Cindy's Revenge (By Frank) - BB parts

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I am not the author。
I am just obsessed with this description! I look for novels of the same type.I like the storyline of women smashing men’s testicles while masturbating！
Does any of you have a collection of similar stories?




Cindy's Revenge - Part 1
(By Frank)
Cindy sat in her car patiently waiting for the line to move up so she could pay the bridge toll and finish her trip home. She wasn't looking forward to the dirty house and cold reception she was going to get from Don. She was thankful it was Friday at least. Cindy worked as a receptionist in a San Francisco law firm where she was required to dress up. She really didn't need the requirement - she had been driving men crazy for about as long as she could remember and she had loved every minute of it. Wearing short, tight skirts - seamed stockings with 4" black pumps was quite acceptable for her. In fact, she would have been happier wearing mini-skirts and 5" spikes to work but a certain amount of decorum was called for. As it was, all the men in her building were quite used to walking around all day with hard-ons. Those that didn't work in her office always found plenty of reasons to show up outside the big glass doors and wait patiently for her to emerge from behind the large reception desk. And Cindy never disappointed them.


But by the time 5:00 rolled around, she was ready to change into old jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers for her long drive home. She used to wear her high heels all the time around Don but that was before he started yelling and complaining constantly about every little thing she did or didn't do. Now, Don rarely ever saw her dressed up anymore. When he went to work in the morning, Cindy was still asleep. All he could see were her pumps beside the bed giving faint testimony to what he always missed but all that did was make him even more grouchy and irritable.


Don had a real 'thing' about women's feet but he also had a fantasy that involved being dominated by a beautiful woman's petite feet. He had been drawn to Cindy because of his strong fetish and, in the beginning, it was a marriage made in heaven. Cindy used to always tease Don with her pretty feet and even walked on him in heels sometimes but she was always very careful to let Don have all the control. Don always said when, what and how much Cindy was supposed to do to him. But one day, unknown to Cindy, Don had angered Cindy's mom, Suzanne, who promptly kicked him into the hospital - literally. Since that, and one other episode about two weeks later, Don couldn't get his mind off of Suzanne. He did nothing but complain about Cindy who either did the wrong thing or didn't do it right, or did it too much, or not enough - it was never right.


"I wish I knew what to do about Don," she said out loud to nobody in particular. She picked up her cell phone and punched in her mother's code as she once again thought back to the night she had met Don.


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Don had asked Cindy to marry him when he saw her dancing in a very swanky strip club in downtown San Francisco. That had been about a year ago when he was 35 and she had just turned 18. As stated before, Don had a thing about beautiful and petite ladies with beautiful and petite feet. Cindy at 5'2" and a hundred pounds with tiny size five feet filled that bill on all counts. She had attained those dimensions at age 14 and while she had developed in other areas, her height, relative weight and shoe size had remained the same to this day.


Don had liked to sit next to the runway so he could get close-up views of all the ladies - and whatever else they might have been, they were all very definitely ladies. He was especially interested in their spike heels. After about four drinks he would develop the courage to casually lay his hand on the runway, palm up, hoping that one of the girls might 'accidentally' step on it - but no such luck. He even tried putting a five dollar bill in it, then a ten and finally a twenty with no better results - until Cindy started dancing there that is.


Cindy, at the ripe old age of 18, had already had plenty of experience with men who were hopelessly enamored of her sexy feet. Men who craved a lady's beautiful foot were certainly in the minority but there were still enough around so that she had absolutely no trouble at all spotting one a mile away. Her mother had taught her quite well. She had seen to it that Cindy understood what she was supposed to do when a man wanted to be treated like a rug.


That first night she came out on stage donned in a thousand dollar evening gown with all the sexy trimmings. She was doing a series of slow bumps to a very sensuous and provocative strip number when she saw Don's hand at the edge of the runway with a twenty dollar bill in it. He wasn't even looking up to see who this new girl was. He was so infatuated with the tiny pair of feet encased in black silk hose and blood red, 5" spike-heeled, patent leather pumps that he couldn't take his eyes off of them. She worked her way over to the hand and purposely started dancing all around it, but never on it. Her heels were coming down less than an inch away from his flesh sometimes even landing between his outstretched fingers. Don kept moving his hand trying to anticipate where her heel was going to come down but Cindy acted as though he didn't exist and continued to just miss the target.


Don was going absolutely crazy with desire, the front of his pants was sopping wet. He looked up to see what this sexy creature looked like. Cindy sensed his gaze and smiled mischievously down at him with her twinkling black eyes. The twenty had been brushed out of his hand and out to the center of the runway by the back of her gown which hung to the floor. Cindy would delight in turning her back on him denying him any sight of her feet until she finally decided to turn and face him again. The front of her blood-red, sequined evening gown was cut up to her knees giving the audience a terrific view of foot, ankle and lower leg. Most of the men in attendance enjoyed the view considerably but, of course, they were waiting patiently to be sent to heaven when the gown came off. Don, however, was seeing all he needed to see. He had already died and gone to heaven.


Cindy finished her strip and started to leave the stage when she suddenly turned and slowly undulated her way back to Don wearing nothing but her heels and a smile. The drummer started a slow and rhythmic beat in time with Cindy's provocative walk. Don, by now, had removed his hand from the stage feeling that it was not going to be trod upon by the lovely Cindy. When Cindy got to within an arm's length of Don's face peering just over the edge of the runway, she turned her back on him, lifted one blood-red, spike heel in the air - then looked down at him over her shoulder with a wicked little gleam in her eye.


"Well!?" she said softly but loud enough for the rest of the audience to hear. "Would you like to put your hand under my heel and experience the thrill of watching it, and then feeling it painfully sink into your tender flesh?" She blew a wisp of hair away as she spoke.


Don's heart was pounding rapidly. He never dreamed he would ever get his wish and he wasn't at all sure anymore if he really wanted that wicked spike he was staring at stabbing into the palm of his hand. Don had never had a woman dig her heels into him before. He had, up until now, only engaged in light foot worship with the women in his life - kissing their feet and having them rubbed on various parts of his body but only barefoot or stockinged. Being hurt by women in high heels had only been a fantasy up until now.


'Go ahead! Put your hand down! She won't hurt you - too much!' came the laughing male voices from behind.


'Look at that gorgeous foot! It's not nice to keep a lady waiting! Go for it!' a female voice said.


Cindy continued standing there patiently on one foot smiling down into Don's frantic face. "Well, if you've come to your senses, I guess I'll be going. Last chance!" She laughed as she lowered the toe of her shoe to the floor but still leaving enough room for Don to get his hand under the elevated spike heel. Don was in a panic - clearly embarrassed and afraid to slide his hand under Cindy's heel but even more embarrassed not to. He had been coming to this same club every Saturday night for the past three months making a fool of himself in front of the girls and the audience. Most of the men in the audience were regulars who were quite familiar with this weekly ritual of his and now they finally had a chance to see someone take him up on his little fantasy trip.


Don was quite sober now. He swallowed hard and slowly extended his hand, palm up, across the floor toward, and then under, Cindy's up-raised spike. He looked up at the gorgeous creature towering high above him and said in a faint whisper, "Be gentle, Cindy. My heart is in that hand."


