by Tony
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That's how I like to see them. On the floor. Trapped. Naked. Scared. Wondering what I'm going to do to them next. Squirming for leverage and escape from underneath my big boot or bare foot or stinkin' sock. Their eyes tell the whole story. The look that says to me - you own me. I'll do what you ask, just don't hurt me. The quivering limbs, the bruised arms or thighs. The boot tread marks on their back, face or chest. The sock tied around their mouths so they can't speak or beg or plead. I enjoy watching them act tough and then breaking them down.
Like the one I had last night.
His heart sank when I stepped down on his dick and it hurt him. Badly. He wanted the sensation - I merely do what they want. What they crave. What the need. The one I have now is a young one. 20? 21? His hands are tied behind his back. My sock is stuffed in his mouth and his cock is as hard as a piece of newly forged steel. Just like he wants it to be. I stood on his chest with both boots for almost 10 minutes and listened to his whimpering but I could tell his strength was fading.
I took the hot boots off and made him sniff the inside of each one. His facial expressions told me he liked it. He was forced to sniff the warm rank socks next. First on my feet - then with them off. They are gray and wet with sweat. I took the smellier of the two to tie his mouth. I wanted his gasps for air to be obtained only through the breathing of my foot stink. I planted a foot firmly and squarely on his face. His nose crushed helplessly beneath my arch, my toes balanced snuggly against his forehead and my heel resting comfortably against his sagging chin. I liked watching him writhe and struggle. I liked watching him strain and flounder.
He enjoyed it. I enjoyed it.
I pressed harder against his face. I made him grunt. I made him squeal. I made him feel the power I had over him. I slide my foot slowly down his face and force my toes into his mouth. I remove the sock I placed there earlier. I pull it out with my toes and drop it on his heaving chest. I cram my smelly toes (at least 4 of them anyway) into his filthy mouth. He sucks them. I force them farther down. I like it! I pull a chair over and sit down next to him. He is fully on his back now. I press both sweaty feet into his face. I push hard. Harder. He groans so I push harder still. I remove both feet quickly and see the red footprints left behind on his strained face.
I demand that he lick my feet. He does. I stand once more. The chair overturns and smacks on the hard wood floor. I stand over him and spit on his body. I grind my foot into his chest. I stomp him. He likes it, but it hurts. I like it too and I stomp him again. I stand on his chest and look down at him. I move my right foot to his throat and apply pressure. One foot on his chest and one covering his vulnerable throat. He looks helpless and hurt. I step on his rigid cock. I crush it. He moans and I know he feels real pain. I step on his cock again.
I bend down and slap his face. He likes the pain. I like to inflict it on him.
I stick my foot under his rib cage and flip him over onto his belly like a hooked fish. I stand on his back. I walk on his body. I step on his head. On his neck. On his ass and legs. I trample him. His hands - still tied - struggle for freedom. I step on the back of his head again - I grind his face against the cold wood floor. I hear his tears. I know I should stop. I'm close to going to far. I've broken bones before. I've heard the brittle snap of fingers and wrists and ankles beneath my feet. I step off of him and walk to his side. I again fit my foot beneath his ribs and lift up. He rolls over onto his back and stares at me with awe and fear and respect, tears rolling down his face. Yes - he knows. He knows who is master is.
I plant a foot on his stomach and cross my arms across my knee and stare down at him. The pressure on his stomach isn't much but I know he aches. I smile. I wink at him. I remove my foot from his bruised and sorely throbbing stomach and grab my socks and then put them on. I pull on the boots and stand. I remove the leather strap that earlier had bound his fragile wrists. I make him kiss my boot one last time before I walk out the door. I can't be late.
Another victim to see in less than an hour.
