Ste Letto
10-30-2003, 4:04 PM
It was early evening when the pair decided he'd licked their feet enough. Gemma and Natalie slid their now nicely cleaned and refreshed feet back into their boots. Gemma stepped up onto Mark's chest, planted her feet, bent her knees, and began bouncing on her toes. Mark's ribcage flexed and groaned with each downward pulse of her weight. Sharp pain flared in his already sensitised sternum. "Hrrrn, Hrrrn, Hrrrn, Hrrn," he said, in time with her bounces. Gemma had a big grin on her face. "Something wrong?" she asked wickedly. She paused in her bouncing, letting Mark draw a breath, then stamped her left foot down hard as he tried to speak. The sound of her boot sole hitting Mark's chest was like the sound of a heavyweight boxer's fist hitting his opponent. Mark coughed out all his air. "I said," Gemma continued, punctuating her speech with one stamp for every word, "is something wrong?" Mark's chest showed a bright red patch where her boot was slamming down.
She continued to stamp on his chest until she had done so 20 more times. Grinning, she squatted down on her haunches and grinned down at him. "If Margaret decides to let you live," she told him, "you'll be cleaning our feet plenty." Gemma stood slowly, looming like a giant overhead. After tossing her long blonde hair back, she balanced on her left foot and hovered the smooth sole of her right boot over Mark's helpless face. The heel of Gemma's left boot indented his weak chest, bending the straining ribcage in, creating a sharp pain. The bones, sinews and muscles were already bruised from the abuse Mark had been given, so this fresh pain magnified and spread to consume all of him. As Gemma, who was comfortable, relaxed and happy, showed Mark the smooth sole of her well worn boot, playfully waggling it left and right, Mark groaned. He was totally aware of his helplessness, and had become so despairing that death now seemed preferable to life.
Gemma stepped off him and Natalie stepped up. Natalie paused a few moments, seemingly thinking, then began a rapid series of stamps and twists of her sharp heels. She stepped and stamped on Mark's chest as if she were crushing invisible insects. Growing bored of this, Natalie took to leaping into the air, a few inches at first then slowly higher and higher until she was lifting a foot above his body. She made sure to plant both feet down hard when she landed. Mark was in a world of pain. He almost passed out. It was a blessed relief when she and Gemma left, chatting gaily and giggling at something he couldn't quite hear. They paused at the door and Gemma called back again, "Give our love to Margaret and Tiffany, they're planning a surprise for you!" After that the two girls walked away, still talking. He heard them say something about it being no more than he deserved. He could only guess that Margaret was planning more pain and humiliation.
He was left alone for just over an hour. It seemed strange to be alone again. His body seemed to float in the after effects of the pain he'd received. Slowly his mind cleared. He thought about his situation. He realised that while he couldn't stand the torment of being with these torturing women, he couldn't stand being alone either. Now he had a voice again, he decided he wanted to let Margaret and Tiffany know how sorry he was. He wanted them to know he realised how wrong he had been, that he understood why they hated him. He just hoped they would understand.
When Tiffany and Margaret came into the room Mark's heart leapt. "Finally", he thought, "I can tell them how sorry I am." Tiffany looked stunning, in a dark blue, fitted jacket, over a white silk blouse, a short, dark blue skirt, black tights and dark blue court shoes. Margaret looked equally attractive, in a cream coloured blouse, black pants and black, high heeled, boots with winkle picker toes. The boots had three decorative straps over the front part, looking like thin black belts with silver eyelets.
The two women came over to where Mark lay and sat down on chairs left by Gemma and Natalie. "Well Mark," Margaret began, "I hear you've regained your voice." Mark looked up at her, "Yes, yes I have," he said softly. "Dr Chambers will soon fix that," she said, smiling grimly, "you have no need for a voice. I have no need for you having a voice, so we'll just have to get rid of it!" Mark was stunned. "Tiffany and I want you to know something, and we want to do something to you." Mark's head was spinning.
