written by Unknown author
original source of the story was Unknown source
It was 1965, when women’s pointy toed spike heeled shoes were at the pinnacle of their original popularity. My trample fetish was nicely served by the young girl I dated when I was 19. Marilyn was 17 years old and still in high school. She was an attractive, pony tailed dishwater blond at 5ft 4in tall (1.6m) and 115-pounds (52 kg). She became the first gal ever to step on my fingers in heels. Marilyn even gave it to me with all of her sexy weight in 4 inch (10 cm) stilettos. Oh the pain and the excitement of those days . . .
Marilyn and I actually met eighteen months earlier at a local drive-in theater where I worked as a part-time projectionist. I didn’t know it at the time but she was only 15. Marilyn and I both sensed there was some chemistry between us and hit it off right away, even having a passionate make out session in the projection booth later the same night we met. We started dating and within 2 weeks were in the back seat of my car, screwing each other’s ears off! Somewhere in all of this Marilyn fell in love with me and of course I told her that I loved her too. I remember her saying many times there was nothing in the world she wouldn’t do to keep me.
Realizing Marilyn’s eagerness to please and youthful naivety implied “anything goes”, I decided to test those waters by confiding in her about my unusual fetish. I told her I had this fantasy about her stepping on my fingers and feeling the pressure of her sexy weight through the heels of her penny loafers. Marilyn believed me when I told her she didn’t weigh enough to hurt me. To my delight and surprise she was 100% okay with it! “I really meant what I said when I told you I’d do anything for you babe, do you want me to step on your fingers right now?”
As you might expect, the first time took some coaxing to get her to do it “full weight” all on one heel, plus some added reassuring that it didn’t hurt (even though it actually did sting somewhat every time).
After discovering what an instant turn on this was for me, it wasn’t long before even those times when we weren’t planning to jump each other’s bones and Marilyn just wanted to be a tease, she’d throw her arms around me to give me a big hug and whisper into my ear, “I’ve got something special for you babe – look at my right heel.” When I’d look down she’d be standing on one foot and slowly rocking all of her weight back on her right heel. Then she’d momentarily raise it off the ground just barely enough for me to be able to slide my pinky finger under. The instant I’d slip it under I’d get hard as steel just from feeling the dirty grit on the surface of her heel. As soon as I would say, “do it” I’d feel the edge of her heel bite into my flesh and gradually begin squashing my finger harder and heavier with each passing moment. The sting from the crushing pressure of her hard leather heel would ebb and flow as she continued the rocking motion, totally oblivious to the fact she was really dishing it out.
These little impromptu trample sessions were always just a 10 to 20 second “power stand” that Marilyn sometimes finished off with a slight twist or turn to make sure of giving me the full treatment. Naturally I encouraged this by telling her how good it felt every time, but the truth was a few of her heel grinding finales stung so bad they left my finger burning for as long as an hour or so afterwards and this was just with my little 115-pound (52 kg) sex kitten wearing flats.
The first time she stepped on my left pinky finger on a hardwood floor she cracked my knuckle and I sort of mumbled under my breath. My finger turned dark red where her heel had been and still tingled a little the next day. I remember Marilyn said at the time, “Babe, something went “crunch” under me when I stepped on you just then. Did I hurt you?” Of course I had to reassure her that she didn’t, but I also had to make sure she didn’t see my finger until the redness and swelling went away. It really hurt!
Not surprisingly, 3 months later by the time of her 16th birthday Marilyn had taken a sadistic delight in knowing what a turn on all this was for me, even joking that as long as it was up to her I was going to be walking around with a freshly squashed finger and a perpetual hard-on! Also, it served to reassure her that her own 115 pounds really didn’t hurt me so she was no longer self-conscious about it. That was great because it meant anytime I wanted it all I had to do was ask, “Step on my finger, quick” and she’d be on it, full weight, in a matter of seconds.