Cindy blew him a little kiss, "Good! I love trampling all over men's hearts!" And so saying in a sexy, sultry voice, she slowly brought her heel down to rest lightly on Don's palm. Everyone in the predominately male audience had clambered out of their seats and rushed forward in an effort to get a better view of the proceedings. Don was leaking all over himself as he gazed at the beautiful red pump posing regally, but lightly, on his hand. It hurt a little bit but not as much as he thought it would. It actually felt quite pleasant and it looked so sexy. He felt as though he were in a trance - a living dream - not real, just a figment of his imagination. He had never had a heel in him before so he had no way of knowing that Cindy hadn't even begun to apply any real pressure yet.


Then, just as Don began to close his eyes to savor the sensuous feel of Cindy's spike heel, Cindy suddenly shifted all of her 100 pounds to that same thin heel resting majestically on his palm. Don was immediately brought back to earth in a hurry. He let out a blood curdling scream as the men who had gathered around the stage cheered wildly.


'All right Cindy! Way to go! Hurt him, Cindy! Twist it around a little! Teach this idiot a lesson he'll never forget!'


Don was trying desperately to free his hand as he cried pitifully, "Please, Cindy, please! I can't take it!"


Cindy just smiled and shrugged at the audience as if to say, 'I'm just doing what he wanted.' Everyone in the audience continued to cheer even louder. "What do you say, guys? Should I let him have his hand back?"


"No! No! No!" came the hearty cries of both the men and women. "Stomp it! Stomp it! Stomp it!" came the rhythmical cadence from the crowd. "Tell you what, Sweetheart," she said to the wailing Don, "They don't want me to show you any mercy. They want to see me stomp your hand into mush but if you kiss the toe of my pump, maybe I'll take my heel out of your hand!"


Don didn't have to think about it. He didn't care what anybody would think or how embarrassed he was, he just needed her to remove that painful spike from his palm. He practically crawled up onto the stage to reach her pump with his lips and began to kiss every part of her foot and shoe - over and over.


Cindy laughed out loud, "Down boy, down! Just the toe! I didn't allow you to kiss my foot and I don't want you slobbering all over my new shoe either. You should be punished!" She didn't immediately remove the spike but instead twisted it quite savagely into his hand in a very slow and exaggerated way for the full benefit of the audience before walking away to disappear behind the stage curtains where all the other girls had gathered to watch and cheer her on.


Don's heart-wrenching screams could still be heard above the thunderous applause and cheers that followed her back to her dressing room. The pain in Don's hand was excruciating but the damage was minimal compared to the real damage done to his pride and his heart. Surprisingly, he didn't slink out as might have been expected under the circumstances but instead, stayed to watch the rest of the show. His mind stayed on Cindy and in spite of the men's laughter and ladies giggling, he felt a stronger need to stay and try to see her after the show - an act that impressed Cindy greatly.


He was quite surprised that not one of the girls bothered to pick up his 'twenty' but he simply didn't understand that this club and its girls were strictly first class. Any one of them could, and in many cases did, make twenty times that much for one hour of extra curricular activities.


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"Hello, Sweetheart. How's my favorite daughter?" It was Suzanne's voice on the phone interrupting her thoughts.


"Mom! I'm your ONLY daughter! How did you know it was me?" Cindy asked puzzled.


"But if I HAD another daughter, you'd still be my favorite. Who else calls me at 5:30 on Friday evening because they're stuck on the Bay Bridge and can't get home? Don's still giving you fits isn't he?" Suzanne knew her daughter very well.


"You're amazing, Mom! Right on every count! So what should I do?" Cindy had been asking her mom this same question for the last six months.


"You know I've been telling you the same thing since you married that prick but you always ignore me, besides, you know a lot better than I do what you should do," her mother answered with exasperation.


Suzanne, at 36 was a gorgeous woman in her own right. In fact, it would have been very difficult to say who was the more beautiful of the two when you saw them side by side. It was obvious to the casual observer that they were related but you would have sworn they were sisters rather than mother and daughter. Suzanne was maybe a half an inch taller than Cindy with the same midnight black hair and eyes - the same rich, full hair being a little shorter falling to just below her shoulder blades. She was slightly heavier at 108 pounds but their feet, their luscious, beautiful, cruel and deadly feet were virtually identical.


"You know, Honey, you really amaze me. For a girl who's really a lot more sadistic than I ever dreamed of being, you just let that asshole treat you like a kitchen maid. It really saddens me," Suzanne lamented.


"Oh, Mom! That's all behind me. You know I was only mean to the people and things I didn't like - besides, I was very young. When Don married me, I was really in love with him. It wasn't the same kind of thing when I hurt him. I only did it because he wanted me to," Cindy replied.


"Yes, I know. You do everything he wants you to do but he just gets worse doesn't he? If you could just see past those rose colored glasses of yours, you would see that he's just dirt the same as Johnny is - the same as all those others you ruined with your feet just for your own amusement. What did Johnny do after you hospitalized him for ten days? He came crawling back to you and begged you to hurt him some more didn't he - which, as I recall, you did without any hesitation," Suzanne said with a hint of pride in her voice.


"Sure, but they were fools! They're still fools! I didn't have a real sense of what I was doing. I figured, 'Why shouldn't I rip them up? They're too stupid to stop me!' and I was too power hungry to stop myself! I was just a spoiled little teenager, barely ninety pounds - not exactly hard for a macho male to overpower if they had wanted to. When I stamped my little foot, the boys would fight among themselves to see who could be the first to die under my feet. Besides, I didn't like them! I always stomp and crush things I don't like - I learned that from you, Mom," Cindy answered defensively.


"That's my point! They didn't stop you because they couldn't! They worshipped you, Cindy! Don wants to worship you too but you won't let him. He treats you bad because he's frustrated with you for treating him so nice. He keeps hoping that you'll put him straight. The others were dirt and so is he! You can only treat dirt one way - you have to trample it and grind it under your feet! You were such a deliciously wicked little girl. How did you become so soft?" her mother said sadly. It bothered her very much to see her little girl unhappy and not in her rightful place - standing next to her, side by side, on the faces and balls of every man in the world in their highest, sharpest and deadliest spike heels!


"Mother, you talk about me like I'm some sort of monster or something. You made it pretty obvious that you wanted me to treat men the same way you did. As early as I can remember, you were always walking on some slob in front of me. I remember watching you from the big chair, clapping my little hands every time you made one cry out in pain. 'That's how we like to do it, Cindy!' you would say. Then when Jack and his little moron, Johnny moved in, you made a special effort to treat them both as slaves while I watched. So, maybe you got your wish and I'm a little mean where most men are concerned but I've still got a heart. I cry at sad movies. I take in stray kittens and I love little children - even male children. I may have come close on occasion but at least I never snuffed a man under my high heels like some people I could name," Cindy answered cruelly.


