Ste Letto
11-27-2003, 1:03 AM
Part 3
Barely ten minutes later there came the sound of a key in the door. Jessica smiled to hear her friend about to come in. Beneath Jessica's bare soles, Ronan twitched. He seemed to be coming back to life at the idea of Sonia's arrival. Being careful not to dislodge Jessica's feet from his chest, Ronan carefully pulled up his underwear. Jessica smiled slyly, shook her head, then slowly looked down to her feet, where Ronan was clearly in a state of agitation. "What'sa matter Ronan?" she asked playfully, "Wanna get up?" She knew full well that he did, and she had no intention of stopping him, she just wanted to tease him a bit. They both heard the front door swing inward. It amused Jessica to see the agitation on Ronan's face. "Off ya go then," Jessica said, laughing. She smiled and raised her legs and feet, freeing the trapped man from their hold. From the way he was reacting, and the way he jumped up, Ronan reminded her of a dog eager to greet his owner.
"Helloooo," called Sonia from the hallway. She had barely finished the word when Ronan came running into view. "Hi Ronan," she said brightly, "why aren't you in position?" At that Ronan's stomach lurched and his heart picked up the pace. He threw himself face down onto the floor, and moved until he was lying parallel with the wall and a coat rack. The dusty wooden floor felt cool to his bare chest. Lying prone on the floor, head turned to one side, Ronan could see the toes of Sonia's shiny black boots. They were pointy, like winkle pickers.
The boots had clear plastic heels, thin stilletos, and covered Sonia's long, strong legs up to just above calf level. Her dancer's legs were bare, and she wore a pleated, predominantly blue, tartan miniskirt that swung about playfully. Her upper body was covered by a pale, camel skin jacket, with a padded hood and toggle fasteners.
With a grin, the haughty beauty placed the heel of her left boot onto Ronan's left shoulder blade. With a frown of concentration she slowly pressed her sharp heel down. The heel bit in, sending a needle like dagger of pain through skin and muscle. Sonia paused, prolonging the moment, then stepped up, her taut calf and thigh muscles flexing. As the gorgeous girl stepped up, her needle like heel indented Ronan's protesting skin like a hypodermic needle about to pierce his flesh. He gritted his teeth to fight back a shriek of pain. Sonia could tell, from the way his neck muscles bunched, and his body trembled, that Ronan was feeling this. She had used him this way many times, and she knew he revelled in the intensity of the experience.
As her balance shifted, her toes slapped down, taking some of the weight from her heel. Then her step carried her forward. Her heel reluctantly came free of the skin it had snagged, leaving a bright red mark. Now she was planting her right heel, setting it purposely in his lower back. Like its twin, this heel too seemed almost to be drilling into Ronan's skin. He felt as if her heel tip was a tiny flame, searing his flesh. Sonia delighted in the knowledge that she was hurting Ronan, and that he loved her for doing it. Her toes came down. She stood completely on her living rug's back. Her stance was a little unsteady, so she balanced on her right foot, letting her heel and toe wobble slightly left and right, brought her left foot across, and parked it next to her right. Looking down, Sonia saw that there was a tiny pool of blood around the heel of her right boot, the product of her slight wobble moments earlier.
Feeling steady and safe now, she stood, calm, confident, comfortable, on Ronan's back. After a few seconds, she began rocking slightly back and forward onto first her heels, then her toes. She knew those heels were burrowing agonisingly into Ronan's back, knew it would feel to him like his skin was being burnt, knew he would adore her and her feet all the more for it. She chuckled, then adjusted her stance again, so now her feet were six inches apart. Now she could unbutton her jacket. Her slender hands reached for the bottom most toggle. She worked slowly, raising one hip, slipping the toggle through, then settling back to an upright stance. Each adjustment of her weight distribution brought fresh torments/delights for her living floormat.
It took five minutes for her to remove her jacket. Not once did she step down. Not once did she use her hands to steady herself. She flexed her knees and adjusted the angles of her heels and toes to maintain her stance. She treated Ronan like nothing more than a section of the floor. With her jacket hung, she turned about on Ronan's back. This involved more thrusts of her needle like heels, pricking and catching the protesting skin like thorns on a rose bush. Tiny weals formed, and drops of blood could be seen here and there.