Marilyn got some new clothes for her birthday and to help fan the fires of my own fetish I gave her a pair of blue denim calf-length boots with 2” high (5 cm) tapered (stacked) heels set on a 1” x ¾” base (2.5 cm x 1.9 cm) . This was less than half the square surface area of the heels of her penny loafers so I knew any future finger trampling would have a much more focused bite to it. As soon as she tried them on I had my fingers under her heels and my predictions were confirmed. The smaller and taller heels really hurt like hell.
One of the more bizarre trample fetish games we still played a few times was “Squash the Tootsie Roll”. This is where Marilyn would be wearing her new denim boots while trampling a bag full of Tootsie Roll miniatures. Every time I watched her sexy stacked heel do a particularly good job on one my cock would throb with anticipation. Watching Marilyn doing full weight heel-stands on the helpless Tootsie Rolls with her sexy stacked heel dishing out a 115-pound squash job would just about make me come. At this weight the Tootsie Rolls were splitting their wrappers open and the candy would come gushing out from under the edges of her heel. Of course I would also sometimes sneak my left little finger under her sexy stacked heel for an occasional taste of an “unknowing” 115-pound “accidental” crushing from those hot looking boots. Let me tell you, there’s something really incredible about a gorgeous 115-pound (52 kg) gal is crushing your fingertip with her full weight in 2” (5 cm) stacked heels without realizing it’s you she’s stepping on and not another Tootsie Roll! By the time I had managed to sneak my finger under the edge of her slender heel and feel it being nearly broken from the crushing pressure of her weight I would be squirming from the almost unbearable pain.
It never mattered where we went on a date, whether to the movies, bowling, putt-putt golf, shopping, roller skating or to a restaurant; it was always great sport to find an opportunity sometime during our time together to sneak in at least one really good finger smash. Roller skating and bowling were particularly fun because afterwards I got to “help” Marilyn put her shoes or boots back on when it was time to leave, which of course meant she would stand up on my fingers and mash them. Another of our favorite things to do was go over to a friend’s house and play cards or board games because their bathroom floor was ceramic tile. Of course we always went to the bathroom “together”. Marilyn could really cream my finger on that cold hard floor especially with her boots and I told her it really felt awesome even though my finger would burn like hell for sometimes as long as an hour.
Foreplay was incredible too! Often when we were going to fuck, she’d take off everything but her shoes or boots and stand with her back against the wall. I’d drop to my knees in front of her and begin orally gratifying her while cupping the backs of her heels in both hands and then gradually slipping a pinky finger under each heel. Then the whole time I was giving oral sex she’d be gradually shifting her weight from one leg to the other and bearing down on her heels, one at a time, literally smashing the life out of my pinky fingers. It usually only took 3 or 4 minutes of oral sex for her to have her orgasm. After that we’d collapse into each other’s arms and fuck like rabbits. To this day I still remember her shrieks of ecstasy awhile my fingers were still on fire from the brutal torture her hard leather heels had just given them minutes earlier. Looking back, it’s probably a miracle she never broke my fingers. With the aid of the narrow heels of her denim boots, the finger trampling on many occasions got pretty intense.
Marilyn and I had been together for almost 18 months before I finally felt the stabbing pain of her sexy weight in spike heels. As odd as that may seem, we had just never gotten that dressed up before. I’ll never forget the first time she stepped on me in spikes on the living room carpet of her parent’s home. We were going to be part of the wedding party for a good friend’s wedding and I had come over early to pick her up. Her parents were both at work so Marilyn told me to just come on in when I got there and she’d be down in a few minutes.
I had been waiting about 15 minutes when Marilyn came downstairs wearing a pretty pink bridesmaid’s dress and hot pink, pointy toed spike heeled shoes. Shit, I was speechless! Marilyn’s sexy shoes were instant hard on producing “Pepto Bismol pink” stiletto pumps with pencil thin 4 inch (10 cm) heels that flared out to a base smaller than a dime! Marilyn looked stunning in spike heels. She even had on suntan shaded nylons that did a swell job showing off her terrific legs.
