Wicked Trample Torture, Part I 17 min read

Those who say witches are ugly, green and covered in warts where sorely mistaken. I know; I’ve seen them, been around them, and have been tortured by them for a long time. It is hard to keep track of time down here, in this room. I don’t know how long I’ve been down here, weeks, maybe months; all the days seem to run together. How, may you ask, did I find myself in such a predicament? Well, my friend, I am about to tell you in the hopes that this letter, this warning finds its way into the right hands. I have written in detail every cruel and humiliating thing these people have done to me. But before I reveal all of this, I must tell you the back story, and explain how I came to be in this terrible situation.

Her name was Jessica. She stood 5 and a half feet from the ground and weighed around 130lbs. She had gorgeous jet-black hair, deep blue eyes, and a natural tan tint to her perfect skin. She was in my Psychology class at the University of Texas, and I was madly in love with her. We talked every so often, but not nearly as much as I would have liked. That’s why it came as a surprise to me when she invited me to her party.

The night of the party came, and I was excited. I had hopes that maybe, if she got drunk enough, I might finally get to have sex with her. Obviously, things didn’t go as planned. Anyway, we both drank a lot of alcohol, and, as I had previously hoped, she took me to the back of the house, down a hallway, and into a bedroom.
The first thing I noticed was that there was no bed, and the next was the sound of the door locking behind me. I thought that perhaps she wanted to do it on the ground, or maybe all the other rooms were taken, and this was our only option. Either way, I didn’t care. I turned around to look at the woman who was in all of my fantasies. She started speaking in a language that I could not understand, but I could tell that her words were filled with power.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She gave me a cold hard look and continued speaking in the strange language for a few more minutes. It was after she was done that I felt a strange wave of energy flow through my body.
“Go lay down on the floor,” she commanded. I didn’t even think of disobeying or asking, I simply went to lie down. She came and stood above me. She was wearing knee-length navy-blue skirt with black high-heeled shoes. Her toe-nails were painted to match her skirt.
“Listen,” she told me, “you are my property now, you are my slave. I have put an obedience spell on you; you are now unable to disobey me.”
Needless to say, I was afraid. I was confused. What did she mean by “spell?” I remembered how I didn’t even think or hesitate when she told me to lie down.
“Time for a test.” She raised her foot so that the bottom of her shoe was just above my mouth. “Kiss it.”
And I did. Like before, I didn’t hesitate. I began kissing the bottom of her shoe repeatedly, stopping only when she moved it back. She then placed her heel on my stomach, looking down at me with a smug look on her face, and stepped up! She used the wall next to me to keep her balance. Oh, the pain. I screamed, but it was in vain; the music was too loud for anyone to hear me. Her other foot came to rest on my chest. She walked in place, transferring weight from my stomach to chest, plunging her heels in deep. She swiveled around, keeping one foot on my chest, and placing the other heel in my open mouth.
“Suck.”
Needless to say, I did. I sucked for nearly ten minutes straight as she continued to stand on my chest. I wondered why she hadn’t gone straight through me yet.
Finally, she removed her shoe from my mouth, and removed the heels from her feet. A little better, but she was still standing on me. Her next move was almost as startling as the first; she placed her barefoot on the middle of my face, and transferred all of her weight to it. I didn’t know why my skull didn’t crack. She then stepped back onto my already sore chest.
“What the hell?!?”
“Shut up,” she said, “don’t speak unless I tell you. Now, suck on my toes and kiss my feet.”
She let her foot hover above my head. I did as she commanded, and greedily sucked her toes, pausing every few minutes to kiss the bottoms of her feet.
“Now its time to see how much you can take. Don’t worry; your bones will not break, unless I command them to. You will still feel pain, however.” And with that, she started jumping up and down hard, driving her feet into my chest. The brutal action continued until she tired herself out.
“That’s all for now. Don’t worry; we’ll see each other again soon.”
She stood again on my head; the she rose until her head touched the top of the high, 18 foot ceiling, hovered there for a second, and then let gravity take its course. She came down extremely fast, landing on my head, and causing me to black out.