Sonia stepped down, looking stunning in her black boots, blue skirt and black satin, long sleeved, breast hugging top. The living goddess strolled into the living room. Jessica stood to greet her friend. Ronan was still in the hallway. The two girls hugged, before breaking apart. Sonia used her fingers to help her whistle. The shrill sound pierced the apartment. Like a trained animal Ronan ran eagerly into the living room. Sonia swept her right hand toward the couch. Ronan smiled delightedly. He jumped onto the couch and lay face up on the pillows.
The two girls turned their backs, allowing Ronan the pleasure of admiring their perfect bottoms, and rear views. Sonia was closer to his head than Jessica. He watched, near breathless as Jessica sat prettily, trapping his thighs beneath her shapely buttocks, buttocks that threatened to tear through the seat of her tailored pants. He loved the warm, soft pressure of her pert and perfect backside. Moments later he saw Sonia bending her knees and preparing to sit on his chest and stomach. Time stretched out. His heart and mind raced, slowing perception to a crawl. He saw Sonia from the rear, saw her hair hanging down, saw the curve of her spine, the swell of her buttocks, the flare of her girlish hips. He worshipped her. He wanted her. He loved to be used by her, to be sat on, walked on, abused deliciously.
Her buttocks impacted his chest. His ribs bent inward. Down, down she came, trapping him, compacting him, dominating him effortlessly. Her buttocks were full, round and fruity. She settled onto her living cushion as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be doing. She shimmied her hips left and right, settling, making herself perfectly comfortable. She crossed her legs, bobbing her right foot playfully, sending pulses of shifting pressure through her living cushion's chest. The slightly rough material of her pleated skirt brushed Ronan's chin. Ronan found himself getting terribly warm.
As he lay, pinned and deliciously helpless, he delighted in the combined weight of his two goddesses. He felt small. He felt helpless. He felt overwhelmed, imprisoned by soft, cushiony flesh. He was there for them. He could hardly breathe. Each breath was an effort. They were totally at ease. He heard them talking.
The volume on the television was raised. Ronan was momentarily forgotten. He shuddered with excitement. This meant he could be sat on for hours. They flicked through the channels until he heard the announcer saying "What Women Want" was about to come on. All three people in the room knew exactly what the women wanted, and that that was exactly what the women would get.
Barely ten minutes later there came the sound of a key in the door. Jessica smiled to hear her friend about to come in. Beneath Jessica's bare soles, Ronan twitched. He seemed to be coming back to life at the idea of Sonia's arrival. Being careful not to dislodge Jessica's feet from his chest, Ronan carefully pulled up his underwear. Jessica smiled slyly, shook her head, then slowly looked down to her feet, where Ronan was clearly in a state of agitation. "What'sa matter Ronan?" she asked playfully, "Wanna get up?" She knew full well that he did, and she had no intention of stopping him, she just wanted to tease him a bit. They both heard the front door swing inward. It amused Jessica to see the agitation on Ronan's face. "Off ya go then," Jessica said, laughing. She smiled and raised her legs and feet, freeing the trapped man from their hold. From the way he was reacting, and the way he jumped up, Ronan reminded her of a dog eager to greet his owner.
"Helloooo," called Sonia from the hallway. She had barely finished the word when Ronan came running into view. "Hi Ronan," she said brightly, "why aren't you in position?" At that Ronan's stomach lurched and his heart picked up the pace. He threw himself face down onto the floor, and moved until he was lying parallel with the wall and a coat rack. The dusty wooden floor felt cool to his bare chest. Lying prone on the floor, head turned to one side, Ronan could see the toes of Sonia's shiny black boots. They were pointy, like winkle pickers.
The boots had clear plastic heels, thin stilletos, and covered Sonia's long, strong legs up to just above calf level. Her dancer's legs were bare, and she wore a pleated, predominantly blue, tartan miniskirt that swung about playfully. Her upper body was covered by a pale, camel skin jacket, with a padded hood and toggle fasteners.
With a grin, the haughty beauty placed the heel of her left boot onto Ronan's left shoulder blade. With a frown of concentration she slowly pressed her sharp heel down. The heel bit in, sending a needle like dagger of pain through skin and muscle. Sonia paused, prolonging the moment, then stepped up, her taut calf and thigh muscles flexing. As the gorgeous girl stepped up, her needle like heel indented Ronan's protesting skin like a hypodermic needle about to pierce his flesh. He gritted his teeth to fight back a shriek of pain. Sonia could tell, from the way his neck muscles bunched, and his body trembled, that Ronan was feeling this. She had used him this way many times, and she knew he revelled in the intensity of the experience.