"Oh, Baby, I never meant for you to become cruel and sadistic, I just wanted you to understand a woman's place in this world. As far as men are concerned, we are untouchable, porcelain goddesses. They must obey our every command without hesitation. A man must service our every desire and receive nothing but pain in return. He must be willing to risk his life just for the privilege of licking the filth off the bottoms of our shoes. The only favors a man gets are the ones we choose to give them. I truly believe that and I've spent my life proving it to be true over and over. You used to believe it too until that idiot, Don came along. You didn't learn to be sadistic from me, you were born with it. And why can't you let me forget about that unfortunate incident with Jack? You were at the trial. You know and I know it was an accident! The jury called it manslaughter! I never served a minute of time - nor should I have! A year of therapy starting next week was my sentence and that's it!" Suzanne felt wounded by her daughter's barb.


"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have thrown it in your face like that," Cindy said apologetically, "I never blamed you for doing it, in fact, I was proud of you. I don't think that having 10 men on the jury hurt you any either. So, how come you never told me about it? All I know is what I learned at the trial - that you choked him to death under your heel but you never told me why you really did it. Not that I care! I never liked that S.O.B. anyway! I would have really enjoyed doing him in myself and probably would have if I had stayed around long enough."


"That's for sure!" Suzanne said perking up. "As it was, you probably did a lot more damage to Jack during that last year you were here than I did over the whole five years combined. You definitely kicked out more of his teeth than I did. Anyway, there was never any reason not to tell you what happened but you weren't around at the time and besides, you never asked."


"So, why did you finish him?" Cindy asked excitedly.


"I hate to disappoint you but it really was an accident. You should know just how frail and defenseless a man can be under a woman in spikes, you've come very close to dispatching a few yourself. Everything I testified to at the trial was true. When you stand on someone every morning, noon and night for five years, it's pretty easy to forget that they're down there under your feet. You talk about stupid! Jack worshipped me so much that he never so much as lifted a finger to let me know he couldn't breathe. At least he died quietly with a peaceful smile on his face. I remember I had been standing on his pecker with one of my high heels while I had the other one on his chest. I didn't go into detail at the trial for obvious reasons. I was using my gold, strappy sandals with the stiletto thin, 5" metal heels. You should remember them - those slender metal heels are about as thin as ice picks - you put Johnny in the hospital with them the first time that you wore them. You crushed one of his balls under the heel. Do you remember? What were you - thirteen - maybe fourteen at the time?"


"I remember," Cindy answered dreamily, "It was my 13th birthday and it was the first time I had ever worn a pair of 5" heels."


"I remember watching you that day," her mother continued, "I had let you have a couple of glasses of wine because it was your birthday and you were feeling pretty giddy. You climbed up onto that low coffee table and made Johnny kneel down and put his balls in front of your feet. Then you turned around and started trying to pin one of them under the pointed tip of that metal heel. 'Pin the spike on the donkey's balls', you kept saying over and over a little slurred as I recall. Tears were rolling down my face from laughing so hard because it kept slipping out from under your heel every time you tried to step down on it. Johnny screamed to high heaven every time his ball squirted out from under your heel and you ended up pinning his sac to the table instead. At first you cussed like a sailor every time you missed and you almost decided to grind them under the soles of your shoes in frustration but then you started laughing too. You were so wobbly on those heels. I don't know if it was the wine, or because you weren't used to skinny 5" spikes, or just because you were laughing so hard but you almost fell off the coffee table a number of times," Suzanne was laughing joyfully as she recalled the incident.


Cindy started giggling too as her mind drifted back to that pleasurable afternoon. "Yea, I was pretty zonked. That wine really brings out the sadist in me but I didn't 'make' Johnny, or anybody else, ever do anything - I just showed them my sexy feet and told them what I wanted and they did it - just like lambs to the slaughter! I remember trying to stab his ball and keep my balance at the same time but it was practically impossible. Remember when I slipped and accidentally stepped sideways onto the back of his hand snapping two bones in the process? He sure made noise over that one. My spike got stuck in his hand and I had to step on his wrist with my other foot in order to pull it free. He was bathing my feet with his tears. I can still hear him crying, 'Please, Cindy! Please, please, Cindy! Don't do this to me! For God's sake, Cindy, have a little mercy! I'll never be able to have kids! Boo hoo hoo!' or words to that effect. What a fool he was! And still is!"


"Cindy! You were so cold in those days! Didn't you feel even a little bit sorry for him?" she asked with a mixture of delight and incredulity.


"Why should I?!" Cindy laughed, "I'd had my birthday wine and was feeling no pain. He wasn't tied to that table - Johnny could've left with only a mangled hand but he chose to stay of his own free will. He got what he deserved!" Cindy said with finality. "Even now, alcohol always puts me in a ball crushing mood. That's why I don't drink around Don."


"Yes, and you did give him a chance to come away a whole man, remember? The first time your heel slipped off of his ball and pinned his sac to the table, you told him that if he could lick the arch of your foot without pulling his sac out from under your heel, you would spare him. I never saw anybody bend in so many places at one time before," Suzanne was laughing so hard she could barely speak, "Obviously, he never made it but he sure dislocated a few things trying. I remember that you made it possible for him to reach your other foot with his mouth and he almost devoured it with his tongue. You were so cruel, Cindy, moaning and carrying on like he was really pleasuring you and you were going to let him off the hook. Then you dropped the bad news on him. 'Sorry,' you said, 'you're worshipping the wrong foot,' and you proceeded to finish smashing his ball. As I recall, it took you nearly a half hour to finally trap that elusive left egg of his - or was it his right? - under your heel and squash it. To this day I've never heard such a horrible, agonizing scream as the one that seemed to come out of Johnny's soul that afternoon even though it was only for a split second before he passed out on the floor. After all that shrieking, the silence was deafening!"


"Yes, it really was terrific! Wonderfully glorious!" Cindy gushed, "I had to trap it against the wall of his sac with one heel and then squish it with the other one. He fell to the floor like a sack of cement when I finally popped that slippery little sucker. I never felt so powerful and invincible. I was Super Girl and Wonder Woman rolled into one. I was so overwhelmed with my superiority that I jumped down from the coffee table onto his prick with both heels and then trampled it under those metal heels while I sang 'We are the champions', too bad he wasn't awake to feel my heels making mush out of his ruined prick. He'd have just passed out again anyway. I had really intended to finish that ugly thing off but he got lucky - that time! I never heard of anyone getting stitches in his prick before, let alone close to a hundred of them. I never told you this, but my panties were sopping wet that day, I really thought I was going to have my first ever orgasm.


"Now that I think about it, it was his right one that I crushed that day because I remember distinctly mashing his left one under my bare feet two years later while I was masturbating. I kept teasing him by rolling it around between the table and the heel of my foot, over and over, almost crushing it but always letting up at the last possible second. Every time he screamed, I'd get a little closer to orgasm until finally - just before I was ready to climax - I stepped down on it with all my weight! I timed it perfectly. He let out the most blood curdling scream you ever heard, even louder than the time I ruined the other one under my spike. My ears were still ringing two hours after I finished with him. I climaxed at the exact same second just before he passed out. God! What a rush that was! It sure is a lot easier to crush balls under a bare heel than it is with a spike heel and it's so much more thorough. It's so much more sensuous too, to feel it splattering under your bare skin! Too bad you missed that one! It was truly wonderful!" Cindy was beginning to breathe hard as she recalled how exhilarating it felt when she finally exploded his testicles under her sexy feet on those two separate occasions.


