Almost Trample to Flatt at Halloween Ball (Patreon)

Two doormats? $13.00
Duct tape? $3.00
Being happily trampled by fifteen different goddesses, all dressed in fetish gear and boots or high heels? Priceless!

This past Saturday I attended the Halloween Fetish and Fantasy Ball in  Las Vegas, dressed as a human doormat. I used black duct tape to tape  the ends of two thinner type doormats together, leaving a space for my  head and shoulders. Then I hung them over my head, the duct “straps”  hanging on my shoulders, like the old sign carriers, one doormat in  front, one hanging down in back. Both mats had “Welcome” on them, so  there was little doubt what they were.

I had several tequila shots to lower my inhibitions –this is absolutely  essential – then the fun began. Two women, both heavier, and in their  thirties (not much to look at, but both wearing spike heeled boots) and  tight leather fetish gear, and very buzzed, walked up to me in the lobby  and asked what I was. “I’m a doormat, of course…but you can call me  Matt,” I said, laughing. “Oh, that is so perfect!” one woman exclaimed.  “Let me take your picture.” She got her camera up and was about to snap  right there, but I said, “Okay, let’s move off to the side.” I walked  out of the traffic lanes and laid down without a word. The woman burst  out laughing and said, “Oh my God, you want me to stand on you?!”

“ I thought you wanted a picture standing on the doormat?” I said, smiling, looking up at them.
“Oh, no, I just meant…”
“Oh, go ahead,” said her friend.
“I’d kill him! I weigh 160 and I’ve got these boots on!” she said,  giving me a good look at her sharp heels. (There were several recurring  themes all night long; the first was the woman’s desire to tell me  exactly how much she weighed before she stepped on me with that weight. I  think it may be reassuring to them to think if they’re light enough  that they won’t hurt you by standing on you, they’re doing okay on  weight control…THEN there are the opposite women, who know they’re  totally hot, don’t worry about their weight and just want to hurt you!).  

“Oh, I’ve got a rigid protector under my shirt,” I lied, taking a cue  from a fiction story I wrote for the board a few weeks ago. “I don’t  feel a thing. That’s why I made it that way.” (another line that changed  everything for a lot of women).
“Oh, I didn’t know you wouldn’t feel it,” she said. “Okay, here I go!”
She placed her boot on my chest, took her friend’s arm to steady herself, and stepped on me with her full weight!
Her heels drove so deep into my chest, I thought I’d die! She was  standing on my ribcage and my ribs collapsed beneath her. The mat was  deformed beneath her heels and offered almost no protection. I had  considered using rubber restaurant mats that have numerous holes in them  to allow me to feel the spikes in my flesh directly, but got a little  worried about the marks and a woman who was heavy set killing me with  her heels. Now, I thanked my lucky stars I had gotten regular (albeit  thin) mats.

“She looked down at me and said, doubtfully, “You’re not feeling this?”
I used all my remaining breath trying to keep my voice even, as I replied. “Not a thing!”
“’Cause it feels like my heels are sinking right into you a couple of  inches!” I just smiled, not having enough breath to reply and the pain  being so great that, if I did, I knew she would hop right off.

Thank god for women and cameras! Now her friend started fiddling with  the camera, not knowing how to set it and whether she should use the  flash or not. Now satisfied that she was not hurting me, the woman on my  chest ignored me completely as she talked to her friend about the  camera. "It's the silver button! No, the big silver one! Yeah, press  that! You need to turn the flash on. No, the little green one…" she  shifted her weight unconsciously from one heel to the other, grinding me  beneath her and deforming the mat. People walked by with amused smiles,  looking at me and laughing. "Want me to help you?” She asked her  friend. " No I’m okay, I'll get it," Her friend said, in no particular  hurry.

Finally, her friend was ready and snapped the picture. I don't know if  the tears forming at the edges of my eyes will show up! The woman  stepped off me still laughing and said “Thanks! That was a lot of fun.  “Anytime!” I replied.

Already, my ribs felt as if they have been broken! They walked off  without even looking back as I slowly got up groaning. They were  laughing to themselves. It amazed me, how many people walked by and  absolutely ignored me, laying there being stepped on. It was gonna be a  good night!

