written by AJ Jones
original source of the story was Mistress Destiny's Femdom Forums
I was out at my favorite club last Saturday night, placing my hand on the elevated stair landing where the women line up with their backs or sides to me, leaning against the railing, or dancing, and standing or dancing on my fingers without knowing it. It’s a perfect setup, as the club’s theme is industrial, with a hard corrugated steel floor and quite a few bolt heads drilled into the floor near the railing, making for an irregular surface for the women to stand on. The club sells a lot of shots in semi-hard plastic test tubes, that compress when they’re stepped on, rather than break. These tubes collect on the floor in large numbers, after they’re dropped there when someone finishes a drink. Fingers feel VERY much like a spent test tube when you step on them, so the women get used to stepping on the test tubes and think nothing of it when they feel my fingers compress underfoot. Finally, it’s dark and very crowded, especially in that corner, so when a woman steps on my fingers, it’s pretty difficult for her to even check to see what she’s standing on, so very few women do. They just keep dancing without a care in the world. And, if that’s not perfect enough, there are small mirrors all over the opposite wall to the landing I usually stand below, so you can actually see the women’s faces above you in the mirrors if you look carefully.
I had over twenty different women stepping all over my hands without even glancing down, as they either walked by or stood and looked out over the lower dance floor last night! One who stands out, stood on my three middle fingers with a 2-inch tall, wide, plastic, clear-as-crystal heel, with a miniature waffle pattern on the bottom which she imprinted deeply into my fingers over the course of fifteen minutes. It was agony watching her in her miniskirt above me, her tanned, toned legs soaring over me, as she was in animated conversation with her girlfriend, oblivious to the horrible crushing force she was applying, that never seemed to end.
I don’t want to minimize how incredible that was, certainly worth its own story if what I am about to tell you about hadn’t happened; but I have to write about the unbelievable crush at the end of the evening, because it was definitely the high point for the whole year!
This woman was about 23 years old, about five seven or five eight and curvy. I later overheard her boyfriend call her Katie. She was really striking, having that kind of “baby’s got back” model’s body with an hourglass figure and a serious rack. Just enough height and weight so you knew this was going to hurt! She had a great ass (just full, not large) and was wearing these white, form-fitting bell-bottomed slacks with a cross-drawstring crotch. The slacks hung very low on her hips, showing them off. Above them, she wore a multicolored shiny flowered short halter top that showed her beautiful smooth belly off – complete with a belly ring. She was sort of a larger-boned Jamie Lee Curtis, only blond and less serious. In fact, she looked something like the blond female security chick on the new Star Trek.
She had blond, highlighted, short shag hair, giving her a perky, mischievous, somewhat severe look, and bright blue eyes. And long pewter earrings that caught the light when she danced. A large tattoo across her tanned lower back was visible because her blouse was held on by only one thin strap across the center of her back. A total curvy bedroom body.
The best part of her, of course, was her heels. She sported these richly polished wood, strappy tan stilettos, about four inches high. Not Pam Anderson spikes; these were sexy, but classier, like very sexy office heels. The heels themselves were very thin and perfectly tubular, and went straight up, never widening from the sharp heel tip until right where they met the sole of her shoe. The heel tips were directly beneath the center of the heel of her foot, not at the back of it. This kind of heel delivers maximum pain because the woman’s weight comes straight down on the spike, not at an angle like when the heel is at the very back of the shoe. Finally, the hem of her pants hung down over the heel, letting only the shaft of the spike heel be visible. I love this look!
The fronts of her shoes had thin multiple crisscrossed straps that showed off her perfectly polished red toenails and a silver toe ring she was wearing on her rather large feet – at least a size 8. The soles were hard polished textured wood, about half an inch thick, not soft leather. They too were hidden by her pants to a certain extent, as her slacks brushed her toes when she wasn’t moving around.
I had seen this goddess dancing earlier with her muscle-bound boyfriend and couldn’t take my eyes off her. She routinely twisted and ground her toes back and forth, violently stepping her heels all over the dance floor. She had a serious raunchy streak. She was obviously the kind of girl that liked to spend the evening turning her boyfriend on. She would dance against him, rubbing her rather large tits on him, then grab around the back of his ass and drop twisting down to his waist, her mouth near his crotch, looking up at him as he just looked at her like he was in some kind of erotic daze, completely under her spell. She completely ignored every other guy but him, seeming totally devoted to being his sex goddess. I prayed she’d go up and dance on one of the platforms so I could get my hand under those grinding heels. I waited all night but this never happened, so I concentrated on other women.