I broke out in nervous perspiration and my hands started to shake because I knew exactly what was coming. All I could think about from the moment I saw Marilyn burying those skinny little heels into the carpet was what it’s going to feel like to get my finger under them. However, I wasn’t expecting the response I got from her this time when I asked for the special treat. Marilyn said, “Honey these are heels! I’ll crush you!” Just hearing those words gave me instant wood. But what it really meant was that I had some work to do on reassuring her that even in high heels she still only weighed 115 pounds it wouldn’t hurt. Of course this was a huge lie and took some extra reassuring, but she finally agreed to do it. I think if the truth were known at that point I would have said or done anything or even proposed marriage to get her to do it.
From having read an article one time in Penthouse Forum magazine, I knew the dangers of placing your finger in the path of a gal’s spike heel. But there was still nothing in the article to prepare me for what it was going to feel like the first time it happened. Of course I knew it was going to hurt and probably hurt a lot, maybe even a whole lot. I just didn’t know how badly or if I would be able to take getting a finger spiked without screaming. I didn’t want to scream because I knew if I did Marilyn would never be willing to do it again.
When I finally got up the nerve to say, “Baby, do it” and my naïve little sex kitten sank her spike-heeled weight into my fingertip, I damn near pissed my pants! I swear, it took every fiber of my being to keep from screaming. To describe the pain, it felt like a thousand needles being stuck into me all at once and like the tip of her heel really was going to punch a hole all the way through my fingertip any second and she wasn’t even full on me yet! Oh that hurt!!
I had to grit my teeth to keep from screaming. All I could manage to say was, “Oh God baby, I love you!” That was probably the wrong thing to say because that’s when Marilyn put one hand on my shoulder to steady herself and began teetering all of her weight on that one high heel. My finger went totally numb at the same instant she said, “That’s every bit of me babe! Are you sure I’m not hurting you?”
Yes fellow spike heel trample fetishists, let me tell you, I swear that was the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my entire life, as bad or worse than the time I accidentally slammed my finger in a car door. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 feeling like a splinter in your finger and 10 feeling like you just cut your finger off with a chain saw, letting this gorgeous 115 pound (52 kg) gal stand on my finger with the 7/16” (1.14 cm) diameter tip of her 4-inch (10 cm) stiletto heel was close to a 12.
But I couldn’t let on for fear that she’d never do it again. My sexy little Marilyn had just nailed the crap out of my fingertip with all of her gorgeous weight in sexy-as-hell 4-inch (10 cm) spike heels and it was literally all I could do to keep from screaming bloody murder. Holy shit, I had never felt a single pound of any gal’s weight in any kind of a high heeled shoe before and right now my naïve little pony tailed sex kitten was treating me to the “mother load” of her entire weight in 4-inch spikes! Oh my God, this sweet young thing was standing on my fingertip with every ounce of her gorgeous weight in heels and I was on the brink of screaming my lungs out because it hurt so badly. Oh shit, it hurt! All I could finally say to her was, “That’s enough!”
Marilyn stepped off of me, giggling now and said, “Pardon me? What was that you said? Did I hear something about “heavy”? You can’t say I didn’t warn you. That hurt, didn’t it? You don’t have to lie to me. I know I’m lots heavier in high heels. My dad even yells at me for leaving my heel prints in the kitchen floor! Anyway, whether it hurt or not, that is absolutely all you’re getting until tonight. We’ve got Bill and Jennifer’s wedding to go to and we’re going to be late if we keep messing around.”
My finger felt like it had just been amputated at the first knuckle and was throbbing so bad that when I looked at it I could see it jerking with every heartbeat. Marilyn’s tiny little D-shaped heel print was pressed deep into it with a snow-white color surrounded by purple and was burning like I was holding it under a torch! I thought to myself, I’ve got to have more of this! The best part was Marilyn had as much as promised more when she said. “That’s all you’re getting until tonight.” Although I was in the most pain I had ever felt, I could hardly wait “until tonight” for her to do it again. I’m sure that had to be the hardest I had ever had my finger stepped on in my whole life.