I next made my way into the venue. The party was held on the main floor  of a darkened sports arena. I felt a little like a gladiator in a  coliseum full of cruel women! We’re talking maybe 6000 people, all in  fetish garb, walking around. A band on the main stage, which also hosted  burlesque acts. A separate stage with “fire dancers,” and a center  stage on which volunteers were being lightly whipped, spanked and caged.  The action here got much more intense as the evening wore on. And  vendors upstairs, selling every manner of fetish clothing. Every single  woman had on spikes or big black boots!

Things were really slow for a while, and I was beginning to doubt this  was going to really work. But, as the crowd got drunker, I heard more  and more women walk by exclaiming, “Hey, he’s a doormat!” and excited  and amused tones.

It was almost a full hour later, when I was standing in the crowd  drinking and I heard a woman behind me laugh, “Hey, a human doormat!” I  turned around to two gorgeous friendly women just having a good time.  Both wearing short short skirts and heels. I made small talk with them,  then told them, “I’ve had about 20 women who took pictures standing on  the doormat!” (make it impersonal…they weren’t standing on ME…they were  just standing on the DOORMAT).

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to stand on you,” the short-haired cute one said,  “I’d just want to use you for back rubs, and giving me baths and things  like that!”
I laughed, not being drunk enough to push the issue yet. Luckily they  were. After a couple of minutes, I had turned back around to watch the  show, when one of the women, out of the blue said, “Hey, doormat! I’ve  changed my mind…Lay down!”

I immediately fell to the ground on my back, “accidentally” putting my  fingers under her friend’s heels as I laid down. Her friend stepped  brutally on my third finger with her heel and stood on it for about  thirty seconds before she moved it. She never knew. And it hurt like  hell! The first girl took my hand to steady herself and immediately  stepped up on my chest. She wasn’t too heavy, but she started dancing  and bouncing, throwing her weight around. It was a total rush to see her  literally dancing all over my chest, having the time of her life, while  I lay beneath her.
She hopped off and her friend had that glint in her eye. (Another theme  was that women everywhere get ‘that glint’ in their eyes when they see  another woman trampling you. The only thing that stops them from asking  themselves is their inhibition…that’s what alcohol is for!). I said,  “Your turn….go ahead, step right up!” Her friend asked, “Are you sure?” I  laughed and said it’s no big deal. Then she stepped up and did the  same, thanking me profusely after she was done. Thanking ME profusely?!

I took a break to get nice and drunk after that, and when another girl  asked, “Are you a doormat?” I just laid down in front of her. This girl  put her boot on me, but wouldn’t step down, so she straddled me and  danced over me, then she sat down full weight on my chest, with her back  to me, while her girlfriend did the same to my legs. She bounced hard  on my chest, such that I thought my ribs would crack! She was obviously  drunk and had no inhibitions at all!

The trampling flood gates opened after that, as the crowd got drunker. I  had just gotten up from the floor, when I saw this big goddess, at  least six feet tall, with big bare legs, and with a very heavy-set  frame, dressed in a white button down uniform shirt, and short black  skirt, with a Nazi-like cap on, and carrying a riding crop. She had  short-cropped black hair and was standing alone at the side of the  floor, leaning against a railing. She was wearing really severe makeup  and really high sharp fetish heels, not platforms, and stood about 6’5”  in her heels. Her large heavy frame weighed in at about one ninety, I  thought, but she was only about twenty two, so she looked heavy, but  GOOD…and very cruel! She wasn’t just here having a good time. By her  expression, she did this stuff for real! At the time, our eyes just  locked and I smiled at her, but she just stared at me -- not looking  away, and not smiling back.

I had turned away from her, a little uncomfortable, and was watching the  fire dancers, when there was a heavy tap on my shoulders. I turned  again and saw I was staring directly into the huge breasts of  ‘Nazi-girl’ only inches in front of me – well into my personal space  deliberately. She looked down at me, a serious expression on her face.

Hi,” I said. She didn’t say ‘hi.’ She just looked down at me square in  the eyes, reached up and fingered the thin texture of the welcome mat,  looked down at her heels, taking my eyes with hers, brought my eyes back  up and said, “One chance. Yes…or no?” My mouth hung open, not knowing  what to say, but knowing there would be no discussion. I hesitated. Up  to now, the tramplings had all been in the spirit of fun. I could easily  pass them off that way to the crowd as they walked by. But this would  be different. She wouldn’t be laughing as she stood on me and that would  make it obvious to the crowd that I was truly her doormat – there was a  humiliating aspect to it.