As her balance shifted, her toes slapped down, taking some of the weight from her heel. Then her step carried her forward. Her heel reluctantly came free of the skin it had snagged, leaving a bright red mark. Now she was planting her right heel, setting it purposely in his lower back. Like its twin, this heel too seemed almost to be drilling into Ronan's skin. He felt as if her heel tip was a tiny flame, searing his flesh. Sonia delighted in the knowledge that she was hurting Ronan, and that he loved her for doing it. Her toes came down. She stood completely on her living rug's back. Her stance was a little unsteady, so she balanced on her right foot, letting her heel and toe wobble slightly left and right, brought her left foot across, and parked it next to her right. Looking down, Sonia saw that there was a tiny pool of blood around the heel of her right boot, the product of her slight wobble moments earlier.
Feeling steady and safe now, she stood, calm, confident, comfortable, on Ronan's back. After a few seconds, she began rocking slightly back and forward onto first her heels, then her toes. She knew those heels were burrowing agonisingly into Ronan's back, knew it would feel to him like his skin was being burnt, knew he would adore her and her feet all the more for it. She chuckled, then adjusted her stance again, so now her feet were six inches apart. Now she could unbutton her jacket. Her slender hands reached for the bottom most toggle. She worked slowly, raising one hip, slipping the toggle through, then settling back to an upright stance. Each adjustment of her weight distribution brought fresh torments/delights for her living floormat.
It took five minutes for her to remove her jacket. Not once did she step down. Not once did she use her hands to steady herself. She flexed her knees and adjusted the angles of her heels and toes to maintain her stance. She treated Ronan like nothing more than a section of the floor. With her jacket hung, she turned about on Ronan's back. This involved more thrusts of her needle like heels, pricking and catching the protesting skin like thorns on a rose bush. Tiny weals formed, and drops of blood could be seen here and there.
Sonia stepped down, looking stunning in her black boots, blue skirt and black satin, long sleeved, breast hugging top. The living goddess strolled into the living room. Jessica stood to greet her friend. Ronan was still in the hallway. The two girls hugged, before breaking apart. Sonia used her fingers to help her whistle. The shrill sound pierced the apartment. Like a trained animal Ronan ran eagerly into the living room. Sonia swept her right hand toward the couch. Ronan smiled delightedly. He jumped onto the couch and lay face up on the pillows.
The two girls turned their backs, allowing Ronan the pleasure of admiring their perfect bottoms, and rear views. Sonia was closer to his head than Jessica. He watched, near breathless as Jessica sat prettily, trapping his thighs beneath her shapely buttocks, buttocks that threatened to tear through the seat of her tailored pants. He loved the warm, soft pressure of her pert and perfect backside. Moments later he saw Sonia bending her knees and preparing to sit on his chest and stomach. Time stretched out. His heart and mind raced, slowing perception to a crawl. He saw Sonia from the rear, saw her hair hanging down, saw the curve of her spine, the swell of her buttocks, the flare of her girlish hips. He worshipped her. He wanted her. He loved to be used by her, to be sat on, walked on, abused deliciously.
Her buttocks impacted his chest. His ribs bent inward. Down, down she came, trapping him, compacting him, dominating him effortlessly. Her buttocks were full, round and fruity. She settled onto her living cushion as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be doing. She shimmied her hips left and right, settling, making herself perfectly comfortable. She crossed her legs, bobbing her right foot playfully, sending pulses of shifting pressure through her living cushion's chest. The slightly rough material of her pleated skirt brushed Ronan's chin. Ronan found himself getting terribly warm.
As he lay, pinned and deliciously helpless, he delighted in the combined weight of his two goddesses. He felt small. He felt helpless. He felt overwhelmed, imprisoned by soft, cushiony flesh. He was there for them. He could hardly breathe. Each breath was an effort. They were totally at ease. He heard them talking.
The volume on the television was raised. Ronan was momentarily forgotten. He shuddered with excitement. This meant he could be sat on for hours. They flicked through the channels until he heard the announcer saying "What Women Want" was about to come on. All three people in the room knew exactly what the women wanted, and that that was exactly what the women would get.