"Yes, I'm getting a warm glow just listening to you recall it. I would have enjoyed seeing your face as you crushed it but you could have at least called '911' instead of letting him lie there *********** until I got home to do it. You know," Suzanne said with reluctant respect, "When you think about it - at 15 and a half, which is how old he was the first time you eliminated one of his testicles, it took a lot of guts for him to leave them out there fully exposed for a half hour waiting for you to finally crush one or both of them under those wicked spikes."


"You may call it guts - I call it stupidity in the highest form!" Cindy said with a sneer. "Especially the second time when he sacrificed his last chance at fatherhood just so his spoiled little fifteen year old stepsister could have an enjoyable orgasm. I even told him beforehand exactly what I was going to do to him in gory detail so he could leave if he wanted to," Cindy continued.


"He had come home from basketball practice. I was sitting on the couch drinking my second beer - starting to feel a little horny. The only thing I had on was my red bikini. I held up my dirty foot and he rushed over, knelt down and started kissing and licking it. I waited until I could see the wet spot forming on the front of his pants and then I told him, 'Johnny, I'm really hot! I need to masturbate but I need your help. You've still got one ball left. If I could crush it under my sexy, little bare foot while I play with myself, it would make me so very happy.' You should have seen his face! He looked like I had already stomped it!"


"'Please, Cindy,' he pleaded. 'Please don't do that to me, I beg you.'"


"'I have to!' I told him. 'It's what I want to do! You can leave if you want to but if you do, I'll never let you lick the dirt off my filthy feet ever again.' Unfortunately for you, you won't be a man anymore when I get through with you!' I started giggling uncontrollably at my little joke while Johnny's face got as white as a sheet but he never stopped licking the bottom of my soiled foot. He started to get up and leave two or three times but it was as though some invisible force was holding his face against my foot. He just couldn't pull himself away because he knew he might never get near them again. 'Okay, then! Let's get to it!' I told him. 'Take down your pants and sacrifice your last remaining testicle to your little baby sister's foot - your goddess' immaculate foot. Put it on the table and offer it up to me - to be squashed by the little bare foot that you're now kissing and cleaning with your tongue! You've done it before - you know the routine! OBEY ME!!' I tried to sound stern but the beer had given me the giggles and I just couldn't stop laughing. He looked like a man - I mean boy - going to the electric chair. He was sweating and crying uncontrollably but the idiot actually did it in spite of everything. I know I was pretty young and pretty drunk but I remember I was really awed by his sacrifice and obvious dying devotion to me but it didn't matter - I finished him off anyway. I didn't feel the least bit sorry for him. Before crushing his egg, I slipped my sandals on and stomped him in the face five or six times so hard that he fell *********** and split the back of his head open when it slammed into the edge of the coffee table on his way to the floor. I had to wait until he woke up to do my thing but when he did, the rest - as they say - was ancient history! Just like Johnny's balls!"


"Oh, Cindy!" Suzanne said proudly. "You were oh, so mean! But you really should cut him a little slack. He only let you finish ********** him because he worshipped you so much and wanted you to be happy! He still does! He never stops talking about how beautiful you were as you were masturbating above him that day."


"I know, I know, Mother. Finish your story about Jack's unfortunate demise," Cindy said impatiently changing the subject.


"Okay. Where was I? Oh, yeah. I remember I had an early appointment and was leaning forward toward the mirror putting on my makeup. I had all my weight on the heel imbedded in his prick and was trying to ignore his ear-shattering screams. Normally, I would have enjoyed hearing Jack scream. Seeing his penis impaled under the tip of my stiletto heel while its head stood at a right angle was always a big turn-on. That particular morning, however, I was running late and his blood curdling screams were beginning to irritate me. He was squirming around so much in pain that I couldn't get my lipstick on. I moved the heel that was on his chest up to his face and stood on it temporarily while I unstuck my other heel from his pecker and moved it up to his chest. I guess everything's relative where pain is concerned. I know Jack was still in a lot of pain from the heel on his face and the other one buried deep in his nipple yet he quieted down considerably. I guess when you have a metal spike heel stuck in your penis, it makes everything else seem tame by comparison. Well, I'm starting to ramble again. To make a long story short, when he finally settled down to quiet moans and whimpers, I went back to applying my lipstick and completely forgot all about him and inadvertently moved the heel from his nipple onto his throat which I was always fond of doing. I used to enjoy watching his eyes bug out and hearing the tiny little squeaks coming out of his mouth while he tried desperately to get just a little taste of precious air. But like I said, I wasn't watching him that morning and I was completely unaware that I had moved my heel onto the center of his throat and was slowly choking him to death. Originally, I had most of my weight on his face because it hurt him more and I liked seeing my deep, tiny, little heel prints on his face for days and days afterward - but I guess I must have inadvertently shifted my weight to the heel on his throat when I leaned to my left for whatever reason. That was all she wrote - he died very quietly under my heel. I don't know how long I stood on him after he stopped breathing. I'm sorry I did it but I can't bring him back so no use crying over spilt milk. As a little side note to this story, I do remember that my foot slipped on the tile when I stepped down off of his face from all the slobbering he had done on the bottom of my shoe. At least, unknown to me at the time, he had contented himself by kissing and licking my shoe during his last few moments on earth. I'm sure he died happy."


"Too bad!" Cindy said, "He didn't deserve to die happy! He sure wouldn't have if I'd been around! I would have made him suffer for a long time before finishing him!"






"Oh, Cindy! You really do worry me sometimes," Suzanne said in a worried voice. She changed the subject, "What did you want to ask me about Don and are you quite sure you're ready to listen to the answers?"


"Yes, Mother. I think I really am. I'm really getting fed up with the way he treats me. How do I make him worship me like all those other guys did?" Cindy asked genuinely concerned.


"Doesn't it seem rather obvious to you?" Suzanne answered with exasperation. "It seems to me that if you want him to be another Johnny, then you should probably treat him the same way you did Johnny." Suzanne was immediately sorry she said that. Knowing the volatile nature of her daughter as she did and knowing how she had put Johnny in the hospital on several occasions in the course of ruining his life physically and mentally while only a teenager - she actually began to feel a little regret for having blurted it out like that. She didn't like Don but she didn't want his possible annihilation on her head and more importantly, she didn't want Cindy to have to go through the same ordeal she did when she was arrested and tried. She knew that her daughter was not homicidal but she also knew that she had absolutely no self control when it came to working a male over thoroughly under her murderous spikes. Cindy was not, by nature, mean and vindictive toward men - in fact, she was sweet, innocent and usually a little shy. It's just that when she has a man under her feet, something very out of the ordinary happens to her. The sensuousness and the power of that moment in time seem to propel her into another world of sadistic pleasure that leaves her totally oblivious to her victim of the moment - and after she's had a few drinks, she's down right lethal!


As if reading her mother's thoughts, "Mom, you know and I know that if I treated Don the same way I treated Johnny - I'd probably kill him. Johnny was a strong kid. Don is 35 and not in very good shape and besides, I didn't really care about what I did to Johnny."