Also, she would be, by far, the heaviest woman I’d ever had trample  me…and in HEELS. I didn’t know what it would be like, but I knew I  wouldn’t say ‘no.’ I was thinking of all the lies I’d had to tell other  women about this just being a fun costume, or not feeling pain through  the mat just to get them to trample me. All the lies she would have  instantly seen through – because she KNEW. Because it was obvious she  wanted to give pain as much as I wanted to receive it. Actually, as it  turned out, she wanted to give pain even more than I wanted to receive  it! I just whispered tentatively, “Yes.”

This girl held lightly onto the edge of the welcome mat, as she led me  to the side where she had been standing. Her heels slammed heavily into  the floor, as she swayed her ass when she walked. She was mesmerizing.  At the edge of the floor, by a railing, she turned toward me and raised  her eyebrows like ‘well?’. Without a word, I laid down. She towered  above me, looking down at me. Then, also without a word, she placed her  heavy leg on my chest and gave me a moment to appreciate how needle  sharp her heels were and how big she was. And she was big and her heels  WERE like needles! Then (and I think I gulped) she very slowly stepped  up on my prone body, one stiletto heel on the center of my breastbone,  and the other, squarely on my crotch. She seemed to know she had to give  me a chance to deal with the weight.

Oh my god did it hurt! She was so unflaggingly heavy and her heels so  sharp, I couldn’t contain my groans. I started groaning almost  immediately and couldn’t stop. I was also coughing, trying to get my  breath! My rib cage depressed and bent almost into my back! Nazi-girl  didn’t even look down. She wasn’t even curious about how much pain she  was causing – she didn’t even check on me when I coughed. I mean, not  once! She’d done this to a man before – maybe lots of times! She just  went back to drinking her drink, staring at the crowd, while standing on  me with her enormous frame, crushing me completely under her high  fashion fetish heels! People were walking by looking amused, some  shaking their heads, having no idea the extreme pain I was in, and  thinking we must have come together – that I must belong to her – since  she was ignoring me like she would stand here all night. It’s rather  frightening not knowing the woman and believing she’s not playing a  game…that she really enjoys being this cruel; especially, since she’s  completely ignoring you. After a while, I could even see her lips moving  absent-mindedly, singing with the band. I realized…she REALLY HAD  forgotten about me, or really did consider me of absolutely no  consequence. Or the pain she was giving me.

I endured her standing on me for a good seven or eight minutes, her  never looking down once; NOT ONCE! But I was now groaning audibly and my  face showing the pain, as I swung it back and forth, trying to endure  it. People were now walking by going, “Shit! Look at that guy!  Geez…she’s really giving it to him!” One guy said to her, “Hey, you  better check your doormat – he’s getting worn out!” She looked at him,  expressionless, then back at the band. Not once at me.

Finally, I couldn’t take it any more. I coughed weakly, “Hey, um, my  chest is really starting to hurt a bit.” She ignored me. “Um, I’m not  kidding…I’m in some pain here. You’re really heavy.” She waited a  moment, then, almost grudgingly, looked down, evaluated my facial  expression, then shifted all her massive weight off my chest and  directly onto the spike heel on my groin! When I let out a huge, “OOFF!”  and started coughing continuously at the onslaught of her concentrated  weight on my manhood, she smiled slightly, and said, seriously, “Be  careful what you wish for…”, then went back to watching the crowd. I was  in love with this girl! I’ve met very few true dominatrixes in my life,  but she truly enjoyed this. Her heel was pressing almost through my  groin, and I was gritting my teeth, trying to endure the pain for her. I  had no idea when she would release me. She would shift her weight back  to my chest, rocking back on her heels, occasionally repositioning them,  but showed no sign of getting off anytime soon. I was coughing  constantly now, and suffering greatly, but still she showed no sign of  stepping off me, or of even caring. I had this picture of the party  ending and the janitor finding me hours from now, dead with strange  holes in me, and her doing her bills at home without the slightest care  at what she’d done to me!

I was getting seriously worried. I couldn’t roll over, I couldn’t move  her, and the one time I tried to grab her ankle when she shifter her  weight really hard, she had picked up her foot in a practiced motion and  tried to step on my hand with her heel. Like she’d done that before,  too. I thought, if she stepped on my hand, she might just stand on it  all night, too. And that would be far more than I could take. I yanked  my hand away, just before she smashed it under her heel. I was coughing  and groaning and thinking of calling for help…as humiliating as that  would be; but, I didn’t think even that would work. The music was too  loud to hear me, and she’d just tell any passerby to mind their own  business, that I begged all the time. Maybe not, but I could see it  happening.