Wicked Trample Torture, Part II

I didn’t wake up until around noon the next morning. “Well, you look like Hell,” said an unfamiliar voice. I looked over and saw a gorgeous red haired woman sitting in a chair across the room. She looked like a normal teenager: she wore a white American Eagle blouse, denim capris. On her feet where a pair of DC shoes. The large logo on the side of the shoe seemed to be outlined in pink, and I could tell from my position on the floor that the soles of her shoes were pink as well.
I noticed a few other changes too. My shirt had been removed, exposing my bare skin. Also, I was unable to move from the neck down.
“Jessica placed a stasis spell on you so that you would not try to escape.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Megan. I’m a witch too, a part of Jessica’s coven. I’m sorry; you weren’t dreaming, we are witches, and you are our slave. It looks like Jessica has already had some fun with you. Well, I want my turn, too.”
Fear began to swell inside me; she seemed like a giant as she stood above me. I was guessing she only weighed about 110 pounds, but she looked like she knew how to hurt someone.
Without hesitation, she stepped onto my stomach with both feet. It was a great reprieve after last night; she was 20 pounds lighter and was not wearing heels, but it still hurt like hell. It seemed as if she knew where all of my sore spots were, and she took advantage of it.
She continued to walk all over my body for a long while. She wasn’t too shy about it either; she stomped harder with each step she took, as if she was personally testing Jessica’s spell to see if she could crack a rib.
She got faster too. Soon, all I saw where streaks of white raining down on my body. I quickly changed my mind; I’d rather Jessica, with her light, deliberate stepping motion, walking on me than this random, quick and painful style.
Though Jessica’s spell kept my ribs from breaking, my chest was still constricting under the pressure, and breathing became difficult. Finally, it stopped, or I should say, she took a break.
“Wow, I’d almost forgotten what it feels like; I haven’t done this in so long. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but then again, I don’t care, either.”
She stepped off of my body, and crossed the room to open the closet door on the opposite wall. She retrieved a light chair from its interior. Though I wondered what she was planning, what I saw in the closet scared me even more. Inside were hundreds of pairs of shoes, ranging from high heels to heeled boot, and each looked like they were designed for one purpose, and one purpose only: to inflict pain.
It wasn’t until she placed the chair-like stool on my chest that I noticed something a little odd: the chair only had one leg. At the end of the leg, which was not wider than your standard soft-drink lid, where tiny, thin little studs.
“Another stasis spell will keep this stool perched perfectly on your chest. It will, however hurt like hell, so get ready.”
And without hesitation, she climbed up onto the stool, and true to her word, the chair balanced perfectly, and also true to her word, I felt a great fiery pain as the chair dug into my bare chest.
She placed both shoes on my face, and remained in that position. For hours. I couldn’t stand it: the pain was unbearable, but I couldn’t do anything about it, just wait it out. This was worse than torture, I began to wish that Jessica’s spell would wear off, and my chest would just cave in. I wanted to die.
It was as the sun started to go down that she awoke.
“What a great nap,” she said, “My feet hurt, though. But before we get to that, you will clean the bottoms of my shoes; they’ve gotten too dirty.”
She moved one foot back, onto my chest, and underneath the torture chair. The other hovered over my face.
Her shoes weren’t even that dirty, only a light layer of dust covered the sole. I suspected she just wanted to humiliate me. I could only obey, however. I licked. And licked. And licked for nearly ten minutes. Then, I repeated the process with the other shoe.
“Now, be a dear and take my shoes off. Yes, now sniff my socks.”
Her socks were moist, but didn’t smell too bad.
“Now, remove my socks and worship my gorgeous feet.”
Her toenails were painted a deep red. It suited her. Her feet tasted salty, were a little moist, but I was able to grit my teeth and bear it. I licked, kissed, and sucked on her beautiful toes for nearly an hour.
Finally, she got up, and took the chair back to the closet. It was the first time in hours that someone wasn’t perched on me.
It ended all too soon, though, as she stepped back onto my chest.
“Well, that was fun. I’m sure your hurting like hell right now, but this is just the beginning; you haven’t even met the rest of the coven yet.”
And she let those words sink in; the next few days would be even worse.
She placed one foot on my throat, shifted her weight to it, and shoved the other in my mouth. Deep in my mouth, so that I could not draw breath. And it was that that caused me to black out, one again after a few minutes.