My prayers were finally answered, though, at the last call, about forty-five minutes before the club closed. It was then that Katie and her boyfriend (Tony, I found out), bought long island ice teas and walked through the dark, crowded club, up the stairs to the landing beside me and Katie stood with her large curvaceous tan bare back to me, towering above me, leaning against the railing, her feet only inches from my hand on the raised floor, as she talked coyly to her boyfriend. It was still very crowded, so they couldn’t move around a lot and she was pretty buzzed.
The darkness, caused by the club’s lighting and the thick crowd offered me almost total privacy in the corner below her. There were so many people everywhere, no one noticed me against the wall in my dark clothes, nor paid attention to what I was doing.
There were some minutes of pure frustration for me as I looked at my hand – ignored, right next to her shoes — actually touching them, but not beneath them. I secretly ran my fingers up and down along her smooth polished heel as she talked to her boyfriend, still totally into him. I felt how narrow and rigid it was, and down the arch to where her sole met the floor. She never knew, being unable to feel anything through the hardwood sole. Then, she shifted her weight and raised her right foot like a stork, clipping the heel in the railing’s latticework as she bent back to show off her tits, seducing her boyfriend. I put my hand right down where her foot had been, and waited with bated breath. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes, without giving me any chance to anticipate it, she removed her foot from the railing and, in mid-sentence, put it down perfectly on my hand, stepping fully on all my fingers with the ball of her foot and standing on my hand with her full weight as she continued talking — not missing a beat and never noticing my hand compressing beneath her foot.
There was a shock to my system as I realized, she was so much heavier than I expected, partially due to the hard wooden sole of her shoe – no give at all. From below, I could see that her curves made for a lot more weight than I’d expected. My hand just yielded completely and instantly to her weight. There was no way opposing pressure like this. She had also placed the ball of her foot on my hand, so I was feeling her full weight concentrated right on my knuckles. My hand was pressed and widened beneath her foot like so much hamburger spreading out as it is pressed into a patty. It’s also hard to explain how painful, duration makes it. When a woman steps on your hand as she walks by, or even dances on it, it is a brief overwhelmingly painful event. But having a beautiful tall goddess simply and continuously stand on your fingers for a minute after an eternal minute without moving — never knowing or caring — while she completely ignores you as she carries on a conversation — this becomes absolutely debilitating. I could plainly see Katie’s toes spread wide as she concentrated her full weight on my hand, her other shoe now toying with the railing. I could hear her talking way above me as I suffered, me, literally pouring my remaining beer down my throat to take my mind off the brutal crush. I knew she never imagined what she was doing to my fingers. I looked up her tall, curvaceous form from below and back down to her foot, powerfully standing on my tortured hand without the slightest concern or idea to ever move it. The couple was standing right next to a speaker above me, so they were talking loud enough to hear each other over the music. But, down where I was, with the speaker above me and facing the opposite way, it wasn’t quite so noisy. I could hear every word they said. And it was even more exciting to hear them talking about everything under the sun, completely uncaring about the suffering I was enduring.
This went on for at least ten minutes. A couple of times, the woman would shift her weight to her other foot, but she always left her right shoe on my hand and would invariably shift her full weight back onto it after a few seconds. Even when she shifted most of her weight to the other foot, it was easy to believe she was still fully standing on my hand, as the pressure was pretty harsh. That is, until she stepped back onto her right foot and just literally mashed my soft fingers beneath it. I couldn’t believe my luck. I was in fantasyland now, thinking it couldn’t get better than this. But now it was approaching getting seriously painful and I wondered what I would do if she just continued to stand on me indefinitely. They didn’t really throw people out of the club or bring up the lights for another hour and she seemed in no hurry to leave. And, there was no way, in the dark, with the crowd, she’d ever look down. What if she just continued to bear down on me with that hard shoe indefinitely? I thought this would be unbelievable! I didn’t realize, though, that the unbelievable part hadn’t even started yet!