Then, the wildest thing happened. This absolutely stunning, really  athletic twenty-something, with muscular legs like she lived in a gym,  wearing red metal spike heeled boots with all manner of silver buckles,  walked up to the woman standing on me. She had an absolutely perfect  athletic body! Her boots were right by my head. I could have licked  them, but thought better of it. The girl was dwarfed by the height of  Nazi-girl, standing on me and had to look way up at her. She was wearing  a tight leather red devil fetish outfit, complete with tail and had  beautiful tussled blond hair. She had a really tall boyfriend with her  about 6’5”, and she probably stood about 5’11” in her boots. She said,  kind of sheepishly (and drunkenly), “Okay. Okay…um…my boyfriend wanted  me to ask…we were wondering…is there any way I could use your, um,  doormat…so I could dance face to face with my boyfriend for the first  time in my life? So I could be taller? I mean…would he do that?” “O my  god,” I thought as Nazi-girl shifted her unbelievable weight again,  causing me to groan. “If you don’t want to,” said the devil-girl, “it’s  okay. We just thought…cause we saw other women standing on him…”

The nazi woman looked down at me, my teeth chattering now from the pain,  and shrugged her shoulders. “Sure,” she said simply. And she stepped  off me, holding her massive shoe over my face a moment too long, as if  she might step directly on it. She thought better of it and stepped  right beside my head, missing my ear by millimeters, and walked into the  crowd. My ribs ached so much, I really need a break…but there was no  way I could have gotten up. “Oh, thank you so much! Thank you, thank  you, thank you!,” The girl said to me. “I can’t believe you’re gonna let  me do this!”

“How can you take a girl your girlfriend’s size standing on you?!,” the  devil girl said, looking down at me, hands on her hips, and referring to  the Nazi girl. I couldn’t believe she was just talking to me like there  was nothing going on when I wanted to ask her to call an ambulance! I  tried to inflate my lungs and control my voice to keep it from cracking,  though I wanted to roll around in pain and thank her for saving me.  “Oh, the costume’s…reinforced…I don’t feel…any weight at all.” I had to  catch my breath between every few words.

“Told ya,” her boyfriend said. “I knew it! No one could take that.”
“God, that’s wild! It looks like all you’re wearing is a thin little doormat!”, she replied.
“Oh, god, no,” I said, making an effort. “But thanks…it took me hours  to…hide all the bracing under my shirt.” I thought how surreal it was  that I’m laying on the floor of a stadium looking up at a stunningly  beautiful girl in a leather devil outfit carrying on a conversation as  she towers over me, getting up the courage to step on me…

“Oh…THAT’s how you did it! That’s so cool! I was worried about my boots  on you! She hestitated, then just went for it. Ready?” she asked.
“Always,” I replied, looking at her cruel boots.

If the Nazi woman had on needle heels, they must have been made by the  same fetish company as devil-girl’s. And these were metal! As if she  read my mind, when she put her hard soled boot on my chest, she said, “I  think my heels are gonna go right through that doormat!”
“You couldn’t puncture the doormat if you tried!” I egged her on.
“Ewe…a challenge!” she laughed, terrifying me.

Devil girl stepped right up on my stomach now, her athletic weight  crushing the air out of me, and yelled down, “You okay?” She was a  fantasy dream! “Can’t feel a thing!” I replied, aching. “Can’t feel  this?” devil girl asked. She bounced up and down a little, then gave me a  light little stomp with her boot. “No, really…I can’t even tell you’re  up there!” “Oh, this is gonna be fun!” she said. “Can’t feel THIS?!” she  yelled. She raised her boot until her knee was pointing straight at the  sky, held it there, giving me a chance to stop her, and, as I prepared  myself in terror, she drove it down in the cruelest, most vicious  horrible stomp I’d ever felt -- straight into my stomach, laughing! I  thought I’d die. There was this blinding flash of light and I lost my  bearings for a moment, as my head bounced off the floor. I couldn’t  believe the power of her stomping on me. I’d honestly never felt  anything like it! It almost wasn’t human! I started sweating all over  from the pain. I really hadn’t expected anything like that to happen.  And talking…talking was just a far off dream now, as I tried desperately  to breath again.

“Wow! I guess you really can’t feel anything!” She must have thoroughly  believed I couldn’t feel anything because no way would anyone do that to  another person! I managed to smile, but still couldn’t talk, and it was  dim enough she probably didn’t see my reaction.