Tiffany started, "Since you left," she said, smiling broadly, legs crossed, right shoe dangling from her bobbing foot, "things have improved for me." Mark felt an icy hand of fear around his heart. "I'm vice president of Dabstar Industries now. Isn't that nice!" Mark didn't know what to say or what to think. It seemed that the more time passed, the more he had taken away from him. His eyes flicked from Tiffany to Margaret and back again. Both had their legs crossed showing him the soles of their shoes.
"The world believes you're dead" Margaret told him. "We faked your death certificate and buried your arms and legs. I'm living with Allen now, remember him, the poolboy, he's very grateful, and attentive. He likes me to give him blowjobs. You used to love blow jobs didn't you, making me kneel down, making me swallow you. I hated that, but now Allen gets blowjobs morning noon and night. I like doing them for him." The image of Margaret blowing 21 yr old Allen made Mark sick with fear and envy.
"Why are you telling me this?" Mark asked tremulously. Margaret and Tiffany both smiled. "Isn't it obvious?" Tiffany asked slyly. "To upset you, to hurt you like you hurt us; that's why!" Mark was broken. His spirit surrendered in that moment and he became no more than a thing, an object; no longer a man in any sense of the word. Until then he had held on, to hope, to arrogance, but now, now those things were gone.
"To finish you, your destruction, we need to destroy your balls, to crush them to pulp and grind them to paste beneath our feet. That's what we're here to do!" Mark heard, and understood, but inside all he felt was resignation.
"No time like the present," Margaret announced airily, "No," Tiffany replied. Without another word, the two ladies stood, looking strangely solemn and serious. Wordlessly they walked around to the base of his platform. Mark gazed down to where they stood, two women, two women he had dominated and controlled, who were now dominating and controlling him. But they were doing more than that. Yes they were dominant and controlling, but they were destroying him as well. He watched as Tiffany stood to his left side and Margaret stood to his right. Each raised a shod foot and pressed the toe down on one testicle. Mark fought one last time to think or move, even to speak, but nothing came out.
Angling her toes down, her heel raised, Tiffany put pressure on Mark's left ballsack. With a smile at her friend for the wince of pain she saw on Mark's face Margaret put pressure on his right. The rounded toe of Tiffany's leather court neatly trapped his left bollock, stopping it from escaping. Margaret's winkle picker toe held his right bollock in place. The sole of Margaret's boot was so thin that she could feel his testicle below her foot, and actually grip it with her bent over toes.
A dull throbbing pain began to pulse in and around Mark's groin. Each woman began pressing her foot down, then letting up,pressing down, then letting up; over and over again. The pain in Mark's groin grew more and more intense. He felt sick and dizzy, as his whole body throbbed and resonated with the pain their feet was causing.
"I'm going to try something," Margaret told Tiffany. Tifany's eyebrows raised as she watched in fascination. Margaret lifted her foot from Mark's groin and squatted to one side of Mark's hips. Tiffany removed her foot and squatted on the other side. "I'm going to see if I can pop his ball with my hand." Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing. "If you utter one sound darling," she said menacingly, "I'll stamp it to pulp in an instant." Mark fought back the words he'd been about to say.
Margaret's cool, slender fingers slid under his testicle, then coiled around it. Mark shuddered inside. Margaret's thumb and fingers closed, compressing his trapped berry. Mark wanted to scream, to plead, at the very least to whimper. His eyes rolled in their sockets and his teeth clenched. His chest heaved. Margaret gripped a little more firmly. "Pop damn you," she said through gritted teeth. The ball distended and flatened out, sending seismic tremors of pain through Mark's form. Margaret began pulsing her grip, tight, then loose, tight then loose but his ball refused to pop. "You try," Margaret said to Tiffany. Tiffany grinned. She took hold of the same abused testicle and squeezed it as hard and as long as she could. Her arm muscles trembled. Her fingers whitened with the effort. Mark couldn't hold back the pain any longer. He screamed, a long, loud agonised scream.