I’ve replayed the next thirty minutes’ events over and over, so I don’t forget a single word or movement. It helped a lot that the couple was so self-involved, and the bar so dark down where I was, I could freely look up at them as this happened to me, getting most of their facial expressions. When I saw either of them turn to look down at me, I just looked away and began dancing “drunk,” leaving my hand on the raised floor at the blonde’s feet.
I may have a few words wrong, or out of order, but this is very, very close to what was actually said, and the feelings, just as they seemed to convey them to each other at the time. I can’t really do it justice without writing it like the words are exact (even though, as I said, I may miss a few, I want to get the feelings exactly right because it was such a turn-on. This is all absolutely true and if you don’t believe it that’s cool –I’m not sure I believe it myself…except of course, I can no longer move my left hand….
After another few minutes, as I watched Katie’s tall, full figure dreamily above me, my hand throbbing and sickly now beneath her hard-soled shoe, the girl accidentally dropped her straw from her drink as she was playing with it and looked down as it fell. She saw my fingers, smashed to bright white and poking out from beneath her foot, her toes splayed over my fingers under her hard sole. It seemed to take a second for her to process what they were. Then, she immediately jumped off my hand, cracking all my knuckles accidentally, exclaiming, “Oh my God, I’ve been stepping all over his fingers!”
‘Oh well,’ I thought, ‘That’s the evening, and was it worth it!’ But I kept my hand in place so she didn’t think I’d felt it and I began acting drunk as I normally do. One thing I’ve noticed about women who step on your fingers is that, no matter how horrible the crush has been for you, they hardly felt a thing; this means it’s not such a stretch for them to think you hardly felt a thing either.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her boyfriend had looked down and was staring at her feet and my hand. He said, haltingly, “You’ve been what?!”
“I’ve been standing on his fingers ever since we got up here and he’s too drunk to notice! I can’t believe he didn’t feel that!” she said with amazement. “Shit, I’m no lightweight either…he’s probably gonna have some cracked fingers when he sobers up!” She leaned over the railing and yelled, “Hey, buddy, watch your fingers, I just stepped on them!” But, of course, I didn’t move. She shook her head in amazement at how ‘drunk’ I was and turned back to her boyfriend, ignoring me. “God, he must be on something!” she said.
I was secretly enjoying this exchange, but then realized her boyfriend; this big, muscle-bound Italian type who hadn’t said anything yet, just continued staring at her feet. He repeated, “You’ve been stepping on his fingers? just…just smashing them?! Shit…that would…hurt…so much…” His voice kind of trailed off and he said something else I couldn’t make out. Even from my vantage point, he seemed to have a strange, kind of dazed tone in his voice.
The girl looked at him funny. “Geez, Tony, it’s not like I was trying to or anything!”
“No,” I heard him say, “Umm…I mean”, he hesitated, looked at me then back at his girlfriend, …“I mean…..do it again…”
My mouth went absolutely dry and I froze completely, staring straight ahead, pretending to be oblivious as my heart started to come out of my chest.
She looked at him doubtfully. “Do it again? Do you mean to step on his fingers again?! Why?!” She looked down at me to see if I was aware of anything they were saying, but the music was loud enough with the speaker next to them, and they were far enough above me, she probably didn’t believe I could hear her even though I could actually hear most of their conversation rather easily. I played completely stoned and she looked back at her boyfriend.
Tony answered slowly, “Yeah…do it again…I, uh…I…want to see you do it…”
“Why?!” she asked again, knitting her eyebrows, uncomprehendingly. Then, apparently, as she looked at his face, the realization hit her and she stared at him in disbelief. “It turns you on when I step on a guy’s fingers?!!!” Tony just kept looking at her feet next to my hand and grunted something.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, in this amazed curious voice. “Really?!” She laughed, amazed at his reaction. She looked down at me again, then her gaze caught her boyfriend’s front. I didn’t know what she was looking at but her jaw just dropped.