Now, she started dancing, looking at her boyfriend, her arms wrapped  lazily around his neck, thoroughly convinced she was dancing on a hard  shell of some kind (though I really don’t know how; at least on my  stomach, she was sinking right in). She was stomping so hard, as she  danced! The hundreds of impacts of her boots were raining down on me –  thundering through my torso. Each stomp was a loud thump in my chest  that seemed to bounce all over my insides over and over again.

Again, ignoring me completely, she was telling her boyfriend this was  great and she was as tall as he was. Her perfect muscular legs were a  vision as she towered over me; her sexy outfit torturing me. The hard  stomping soles of her boots hurt like hell! She danced on me and drank  for a few minutes, then she looked down at me and talked to me some  more, asking how I thought up the costume, and if I’d ever been stepped  on for real. I just smiled up at her and once moved my mouth like I was  talking but she just couldn’t hear me over the music. I just needed to  be visually convincing. Then she asked, “So…can I try?” I could only  grunt, wondering what she meant. But then, she just rocked back onto her  heels, and, as her and her boyfriend looked down and concentrated,  watching the mat (and didn’t even look at my face), she lifted her left  boot above my face, holding it there, putting her entire weight on the  needle sharp point of the other metal spike, and began to twist it back  and forth, grinding it into me, gritting her teeth as she stared at her  heel.

It hurt horribly and I couldn’t believe this was happening to me! Then I  sort of felt a little crack in the fiber of the mat, and instantly her  heel penetrated the welcome mat and the needle heel drove mercilessly  directly into my chest, her full weight still on the single spike heel,  disappearing into the mat completely. I can’t believe she didn’t hear me  cry out because I felt like half the stadium heard it! My whole body  started shivering and I was clenching my fists just to endure the  ripping pain of her spike heel.

“See?” devil-girl said. “Told you I could puncture it! These heels are  sharp, man!” Then, to me, “I hope your bracing works! ‘Cuz, you’re  fucked if it doesn’t!” I just smiled, trying to outwardly control the  pain as I felt my skin tearing under my shirt!

Then, she did the same with the other heel. When her second heel  punctured the mat and crushed in between two ribs, I thought I’d go out  of my mind! She was laughing with her boyfriend while she tortured me  under her spike-heeled boots with no restraint. Now, she was dancing  mostly on the heels, but still stomping, trying to puncture the mat with  them while she danced! And she was enjoying the attention of the crowd,  as they gathered around to watch this absolutely hot woman dance  provocatively on a man’s chest.

After another couple minutes, she asked if I wanted her to get off. “You  must be getting bored!” she yelled down to me. I was a lot of things,  but ‘bored’ wasn’t one of them! “He’s not bored! He’s enjoying the  view!” her boyfriend said, referring to my being able to look up her  short skirt. “Is that true?” she asked me, looking down from so far  above. I tried to shrug my shoulders because I sure couldn’t talk.  “Okay,” she laughed, “you enjoy the view!” ‘Think I betta dance now’!”  She went back to dancing freely on me. She was twisting cruelly with her  boots. Then, she stomped and shifted her weight, as I suffered. She  didn’t care a bit! She was talking to her boyfriend about the  after-hours party, seemingly forgetting I was beneath her, though I was  feeling every single step in those red boots and watching her muscular  legs reverberate above me! Occasionally, she would step through one of  the holes she’d made and into my flesh again, her heel disappearing into  the mat. When this happened, she’d continue to dance and the mat would  move up and down, stuck to the shaft of her heel! So, her heel would  crush into my chest over and over, penetrating me and she never knew. I  was feeling what I would have felt if I’d bought a mat with holes in it.  I thanked god I hadn’t…I never could have endured that and she would  have seen the blood by now. I could feel I was bleeding a little, my  black t-shirt becoming moist. I was gritting my teeth, suffering under  this devil goddess, and they were talking nonchalantly about the next  party! It was like a fantasy ‘hell’!

