Support Part 6 7 min read

After Sally stood back erect on my face her weight once again transferred back to her spike heels, which jabbed into my forehead like two piercing talons.

After she pranced about on my face a little, Sally remarked, ” You know, I think I like standing on his face the best… it’s such a feeling of power. What does it feel like to stand on his face in your stocking feet?”

“Why don’t you try it and find out,” Carol suggested.

“OK, I will, Sally replied as she removed first one shoe and then the other. As she removed her shoes she stood on my face with one foot pressing down hard with all her weight as she undid the shoe on the other foot and vice versa. Before I knew it my entire face was covered with warm, slightly damp, perspiring female feet. The smooth nylon held the not-overpowering, but the definite smell of feet close to my face. I was smothered in it. Sally began to prance all about over my face. Feeling it with her feet. Almost kneading it with her toes.

“Gawd, this is neat,” Sally exclaimed. “I can feel every feature. As I tramp around on his nose and mouth… and his head gives with every step as it presses into the rubber mold. It’s just like getting a foot massage. And my tired feet need massage a lot. I’m going to want to do this often.”

“What in the world are you guys doing,” a new voice asked as one of Carol’s other co-workers approached. From my vantage point with my face covered completely with Sally’s stocking feet, I couldn’t see the newcomer, but she sounded like she might be closer to Carol’s age than Sally’s.

“Oh, just standing around.” Sally quipped.

“I can see that, silly, but what are you standing around on?!” the newcomer retorted.

“Well, if you must know, Ginger, this is Carol’s new floor mat,” Sally responded as she pranced about on my face. I swear this girl must have received a shot of adrenaline or something… she never stopped moving. She was constantly shifting her weight, moving, twisting, sliding, stamping… anything but standing still. My face felt like it was being kneaded into mush. I was certain she was the type that would start jumping up and down whenever she got excited. I hoped she never got excited… at least not while standing on my face!

“Floormat! It looks like a man in some kind of box… and God, you two are standing on him,” Ginger exclaimed.

“Well during the evening he is my husband, but during the day he is a floormat… it’s his job. And as for that box, it houses a urethane mold that fits his body perfectly. It provides enough support to keep him from moving about as we walk on him. It makes walking on him very easy… even in high heels. And the urethane gives a little making it a little spongy. Of course, his body gives enough most of the time, but the urethane makes even the hard areas, like his head, give a little.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sally exclaimed as she began bouncing up and down on my face, “This feels really good.”

“Step up and give it a try,” Carol invited, “I know how tired your feet must feel from standing around this store all day. He is very comfortable.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Ginger started. It does look inviting to my poor tired feet, but what does he think? Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Carol said. “He needs this. It is very important to him and to me. Besides….” I didn’t hear the rest of what Carol said partly because at that moment Sally chose to start moving around excitedly… she was practically dancing on my face, and partly because Carol lowered her voice just enough so I couldn’t hear what was said. Whatever it was, it worked. Ginger suddenly acted as though she was pissed at me or something. She certainly lost all concern for my sensitive feelings.

Suddenly it felt as if a pile driver had driven a spike into my belly as Ginger practically stomped up onto me. I would have yelled out had Sally’s stocking foot not been completely covering my mouth. Although I still couldn’t see her, it was apparent Ginger was wearing high-heeled shoes… stilettos from the feel of it. And she was heavier than Carol. She stood with one foot sunk into my stomach and the other planted firmly in my chest. Then she began to bounce up and down. “Wow, you’re right. This is nice, isn’t it? It is certainly better than that old hard floor I have to walk on. I’m going to enjoy this,” Ginger stated.

I was crushed as I have never been before with Sally’s aromatic stocking feet mangling my face, Ginger skewering my stomach and chest with her sharp heels and weight, and Carol, my loving wife, relentlessly crushing my genitals under her shoed feet. All three women engaged in a prolonged conversation about all manner of things from how good it felt to have a floor mat to how boring work could be. Not one of them gave any thought to my suffering beneath them. Once when someone said something that delighted her, Sally actually began jumping up and down on my face. Carol kept shifting her weight around on my genitals. One time she stepped directly on my nuts with all her weight crushing them under her sole for what seemed like an eternity before she finally shifted her weight elsewhere. This gossip party seemed to last forever, but I guess it was just 20 or 30 minutes before Sally, seeing a customer in her area of the store decided she needed to go.

“I have to go, Ginger,” Sally said, “but you should try out his face with your stocking feet. It’s an awesome feeling. Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

“O.K. I’ll give it a try,” Ginger promised. “See you later.” With that, Sally stepped back into her shoes and ran off to other parts.

With the weight suddenly lifted from my face I thought my head would float away and I felt the sudden rush of cool air on my sore face. As my eyes regained their focus I caught my first glimpse of Ginger. I was wrong, she wasn’t overweight. In fact, she was somewhat thin, but God was she tall! Her strawberry blonde adorned head towered way up there. Of course, from my vantage point, everyone seemed to tower above me, but she was probably a good head taller than Carol. She was wearing a white blouse, a beige skirt, and suntan stockings. That’s all I got from the quick glance at her before my vision was blocked by the sight of her stocking foot, with darker toe reinforcements, crashing into my face as she stepped out of her shoes and onto my face. I guess she wanted to try it out as Sally had suggested. Her feet were very warm and slightly damp and more aromatic than Sally’s had been. She immediately twisted around on my face crushing my nose in the process and began to wipe her feet all over my face and feel my face with her feet.

“Oh, yeah,” she exclaimed. “This does feel awesome on my tired feet. I can feel every part of his face. This is neat.” She wriggled her feet about some on my face and burned the tender skin with the mesh of her stockings and finally settled just standing there with her heels pressing down on my forehead and eye sockets and her toes wrapped over my mouth and chin. She had very big feet that covered my face completely. My nose poked up between her feet and labored to breathe. Each breath was smothered in the aroma of her perspiring stockings. This is the way I remained for a long time as the two women continued their conversation that started earlier. After a while, Ginger leaned back against the counter by the register, but her feet continued to press relentlessly into my face without letting up or even the relief of occasional movement to break the developing madness that comes from being constantly pained. After a while, everything else in the world went away and the only thing that remained was the smell of her feet and the unrelenting pressure crushing my face. That was my whole world. Their conversation vanished. Even my wife’s high heels mangling my genitals seemed to pale by comparison and all that remained was Ginger’s stocking feet pressing into my face.