Suzanne was glad that Cindy was exercising a little good judgment. "Yes, I know but Don still needs to be punished severely nevertheless. You need to find a happy medium. Can't you learn how to make him a slave without killing him in the process? Instead of floating away to that sexual, sadistic paradise of yours, try to keep your mind on what you're doing to his body so you won't maim him - or worse."


"I'll try, Mother, but I need your help. How should I punish him? Walk all over him carefully 24 hours a day? It doesn't sound very practical. He has to work - I have to work."


"As far as working is concerned, you don't have to if you don't want to. The insurance company had to pay off when I was acquitted and now the people in Hollywood are fighting amongst themselves to see who can offer me the most money for my story. In short, I'm loaded and there's plenty to share with you if you'd like to move back in. But on one condition! That asshole of yours has to be your slave! I don't want him wandering around thinking he's equal to us," Suzanne said with finality.


"Very sweet of you, Mother, I just may take you up on that. But answer the question - how do I punish him?" Cindy asked again.


"Well, you don't have to walk on him 24 hours a day. What you have to do is establish yourself as his ruling mistress and make him your good-for-nothing slave. Make Don respect and fear you. Not just fantasy fear during sex, but real honest to goodness healthy fear 24 hours a day. You must make him jump every time you open your mouth. It's going to require you to punish him severely for no more than a week, probably a lot less depending on how good a job you do the first time. There will be a certain amount of sacrifice on your part during that time regarding getting to sleep as early as you would like to, but I assure you, it will be well worth it. Hurt him badly but be sure he knows that you're actually holding yourself back from killing him. That should put a healthy fear in him."


Cindy was confused. "Don's not like the others, he wants to be in charge. That's why I was attracted to him. He seemed like a real man in spite of his weakness for female feet. He's not going to let me punish him severely if he's not in the right frame of mind."




"Yes, very true, so you must always make sure he's in the mood. Don really is just like the others but other than that first time at the club when you first met him, you never really put him under your heel where he belongs, literally and figuratively speaking, so now you have to establish yourself slowly. When you get home, you must wear your heels or flats right away. I know it's a sacrifice, but try to keep remembering what you're going to gain. Don is hopelessly in love with your feet but you don't exploit his weakness. By wearing sexy footwear, Don will be visually stimulated and he'll ache for you all evening. By the time you're ready to kick him, he'll be eager for it - at least he'll be eager for it that first night anyway. But after you kick him completely senseless, he'll be so afraid of you that he'll probably piss in his pants. Rest assured, however, that no matter how badly you hurt him or
how much you make him fear you, he'll still be incredibly turned on by you and he'll let you do anything you want."


Cindy was beginning to get interested, "What else, Mom? I never had to go to any trouble with the others - why do I have to with Don?"


"Because you were always too busy having fun trampling the men who put themselves under your feet to understand or care why they put themselves there. You were always off on your own little power trip - masturbating to the sounds of their pain as you destroyed them. You always did the right thing in spite of yourself, it just came natural to you. You had absolutely no feeling or compassion for any of the young men you maimed and mutilated under your feet and you had no idea what-so-ever that by treating them all like dirt and enjoying it so much, you were fulfilling their wildes, masochistic dreams. They stared up at your beautiful, smiling face with tears in their eyes. They were completely overcome with pain and agony as you blissfully played with yourself. Many of them came dangerously close to perishing under your heels but they worshipped you so much they completely
overlooked the fact that you were trampling their broken bodies into a million little pieces."




























"I guess you're right, Mom. I just never thought of them at all as actual living, breathing things. I used to imagine that they had presented themselves to me as indestructible mannequins and that they were challenging me to see if I could destroy them - asking me to prove I was superior to them. And I always did too! I loved it! It wasn't always quick but with a little patience and constant kicking, stomping and trampling - I eventually wore them down and ruined them. I liked beating them with whips and belt buckles too but not nearly as much as stomping and trampling them under my mean shoes. I must have learned that from you. It's not that I was purposely out to tear them up - it's just that it always made me so incredibly turned on. I felt so sexy, so powerful - ruining their bodies under my feet like they were little rag dolls. It seemed like such a small price for them to pay for the wonderful thrill it gave me. Every time I'd put one of them in the hospital, I always said to their *********** form, 'See! You weren't so indestructible after all were you!? I just destroyed your body with my feet! I won! You lost! Come back when you want to challenge me again!' And they always did too. I was really hooked, Mom, a regular junkie and they were my suppliers - willingly putting themselves under my spikes begging me to try and destroy them and I was so, so happy to do it. I couldn't help myself. You taught me that. They were only there to be used and abused by me and that, no matter what I did to them, it didn't matter as long as it gave me happiness."


Suzanne sighed audibly as she recalled the many pleasant times she had enjoyed trampling her slaves, "Yes, Cindy, there is absolutely nothing else in this world that can compare with the thrill of feeling a man, any man, lying naked and helpless under my feet. Then, as he watches in sheer panic, I lift up one of my spike heels and we both marvel at its quiet and deadly beauty. I hold it for a moment or two high above his pitiful body and try to imagine the pain he's going to feel as I rip it into him and tear him apart with it. But, of course, I know that I can never come close to imagining how those helpless little slaves must feel or how they can possibly endure it. I say to myself, 'How on earth can such a soft, frail, breakable piece of human flesh and bone possibly survive the savage and brutal torture my heels are going to inflict upon it?' I keep getting hotter and hotter as I imagine the horrible things I'm going to do to him. Will this slave perish? Or will I merely maim him as I do most of my others? My curiosity finally gets the better of me so I jam one of my spike heels straight down into that mass of soft, yielding flesh with everything I have. I kick my heel into his fragile body then I stomp him with it! I lift it back up and kick it down into him again and then I stomp it into him again trying to decide which action I like the best! Then I start grinding it into him with absolutely no mercy at all. My spikes penetrate his body over and over! I break his ribs! I crush his larynx! I trample his naked prick under my pointed spikes and then I crush his balls with them - one at a time! He keeps slipping in and out of consciousness.


"And if the poor creature somehow manages to survive, I try to learn the secret of that survival yet knowing that I never will but also knowing that I don't really give a damn! So I do it again and again, over and over. I laugh out loud and softly caress myself as I look way down there somewhere on the floor under my feet - way off in another world of pain and suffering. I see part of a pathetic face silently screaming and frantically crying out from beneath my sexy shoe. I look into its sad eyes and see mostly abject fear and pain - but it's also plain to see the love, adoration and worship the little bug feels for me from the depths of his very soul. He knows I'm going to trample him to death and he pleads with me for his life, 'Mercy, my Goddess!' he cries with his eyes as he bathes the sole of my shoe with his blood and tears. I am all powerful! I alone control whether this pathetic creature lives or dies. Then, to show how much mercy I'm going to give him, I jump in the air and come down on his face with both feet - breaking his nose, knocking out his teeth and maybe even putting out an eye if one of my spikes comes down on it, but I still don't give a damn! It's just a man down there - or WAS a man anyway! Who the hell cares what I do to his worthless body?! Then I casually walk back down what's left of that body and stomp on whatever might be left of a prick with my razor sharp spikes as I climax over and over to the silent sounds of the most agonizing shrieks of pain and agony a man can utter through a crushed larynx just before he passes out, or away, whichever the case may be. It's the most glorious feeling in the whole world!


