Trampling and kicking

Straps bound me tightly above and below my elbows and knees and just above my ankles. Instead of the usual ball gag duct tape sealed my lips. I’m sure she looked forward to ripping it off. Being silenced was always a clue she was in a brutal mood, normally she was very keen to listen to me beg.

She had my lying flat on my belly. Grabbing my hair she pulled my head up slightly so I could see her feet.

“My new stilettos arrived, you were such a good boy to buy them for me. Now you can help me break them in.” She let my head drop.

A heel poked in my back just below the shoulder blades, then dragged itself downward. She’s pledged that she’ll hurt me but never harm me and prizes her gift for controlling intensity and timing to insure my humiliation lasts as long as she wishes.

At the small of my back she skipped past my butt. When it came to my legs her strategy was mostly to repeatedly jab into my flesh. After grinding into my knees for a time she stopped. Feeling plenty sore I hoped she’d satisfied herself. When the toe of her shoes slammed into my buttocks I knew better. It seemed she spent as much time kicking my cheeks as she had on her slow trip to them. I don’t know. I’d finally started to slip into submissive space and felt elated even as I hurt.

Saying “Halftime” she left the room. I drifted off. Eventually I felt her foot shove me over onto my back.

I looked up into a womanly face that looked almost feral. And now I could watch as the pokes and scratching that traversed my back began anew across my chest. She was quicker now. But when she came to my knees and started kicking them I understood why. Inflexibly, almost mathematically her path went back up my body but now she was kicking, with cunning carefulness my legs and arms in the side.

Finally at my shoulders she paused. Her eyes seemed so bright I might’ve thought she was drunk if I didn’t know that was something she never did before working me over. When she licked her lips I knew that I’d not felt the worst but soon would.

Firmly, slowly her heel shoved into my penis. Never hard enough to wound it but I feared for it anyway. She knew that nothing made me feel more helpless.

But it really wasn’t that long before she dropped down a few inches. She began to work on my balls. Pressure. Tap. Again and again. Never hard. Knowing my weird sensitivity she understood perfectly that harmless movement would leave me aching. It wasn’t long before my mind fled to masochist’s heaven. I think she knew since she then stopped.