I couldn’t believe this happened right in the club, but I saw out of the corner of my eye that she reached out and touched his crotch, running her palm up it, new amazement flooding her as she apparently became aware of just how excited he really was. “No way! Oh my GOD, Tony! Did I do that?!” she exclaimed, in a ‘little ol’ me’ kind of voice, beginning to teasingly rub him right there in the bar. It was plenty dark so it was difficult to see. She was quickly warming to the idea that she was able to do this to her boyfriend, never giving me a second thought. I could sort of tell she routinely did things specifically to turn him on and she was completely uninhibited.
It took her all off five seconds to figure out how to play this new game as Tony looked at her nervously. She immediately dropped into this teasing kind of tone she’d been using on him before. She fell into her part immediately, obviously trying to get him hot. “So, it gets to you when I step on some poor kid’s fingers? Like really crush them with all my weight…be a total bitch to him?” You could almost feel Tony’s breath catch in his throat…or maybe it was mine. She looked back down at me, quickly checking to make sure I wasn’t paying attention to them. Tony just stared at her, lost in her words.
“What exactly gets you, honey?” she asked her boyfriend, teasingly, exploring for a reaction, toying with him, enjoying his nervousness. “The fact that he’s just so lonely and helpless and I just don’t give a shit about him? That I’m so out of his league I’d as soon step on him as give him the time of day?” Tony didn’t answer, but I would swear he seemed to be breathing harder. She apparently liked his reaction and began to play to it big time, building him up further.
“Or is it what I could do to a poor innocent guy without caring how much I hurt him – just ‘cause I felt like it — on just a whim?” She paused, really getting into it now that she could see she was making him crazy. She thought a moment. “Maybe it’s the pain I’d cause him,” she said matter-of-factly, “stepping all over him with my spikes without a care in the world? Can you imagine what that’d feel like?!”
Tony seemed to be spellbound as he looked at her weight on her shoes, then back at her face, and she seemed to love it.
“I could you know, she said, looking into his eyes. I could just walk in place on his hand until I smash every little bone in it. I don’t care about him at all. Want me to step all over his fingers? Just say the word, Tony…I’ll do it for you. Look how helpless he is! Totally clueless! I could do anything to him!” She lifted her foot and began to teasingly rub it lightly across my hand, checking once to make sure I wasn’t feeling it. Tony seemed to be dizzy, not believing there was this side to his girlfriend.
“I really don’t give a shit, you know, Tony”, she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it. I don’t care what I do to him, if it turns you on, honey. He’s nothing to me. I’ll smash his fingers to a pulp if you want me to — …might even be fun!” She was really beginning to get into the part, as her boyfriend’s obvious excitement began to encourage her. “You’ve basically got his future in your hands, Tony. What do you want me to do? Should I crush his fingers…make him have to spend a few weeks at the hand surgeon learning to use his hand again….or do you want me to give him a reprieve?” She continued to scrape her sole over my hand. Her words occasionally slurred from the alcohol.
Tony breathed, “Oh my God, woman…”
I was absolutely losing it! She was acting so into this, obviously playing a script she was making up as she went along, I don’t know who was more excited, me or her boyfriend. But, there was also a part of me that thought she was just playing a game to turn on her boyfriend — that she wouldn’t really deliberately step on my fingers…she’d just pretend as she was now. But, I thought, that’d be just fine, too.
She looked at him and brought his gaze down to my hand. “Before you decide, though, think of the pain, honey. Think what it would be like to watch me step on his fingers and mash them under my shoe. Like I said, I’m no lightweight…152 pounds, Tony…what do you think that would do to him?” She stopped rubbing her foot over my hand, quickly glancing at me to make sure I was still unaware of any of this, and placed it directly over my fingers, applying some pressure, testing me…looking at me as I looked away, weaving to the music. She made a grinding motion, like she was crushing out a cigarette, but without hardly any pressure, just pretending to squash my fingers. She continued to rub Tony’s crotch, teasing him, playing with him, once, losing her balance a little from the drink.
Tony looked at her, calling her bluff. “Do it,” he said. She replied, “Look — I am doing it, honey…I’m smashing his little fingers under my foot!” She continued to make the grinding motion with only a little pressure.
“No….DO…IT!” he said, barely keeping his voice even.
She blinked. “You mean do it for real?” she asked, seeming to momentarily snap out of the act she was playing. “Tony…no kidding, that would really break his fingers. I stepped on a guy’s toes at a beach bar once with shoes on and he screamed like a five-year-old! Besides, these shoes are too hardcore.” she whined.