"We are so powerful, Cindy, we don't have to tie them up or force them - they just docilely lie there and let us hurt them, maim them and even kill them just because it gives us pleasure and we like doing it."


Cindy was mesmerized listening to her mother and recalling all the wonderful experiences she had had in the past. "So tell me some more, Mom. What makes Don tick?" she asked excitedly, breathing heavily from the pleasant memories, ready to get back into the swing of things. "How do I get him down there like the others? I don't know if I'm ready to kill him yet but that 'maiming' thing sounds pretty good!" she said half kidding and half serious.


"First, let me give you some rules," Suzanne answered. "The first rule is to never let him play with himself in your presence let alone satisfy himself. Don always comes out of his trance after he's shot his wad. The second rule is to never let him tell you how much is enough. Always hurt him until he doesn't think he can take anymore and then just keep going until YOU feel like stopping. It's during this time that you build up the fear in him because he's no longer in control, YOU ARE! One part of him still wants you to hurt him, but the other part is beginning to panic. You're also going to do things that symbolize your power over him. Not necessarily causing pain, but causing humiliation like standing over him with your hands on your hips with one of your filthy shoes on his face, making him lick it clean while you tell him what you want done. Put his food on the floor, walk on it with your dirty feet or shoes - then make him eat it. You don't always have to physically hurt Don to make him worship you. And try to always be in a good mood around him especially when you're hurting him. He really loves it when he thinks you're enjoying his pain. Let your sexual juices drip onto his face while you're standing on him playing with yourself - rub the soles of your shoes all over it - then make him lick it off!"


"Oooh! Luscious! I'll enjoy his pain all right! It really sounds wonderful and I know you understand men, Mom, but how do you know so much about Don specifically?" Cindy asked a little suspiciously.


"Do you remember that time about six months ago when Don came home late one Saturday night all beat up claiming he had been mugged at the shopping center?" Suzanne said slowly as she felt the need to come clean with her daughter. "He had been mugged all right, but not at the shopping center."






"Of course I remem… Oh, Mom! How could you!? I know you don't like Don but why did you do that to him. He had broken ribs, a broken nose and two missing teeth not to mention a whole assortment of other bruises and lacerations. Jeez, Mom! He didn't even go back to work for a week. It cost us a small fortune in doctor bills and missed time from work!" Cindy screamed. "Yes, and come to think of it - that was about the time he stopped complaining about what a bitch you were and actually started saying nice things about you. It's also when our relationship started going sour. You sure know how to put your mark on a man don't you, Mom? Even if he belongs to your own daughter," Cindy said sarcastically pretending to be madder than she really was.


"It wasn't entirely my fault, Dear. He came to the house that afternoon looking for you. I was in the middle of rehearsing my tap number for the charity benefit that night. It was a hot day, the air conditioner was on the fritz so I had the door open to get what little breeze there was. I told him at the door that you weren't there and turned my back on him to go back to my dancing. I knew you'd had an argument with him and I didn't want to get in a verbal fight with him over it.


"I went back to the dance room to continue rehearsing and when I looked up into the mirror, there he was sitting on the couch watching me. I was looking pretty damn good if I do say so myself - short black mini-skirt, black net stockings with seams, a black satin top that barely covered my breasts and my little black tap shoes. I don't know if you ever saw them. They're pretty tame looking. The heels are about an inch and a half high and a little thicker than regular heels - about an inch in diameter I guess. They wouldn't hurt a guy if you just stood on him with them but - oh, my - what you can do to a man's frail face and body when you kick him and stomp him with those hard metal taps! Almost as devastating as kicking him with motorcycle boots!" Suzanne sighed as she reflected about the events of that afternoon."


"You mean he just walked right into your house without being invited and plopped himself down on the sofa and started watching you without saying a word?" Cindy interrupted. She was having a little trouble believing what she was hearing. During their first six months of marriage, Don had made it a point to let Cindy know what he thought of her mother and it wasn't good.


"Yes he did but only because he thought I was lying about you not being there. When he caught my glance in the mirror, he started coming on abrasively but I could see that his eyes were all over my body - especially my feet. I think he was wondering what my sexy shoes would feel like driving into his face and balls. I definitely had the advantage. I knew from you about his weakness for the divine female foot and his fantasy to be dominated but he didn't know I knew. I certainly didn't like his tone or his insinuation that I was lying and I certainly didn't like him barging into my home so I decided to teach him a lesson. I really didn't mean for it to go to the extent that it did. Like daughter, like mother I guess. I got carried away. I'm sorry," answered Suzanne defensively.


"I'm sure there's no need to bore you with the details. I faked an ankle injury, got him to rub it, waited until he was creaming all over himself and then - - - well, you saw him. It must have been pretty obvious what those little tap shoes did to him."
"I don't understand," Cindy stammered, "Did you drug him, trick him, tie him up - what? Don would never have voluntarily allowed himself to be kicked and beaten to that extent just because you let him play with your ankle."


"Cindy, Cindy, Cindy! You don't know your mother very well do you? It's just a simple matter of putting a foot slave in the proper mood. It wasn't instantaneous. It took about a half an hour before I got him to that dreamy, worshipful state of mind. You know I've never had to resort to drugs or bonds to make a foot slave worship me. Have you?"


"No, I never have and I'm sure you haven't either, it's just that Don never let me - -" Cindy let the sentence trail off.


"And you certainly don't understand your husband very well either. Don is one of those guys that doesn't start off being a 24 hour a day slave - you have to turn him into one. So far, I'm the only one who's done that and I assure you, it wasn't my intention to do so. I swear I haven't had anything to do with him since I literally kicked him out of my car and onto the hospital steps later that same afternoon."


"Are you sure?" Cindy said sarcastically, "He literally crawled into the house two weeks later with a ruptured ball. His nose was re-broken, in fact, it was smashed flat against his face. He almost lost an eye and most of his front teeth were either broken or missing. He told me he fell down, but he would have had to have fallen out of a plane to do that kind of damage. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that, now would you?"


"Well now that you mention it, okay, I guess I did kinda work him over real bad - but he asked for it. He really gave me little choice. He kept calling me to let him come over and I just kept hanging up on him hoping he'd get the hint. One day as I was going out the back door to the garage, he came out of nowhere. I was wearing a white halter top with my orange peasant skirt along with my little orange flats and before I knew what was happening, he was kneeling on the sidewalk in front of me. He had grabbed one of my feet in mid-step with both hands causing me to almost fall. He held it to his mouth and started kissing and slobbering all over it. Without thinking, I pushed my foot down ******* the backs of his hands to the cement where I twisted and scraped away most of the skin. When he yelled and ****** his head back to look up at me, he had the look of a deer caught in headlights. He managed to pull one of his hands out from under my shoe but I was still able to mess up the other one pretty good. He started begging me to lift my foot off of his hand." Suzanne paused for a second to catch her breath.


Cindy, forgetting all about being mad, was enraptured. "Go on! Go on! Tell me more! What did you do?" she asked breathlessly.