The wedding was at 2 PM, then of course pictures afterwards followed by the reception. Actually the reception was a lot of fun, but went really long and dragged on into the evening. Since Marilyn and I were both in the wedding party there was really no way for us to slip out early without being rude. However, there was plenty of beer and no one seemed to mind that we were both under age so Marilyn and I both got a little drunk. All through the whole reception I was so turned on by just watching my little princess walking around in hot pink stiletto heels, dancing with her and seeing their skinny little shafts flex whenever she’d take a step and bend and wobble whenever she’d stand on one foot and having just had the experience of feeling the painful stab of those sexy stilettos and my still throbbing fingertip that I walked around with a massive hard-on all afternoon.
It was going on 8 PM when we finally left the reception, by which time Marilyn was close to being bombed off her ass drunk so we headed straight to the Holiday Inn. We had also both brought along a change of clothes so we could go out on a date after the reception. As we got to the room I picked Marilyn up to “carry her over the threshold” and got rock hard again just from holding all of her weight in my arms and thinking that same weight would soon be coming down on her spike heels and crushing my fingers.
Once inside the motel room we had one of the most passionate make out sessions I think we had ever had. Although Marilyn was drunk, she was horny beyond words and more than anything right then wanted to fuck. I did too, but first I wanted to get my finger spiked again under her sexy high heel. Finally I said, “Oh God babe, I can’t wait another second, step on my finger quick! Do it hard! Squash it!!” Marilyn said, “No problem Babe.”
This was about to be only the second time Marilyn had ever stepped on me in spikes and she was ready and willing to trample my fingers with her pink 4-inch (10 cm) stilettos! With the memory still fresh in my mind of what her full weight in heels felt like, quite frankly her offer scared me at first. All I was hoping for was the opportunity to feel a sexy heel for another few seconds of getting my finger squashed into oblivion in a semi-controlled setting and hadn’t even fantasized about several minutes worth of unrelenting brutal trampling and multiple painful stabs from the tips of her sexy spikes.
Although the mere thought of getting my fingers brutally tortured by a drunk and horny gal wearing nothing more than a smile and a pair of 4-inch (10 cm) hot pink stilettos was the ultimate fantasy, I was certain what would surely amount to at least 20 or 30 full weighted stabs from each one of her sexy spike heels would leave my fingertips looking like a plate of raw hamburger and she would feel bad for hurting me and never do it again. Still the golden opportunity of my life was standing there before me in the hottest-looking pair of 4 inch pumps I’d ever seen and both ready and willing to fulfill my most bizarre of all fantasies. I had to do it!
Suddenly I found myself frantically searching for a way to somehow control her weight. A brutal 115-pound (52 kg) spike heeled trample session was literally right there for the taking, but I knew from the experience earlier that afternoon that her sexy stiletto heeled weight had it within its power to slice my fingers to ribbons unless I could find a way to limit the amount of weight she pressed down with. Finally the idea came to me that we could do it in the bathroom. My plan was to have Marilyn kind of half-sit on a towel on the edge of the bathroom vanity while leaving her gorgeous spike-heeled legs extended and she dug her sexy heels into my fingers. I felt like I almost deserved an award for coming up with that idea on such short notice. It turned out to be a perfect plan that worked so well it ultimately became our standard for stiletto-heeled pre-sex.
Then as we were getting dressed to leave Marilyn had her blouse and jeans on and was about to slip into her penny loafers when I asked her if she’d mind putting her high heels on instead. Marilyn replied, “You want me to wear pink high heels with jeans? You know I’ll do anything you want babe, come over here and let me step on your finger again!