After an eternity, she stood still for a couple of minutes, finishing  her drink, asked me if I wanted her to get off (I just looked at her and  shook my head and she laughed). I had a little chance to recover. Then,  she finally stepped off, saying “Thanks! That was wild! That was the  highlight of the party for me!” Her boyfriend said, “Yeah, thanks dude!  Do you want some help up?” I knew I couldn’t stand – but I was sortof  able to talk by then – so, I just made a dismissive motion with my hand  and said, haltingly, “I’m good.” Then, I had an afterthought…

“I wonder what it would feel like if I COULD feel it?” I said up to her.
“With these boots?! You wouldn’t even be alive right now! I weigh 130!”  (I will never forget her absolutely electric sexy smile)!
“Tell ya what, step on my hand with your heel…see if I can take it!”
Oh, yes! She didn’t even hesitate! She put her metal stiletto heel on my hand and asked, “How much of my weight?”
“All of it!” I replied.
Devil-girl replied, “Remember you asked for it!” and just stepped on my hand with her full weight on her metal spike.
Now, I was free to scream! And, luckily, because I could never have  endured the pain if I hadn’t! She smiled at my pain as I yelled through  gritted teeth, trying to keep it down, but she didn’t get off right  away.
“Had enough?” she asked.
“Okay, yes…yes, that’s good,” I moaned.
“You sure?” She kept her weight on the heel.
“Yes…please!”
“Ewe, he’s begging!” she laughed. Still, she didn’t step off.
Then her boyfriend said, “Okay, okay, you’ve done enough damage…” and  she relented, picking up her heel, but stepping on my hand with the sole  of her boot, then twisting it as she stepped off.
“Oh, so sorry!” she laughed playfully. Without any concern for what  she’d just done, she said, “Seriously, thanks! Maybe I can dance on you  more at ‘after-hours.’” I tried to laugh off the pain and said it was my  pleasure. “Sorry dude! She’s crazy sometimes! Where’s your girlfriend?”  her boyfriend asked.
“Oh, she’s around,” I said.

The couple walked off, and I felt under my mat the six or seven very  deep heel marks she’d left in me. One is honestly like a serious hole,  and not just a deep impression. I wondered if she’d find any blood on  her heels later. I hurt like hell everywhere and decided I would need to  do some serious drinking to endure and continue. Which, of course, I  did.

In another half hour, I was somewhat recovered, but very sore. I took a  break to go to the Men’s room and look at the twelve to fifteen really  wicked, deep and bloody heel marks devil-girl had left in my chest. I  had thought there were only about half that many until I got a look at  my chest! Two were so deep, trickles of blood were oozing from them down  my front. I couldn’t believe how much it hurt to touch them! But I was  totally pumped about the rest of the night!

I was now more than buzzed enough to ask directly if someone would take  my picture while standing on me and I wanted to go for multi-trample,  which I have never experienced. There was a group of girls in a Little  Bo Peep theme, with spike heels and white socks, and a guy with them  dressed as a sheep (women after my own heart!) and, after I’d recovered a  bit more, I just walked up and told them I’d like to get a picture with  the four of them standing on the welcome mat. My camera wasn’t really  working (separate story that could only happen to me), but I handed it  to one of the guys with them anyway, as they happily obliged.

For them, all of them stepping on me was an exercise only in balance. No  one considered their total weight (about 500 pounds), and no one asked  if I could feel the crush. They just stepped on me for a picture. For  anyone who’s never tried it, there needs to be a big caution here. The  total weight of a group of girls on you is more overwhelming than you  can possibly imagine! When the first girl stepped up, she was not too  heavy, but her heels were like dull stakes through the mat. The weight  of the second girl changed everything! My ribs crushed beneath them and I  couldn’t breath well at all. When the third girl got up only a second  later, I thought, “Oh god! I’m in real trouble! My ability to breathe  stopped completely and I felt completely squashed into the floor. The  fourth girl stepped squarely on my groin in her heels and the total  weight was debilitating! My mouth hung open, as I stared up at an entire  crowd of women in heels, all standing on me, ignoring me as they smiled  and jostled for the camera! The other thing that was killing me was the  constant shifting of all those heels around! The exquisite pain of  eight different spikes constantly digging into different places on me,  and my inability to control or even respond to all the new pain. Again,  as before, the girls seemed oblivious to what they were doing to me! Not  one looked down, except to reposition herself. And, almost totally  divorced from the pain, was the overwhelming crushing force!

The minute or so it took to “take the picture” seemed like an eternity!  One girl’s clear spike heel was stepping heavily on me right in front of  my eyes! She was huge from my vantage point, and she was constantly  shifting her weight, picking up and putting down her sharp spike, over  and over as she leaned to one side or the other. Finally, the guy  snapped the picture and they all stepped off me with no more rigmarole  than if they’d posed on some steps, never giving me a second thought!  One of the guys helped me up and handed me my camera. “Thanks,” I said.  “No problem. Is it going to be in the magazine?” (still don’t know what  he meant). “Yeah, absolutely,” I replied.