"I did what he asked. I lifted my foot off of his hand and proceeded to stomp his face into the next county with it. I don't know if I kicked his mouth or nose, probably both, but I distinctly remember feeling something give when the heel of my shoe connected solidly with it. He screamed and fell over backwards onto the grass. I looked down and saw him spitting out a tooth and lots of blood. When I saw that, along with all the fear and pain in his eyes, it made me a little horny in spite of myself. You know how much I love to kick a man to the ground and watch him quivering at my feet. His face had pure terror written all over it. It was absolutely delightful! It made such a perfect target that I walked over and began kicking it like a soccer ball. I just kept kicking it over and over with the toes of my shoes. Mostly I kicked his eyes - first one, then the other. He kept screaming - I kept kicking! And laughing!"




"Oh, Mom!" Cindy interrupted, "Your poor little toes! Remember when I broke my big toe when I kicked Jack in the forehead with my soft flats?" Cindy said genuinely concerned for her mother's well being and forgetting all about the horrible damage suffered by her husband.


"Oh no, Baby, I was fine. I wasn't wearing the soft, kidskin flats that you remember. These were a new pair of patent leather ones with very, very hard toes. I never felt a thing but pure enjoyment. I'm quite sure Don did though. Anyway, as I was saying, he kept trying to get up and run but all he could really do was sidle sideways and backwards like a crab in his feeble attempt to get up and escape. I never gave him much of a chance to get away! Each time he would awkwardly attempt to get up and move back out of range, I would lightly skip forward very demurely - I was the perfect little lady -and slam the toe of my shoe into his face so hard that he literally flew back down to the ground. Sometimes he would just lie there broken and bleeding in utter defeat hoping I would feel sorry for him and stop. But instead, I would laugh and stomp down on his face with my heel and tell him 'you'd better run because I'm really in the mood to hurt you bad. Stomping your face is really turning me on and I don't intend to stop!' So then he would panic and try to get up on his hands and knees to run but with his face turned momentarily to the ground, it was the perfect angle to kick him from. Even though I couldn't see what I was kicking, with that kind of leverage, you can bet it was hard - his head would snap back violently every time the toe of my flat would land somewhere against his face. I must have kicked his left eye pretty bad because he screamed horribly loud and claimed that I had blinded him. I paid no attention to his whining, after all, he was just a man, what did I care how badly I was maiming him? I continued kicking him for quite awhile longer until he had completely turned himself around and had slid back up onto the sidewalk again.


"You couldn't see his face anymore, it was a sea of blood and it was gushing all over the cement. His legs were spread in front of me so I figured 'What the hell!' and started kicking his miserable crotch with the toe of my shoe. He instinctively closed his legs for a moment to protect his puny manhood. I don't know if he could see me or not through his swollen eyes but he seemed to look up into my eyes. He either saw, heard or sensed how much I was enjoying myself and I have to admit, my eyes were really shining and I was getting wet from the thrill of the moment - I couldn't help myself. I couldn't see into his eyes too clearly but they appeared to glaze over with worship and the dumb ass opened his legs back up for me again. He just lay there like that - quietly offering himself up to me like a sacrificial lamb."


"My God! And you talk about me!" Cindy exclaimed. "So what did you do?"


"What would you have done if some pissant male had offered his manhood up for you to ruin? You wouldn't have disappointed him now would you? I must have slammed my feet into his miserable balls a half dozen times or more with everything I had in me until he began retching and throwing up all over himself before finally passing out. I stopped for a moment to look down at him and gloat over what I had done to him when I noticed the strip of tape across the bridge of his nose for the first time. Even though I had already inadvertently kicked it a number of times, I hadn't really seen it. It was like a neon sign flashing on and off saying stomp me, stomp me! I waited for him to regain consciousness and when he did, he started puking again so I held myself back temporarily - I didn't want that slop soiling the soles of my shoes. When he finally threw everything up and started dry heaving, I stomped down on his prick then marched up his body to stand defiantly on his chest. My hands were on my hips and I felt pretty powerful. I know I was looking and feeling pretty sexy too. I lifted my foot as high in the air as I could and brought the heel down right on that piece of tape - crushing what was left of his nose like a dry twig. He started crying and bleeding even more while I ground the remains of his nose under the heel of my shoe. I twisted it with every ounce of strength in me, 180 degrees left, then 180 degrees right - over and over until I literally obliterated it. I flattened it down into his face so deep you couldn't tell he ever had a nose there. I felt pretty good about myself so I stood there for a few seconds with most of my weight concentrated on the shoe in his face while I savored the moment.


"One of his eyes was uncovered and I knew he could still see out of it even though it was almost swollen shut so I lifted my skirt up so he could see my wet panties a little better. What a horny bastard he is! I had practically killed him and he still got excited by the sight of my wet panties! I daintily curtsied above him as a lady should and thanked him for a lovely afternoon. Then I told him that I was getting a restraining order against him and that if he ever called or came around again, I would have him arrested. I walked on across his face on my way to the garage and just left him there crying, bleeding and vomiting while I drove to the store. When I got back, he was gone. I haven't seen or heard from him since."


"Wow! That's incredible! I can't believe Don would ever let anybody be that cruel to him! He still hasn't recovered from that beating you gave him. I doubt if he ever will," Cindy said excitedly as she forgot all about being mad. She was much more interested in knowing Suzanne's secret so she could do the same thing. "Do you think I can ever be that mean to him? What if he's so infatuated with you - he won't let anyone hurt him but you?"


"Don't worry, Don is every bit as much of a masochist as Johnny was and is. He doesn't care what woman hurts him or how much just as long as she has the proper attitude. He only worships me because I hurt him. The more I hurt him, the more he worships me. Just show him that you don't care about him and that all you want to do is stomp all over his feeble body in spike heels. He'll let you ruin him just like Johnny did and then he'll kiss your feet after you do - assuming he's still alive and conscious," Suzanne assured her, "There aren't a lot of men in this world like Don and Jack and Johnny but you'd be surprised at just how many can be turned into that kind of slave. With the proper nurturing, almost any man can be turned into the kind of hopeless and pathetic individual that will gladly lie under your feet and let you kill him just for the thrill of seeing how happy it makes you."




Cindy, of course, had had many variations of this conversation with her mother as well as with herself but the sweet, innocent side of her had always won out - up until now that is! Cindy knew and understood the power she had over certain men - The ones who couldn't take their eyes off of her feet. She had been down this road before with her stepbrother, John and it hadn't been that many years ago either. In fact, he still called her at least twice a week begging to be torn apart under her spike heels. Cindy smiled to herself as she remembered the many times she had granted Johnny his fatalistic wish by scarring and disfiguring his face and body while using her mother's spike heels with the metal tips. She had started when she was only twelve years old and had done most of her bloodthirsty damage before turning 'sweet' sixteen. Up until she married Don, she hadn't been the least bit ashamed of her sadistic nature - she had enjoyed hurting things and people she didn't like but she had held that side of her nature in check where Don was concerned. Up until now she had been very much in love with him and only used her feet on him when he wanted it - doing only what she thought he wanted her to do. She was always quick to stop when she felt she might be hurting him too much not realizing that stopping was not what Don wanted at all.


"This is really beginning to sound good but what sort of punishment should I do? I don't want to hurt him too much," she said out loud.


