Mistress PleaseDon't Step on Me AnymoreBy R. SiclaryCanaan Chapter 1 The floor was icy and hardbeneath my bare feet, and the grouting between the tiles were a burden to stepover this early in the morning. Ordinarily I didn't mind it so much, but in themornings. Being four-inches tall in the mornings was not advantageous to thosewho do not like to have their feet flex into irregular surfaces, especiallythose that were inches deep, and four inches wide; they were to me at least.
Then in came Lisa. I looked up at her loomingform and she looked down at me. She stepped over me on her way to potty. Shewas â€œnormalâ€ sized, five-feet-eleven in her world, and I four-inches to her. She was of course barefooted, and she had not yet changed out of hereveningwear, which was usually scant at best.
â€œGood morning, Joe,â€ she said to me as shestepped over me. She gave me a gentle little back-kick with the sole of herfoot with her greeting as she passed over me. That was my lot with her; sheenjoyed playing with me with her feet, beautiful feet that she had.
I managed to give her heel a pat before ittraveled out of my reach with her stride, and I replied in kind. â€œSleep well,last night?â€ I asked. She was pulling down her panties and sitting on thestool. Her feet slapped near-silently but resoundingly on her trek to thepotty.
I admired her feet, and I admired her. Adeliciously brutal woman she was, and one who had a thing for stepping all overme, and doing it in ways that I was sure to survive, hence my continuedexistence after being the object of her â€œfunâ€ countless times.
She nodded at me and tousled back hermorning-unruly hair. She'd propped her feet up on their balls, and shortly Iheard and smelled her urination. It was copious as usual.
This was my usual place to wait for her. Iwould come to the bathroom and await her arrival once I heard her begin to stirfrom sleep; this was our rule. I never violated it, or any other rule sheimposed. It could sometimes be an aggravation, especially if my night beforehad been plagued by soreness from an evening of â€œfunâ€ with my mistress. Punishment for violating this rule, or for that matter, any of her rules, wouldbring swift and very not-nice consequences. I seldom enjoyed them.
Suddenly, Lisa was addressing me with aquestion. I'd not realized I'd delved into a â€œmorningâ€ revelry ofmorning-stares and non-objective thinking, and it took me a moment to come outof it and respond. This particular scenario was something Lisa liked. Sherelished my usual morning inattentiveness because it gave her excuse to doâ€œthingsâ€ to me. I blinked and looked up at her.
â€œI'm sorry, Mistress?â€ I asked, abashed, not tomention with a little trepidation. She grinned.
â€œI said, do you know today is Saturday, Joe,â€she said. I blinked again. I knew it was, and I also knew the portent ofSaturdays with her. They were days off for her, and days â€œonâ€ for me. â€œYes,Mistress,â€ I replied.
She widened her grin a little more and thenshook her large head a little, and for the purpose of getting her long hair outof her face, which had flopped into it again with a bow she'd done with her headwhile delving into the relief of her urination.
â€œYou weren't listening to me again,â€ she said,and with her usual portent for my usual failure to do so. She wiped and rosefrom the toilet. She drew her panties up and stepped up to me, or rather overme; she loomed. I craned my neck and returned her gaze. I was submissive, andawed. But then I usually always am. The view of her near-naked self standingover me like that, shapely and â€œskyscraper-toppling-foreshortenedâ€ wasstaggering. I felt myself growing hard in my little loincloth. I adored her. Moreover, she turned me on enormously. She lifted her right foot and prodded mewith her big toe.
â€œFor being your usual male inattentive self,you get to live in my house shoe for the morning. Go and wait for me there. I'll be with you after I've showered.â€ I nodded, a little stunned. â€œHouse shoeâ€treatment was something she seldom imposed upon me, and because she knew howintense it was for me. Even then, she would usually only impose it upon me on awork day, which meant I would get fifteen to twenty minutes of this treatmentwhile she readied her self for work. After which, I would spend the next fewhours recovering; she would go to work.
I knew better than to backtalk her, and notbecause she didn't like it; she loved it. It gave her additional excuses to bemean to me.
She prodded me again, and I nodded again. Ifelt numb inside. Who knew how long she intended to keep me underfoot in herhouse shoe? I didn't, and for a moment, that not knowing paralyzed me. I stoodtingling from head to foot, and with a thick feeling in my guts. Her huge feetpicked them selves up one after the other, and she turned and stepped into theshower. I watched her feet as she did, and I loved them, and I hated them. Iturned and numbly walked out of the bathroom.
