Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413
Boys are basically doormats. Really, they are. Nothing but flesh bags begging to be trampled. Travis knows his place and always lies down on his back so I can break in my new stilettos. The sharp points crave puncturing his skin, and I shiver when he hollers from under my weight.
Last night, he was wearing jeans and no shirt. I guess he thought the denim would protect him from my Louboutins. I stood near his hip and gave a swift kick to his hip. He wheezed a “Thank you, Goddess, please step on me,” and I lifted my left foot to his thigh. I stepped up and pressed all my weight into the ball of my foot. Giving him a small taste of what was to come.
Trampled Fuck Boy
His cock flexed under the denim, and I laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll get to you.” I teased his cock with the toe of my right foot. Softly grazing the black leather up and down where he was growing. His whole body tensed. He knows soft touches are always followed by pain. And he was right.
I stomped my foot down on his cock and moved my left foot to his sternum. The heel sank back into his soft flesh, and he reached to grab my ankle. As if to lift off some of the pressure. Bad move, Tavey. I bent down, letting all my weight settle into my feet, and slapped his hand. “Don’t touch.”
Then I jumped. My landing was wobbly as he coughed the air from his lungs, but I managed to stay balanced and moved my right foot to his face, where I pinned his cheek to the floor. I jiggled my foot against his smushed face like I was ******** out a cigarette. “Dumb little doormat!” I cackled and watched as Travis came in his pants. “How fucking pathetic,” I spat down at him and climbed off.
Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413