The last part of the story about Cyndi and Jim
Moving even closer to Jim now, Cyndi extended her right hand and gently patted Jim between his legs saying, “come on Hon, let me take care of that for you.”
Rising from the couch with Jim in hand/tow, Cyndi lead him through the kitchen and down the basement stairs. Jim really did not know what to expect, he thought that he might be led into some kind of dungeon or something, but was put at ease when he arrived at the bottom of the basement stairs and saw a normal basement. This was obviously Cyndi’s playroom, as it contained a full bar, a stereo system, as well as, another wide-screen TV, a comfortable couch, and three chairs. Curiously though, there was no carpet on the floor, just a concrete floor. It seemed strange that she did not have this touch of added warmth to such a cozy room. Continue reading “Impaled Part 4 3.8 (11)“
The story about Cynd and Jim continues
In the nearly three weeks since Jim’s chance meeting with Cyndi at Mickey-D’s, Jim thought about Cyndi often but never thought that she would actually call him, until one night while bored watching the same old moves on ‘Smack Down’, the phone rang. Jim picked up the phone and answered with a half-hearted “hello?” “Hello, Jim. How’s my favorite film counter guy doing, how’s your hand,” came Cyndi’s cheery greeting, as she queried Jim about his well-being. “Fine”, Jim responded as he explained that he still needed to be careful with his now deformed/cupped left hand. “Listen”, Cyndi intoned, “my husband is out of town on business, and I am so lonely here all by myself, I’ve made an extra serving of Veal Parmagine, it’s your favorite, have you had dinner yet?” Jim was now excited at the prospect of having dinner with Cyndi, and it was easily detectable in his voice as he answered with an enthusiastic, “NO!” “PERFECT!”, Cyndi chimed, “everything is ready. “My address is 1145 Park Ave., can you make it here in 20 minutes, Jim?” “Yes!”, Jim said. “I’ll see you in 20!” Continue reading “Impaled Part 3 4.4 (5)“
The second part of the story about the woman that loves stepping on hands.
It had been three weeks now, and Cyndi had not even given the K-Mart incident a second thought until one morning she stopped at the local Mickey-D’s for a cup of coffee. As Cyndi opened the door of the restaurant and entered, her well-worn heels began to beat a sinisterly melodious melody on the tile floor as she made her way to the order counter. Now only a few feet from the counter, Cyndi noticed a young man with his left hand in a cast and immediately recognized “Film Counter Jim,” the K-Mart employee. Continue reading “Impaled Part 2 4.3 (6)“
A story about a woman who loves to step on men’s hands.
Cyndi slowly opened her eyes at the sound of the soft classical music coming from the clock radio after a delightful night’s slumber. “WOW!” she thought as she slowly gained all of her senses. Had she really spent seven hours chatting with her new “Foot Pets” on the WWW, yesterday?
From an early age, Cyndi knew she was different, from the time she accidentally crushed an errant and unsuspecting newt under the lethal spike heel of her mother’s 4 1/2-inch strappy sandal while dancing on her back porch, she began hunting victims for her pleasure. Now, with the new website, there would be a never-ending plethora of men fighting to be first to taste the sting of her BZs (you know the hollow heel that causes maximum damage and maximum pain). “Why fight it she thought!” There was plenty of pain in her heels for any and all men. Continue reading “Impaled Part 1 4.1 (9)“
The author wrote a detailed fantasy about a finger being unknowingly transformed to bone dust and meat pulp on a bus station by a woman who wore steel-tipped stiletto heels.
Mary Stepped out of the front door onto the path. Her sharp steel-tipped stilettos clicked loudly on the hard concrete. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a big black beetle crawling along the path in front of her. She stepped forward to lock the door. There was a loud crack as she stood onto the big black beetle which was in her way. She locked the door, and without a second thought proceeded to destroy the beetle. She twisted her foot quickly, grinding it into the path. Its body fluids spurted out in a thin line from under the hard soles of her stiletto heels as she pulped and tore it to pieces within seconds. She dragged her foot quickly backward shredding the remains into a wet line. Then she opened her bag and dropped the key into it. She walked away down the footpath. A wet mark on the footpath was all that was left of the beetle. Continue reading “Mary at the bus stop 4.8 (8)“
The author wrote a very brutal trample fantasy that started with some, what would later seem like light trampling in cleats, a recovery phase, and then some brutal trampling that ended fatally.