***** I came to her house shoes, and stood looking atthem for a long moment. I heard her turn on the shower and I pictured herlovely body under the running water, partially obscured by steam, and from whereI always saw her, from at her feet.
I looked into the darkness of the inside of herright house shoe, and I swallowed against a lump in my throat. Soon I would bein there, and her foot with me, on top of me.
Don't get me wrong, I found being in her houseshoe under her foot a very delicious experience. Trapped against the sole ofher foot, and repeatedly squashed as she moved around her bedroom was anexperience difficult to describe. It was incredibly intense, mind-numbing even.
Her house shoes were the â€œgarden varietyâ€over-the-foot type. They were brown corduroy, and they had rubber soles. Theinsoles were lined with a silk-smooth nylon fabric. This fabric becamenon-slick to me, however, when her foot was atop me. The rubber sole combinedwith the foam cushioning underneath the insole material to create a grippingeffect with her foot snugged atop meâ€”once I was underfoot, the position Iassumed beneath her foot was the position I usually remained in until she tookher foot out again. I typically lay beneath her foot with my head and shouldersbeneath the ball of her foot and the rest of me extended under her arch. Myfeet would just reach the up-curve of her heel.
The experience was so delicious for me becauseLisa had deliciously supple feet. Moreover, the bottoms of her feet were smooth(she kept them that way), and they were very soft; she had no calluses on thesoles of her feet, at all. Add to that, her feet were always exquisitely supplejust after she'd showered, which is why she was showering now.
I swallowed hard again, and then numbly climbedover the lip of her right house shoe and slid myself in. The inside of herhouse shoe was redolent of her foot odor. It was not over-powering, but it wasomnipresent. In addition, my scent was intermingled with hers; I'd experiencedorgasms many times underneath her foot; my smell lingered. It made for aninteresting mixture of aromas, and a not unpleasant one. Also, since Lisa'sfeet were usually clean when she wore her house shoes, the scent of hershower-freshness was present, adding a layer of watery freshness to the myriadof smells in her footwear.
I listened to her shower I guess for the betterpart of ten minutes before I finally heard her turn the water off. I heard herstep out of the tub then toweling her self off. I stared up at the inside ofher house shoe's upper as I listened, and I thought of little else but hersoon-to-come foot, and how I would be pressed beneath it, and for who knew howlong . . . and then she was approaching.
Lisa was not an overly heavy-footed woman, herfeet nonetheless thumped upon the floor with her approaching stride. Iswallowed. I heard her feet push into the carpet beside her house shoes, and Isaw her shadow fill the opening of mine. She turned around and sat down on theedge of her bed.
In her world, Lisa weighs about a hundred andforty-five pounds. She wears size six and a half shoes, and she requires anextra-wide width.
Her feet are stunningly beautiful, to me atleast because they are smooth along their bottoms, smooth planes that possessfolded wrinkles in just the right place, between her heel and her arch under theoutside of her foot. In addition, her arch is not overly high, but it isdeliciously soft. The balls of her feet are broad, smooth planes of suppleflesh, and she possesses short toes. Her toes are round, pea-like nodules ofsoft flesh; her big toes are non-elongated ovals, and just as supple on theirbottoms as the rest of her foot. Her feet simply put, are snug beds of suppleflesh, where as with a woman who possesses more angular, curvaceous feet, tendto have pressure points when they stand that are staggeringly uncomfortable forme (I know; I've found this out).
I heard her pull on her panties, and then puton her bra. I lied there in rapture, silent as I listened to her tug thesethings onto herself. The kiss of womanly-soft material upon her flesh was adelightful sound, and even more so because of the sound-dampening qualities ofthe house shoe that presently surrounded me. I felt myself growing hard as Ilistened to these sounds. I knew what was coming next, and the anticipation ofit gripped me. I was not disappointed either.
In came her foot, huge and smooth, andimposing. A broad slab of meaty flesh it was, and as large to me as a car wasto her. Her large toes came with tender and forming pressure over my legs, andthen she began â€œwalkingâ€ them up my thighs, gently scrunching them as she tuggedher house shoe on to her foot. I felt the small tug of gravity then, the onethat always came; she always lifted her foot so she could more easily slide herfoot onto me without pushing me up into the shoe's toe box. Darkness engulfedme as her foot engulfed me beneath it. It was not a total darkness, more like avery deep gloom. Her toes were upon my face, cool and shower fresh, and thenher foot slid the rest of its way forward with its usual momentum. I foundmyself again, with my head and shoulders snugged beneath the ball of her foot. I was again, pinned beneath her wonderful bed of supple flesh. After she gother foot inside, she lowered her foot to the floor.