I was recovering, watching the band, when, as had happened all night, a  beautiful girl, about five seven, wearing white high block elevator  boots and a dress MADE ENTIRELY OUT OF WHITE ROPES (I think every woman  in the free world should have one), said, “You’re a doormat?” “That’s  me!” I replied. “So…if I needed to wipe my boots, I could stand on you?”  Instantly I laid at her feet. She put her boot on me, then hesitated,  so I reached up for her hand. She took it and stepped heavily on my  stomach, then walked over me, grinning from ear to ear. Short but sweet!  Then, she said, “Thank you! You’re such a good sport!” “My pleasure,” I  replied.

After a while, as the room was thinning out, I found another smaller  room, still filled with a couple hundred people, dancing to a DJ. I was  walking around checking out the women, when the lights came up. The Ball  was over. I should have been major depressed, but I was honestly really  sore all over. I got in line to go out through the door, and just  before I passed through it, I heard a girl’s voice behind me say, “Lie  down, Matt!” She had to say it again before I realized she was talking  to me! Without turning, I just dropped on my stomach in the doorway to  let her walk over me. But she didn’t just walk over me! She stepped on  my back in her heels and started bouncing and dancing! Heaven on Earth!  She danced for a good minute, before her boyfriend told her there was a  line forming behind her and she walked over me and out the door.

I got up and caught up with her, a tall brunette in a blue dress with  sky blue, sharp three-inch heels. I sat down in front of her and said,  “Give me a heel mark to remember you by!” (hey, we were drunk and I was  desperate!) She looked at my hand and said, “You already have one!”  seeing the wicked red heel mark devil-girl had given me. “I want a much  deeper one!” I said. “You want pain? I give you pain!” she exclaimed  matter-o-factly, and stepped on the center of my hand with her heel and  walked over it and down the hall, looking back and laughing at the  expression on my face! I was lovin’ life!

I thought the night was over, but found out I had a ways to go! Outside,  leaning against a wall and talking to two guys were two of the hottest  girls I’d seen! One had slipped off her shoes and was barefoot, the  other had on boots. The guys were telling them they were from “L.A  Magazine” and wanted some promotional shots of the girls in sexy poses  (yeah, right). But, I walked up and blatantly said, as if I was part of  their camera crew, “Yeah, we need to do a Mat Shot!” I laid down in  front of them. One girl asked, “Are you really from a magazine?” And the  guy, seeing his chance, said, “Of course! That’s why we dressed our  buddy here in this promotional costume! We need to do a…a…”, “Mat shot!”  I finished for him. “Yeah, a mat shot!”

The two girls shrugged, and one of them stepped on me in her heavy biker  boots. “Put your foot on my face and act really cruel for the camera,” I  said. (It’s amazing what you’ll say when you’re really drunk…but not  half as amazing as what a girl will do). The girl placed her boot (and  not a little of her weight) on my face, while she talked to the guy  about his magazine. There was a cigarette stuck to her shoe bottom,  which totally turned me on! She just stood on me for several minutes,  until she finally remembered I was under her boots, and actually said,  “Oh, I forgot about you!” and stepped off. Shouldn’t we be able to  PURCHASE very drunk girls somewhere?!

I followed the two guys to two other girls, both absolute stunners,  standing around the corner of the building in the parking lot. They were  very drunk also. They were both very tall and wearing platform spike  heels and vampire outfits, and me and the guys pulled the same routine  in our newly discovered synergistic relationship. It turned out both  were Las Vegas showgirls who lived a pretty wild partying life and had  few reservations. This time worked even better, now that we were  “rehearsed” and BOTH girls stepped on me in their spike heels for  pictures! One girl kept asking, “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt? I, like,  weigh 132!” “No, you’re fine,” I struggled to say. As before, the heels  were killer when the girls got to talking to the guys, stepping all over  me at random, ripping into me, grinding and crushing the air out of me  painfully. And, as before, the guys kept them talking for the longest  time (almost twenty minutes, this time) before they realized (or cared)  they were still standing on me, digging their heels into me under their  combined weight. At one point, the taller of the two girls (but she was  lean and a bit lighter than her curvier friend), Katya put her heel  directly on my chest just below my throat -- off the edge of the mat --  and stood on it, her bare foot in her heel only inches from my face, as  she drilled the spike directly into my flesh without knowing it under  her 125 pounds! As the conversation wound down, her friend finally  stepped off me and drifted off with the two guys, talking about getting  her in a magazine. Katya watched them walk away, and finally looked down  at me and said, “Awww…do I have to get off now?”