"WRONG! You're not listening to me! You DO want to hurt him very much, that's the whole point. That's why it's never worked before, you've always been too careful with him, afraid you'll hurt him too much. You must stop thinking of his safety. Here's something I always did to my slaves. Make him sit on the floor with his back to a wall. Have him put an air mattress or cushion behind his head for support and give him a mouthpiece. You're not going to do anything to permanently damage him, only things that are extremely painful and degrading to him. I will admit, you're going to mark him up quite a bit - black eyes, bloody nose and mouth, scars on his body from your heels that will never go away - but what the heck, he'll love it and so will you. Have him place a chair for you in front of him and then have him get a pair of your flats. Not ones with soft rubber heels and soles, but a pair of the dirtiest, most smelly flats that you own. Ones with very hard heels and leather soles. From now on, whenever he sees you put on a pair of these particular flats at some point during the evening, he will know that he's done something to displease you and he's going to be punished later by them. You are now going to kick him senseless with your feet, over and over until you see the fear and worship in his eyes. Make sure to have him smell the inside of your flats and kiss them all over before you start. Take your time to ensure he's in the proper frame of mind. Don't ever hurt him badly until you know there is cream in his shorts. When you're sure he's sticky, have him put the flats on your feet and start by kicking him slowly but not softly. He'll hate it if you try to be careful with him. Kick him once in the face very hard and then just smile at him while holding your foot back ready for another kick. Talk to him gently and sweetly. Say something like 'Did my little foot hurt your face?' and then kick him hard again. He'll love it! After you see the dreamy, worshipful look in his eyes, begin to kick him faster. Stop every now and then to let him look at you. Hold your foot back ready to kick him and watch him squirm. Enjoy that fear you see in his eyes."


Cindy was getting excited. This time the sadistic side of her was beginning to make sense. "But what if I break his nose or jaw or maybe ruin some teeth? We can't afford for him to take time off work let alone the medical costs of fixing him up. Maybe I'll just ask you for a loan," she laughed.


"Don't worry, you can't hurt his teeth or jaw when he's wearing the mouthpiece unless you kick him when he doesn't know it's coming. Always make sure he's looking at you when you kick him. That way you can't do any damage and you'll also create a mistress/slave relationship. It's extremely effective to have one's slave look you in the eyes as you hurt him. As far as the nose his concerned, it can only be broken if your heel hits him on the bridge of the nose. If you aim at his mouth with your heels, you'll probably just cause his lips to bleed as they get cut on his teeth or mouthpiece but nothing else. Possibly the nose will also bleed as the soles of your shoes smash into it, but that shouldn't cause any major damage. Above all, don't stop kicking him just because he bleeds, just throw him a rag and then continue. He'll really worship you for doing it. Believe me."


"I don't know. What if I knock him out or hurt him so badly, he can't go to work?"


"Forget about work, I'll support you two after you train him properly. Besides, you have to
remember, you only need to kick his face for a few days until you achieve the desired effect and after that, only occasionally for punishment when he does something to displease you. You have to be cruel to him if you want to keep him as your slave. If he doesn't respect you and fear you, then you might as well give it up and keep going on the way you have been. It's highly unlikely that you will knock him out as he will probably fall to the floor before that happens. But even if you should, that's even better because he'll really know you mean business. Can you possibly imagine the tremendous respect and fear he would have for you after he comes to. He'd really have to be a fool to miss work or do anything else that you don't like knowing the punishment he'll receive if he does."


"Okay, so when I get home, I just put on a pair of my flats with hard heels for the rest of the evening. Should I say something or put on any other kind of clothes? What else should I do?" Cindy asked.


"There are many things you could do, but they're not necessary. Just putting on the 'punishment' shoes will send him the message. Walk around as you normally do and keep smiling at him. Learn to stop frowning and complaining. From now on, you'll never have reason to. Try putting your shoe on his crotch, grabbing his hair, pulling his head roughly forward and then whisper in his ear, 'you're really going to get it, Baby!' then give him a big kiss followed by a hard slap. That will really start his juices freely flowing! When there's other people around and you can't actually be hurting him, talk to him in whispers and tell him what you're going to do to him every chance you get. Command him to keep his head bowed looking only at your feet."


"I guess it doesn't sound that hard but it just seems like there's something I'm missing."






"I guess it doesn't sound that hard but it just seems like there's something I'm missing."




"There is. It's called 'attitude' and you've got to get it if you want to keep him as your slave. This is all very new for you so you must keep reminding yourself that you are the only one who counts. Whatever he wants simply doesn't matter to you. Never, ever think about his desires or comfort. The more you treat him like dirt, the more he'll long for you. You will be fulfilling his deepest, fondest desires. By taking everything for yourself and giving him nothing but pain and degradation, you will actually be giving him everything he desires. If you should happen to think of him nicely in any way, he'll resent it and call the whole thing off. You should only be nice to him in front of other people. He will understand that it's only for appearances and not because you want to be nice to him. All other times, he must be under your feet, or kissing them, or you'll be slapping him or kicking him. In other words, he'll be filth under your shoes and you'll treat him accordingly. Never, ever give him any slack!"


"After some of the things he's done to me in the past, the names he's called me, I think I can manage to get the right attitude. But, like you said, I'm new at this where Don's concerned. What if I don't always do it right. What's going to happen? I'm also concerned about his health. What if I hurt him too much and he gets sick or something?"


"You won't make any mistakes if you have the right attitude but if you should happen to blow it during the first few days, he'll give you a chance to make it right. He needs to know that you'll really punish him. You must never fail a second time though! When you let him think you're going to kick him later with your flats, by all means, DON'T LET HIM DOWN! no matter how tired you are. Believe me, after you punish him a couple of times, he won't want to test you very much if he has any sense. In fact, he'll be obeying you so much after a week that you'll be getting bored by it all. You'll have to punish him with your flats even when he's done nothing wrong just for your own enjoyment or as a warning for him to stay good. Don't worry, it's perfectly permissible. After all, you're the Goddess and he's the slave, you rule his world and whatever you want to do is okay simply because you say so. Think about it for a moment. From now on he never misses any work, he never spends any money without asking you. You always get anything you want and all because you've turned him into your slave. Don't you think all that is worth a tiny bit of risk? Let's face it, if you don't make him your slave, you'll continue to argue and fight from here on out and you'll probably end up divorced. You make the choice!"


"But earlier you said to smile at him and give him a kiss. Isn't that being nice to him?"


"Yes and no. It's not really being nice, it's being sexy, it's teasing him by making him desire you knowing he can't have you. It's always better to hurt him while you're being nice to him than when you're angry. For some reason, that turns him on even more. It's much better than yelling or complaining. For example, if you come home and see him sitting around and the garbage hasn't been emptied yet, don't complain, frown or yell. Just smile or laugh and tell him, 'Sweetheart, why don't you bring me my dirty little flats, the ones with the very hard heels. Do it like a good little boy.' That will put chills down his spine much faster than a grouchy attitude. Another example is when you're in bed with him. If you alternately slap him and then kiss him and then slap him again over and over, you'll have him leaking all over the sheets."

[pallone]

Too much unnecessary violence for my taste.
You can destroy a guy's testicles with a lot more elegance and less blood.