Party Rug 8 min read

A fictional story, written from a female perspective, about unknown trample of a man at a party where the guests were females only.

written by Unknown author
original source of the story was Unknown source

I was very angry with ’54’.

Oh, I forgot to mention, I number my personal slaves: that way it’s easier for me to remember and it breaks up the monotony of calling them all ‘slave’ or ‘dog’. As an added touch, I make them wear their number painted in red lipstick on their foreheads.

Anyway, he was crying, begging for my forgiveness. He had done something stupid – I can’t remember what it was, I forgot – he was on the floor crying, begging me to punish him so that I would not be angry with him. I walked around him, put my 4″ heel on the crack of his ass, and pushed him to the floor. He fell in a heap, thanking me for touching him again, still crying.

I walked back to his face, my shoes a half inch from his nose. ’54’ knew not to look up, so he stared at shoes, thanking me.

“You do NOT think you’re getting off THAT easy”, I growled. You’ll have to pay a lot more for what you did (to this day I still don’t remember what he did !)

“I’ll do anything, Mistress, anything! Just allow me to serve you!”, his voice muffled because he was talking to the rug on the floor.

Just then an idea popped into my head. I smiled at him and said, “’54’, if you wish to have my forgiveness, will you do anything at all ?” “YES, Mistress! YES, Mistress! Anything you ask, Mistress!”, he cried, kissing the toe of my shoe very gently.

“Then be here Saturday at 7:30. I want you to entertain some friends I am having over for a party.”

54’s head shot straight up, his puppy dog eyes as big as tea saucers. “Really,
Mistress? Do you mean it? Really? Oh, thank you, Mistress! Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!”

He quickly got dressed and hurried out the door. “Now don’t forget,” I smiled, “7:30.”

On Saturday, the bell rang. I looked at my watch. 7:29. And fifty-five seconds. Is HE eager! One of my other slaves, 37, hurried across the room to open the door. I will admit, I was a little surprised when ’54’ showed up in a white tuxedo, spit shine white patent leather shoes. His hair was meticulously combed and he smelled of ‘RED’, my favorite perfume.

Nervously, he fidgetted, wondering what was I thinking. Bowing his head to me, he asked meekly, “Permission to speak, Mistress ?” He looked up oh-so-slightly to see me nod my head. “Do you like it, Mistress? I just bought it! I had it tailor-fitted and everything. It cost 700 dollars. I wanted to impress you, Mistress.”

Forcing myself not to laugh, I told him how very nice he looked. This made him blush and smile, like a schoolboy on a first date. “Thank you, Mistress”, he gushed. Then stiffening up again, I said, “Are you ready
to entertain my friends ?” He said, “Yes, Mistress. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

I led him to a large couch. In front of it was a large carpet. “Pull back the carpet”, I instructed. “Yes, Mistress”, he answered as he grabbed one end of the carpet. When he pulled the carpet back, he saw to his horror a big hole! Measuring the hole mentally, he could see that it was just big enough for him to fit in lying down! “Get in”, I instructed. A terrified look ran across his face. He hesitated for a second, then seeing I was just about to say something, like ‘Leave immediately!”, he got down on his hands and knees and crawled into the filthy hole. He squirmed about to get all of himself in the hole, dirt, falling down on his $700 white tuxedo. When he was snuggly
inside, I stood over him.

“This is your punishment. You are to be the footrest and carpet for all my friends tonight. They do not know you are under there. Make a sound and they find you, they will kill you. Move so they remove the carpet and find you, they will kill you. Make any indication that there is nothing under there but dirt beneath their feet, they will find you and kill you. You will remain there until every one of my guests leaves. If one or two decide to stay the night, you will remain under there until morning. Do you understand ?”

I could see his body quaking with fear as he nodded his understanding. And without any other warning, I flung the carpet over him. As a test, I walked over the carpet. “Hmmm, flatten yourself here,” as I stepped on his knees. “Lift yourself here,” as I stepped on his crotch. “very good, now I hope you won’t have to go to the bathroom for the next few hours, it’s going to be a long party !”

A few moments later, the bell rang again. ’37’ hurried to the door. Inside his tomb, ’54’ could hear female voices. They walked heavily on the hardwood floor. 54 could feel the vibrations of their footsteps as they approached the couch. Nearer and nearer they clomped until they were right on top of him. “Ladies”, I called. “I made all this food and you walk right by it ?” The ladies all turned around and oooh’ed and aaaah’ed at the buffet that was prepared. I had just steered them away from the carpet, just before they stepped on him, just to increase the tension. They stayed at the table for a while, eating and drinking and dancing to the music. Soon, they were all a little tipsy and walked back to the couch. They all moved toward the couch, their high heels tak’ing louder and louder toward poor ’54’. This time I did not stop them.

As Jacqui stepped on the area near his groin, she stopped. She then rocked her heels back and forth, saying, “Doing a little floor work, dear ?” “No,” I said, ” I have a slave under there. He’s your carpet for the night.” I could sense that 54’s heart froze solid when he heard that. The ladies all laughed, saying what an imagination I had.

You see, I didn’t tell ’54’ that these were friends of mine who did not know of my other ‘hobby’. They were, in fact virgin tramplers! If they knew what they were about to do, they would be horrified, some even to the point of getting nauseous. But for all intents and purposes, they only thought that this was just a plain old carpet, to be walked on and have their feet wiped
on, not knowing that they will be participating in one of the most brutal
trampling sessions a slave ever got!

“Well, if there is a person under there, could they take THIS ?”, and bounced on his groin. Amy said, “I bet he’d hate my heels! They’re so pointy”, and walked on 54’s chest, her heels digging into the carpet. They all took turns pretending to torture an imaginary man, not knowing there was a real live man taking all that punishment. Soon, they tired of their little game and settled on the couch. As they crossed their legs, their heels were digging into various parts of his body. Every time one got up to go to the buffet table or to the bathroom, they would step on ’54’ up and back. One of the ladies dropped a plate of food in the area around his face, his nose, as I found out later, as the rim of the plate broke it. Poor ’54’ was being trampled constantly, either from couch traffic, or heels tapping in time with the music or others dancing on him, trying to get the others to dance. So I suggested that they dance right there, near the couch, they could flop down when they get dizzy. So eight ladies, a little drunk, danced heavily on their human dance floor.

After a few hours, Kimmy decided to leave, and one by one they all filed out. They all said they had a great time. Jacqui said, “You know, sometimes I thought I actually felt a person under that carpet! You put such evil thoughts into my head! Later, girl.”

After they had all left, I removed the carpet for ’54’. He was a mess! His nice white tuxedo was a mass of shredded material, scuffed and bloodied. His face looked like he had gone 15 rounds with Rocky Balboa. His nose was broken, and there was a nasty gash on his right arm. He couldn’t get
up by himself, so I called ’37’ over to help him. ’37’ gasped when he saw ’54’, and rushed to help him.

As ’54’ was being pulled out of his prison, he looked as though he had something to say. So I said, “Speak if you have a mind to.” He weakly lifted his head, and speaking just above a pained whisper he asked, “Will you allow me to serve you again, Mistress ?”

I wiped off a clean spot of his cheek and gave him a little kiss. He smiled broadly, but only for a second as he winced from opening another cut on his lip. Before he passed out, the last thing he said was, “Thank you, Mistress.”

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