“PLEASE…” he pleaded, staring at her foot, then into her eyes, holding his long island to her lips for a long drink.
“I don’t know, Tony…”, she said, her words now pretty slurred, and getting harder to understand.
“He’s never gonna know what happened! Look at him! He doesn’t even know where he is!” Tony replied.
She stopped, her mouth open a little, seeming about to argue some more, then looked at him for a beat, then at me, then at my hand. She seemed to be getting up the nerve. “Okay, you really want me to do this?”
Her boyfriend nodded, in a trance. “And don’t be nice…,” he said.
She looked down at my hand, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe she was really doing this. Then, she gave a short sigh and bit her lip, having decided, took a huge gulp of her long island ice tea, “Okay, honey, I’ll do it…– for real – but just for a minute –,” then she fell into her teasing voice, adding, “just so you can see what I do to a poor guy I don’t give a shit about, just ‘cause I feel like it.” She raised her foot above my hand and held it there.
Her boyfriend just looked at her foot and began repeating, “Oh God, oh Jesus, oh my God…”
Katie looked down at me, gave Tony a look like, ‘oh well,’ and then just stepped hard on my hand again with all her weight, really mashing my fingers this time. As if she had to take the plunge totally to keep her resolve up, she lifted her other foot off the ground, raised her foot to her tiptoe on my hand, and bounced a little, so Tony could see she was really stepping on my hand with her full weight. Tony just stared, open-mouthed. “God, he is totally out of it! It feels like I’m stepping on a raw steak his hand is so squishy!” she exclaimed.
Tony seemed to lose his balance when she said this and had to steady himself. My hand felt as if it would crack into the floor right there. Katie looked completely amazed she was able to get her boyfriend so flustered and was beginning to throw caution to the wind. She bounced a little on my hand, then, seeing that I wasn’t acting like it hurt, just stood in place as before and continued to talk to him and drink her drink like nothing was going on, while he looked every few moments at her foot stepping heavily on my hand. Occasionally, she’d look down, too, seeing my fingers under her foot; then back into his eyes knowingly. Over the next few minutes, the long island ice must have kicked in, because she didn’t seem to remember she was only going to do this “for a minute.” She got more desensitized to what she was doing to me, especially as her boyfriend was cajoling her, saying I looked a little like a guy they knew that beat his girlfriend – “maybe that’s really him!” And, that I probably didn’t even have a job and sponged off other people. In her drunken state of mind, she really seemed to start despising me, or, at least, wanting to teach me a lesson. Tony, who wasn’t nearly as drunk as she was getting, seemed to enjoy that now she was drunk enough to be easily “suggestable.”
I could hear him beg her some more, but not the exact words, as their talk was hard to understand, getting more slurry as she got drunker. Then, she smiled like she was granting him a wish, and brought the other foot to bear, and began walking in place on my fingers with the balls of her feet, her inhibitions a distant memory, watching her boyfriend’s reaction, saying things to him like, “Poor guy, look, I’m just stepping all over him! Think how much I’m hurting him, Tony…”
And she was. The constant unstoppable stomping was brutal on my tender hand. The cumulative pain was becoming serious and my skin was burning as it yielded to her hard wooden tread. God, was she heavy! I had no idea as I had watched her dance earlier! That this kind of crush went on beneath her feet all night was mind-numbing! At one point, she was continuously trampling the tip of my pinky finger with the side of her hard sole. It felt like she’d tear the nail off, so horrible was the crush!
She was becoming even more comfortable with what she was doing to me, as most women do, once they start and don’t immediately see how much damage they’re doing or the pain they’re causing. I was doing a good job outwardly pretending I wasn’t feeling the brutal trampling, but my jaw was locked and I had to bite my lip as waves of lightheadedness washed over me as I endured it.
