I got up and caught up with her, a tall brunette in a blue dress with sky blue, sharp three-inch heels. I sat down in front of her and said, “Give me a heel mark to remember you by!” (hey, we were drunk and I was desperate!) She looked at my hand and said, “You already have one!” seeing the wicked red heel mark devil-girl had given me. “I want a much deeper one!” I said. “You want pain? I give you pain!” she exclaimed matter-o-factly, and stepped on the center of my hand with her heel and walked over it and down the hall, looking back and laughing at the expression on my face! I was lovin’ life!
I thought the night was over, but found out I had a ways to go! Outside, leaning against a wall and talking to two guys were two of the hottest girls I’d seen! One had slipped off her shoes and was barefoot, the other had on boots. The guys were telling them they were from “L.A Magazine” and wanted some promotional shots of the girls in sexy poses (yeah, right). But, I walked up and blatantly said, as if I was part of their camera crew, “Yeah, we need to do a Mat Shot!” I laid down in front of them. One girl asked, “Are you really from a magazine?” And the guy, seeing his chance, said, “Of course! That’s why we dressed our buddy here in this promotional costume! We need to do a…a…”, “Mat shot!” I finished for him. “Yeah, a mat shot!”
The two girls shrugged, and one of them stepped on me in her heavy biker boots. “Put your foot on my face and act really cruel for the camera,” I said. (It’s amazing what you’ll say when you’re really drunk…but not half as amazing as what a girl will do). The girl placed her boot (and not a little of her weight) on my face, while she talked to the guy about his magazine. There was a cigarette stuck to her shoe bottom, which totally turned me on! She just stood on me for several minutes, until she finally remembered I was under her boots, and actually said, “Oh, I forgot about you!” and stepped off. Shouldn’t we be able to PURCHASE very drunk girls somewhere?!
I followed the two guys to two other girls, both absolute stunners, standing around the corner of the building in the parking lot. They were very drunk also. They were both very tall and wearing platform spike heels and vampire outfits, and me and the guys pulled the same routine in our newly discovered synergistic relationship. It turned out both were Las Vegas showgirls who lived a pretty wild partying life and had few reservations. This time worked even better, now that we were “rehearsed” and BOTH girls stepped on me in their spike heels for pictures! One girl kept asking, “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt? I, like, weigh 132!” “No, you’re fine,” I struggled to say. As before, the heels were killer when the girls got to talking to the guys, stepping all over me at random, ripping into me, grinding and crushing the air out of me painfully. And, as before, the guys kept them talking for the longest time (almost twenty minutes, this time) before they realized (or cared) they were still standing on me, digging their heels into me under their combined weight. At one point, the taller of the two girls (but she was lean and a bit lighter than her curvier friend), Katya put her heel directly on my chest just below my throat -- off the edge of the mat -- and stood on it, her bare foot in her heel only inches from my face, as she drilled the spike directly into my flesh without knowing it under her 125 pounds! As the conversation wound down, her friend finally stepped off me and drifted off with the two guys, talking about getting her in a magazine. Katya watched them walk away, and finally looked down at me and said, “Awww…do I have to get off now?”
“You’re so breathtaking, you can stay there as long as you like, if I can just look at you!” I replied.
She smiled, then considered a minute. “Are you tensing your stomach up to hold me?” she asked. (She was standing squarely on my stomach). I told her the truth, that I was, but I was okay. “No,” she said, “I mean…will you relax it so I sink into you? I really want to feel you squish beneath me! I’ve always wanted to squish someone!”
Oh my god! I had to marry this girl! I relaxed my stomach completely, and, sure enough, she sunk way deep into me as the air rushed out. She got this really big smile on her face, and asked, “Can I bounce?” The guys had wandered away with her friend, and Katya and I were having our own private moment. This was gonna be it for the night and I was going to go for the gold!
“Katya, the truth is, I love this! I want you to make holes in me with your heels! This is probably never going to happen to me again, so just move the mat, and just stomp the living shit out of me!”
“For real?!” she said, smiling even more, giving me encouragement.
“Yeah, for real! And don’t only do it to my stomach! Do it – Do it -- everywhere!” She looked down at me, a sly look on her face. “EVERY-where?!” she asked, her eyebrows raised. Oh my god! I thought again.
I locked eyes with her. “EVERYWHERE!”
Katya didn’t need any more encouragement. She caught the edge of the mat under her heel and just swept it aside, flopping it away, then stepped directly on my stomach with those killer heels. And Katya went to town! She started bouncing and stomping and jumping so hard, I thought the heels would make their marks in my BACK! She twisted and ground them into me and didn’t even pause when I groaned or yelped. “Having fun?!” she asked. “’Cuz I sure am!” At first, I tried to control the pain and grunting, but it got tougher and tougher and I let out a couple of really big “Ooof”’s right in a row. Katya didn’t even slow down. So, I just let it all out, groaning and moaning and grunting and letting her know what she was doing to me. And she seemed to at least not care…maybe even like it!
She spent about three full minutes absolutely destroying the flesh on my chest and stomach! I was sure she would break a rib! Then, she moved down to my groin and just trashed it, stepping full weight all over it with her heels. “I’m thinking of all my ex-boyfriends!” she yelled down to me, as she, over and over, squashed my manhood with her hard platform soles and her high heels.
I just couldn’t believe this was happening and I concentrated on enduring her brutality. At one point, I grabbed her ankle to soften her impacts, but she didn’t even slow down. She just let me hold her ankles while she stepped all over me! When I put my hand under her heel, she just stepped on it like it wasn’t there, giving me my third heel mark in my hand in one night! I was going to get Katya’s number, I was going to move to Las Vegas and I was going to settle down with her to be her personal pincushion for life…that was all there was to it!
Suddenly, her friend came running over absolutely horrified – I mean BESIDE HERSELF. “OH MY GOD!!! What are you doing to him?!! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! She’s really drunk!” she said to me. “Are you all right? Oh my god!!!” She grabbed Katya and yanked her off of me and Katya threw her head back and laughed as loud as she could. “I’m getting back at all my boyfriends!” she said, stumbling into her friend.
Her friend just kept saying, “Oh my god! You were killing him!” I wanted so much to get Katya’s number, but her friend led her away and into a waiting limousine, horrified at what she’d done to me. “Do you know what you did?!” she said to her incredulous.
“He wanted me to,” I heard Katya say as she was led away. “Oh, right…he wanted you to stomp him to death!” her friend replied.
“He did! I swear! He told me to make holes in him!”
“Honestly, Katya…” I heard her friend say as they got into the Limo. She gave me a last apologetic, horrified look. Katya was still laughing, swearing I told her to do it and it was fun.
One of the guys came over, took one look at me and said, “Shit dude…she really fucked you up!” I looked up, my whole body reeling in pain, and asked, “So, are you really with a magazine?”
“Are you kiddin’? We thought that up half and hour ago…but it worked great! Well…maybe not so much for you!” I smiled. He asked if I wanted a hand up. “No, I said, I’m just gonna lay here a little while.” And that’s what I did. I laid there in the almost empty back parking lot…and dreamed.
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