With my fingers still tender from the earlier trampling I decided to let her do a “walk over” on my left pinky finger this time. Marilyn knew what a “walkover” meant so she extended her left leg slightly out in front of her in preparation of taking a step forward while I carefully positioned the deadly tip of her sexy stiletto heel on the finger I surrendered to receive this brutal but otherwise quick torture. When I said, “Do it,” Marilyn leaned forward, hesitating momentarily as the cuff of her jeans slid down hiding most of her sexy heel from view and then spiked down on my fingertip with all of her weight as she walked over it in stride. Crr-runch – that hurt! I couldn’t help myself. This time when I felt the heavy sting of her high-heeled weight bite into my flesh I blurted out loud “Oh God Baby!!” to which Marilyn responded, “Oh God, I hurt you, didn’t I babe? I told you I’m too heavy to be doing this to you in spike heels. One of these times I just know I’m going to break your finger. Oh God honey I’m so sorry, you know I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You didn’t hurt me baby, it just stung a little more than I was expecting. I know we just made love but look at me. You just gave me another hard-on.
Marilyn said, “I think you’re addicted, babe!”
Addicted? Shit, was I ever! Who wouldn’t be? A cute gal, super personality, fun to be with, dynamite figure, sexy little pony tail, great in bed, perfect weight and willing to trample my fingers with every ounce of that perfect weight anytime I wanted, even in spike heels and just madly in love with me!
The following Saturday was Marilyn’s 17th birthday and to celebrate she and I drove 90 miles to Indianapolis to do some serious shoe shopping. That was the closest town of any significant size that had a big self-service shoe store. Self-service of course meant we could browse for the hottest shoes and without salespeople pestering us I could play shoe salesman and Marilyn could nail my fingers with literally every pair in the store.
After an hour or so of trying on high heels, stepping on me with every pair and with me now sporting a couple of nasty blood blisters and with several of my fingers starting to resemble pieces of raw meat, we checked out with a new pair and left for home. I bought her a gorgeous pair of 4-inch (10 cm) black pointy-toed patent-leather pumps that made me rock-hard just looking at them in the box. Oh God those heels were tiny and she really got me good with them in the store. Marilyn kept them on and wore them during the trip home. I swear I got goose bumps listening to the sound of those heels clicking on the concrete in the parking lot as we left the shoe store. About every other step there’d be this kind of heavy grinding sound when a tiny pebble got turned into powder under the pile-driving pressure of Marilyn’s spike-heeled weight. We later calculated that with all of her weight on those 3/16” (5.6 mm) diameter heels, each time she took a step it was with the equivalent force of 3700 pounds per square inch! No wonder she was crushing tiny pebbles with them! You should have seen the damage she could inflict on a hardwood floor.
After the hour-plus of high-heeled finger trampling in the shoe store and with Marilyn right beside me now along with the strong aroma of new leather, there was no way I ever could have made it all the way home without a quickie. We pulled into a little flea-bag motel just outside of Crawfordsville, Indiana. Marilyn did two walk-overs with those deadly heels, nearly breaking my fingers and we wound up having one of the most fantastic romps in the hay we had ever had. Marilyn kept her pumps on the whole time we were screwing. God that leather smelled so good and my dick was so Goddamn stiff. Counting the shoes, gas and the little side trip to the motel, our little adventure cost me over $200, which was a whole lot of money in 1965, but it was worth every penny because we had fun and Marilyn got a new pairs of really hot high heels, my fingertips looked like raw hamburger.
From then on our relationship advanced to a new level. The rest of that summer we were together every single day. Her mom even commented, “You guys are like a couple of newlyweds!” Little did she know how spot-on her analysis was; Marilyn and I were literally fucking each other’s brains out as much as we could! She wore the black pumps for me virtually every time we went out, but we kept them in the trunk of my car just to avoid having to explain them to her parents. Keeping her sexy high heels in my car also made it convenient for me to worship them anytime I felt the urge to, but I never told Marilyn about that.
Sadly the Summer of Perfection ended when we both went to different schools that fall. When we saw each other again at Christmas, we’d both had new romantic partners. And all the previous stuff was just conveniently not discussed. Except it does live on in my memories, which I’ll always be tremendously thankful for.