Wicked Trample Torture, Part III

It was not long until Jessica returned. She wore a black blouse, white pants and black uggs. Megan was gone; it was just us two in the room alone.
“How are you enjoying your stay?” She said as she climbed onto my bare chest. “Well, even if you’re in pain, which it know you are, at least I’m having a lot of fun.” She placed a boot on my face, and continued talking, as if we were sitting down together at the dinner table. “I know you’re in a lot of pain, but you haven’t seen anything yet; soon, different members of the coven will be arriving, just to play with you. After everyone gets here, well then we’ll have a lot of fun, all of us together. Right now, though, there is someone I want you to meet. She is one of the most powerful witches in the coven, and she’s one of the toughest tramplers. She weighs more than you are used to, but not by much. Show her the proper respect.”
With that, she stepped off and left the room. Another woman came in and closed the door. She was extremely beautiful. She was around 5’7 and weighed probably somewhere between 150-160 lbs. She wore a black blouse that showed off her breast, and denim kapris, and Nike Shocks. The Shocks and the Nike logo were both pink.
Without saying a word, she stepped up onto my bare stomach. It was much more than I could take, but the stasis spell kept me still. She moved her other foot on top of the one that was on my stomach, so that all of her weight rested on it. I quickly began having trouble drawing breath.
“I’m Shelby,” she said. Her voice did not sound cruel or threatening, coupled with her sweet, innocent face, I thought it very strange to see her here, torturing me like this.
“So you’re Jessica’s new play-thing, huh? You don’t seem like the usual guy she brings in, most of them turn out to be bastards, but you don’t seem like one. Oh well, maybe you’re just a really unlucky guy. You’re kind of cute too.”
She moved her foot over my mouth.
“Why don’t you lick my dusty shoes clean?” God, what is it with these ladies and shoe-cleaning?
I ran my tongue over the bottoms of her shoes, getting every inch and every dust particle I possible could while she just stood there, all 160 pounds of her on my stomach.
“I don’t want you to just clean them, I want you to worship them, and revere me for the goddess I am.”
I had never herd the term “worship” used like this before, but I somehow knew, as if instinctively, what she meant. It must have been a spell. I kissed and licked every single inch of her shoe as she twisted it around for me; even the sides of her beautiful ankles got the treatment. This was not what I had in mind when I went to the party. Finally, she removed her foot, and placed it on my chest, transferring the weight as she did, letting all of the pressure off of my stomach. I knew her standing on my chest like this would hurt more so later, but I was glad she was off my stomach.
It was time for the other shoe now. I gave it the exact same treatment, “worshiped” them as if they were some religious artifact. My ribs began to bend. I knew they would not break because of Jessica’s spell, but it hurt nonetheless.
Now it was time for more torture as she removed her other shoe from over my head. She placed her foot right beside the other one on my chest, and looked down at me.
“This is going to be fun.”
She started marching in place to a very fast beat, almost running. Each stomp became harder and harder. I know that if it weren’t for Jessica’s spell, my ribs would have caved in. Then she started jumping. She seemed to be releasing a lot of pent-up anger; her hard, fast, and angry jumping landed her not only on my chest, but on my stomach, and sometimes, very painfully, on my head.
She stopped as suddenly as she began on my stomach, her weight on her tip-toes. She was out of breath, but I could still see the enjoyment on her face, it was almost child-like. After she caught her breath she began giggling. Actually giggling, like my misery made her laugh.
“Take off my left shoe, and put on your face so that you nose goes in the foot whole,” she said between giggles. I did, and instantly inhaled the musky aroma of her foot. I felt a soft pressure on my head, and saw that she had placed her still-shoed foot on the bottom of her other shoe. She stepped up. I felt intense pressure on my nose. Her socked foot found its way down and started caressing the side of my head.
She retreated back to my stomach, and took off her remaining shoe, and threw it on the floor along with the one that was on my face. I could breathe fresh air again.
She took her socks off, one at a time, somehow balancing on one foot with out using the wall, and shoved both of the socks into my mouth before resting a bare foot on my face.
“Tastes good, doesn’t it?”
It was….salty, and unpleasant, but somehow not as disgusting as I thought it would be.
I kept the socks in my mouth, since I wasn’t told to spit them out, as she continued to trample all over my broken body. This time, she seemed to be doing it in a more sensual way, as if she were giving me a massage. Somehow I was completely relaxed.
She opened my mouth with her foot and extracted the soaking wet sock using her toes. I caught a flash of crimson red toe-nails before they plunged into my mouth.
“Worship.”
I did. My tongue moved around her toes, I sucked, kissed, and licked her feet. Once again, it was as if I were worshiping an idol or something. I noticed how very much Shelby was enjoying this; her hand moved to her crotch area and began stroking as she moaned. I continued worshiping, I began to suck harder, lick and kiss more feverishly, following her louder and louder moans. She was close. Finally, she stopped, sighing as she did so. I stopped as well, as if some nonverbal command had been given.
Without so much as a word or glance, she stepped down, and retreated to the nearby closet. She emerged a few minutes later wearing a red blouse, black skirt, and knee-high black stiletto boots. When I say stiletto, I mean it; I had never seen heels so thin. Without exaggeration, they seemed to be as small and sharp as a needle-point. This was going to hurt. A lot.
“Life can’t be fun all the time, now can it? At least, not for you.”
She stepped up with one foot. I wanted so badly to scream, the sharp, terrible pain of her 160 pound body came down on the needle-tipped boots.
She marched on my chest mercilessly, ignoring my agonized face. Then things got worse, she stood, balanced on one foot with the other resting on it, and lifted the front of the boot up so that ALL of her weight rested on the heel point on my chest. Actual tears started streaming down my face. The she started jumping, as Jessica did the first night. 8 feet in the air, at least, all coming down onto my chest and stomach.
Next, she marched on the side of my head, rocking back and forth on her heels. Then she started to jump. On my head. I didn’t pass out, somehow, which made it worse.
This process continued for the next hour, after which, my body was burning as if it had caught fired. It was then that she stopped. And without a word, walked out of the room.