The pressure of her foot resting upon me underthe weight of just her leg is a wonderful feeling. The sole of her foot relaxedupon my form, and pushed itself onto me, forming over my contours. I knew thiswas to be short-lived though, for even as I basked in this wonderful, coolfeeling, I listened to the sound of her drawing her other house shoe onâ€”and thenit came.
The pressure her foot exerts under her full,titanic weight is staggering. Her foot pressed down onto me with mighty forceas she rose. â€œOh God!â€ I tried to cry out, as I always do, but as always, Ionly managed an â€œUGN-MUMPH!â€ My ears rang under the intense pressure; myhead and shoulders pressed tightly into the shoe's insole, and the ball of herfoot formed a staggeringly tight seal over me. I felt the rest of her foot too,but it was a distant thing compared to the ball of her foot. I was once againtrapped beneath her mighty foot, all of me, sealed and helpless under thisawesome pressure. I could do nothing but lie there and be walked on, and forhowever long she chose, and it was Saturday too.
***** If not for the carpet she'd opted for in herbedroom, I would have been immediately squashed the first time she stood upon melike this. As it was though, her carpet and thick padding beneath it served toseal me into a world of intense pressure, a capsule if you will of unrelentingand powerful entrapment.
I felt her mighty weight roll forward, and mypoor head was squeezed with terrific harshness. I saw stars, knew that my headwas going to crack and then pop like a grape, and then just like that, thepressure was simply gone. I knew what this was of course; she had taken astep. I felt the tug of G-forces as she swung her foot forward, and then felther heel plant, and then her foot rolled forward like a mighty but exquisitelyfirm and not hard, steamroller.
I listened to the subtle pop of her huge ankle,I listened to her foot snug into the foot bed of her house shoe, and the carpetcrush just on the other side of the shoe's outsole. I listened to this as Ilistened to myself wheeze and groan with each of her steps, and saw stars.
It was roughly twelve paces for her from theside of her bed to her closet. I've counted them. Then there would be a timeof exquisite intenseness for me as she stood in her closet picking through whatclothes she would wear for the day. This usually only took a few minutes, thenthere would be the trip back to her bedside.
The time she spent in her closet was always theworst for me. I would become intensely sore during this period, and thatsoreness would make the trip back to her bedside all that much more difficult tobear.
We were at step six now, and she was going toher closet with her usual, relaxed pace. One might think that having an objectin ones shoe the size of a four inch guy might make one wish to favor that foot,and possibly even limp from the discomfort of it. Not Lisa. She relishedsqueezing me beneath her regular stride, letting me feel all of her weight asthe ball of her foot loaded under it just before stepping off.
I had begun to sweat profusely by the time wereached step nine, and by the time we reached her closet, I was beyond ready tocome out, as I always was.
***** Her powerful foot just rested on me, squeezingme terrifically beneath it, and for extended periods. She was mindful of myneed to breathe, so very seldom did she stand upon me with her full weight forlonger than about twenty seconds at a time. While she was not standing directlyon me, I could breathe. While the air was usually thick and very humid, it didpossess enough oxygen to keep me conscious, and lucid. Another reason for herchoice of house shoes was that this particular kind gapped around its footopening as she rolled her foot forward with her stride. The mechanics of herwalking would then pump surprisingly large amounts of air into my confines. This was also another reason that the time she spent in her closet was extrahard on me. She was not walking around in there, but shuffling her feet as shemoved down her row of clothes. No air was being pumped in. It got increasinglyhumid and warmer as she stood in her closet, and harder for me to breathebecause it was.
I lay waiting beneath her foot. There was notmuch else I could do, but wait. While she stood on me in her closet though, herfoot would stand deliciously still, a seriously intense bed of warm but supplepressure that for periods, simply refused to move. I would lie staggered underthis, and then her weight would lift, I would stick a little to the bottom ofher foot, and then her foot would kiss its brutal press back down onto me again.