I reluctantly agreed to play a round of football, even though I had no gear and the field looked pretty muddy after a lot of rain. The things you do for friends with sad puppy dog expressions.
Dressed in just shorts and a T-shirt, without shoes we walked down to the field and found it was still raining a little bit. I spotted a group of women in full uniforms and even matching football boots on the field kicking a ball around. All of them looked fit and hot.
Our stupid friend arrived looking as disheveled as we did. I pointed out the women and he said that was the team we were playing against!! He had apparently lost a bet with one of them and this was his chance to break even. We were all shocked, bad enough we were playing women but fit, hot women who clearly knew what they were doing?!?! We were toast. Continue reading “On the Field 4 (6)“
The author wrote an excellent story about two dominant, but kind and caring women from the perspective of a man who fell prey to them. It is at moments brutal, but excellently written story.
written by Heelcushion
original source of the story was Fetlife
It started when I offered to drive our receptionist Yvette out to see her horse on Saturday. Her car was in the garage and she was trying to sell her horse before going overseas. She asked if I could pick up the girl she was going to sell the horse to along the way, which of course I agreed to. I would agree to anything with her, she was so cute, and I was desperate to impress her. In my own shy, loser way I had a huge crush on her, I don’t think she had any idea until that day.
When I picked her up, she was dressed in figure-hugging jodhpurs that looked just amazing on her tight body, she was petite and attractive. I was hoping she would wear boots, but she just had sneakers on. She had a light shirt unbuttoned at the front and a short jacket that didn’t even come down to the top of her jodhpurs.
Struggling with how good she looked, I packed the two big bags she had with her and drove us over to pick up the other girl. This girl was standing out front of her place, also petite and attractive, and was dressed practically identical to my crush. She had a pretty big bag of gear with her and I helped her load it in the bag, getting a high voltage smile in return. My head was pounding, this could be quite a day … I had no idea. Continue reading “The Spurs 4.8 (4)“
I must tell you this story. Whether you decide its fact or fiction is entirely up to you, the point to remember is its possible if nothing else.
The story is set a few years ago when I was employed as a taxi driver for a
local firm. For a few nights, we had been picking up fares from a large hotel that was hosting a few special nights in a marquee to celebrate the Christmas season.
As I had parked outside waiting for my passengers I noticed that the toilets were situated near to the marquee and the route was laid out with a length of carpet from the marquee edged with a chain fence. I also noticed that the
walkway was covered to protect from the weather and there were two separate toilet buildings – one for ladies and one for men. I noticed that the ladies room was pretty close to the boundary of the hotel and one of the lights was broken which threw a shadow across the walkway and into the field beyond.
A plan started to form as I watched young women walking up and down the walkway. The fashion of the day seemed to promote short dresses and chunky heels as going out attire and I started to think how easy it would be to hide under the carpet and fulfill my wildest fantasy. I thought about it and dismissed the idea as stupid – I would have to spend at least five hours under there as the functions were from seven till midnight and once committed there was no going back. As I watched the women going back and forth I thought I could easily last five hours as the chunky heels did not cause too much pain and it was more a feeling of being squashed down now and again for a short time rather than the painful trample you get from spike heels. Continue reading “Too Much 4.5 (6)“
I had a new experience today that was fantastic. I’ve been trampled for
30 years and I thought there was nothing new under the sun, however, I was wrong. I drove out to see Linda today, I left at 5 am and was there by 6:30. I checked into a motel and had breakfast including 3 cups of coffee to wake me up. I picked up Linda at 8:45 and we went shopping for 2 hours, she has
a step-child and needed back to school clothes. I was only too happy to help her out, “Boy, you’re lucky on those scratch tickets,” I joked with her. We got to the motel at about 12:30 and had lunch, I had 2 cokes and a burger. We then went to the room where she told me to lie down as she’d had a rough week so I was going to have a rough day. Continue reading “Steel heel trample 3.8 (8)“