Tiffany gripped even harder, then let his ball go. "That's the signal," she announced. She and Margaret stood upright once again. "Say goodbye to your balls Mark," Margaret announced. Mark said nothing. Margaret grinned, "No last words? Hmmmmm?" Mark said "No." Margaret smiled grimly, "Okay, here goes!" She smiled at her friend who smiled back. Both put one foot on one ball and applied firm pressure, making sure their chosen bollock was trapped. On a nod from Margaret, and with a simultaneous grunt of effort, the two women simultaneously forced their toes down, bursting the skin of his balls before pressing the testes flat. Mark screamed. Margaret and Tiffany smiled. Mark mewled in pain. The girls just twisted their toes left and right screaming "Squish, squash, mush, mash," pulverising the already ruined ball meat.
As Mark passed out, the two women laughed.
She continued to stamp on his chest until she had done so 20 more times. Grinning, she squatted down on her haunches and grinned down at him. "If Margaret decides to let you live," she told him, "you'll be cleaning our feet plenty." Gemma stood slowly, looming like a giant overhead. After tossing her long blonde hair back, she balanced on her left foot and hovered the smooth sole of her right boot over Mark's helpless face. The heel of Gemma's left boot indented his weak chest, bending the straining ribcage in, creating a sharp pain. The bones, sinews and muscles were already bruised from the abuse Mark had been given, so this fresh pain magnified and spread to consume all of him. As Gemma, who was comfortable, relaxed and happy, showed Mark the smooth sole of her well worn boot, playfully waggling it left and right, Mark groaned. He was totally aware of his helplessness, and had become so despairing that death now seemed preferable to life.
Gemma stepped off him and Natalie stepped up. Natalie paused a few moments, seemingly thinking, then began a rapid series of stamps and twists of her sharp heels. She stepped and stamped on Mark's chest as if she were crushing invisible insects. Growing bored of this, Natalie took to leaping into the air, a few inches at first then slowly higher and higher until she was lifting a foot above his body. She made sure to plant both feet down hard when she landed. Mark was in a world of pain. He almost passed out. It was a blessed relief when she and Gemma left, chatting gaily and giggling at something he couldn't quite hear. They paused at the door and Gemma called back again, "Give our love to Margaret and Tiffany, they're planning a surprise for you!" After that the two girls walked away, still talking. He heard them say something about it being no more than he deserved. He could only guess that Margaret was planning more pain and humiliation.
He was left alone for just over an hour. It seemed strange to be alone again. His body seemed to float in the after effects of the pain he'd received. Slowly his mind cleared. He thought about his situation. He realised that while he couldn't stand the torment of being with these torturing women, he couldn't stand being alone either. Now he had a voice again, he decided he wanted to let Margaret and Tiffany know how sorry he was. He wanted them to know he realised how wrong he had been, that he understood why they hated him. He just hoped they would understand.
When Tiffany and Margaret came into the room Mark's heart leapt. "Finally", he thought, "I can tell them how sorry I am." Tiffany looked stunning, in a dark blue, fitted jacket, over a white silk blouse, a short, dark blue skirt, black tights and dark blue court shoes. Margaret looked equally attractive, in a cream coloured blouse, black pants and black, high heeled, boots with winkle picker toes. The boots had three decorative straps over the front part, looking like thin black belts with silver eyelets.
The two women came over to where Mark lay and sat down on chairs left by Gemma and Natalie. "Well Mark," Margaret began, "I hear you've regained your voice." Mark looked up at her, "Yes, yes I have," he said softly. "Dr Chambers will soon fix that," she said, smiling grimly, "you have no need for a voice. I have no need for you having a voice, so we'll just have to get rid of it!" Mark was stunned. "Tiffany and I want you to know something, and we want to do something to you." Mark's head was spinning.
Tiffany started, "Since you left," she said, smiling broadly, legs crossed, right shoe dangling from her bobbing foot, "things have improved for me." Mark felt an icy hand of fear around his heart. "I'm vice president of Dabstar Industries now. Isn't that nice!" Mark didn't know what to say or what to think. It seemed that the more time passed, the more he had taken away from him. His eyes flicked from Tiffany to Margaret and back again. Both had their legs crossed showing him the soles of their shoes.