“You’re so breathtaking, you can stay there as long as you like, if I can just look at you!” I replied.

She smiled, then considered a minute. “Are you tensing your stomach up  to hold me?” she asked. (She was standing squarely on my stomach). I  told her the truth, that I was, but I was okay. “No,” she said, “I  mean…will you relax it so I sink into you? I really want to feel you  squish beneath me! I’ve always wanted to squish someone!”

Oh my god! I had to marry this girl! I relaxed my stomach completely,  and, sure enough, she sunk way deep into me as the air rushed out. She  got this really big smile on her face, and asked, “Can I bounce?” The  guys had wandered away with her friend, and Katya and I were having our  own private moment. This was gonna be it for the night and I was going  to go for the gold!

“Katya, the truth is, I love this! I want you to make holes in me with  your heels! This is probably never going to happen to me again, so just  move the mat, and just stomp the living shit out of me!”
“For real?!” she said, smiling even more, giving me encouragement.
“Yeah, for real! And don’t only do it to my stomach! Do it – Do it --  everywhere!” She looked down at me, a sly look on her face.  “EVERY-where?!” she asked, her eyebrows raised. Oh my god! I thought  again.
I locked eyes with her. “EVERYWHERE!”

Katya didn’t need any more encouragement. She caught the edge of the mat  under her heel and just swept it aside, flopping it away, then stepped  directly on my stomach with those killer heels. And Katya went to town!  She started bouncing and stomping and jumping so hard, I thought the  heels would make their marks in my BACK! She twisted and ground them  into me and didn’t even pause when I groaned or yelped. “Having fun?!”  she asked. “’Cuz I sure am!” At first, I tried to control the pain and  grunting, but it got tougher and tougher and I let out a couple of  really big “Ooof”’s right in a row. Katya didn’t even slow down. So, I  just let it all out, groaning and moaning and grunting and letting her  know what she was doing to me. And she seemed to at least not care…maybe  even like it!

She spent about three full minutes absolutely destroying the flesh on my  chest and stomach! I was sure she would break a rib! Then, she moved  down to my groin and just trashed it, stepping full weight all over it  with her heels. “I’m thinking of all my ex-boyfriends!” she yelled down  to me, as she, over and over, squashed my manhood with her hard platform  soles and her high heels.

I just couldn’t believe this was happening and I concentrated on  enduring her brutality. At one point, I grabbed her ankle to soften her  impacts, but she didn’t even slow down. She just let me hold her ankles  while she stepped all over me! When I put my hand under her heel, she  just stepped on it like it wasn’t there, giving me my third heel mark in  my hand in one night! I was going to get Katya’s number, I was going to  move to Las Vegas and I was going to settle down with her to be her  personal pincushion for life…that was all there was to it!

Suddenly, her friend came running over absolutely horrified – I mean  BESIDE HERSELF. “OH MY GOD!!! What are you doing to him?!! I’m so sorry,  I’m so sorry! She’s really drunk!” she said to me. “Are you all right?  Oh my god!!!” She grabbed Katya and yanked her off of me and Katya threw  her head back and laughed as loud as she could. “I’m getting back at  all my boyfriends!” she said, stumbling into her friend.

Her friend just kept saying, “Oh my god! You were killing him!” I wanted  so much to get Katya’s number, but her friend led her away and into a  waiting limousine, horrified at what she’d done to me. “Do you know what  you did?!” she said to her incredulous.
“He wanted me to,” I heard Katya say as she was led away. “Oh, right…he wanted you to stomp him to death!” her friend replied.
“He did! I swear! He told me to make holes in him!”

“Honestly, Katya…” I heard her friend say as they got into the Limo. She  gave me a last apologetic, horrified look. Katya was still laughing,  swearing I told her to do it and it was fun.

One of the guys came over, took one look at me and said, “Shit dude…she  really fucked you up!” I looked up, my whole body reeling in pain, and  asked, “So, are you really with a magazine?”

“Are you kiddin’? We thought that up half and hour ago…but it worked  great! Well…maybe not so much for you!” I smiled. He asked if I wanted a  hand up. “No, I said, I’m just gonna lay here a little while.” And  that’s what I did. I laid there in the almost empty back parking lot…and  dreamed.