Being stood upon by Lisa is something Iparticularly enjoy; well, except for when she gets sadistic with it, like now. There is an undeniable element to being squashed beneath such a titanic womanthough, for me at least that is very difficult to describe. I mean as she stoodmotionless upon me, sure it was impossible to breathe, but the sheerhelplessness of it, the mind-numbing, muscle-searing intenseness of it; it isoverwhelming. I was sealed beneath the flesh of her foot during these periods,squeezed so tightly upon that I could not move, at all.
And then, seconds went on into minutes, thenfive minutes, and then longer . . . finally though, she lifted her foot andrested it on its toe, to doubtlessly give me a break. I however, was reeling bythen. Five, six or perhaps seven minutes being pressed beneath her titanicweight was beginning to take its toll. I knew my flesh was red as a beet; itwas stinging, and intensely. I was desperate to come out from under her foot.
I knew she could hear me if I called to herfrom inside her house shoe. She did say I was difficult to understand unlessshe really listened closely, but that she could hear me. I found my voice, andat first, it was a croak. I hurriedly cleared my throat and writhed a littleagainst the sole of her now sweaty foot. My throat clearing opened my throatenough to get out something, and I used what energy I had remaining (whichwasn't a lot at this point) to get out, â€œM-Mistress?â€ I was pleased andrelieved. My voice rang out clear within my tight confines. And then came herreply. â€œYes, Joe, what is it?â€ Her interrogative possessed no invective. Instead, she asked the question with patience and a genuine kindness toward me,but then she usually always did, even when she was feeling especially sadistic,like now.
â€œC-Can I p-please get out now?â€ I asked, andwas once again relieved that I'd managed to make my voice clear again.
Lisa evidently didn't hear me that time. Either that or she was toying with me, making me repeat myself for thehumiliation that being forced to do so brought with it, especially when one washelpless as I. Embarrassment aside, I wanted out. I would give anything to belet out, and I realized that I would.
Her foot remained poised on its toes, and Ibeneath its relaxed self, under the curve of her arch and nonetheless gripping,if lightly, ball of her foot. I knew that if I didn't get something out in thenext few moments, her foot would be squashing onto me again, pinning me beneaththe brute force of her weight again. So I called out in the most powerful voicethat I could find, â€œPlease, Mistress. Can I get out?â€ I knew at once that sheheard me that time, for she scrunched her foot a little, and so the ball of herfoot would release its pressing hold on my head. â€œNo,â€ she replied simply. Myheart sank, and I went numb, and then her foot was levering flat back to thefloor, and once again the cruel kiss of her giant weight pressed back down ontome again. I tried so hard to cry, but could not. The pressure of her foot wassimply too great, and I squashed so thoroughly beneath it, that I could notsob. Also my tear ducts flowed copiously whether I chose to cry or not. Soeven though my eyes flowed with tears, I could not be said to be crying. Herenormous sole was once again a mighty slab of meat pushing down onto my bodywith its terrific force.
The trek back to Lisa's bedside was just asuncaring for her, and as brutal to me as was her stroll to her closet. Finallythough, she slipped her foot out of her house shoe, and I was all at oncegasping in huge gulps of deliciously fresh air.
Lisa as it turned out decided that perhapsbeing under her foot as she browsed through her closet for the better part offifteen minutes was a bit much for me. She could actually feel my apathy underher foot; I usually squirmed a lot during her stroll back to her bed; this timeI was not squirming.
In any event, I lied there in the foot bed ofher shoe, burning and nearly asphyxiated. I had quite literally come very closeto suffocating underneath her foot as shoe browsed her closet, and my skin beganfeeling as though it would soon melt off if I weren't given relief. I hadsimply resigned myself to being stood upon and trodden upon then, uncaring,disassociating myself with the intense trauma of being trapped under her footfor so long.
Now that her foot was off of me,I began a slow recovery. My skin felt tingly and hot; I knew that it was stillred. I knew though that this pain I felt would soon deaden into a persistentsoreness that in a matter of a span of hours would slowly begin to fade too. Ilay relieved, and then, listening to her move about her room.
She was dressing her self. Ilistened to her pull on her pants; they sounded like jeans. Next came herblouse. Then her feet neared her shoes, squishing crisply into the carpet asshe planted them just outside her house shoes. â€œAre you ready to come out?â€ sheinquired. I replied that I was.