After a few minutes (and a few more sips of her drink) she seemed to consider something, then, “You know,” she said mockingly, “if it gets you so hot to see me step on his fingers, you’d probably really like it if I ground them into the floor!” Katie looked down at me to check my awareness, then said, more to herself, “I can’t believe he’s not feeling this!” She then turned around so she was looking directly over the landing at me, stuck her ass out at Tony’s crotch behind her, raised herself onto her toes, and began dancing, seductively twisting slowly back and forth, her feet slowly grinding on my hand as if grinding out a cigarette in slow motion; my hand being completely mashed under her feet, her strappy sandals creaking with her weight on them and my fingers rolling and cracking, flattened beneath her hardwood soles. My middle finger was stuck on a small raised bolt in the floor, and when she ground it under her foot it was just horrible to feel the steel cut into it. She threw her head back and laughed, her beautiful teeth catching the light. She picked up her foot and stomped as hard as she could on my hand, viciously snapping her foot around, grinding my fingers again, and laughing at her boyfriend’s reaction.
Tony seemed to be beside himself, watching his girlfriend grind my fingers into the floor with absolutely no remorse. Now that she was facing over me and completely unconcerned I was sober enough to understand anything, I could hear every word perfectly. “Do you want me to stop, honey?” she said over her shoulder. “Think he’s had enough? Or would you like me to go further?” Katie asked coyly, still twisting cruelly atop my smashed hand. “It’s up to you, baby. I could be really cruel if you want,” she said devilishly.
“What do you mean, you could be really cruel?” mouthed Tony dreamily.
“Well, gee, Tony-baby, they don’t call them ‘stilettos’ for nothing!”
“Oh my God…oh my God…oh shit…” cried Tony, gripping the railing for support. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?!”
She smiled seductively, looking straight down at me. “Do you know what I’m doing to him, Tony?”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” said Tony.
“Neither will he…in the morning,” Katie replied.
“What do ya think, sweetie….does the poor helpless drunk kid deserve to feel my spikes?” she asked, looking over at him, raising her eyebrows.
Katie, still standing on my hand with her right foot, lifted her left foot behind her to show Tony the hard cruel point of her stiletto heel, lightly running her fingers over it, tapping the sharp tip with her index finger. “Can you imagine it, Tony? Can you imagine what it would really feel like? It’d be like having a nail put through your hand!” She stared at him as his eyes locked on the wicked spike. “Say the word, Tony.”
Tony was almost hyperventilating (so was I) as Katie looked down and carefully placed the sharp point of her stiletto heel gently at the top joint of my pinky finger, taking a moment to focus enough to rest it there. She stared at her boyfriend. “Just say the word, Ton’,” she smiled.
Tony breathed hard, “Oh my God!” He hesitated, as if considering what would happen to me, then, almost whispered… “Do it.”
Without a word, Katie stepped down on her heel, utterly crushing the tip of my little finger flat beneath it. I gritted my teeth and screamed against the all-consuming pain. Her weight was incredible! I couldn’t believe one woman, a beautiful shapely woman at that, could be so appallingly cruel! My little finger literally seemed to smash like a grape. I felt it sort of “crackle” as the tissue was ground mercilessly under her spike. I looked out of the corner of my eye at her heel and it seemed to meet the ground! The top of my little finger was somewhere beneath it, but you couldn’t even see it, it was so completely mashed. I could not believe how overwhelming the flood of pain was. And it didn’t stop. It was continuous, getting unimaginably worse as Katie continued to calmly stand on my pinkie finger. The only way I can comprehend that she did this is to me is to believe she had no idea at all how much this really hurt and was really drunk. No one could do this to another human being if they had any idea what it really did to them. She didn’t let up on her heel at all. She completely stepped onto it, letting my little finger bear her full weight. Her towering form blurred over me as my eyes teared up and she simply stood there, the cruel point of her heel flattening my little finger with no end in sight. I was immediately dizzy from the rivers of pain streaking up my arm and whimpering over and over with my mouth locked closed, hearing my horrible screams only in my own ears.
“Look at it honey,” she purred to Tony. “Smashed beneath my spike heel. Can you imagine what that must be like for him?! One hundred fifty-two pounds, Tony…think about that…think about what I’m doing to him, honey!”
