The trample platform

I was lying down.

My resting spot was unusual in that it was a heavy sheet of plywood. My ankles and wrists were cuffed to the wood. My only cushion was under my ass. About that more anon.

Above me was something that looked like a big heavy wooden fence. 2x4s were spaced several inches apart. It was held on cinder blocks giving what felt like a very low but large cage a snug fit.

On top, sitting in a chair was the love of my life. She had been leafing through a shoe catalog chatting with me amiably. Being gagged I was unable to reply. She didn’t seem to miss my conversation. She threw the catalog aside, stood up and stretched. Moving the chair she looked at me, eyes veiled by thick lashes she grinned.

“My little toy man, you look like you belong there. Maybe I should let you live there, always ready for me. But I’d have to feed and exercise you. And you couldn’t to go work and earn money to by me shiny new boots. I guess you do have your uses.”

“I need my own exercise. I fancy a bit of footwork, some kickboxing maybe.”

I forgot to mention my head was on a small pillow. Not for my comfort, to keep my head forward so I could have a better view.

She walked to the far end of the platform. I clenched my teeth as she lifted her leg. Her long sharp heel cut into my shin. Today she alternated from leg to leg. Sometimes just a quick jab, others she’d pause to twist and bear down. I tried to move but the restrains were too tight. Otherwise I’d bang myself against the wood. As she once told me, she’d never let anything hurt me. Except of course herself.

And hurting I was.

At the top of my thighs she jumped off. When she came back she had a long wooden stick. Thankfully it was only her bamboo cane, not what I called the ‘cruelty cane.’

She was standing just below my neck. For a long time she just looked me in the eye, letting me know she had all the time in the world.

Then she began anew. But she was working me harder. The hole shoe came through with a quick stomp. The front of her boot listed up while the heel buried in and twisted. Sometimes she’d pause to jab me with the cane.

Once below my belly button she bent down to pick up a leash. It held me cock and testicles. The pillow under my ass kept them lifted up for ready availability. The leash was to give her more control over her target.

She looked at me again.

“Now for the best part.” As sometimes was the case when the worst was about to happen her voice was a tender sigh.

Had I hadn’t been gagged my voice would’ve made the neighbors call the cops.