With this, Lisa picked up herhouse shoe (the one that I was in), and she gently dumped me out into her hand. She gasped, and she assumed an apologetic lilt to her voice. â€œWow, that wasintense for you. I'm sorry, Joe.â€ I could only nod numbly. I hated her forwhat she had just done to me, but I could not bring myself to openly express myhatred to her; I loved her. Moreover, I loved her for what she'd just done tome. She was a deliciously cruel woman, and I loved her for her cruelty, and forher tenderness after visiting such cruelties onto me. My hatred wasshort-lived, as it always was. My hatred of her would fade with my pain, and Ilooked forward to that fading. I did not wish to hate her. The dichotomy forme in this was both exquisite, and disturbing to me. I knew that one day Iwould die beneath her feet. I knew too that she did not wish for me to die, butthat she would also experience no great sense of loss if I did. I was a toy toher, if a cherished one. If I died, she would simply go on with her life. Sheand I both knew this, and she was more comfortable with this knowing than I. Iaccepted it, and disturbingly, relished it.
In any event, she turned with meand headed into her bathroom. I enjoyed being carried by her. Her immensepower over me radiated into my very soul as she carried me, her power over mewas absolute, even when she carried me.
She brought me to her washbasinand turned on the water. She let it run until she was satisfied with itstemperature. She wanted it pleasantly cool, but not bracingly cold. Sheinserted her hand into the flow, and the water roiled around me, running downher fingers in a babbling and not overly powerful stream. The kiss of the coolwater upon my skin was wondrous and relieving. The coolness of the water slakedaway the stinging of my abused skin, and numbed the soreness of my muscles. Ilaid back in the flow, and the water burbled over my shoulders. She smiled downat me. I found my smile too. We shared a moment of knowing, understandingone-another, and I appreciation for her and her demonstration of tenderness, andcaring toward me.
Long since, Lisa had devised aformula for diluting Tylenol to a potency that my small self could tolerate. After allowing me to lie in the running water for a few minutes, she allowed meto towel myself off, and then deposited me onto the countertop. My â€œtowelâ€ wasa piece of old washcloth that she'd fashioned into a towel for me. She'd alsofashioned my little loincloth. Anyway, she got my Tylenol from her medicinecabinet, a bottle with an eyedropper, and she gave me a dose. I gratefullyswallowed it down. I loved my doll-sized status with her, and I loved the carewith which she administered to me. I was so very cute to her, and this is howshe tended to my needs. Everything I did was cute to her, especially the way Igrasped the end of the eyedropper as I drank from it. She usually squealed withglee when I did this; she squealed then.
She gave me a second glance asshe put the eyedropper back into its bottle. â€œJoe, I'm having a few friendsover tonight,â€ she said. She replaced the bottle of Tylenol in the medicinecabinet then squatted so that she could bring herself to eye-level with me. Imet her gaze and then looked down. I nodded.
I knew what having friends overmeant, especially since she was telling me about it. It meant I was to be thecenter attraction. Moreover, it usually meant that I would be used for theenjoyment of her guests, which more often than not meant I was to be stepped on,and a lot.
I lifted my gaze to hers. Shewas watching me, waiting for me to comment. I had the right to refuse to be thecenter attraction. I seldom did though, asking to be excluded only when I wasextra sore, or if I was uncomfortable with one or more of her guests (that isanother story in itself). â€œWho's coming, Mistress?â€ I asked. She smiled.
â€œI am having two of your favoritepeople over tonight, Joe,â€ she said, beaming at me. I knew who these peoplewere, and the thought of them visiting made me smile. I nonetheless waited forher to reveal who was coming. It made her happy to do that.
â€œJill and Marcy are coming over!â€she announced, and with her usual glee at making such wonderful revelations tome.
Jill, I adored. Marcy I adoredeven more. Both of these young women were very tender toward me. Marcyhowever, loved getting me off. She thought it was the coolest thing to watch mewrithe and then explode all over myself. She would invariably rub her feet allover me until I cummed. She had deliciously soft feet. Jill on the other handwould do anything that was â€œgroup-appropriate.â€ More importantly, she was adelightfully light woman, and she also had exquisitely soft feet. If theâ€œgroup-appropriateâ€ thing to do was to step all over me, she would happily joinin. Lisa's approval of her was the biggest thing in the world to her. Once,she stood upon me with both feet for better than twenty minutes, and simplybecause Lisa asked her to do it. I'd experienced a raging orgasm beneath herawesome feet.
I beamed at my mistress. â€œYou'rethe awesomenest,â€ I said. She beamed back at me. â€œYou are too, Joe,â€ Lisareplied, and with equal earnestness.