"The world believes you're dead" Margaret told him. "We faked your death certificate and buried your arms and legs. I'm living with Allen now, remember him, the poolboy, he's very grateful, and attentive. He likes me to give him blowjobs. You used to love blow jobs didn't you, making me kneel down, making me swallow you. I hated that, but now Allen gets blowjobs morning noon and night. I like doing them for him." The image of Margaret blowing 21 yr old Allen made Mark sick with fear and envy.
"Why are you telling me this?" Mark asked tremulously. Margaret and Tiffany both smiled. "Isn't it obvious?" Tiffany asked slyly. "To upset you, to hurt you like you hurt us; that's why!" Mark was broken. His spirit surrendered in that moment and he became no more than a thing, an object; no longer a man in any sense of the word. Until then he had held on, to hope, to arrogance, but now, now those things were gone.
"To finish you, your destruction, we need to destroy your balls, to crush them to pulp and grind them to paste beneath our feet. That's what we're here to do!" Mark heard, and understood, but inside all he felt was resignation.
"No time like the present," Margaret announced airily, "No," Tiffany replied. Without another word, the two ladies stood, looking strangely solemn and serious. Wordlessly they walked around to the base of his platform. Mark gazed down to where they stood, two women, two women he had dominated and controlled, who were now dominating and controlling him. But they were doing more than that. Yes they were dominant and controlling, but they were destroying him as well. He watched as Tiffany stood to his left side and Margaret stood to his right. Each raised a shod foot and pressed the toe down on one testicle. Mark fought one last time to think or move, even to speak, but nothing came out.
Angling her toes down, her heel raised, Tiffany put pressure on Mark's left ballsack. With a smile at her friend for the wince of pain she saw on Mark's face Margaret put pressure on his right. The rounded toe of Tiffany's leather court neatly trapped his left bollock, stopping it from escaping. Margaret's winkle picker toe held his right bollock in place. The sole of Margaret's boot was so thin that she could feel his testicle below her foot, and actually grip it with her bent over toes.
A dull throbbing pain began to pulse in and around Mark's groin. Each woman began pressing her foot down, then letting up,pressing down, then letting up; over and over again. The pain in Mark's groin grew more and more intense. He felt sick and dizzy, as his whole body throbbed and resonated with the pain their feet was causing.
"I'm going to try something," Margaret told Tiffany. Tifany's eyebrows raised as she watched in fascination. Margaret lifted her foot from Mark's groin and squatted to one side of Mark's hips. Tiffany removed her foot and squatted on the other side. "I'm going to see if I can pop his ball with my hand." Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing. "If you utter one sound darling," she said menacingly, "I'll stamp it to pulp in an instant." Mark fought back the words he'd been about to say.
Margaret's cool, slender fingers slid under his testicle, then coiled around it. Mark shuddered inside. Margaret's thumb and fingers closed, compressing his trapped berry. Mark wanted to scream, to plead, at the very least to whimper. His eyes rolled in their sockets and his teeth clenched. His chest heaved. Margaret gripped a little more firmly. "Pop damn you," she said through gritted teeth. The ball distended and flatened out, sending seismic tremors of pain through Mark's form. Margaret began pulsing her grip, tight, then loose, tight then loose but his ball refused to pop. "You try," Margaret said to Tiffany. Tiffany grinned. She took hold of the same abused testicle and squeezed it as hard and as long as she could. Her arm muscles trembled. Her fingers whitened with the effort. Mark couldn't hold back the pain any longer. He screamed, a long, loud agonised scream.
Tiffany gripped even harder, then let his ball go. "That's the signal," she announced. She and Margaret stood upright once again. "Say goodbye to your balls Mark," Margaret announced. Mark said nothing. Margaret grinned, "No last words? Hmmmmm?" Mark said "No." Margaret smiled grimly, "Okay, here goes!" She smiled at her friend who smiled back. Both put one foot on one ball and applied firm pressure, making sure their chosen bollock was trapped. On a nod from Margaret, and with a simultaneous grunt of effort, the two women simultaneously forced their toes down, bursting the skin of his balls before pressing the testes flat. Mark screamed. Margaret and Tiffany smiled. Mark mewled in pain. The girls just twisted their toes left and right screaming "Squish, squash, mush, mash," pulverising the already ruined ball meat.
As Mark passed out, the two women laughed.