Tony looked down at her heel; his mouth hanging open, then followed it up her long, full legs to her ambivalent face. It seemed he had all but stopped breathing. As she continued to stand on my little finger, she spun on her heel, grabbed his face and they deep kissed ravenously for a long time. She didn’t lift her other foot off the ground. She didn’t lean back to concentrate her weight on only the heel. She just stood on my finger as she normally would and somehow this was worse. If she had deliberately balanced on one foot or her heel, it would have at least meant the pain would be ending when she grew tired of doing so. As it was, she might stand for hours like this, effortlessly pulverizing my little finger and leaving me in uncontrollable and mind-searing pain without any hope of it ending, while she casually carried on a conversation. Eventually, she would completely forget she was stepping on me and I was absolutely helpless to stop the devastating crush. I didn’t think I could take even another second. Her weight was so powerful, so absolutely debilitating, I knew I couldn’t survive it. Yet, the seconds, then the minutes ticked by and tears began running down my face, as I twitched from one foot to the other, trying to control the impossible crushing pressure of her stiletto heel, while she ignored me, totally into her boyfriend.
When they got done kissing, they both looked down as Katie brought her other spike heel to bear on the center of my hand, her full weight equally atop both heels. I was going out of my mind with the pain, screaming with my mouth closed in agony. I was sweating and glassy-eyed and my teeth were chattering. I’ve never experienced such concentrated and continuous terrible pain. Katie laughed out loud at one point, as she looked at my fingers, “And I thought wearing high heels was painful for me!”, and she and her boyfriend shared a laugh.
As she shifted her weight slightly, her heel slid brutally into a crevice in the bones between two of my knuckles and I heard her say, teasingly, her arms still wrapped around Tony’s neck, caressing it with her fingernails, “Eww, honey — ya know — I just felt something crack!” Her boyfriend almost fainted right there. She continued to stand on my hand, letting him watch her weight crushing it under her shoes, enjoying his pleasure.
Finally, Katie stepped off my hand and looked down at me. Her heel (the one on my pinky) actually tore out of my finger, lifting my little finger about an inch off the floor, as she unstuck her heel. I’d read such scenarios in stories, but never thought it could happen in real life…I was wrong.
The beautiful blond said to Tony, slipping out of her part, “Okay honey, let’s finish you up at home! I don’t think you can take much more of this….and I know he can’t! I hope you enjoyed that, because I don’t think we’re gonna find too many drunk guys who I can get away with that again. Let’s go…I’ll remind you all about what I did to him when we get home.” She grinned slyly at Tony like all women do who have successfully turned a man on, and walked out leading him by the hand, laughing, Tony following her like a dazed puppy, completely adoring her and mumbling, “Oh my God, Katie…oh my God….” She glanced back at me only once as her beautiful ass swayed as she walked away atop her high heels.
For my part, my little finger is more damaged than it has ever been before. It has a horrible purple circular heel indention fully halfway into the top joint, right to the bone, surrounded by a perfect red circle where the skin was cut by the edges of her stiletto. The entire finger is blue and it throbs when I hold my hand by my side. It looks like it’s been punched with a hole punch and I can’t move it at all. I can still flex it with my other hand, so I don’t think it’s broken, but I’ll probably lose the nail.
There’s also a bruise (not nearly as bad) from Katie’s other heel in the center of my hand, and my whole hand is completely useless, as far as gripping anything. The whole of my hand is sickly sore from the long time she spent standing on it before she ground it under her hard sole. I iced it last night, but it didn’t help much. I also have a deep cut from the bolt my middle finger was trapped on and stomped into, on the palm side of my middle finger.
I could only imagine Katie at home as I applied ice gently to my damaged hand, having incredible sex, driven by her describing to her boyfriend in minute-by-minute detail, EXACTLY what it felt like to smash my fingers beneath her cruel shoes…my hand feeling like stepping on a raw steak; remembering with excitement her boyfriend’s arousal over her cruelty. No concern at all for the staggering pain or damage she caused. Perhaps just some curiosity about how much pain I was in now or how many of the bones in my hand she had broken as she repeatedly stepped on them with her heels – what her full 152 pounds had actually felt like. Maybe a quiet smile over the power she had wielded over a helpless drunk and the heartless brutality she’d dished out so easily and the thought of maybe doing it to someone else. I wonder if she would.
I may find out. Because I’ll be back next week if my hand has healed well enough (maybe even if it hasn’t). Maybe Katie will come back for round two, wearing heels that can only be hell on earth for a person caught beneath them…