THE CONCERT: PART TWO
After Jamie closed the tiny door with her finger, the trapped slaves became confused. They had waited in line for so long to see Goddess Samantha and now they couldn’t get in. The little men stared up at the gigantic Jamie and her friend Belinda behind her.
Jamie’s engineer boots were the closest and they seemed a mile high to the tiny slaves. Each of the squared-off toes rose up a tiny bit from the floor. A few slaves took the initiative and crawled under the small space beneath the toe of the closest boot.
“I guess we’ll have to kill them all, Belinda. What do you think?”, mused Jamie as she watched the miniscule men wriggling under the shiny black toe of her boot. She could feel their soft bodies through the leather sole and it turned her on. Jamie got down on one knee to watch the slaves closer. She used her fingers to help prod the tiny slaves under the toe more. She had about six of them under there.
Belinda sat down on the floor, her back against the wall, with both legs straight out. All of the men could see the splotches of red and pink mush covering one of Belinda’s riding bootsoles. “I think I want these soles covered with little, flattened bodies”.
Belinda laughed as dozens of tiny men instantly crawled their way towards her outstretched riding boot-soles. They had obviously heard the Goddess’ comments and were eager to die.
Meanwhile, Jamie slowly pressed her square boot-toe down against the floor, squeezing the half-dozen men into a wet pancake of goo. She watched the red jelly ooze out from under the toe and ran her finger through it. Jamie tasted the droplets of goo by sucking her fingertip. “Mmmm...Your soles? What about mine?” Jamie tilted her heavy boot to the side and looked at the glob of red pulp clinging to the underside of the toe. “I’ve got a lot of room under these soles for dead slaves,” she said as she scooped up a handful of nearby men and looked closely at them in her palm. “I’m gonna stomp these worms and grind their guts...”
Jamie sat with the one boot on its side (the one with the glob of pulp under the toe), and her other leg up so the second boot stood straight up.
Jamie lowered her palm and let the men tumble off onto the floor, right next to her leather sole, resting on its side. “Pray to the bottom of my boot, bugs.” The little men all prayed to the giant, flat sole of the engineer boot. They stared at the glistening red glob that had only seconds ago, been a group of living, worshipping slaves like themselves. The glob was stuck to the sole but it was very slowly dripping downwards. Jamie plucked one of the tiny men out of the group and held him pinched between two fingers right next to the Frye logo imprinted in the exact middle of the boot’s tan leather sole. The logo was gigantic compared to the tiny, wriggling man. It said “Frye”, and then “Made in the USA” in smaller letters underneath. Jamie slowly smeared the tiny slave across the “Made in the USA” letters and crushed its soft body into liquid paste. She used her fingertip to wipe the jelly all the way across the letters, and admired the small red streak she had made.
She looked down at the rest of her immediate captives. “It must be nice to worship the bottom of a woman’s boot. What does it feel like to see the sole of my big boot facing you, seeing your squashed friends stuck to the bottom?” Jamie bent down to look at the men closely. The tiny things were wriggling and praying and cumming all over themselves. She moved her other boot around a little, making the large heel clunk against the floor. The tiny men turned to see the gigantic, towering black engineer boot with the silver buckle and the strap on its ankle. The slaves were torn between worshipping the giant sole next to them, and the giant upright boot that was so close.
She pinched up one of the confused little slaves and dropped it closer to the standing boot, about an inch from the side of the heavy heel. “Stare up and see how tall my boot is”. The tiny slave was overwhelmed by the sight of the gigantic black heel that rose up next to him. The height of the rubber pad at the bottom of the heel was higher than he was! He could see every detail of the shiny, stacked heel as it rose to join the sole, then the rest of the boot, the strap with the silver buckle, then the shaft, towering hundreds of feet above. The gleaming, leather shaft was sumptous. He could see the boot’s pull-tab near the very top, then Goddess Jamie’s gorgeous face staring down at him coldly.
She used two fingers to play with the end of the strap, teasing the slave. She ran one finger through the buckle. “Do you want to die right here? You can worship this buckle and get crushed inside of it”. She pinched him between her fingers again and lifted him to the giant round buckle. The slave stared at the shiny silver metal ring, and the metal studs on either side that attached it to the strap. “Little buckle slave...”, she said as she pressed his helpless body against one of the studs. “Fuck my buckle...”, she laughed as she crushed the litlle man into the stud, and against the edge of the metal ring. She wiped his soft guts into the leather of the strap.
Belinda was in hysterics at Jamie’s rhyme. She slapped her hand against the tight leather of her skirt and kicked her riding boots, accidentally smearing a whole group of slaves under her boot-heel, that had crawled too close to her boots. The back of her boot-heel slid against the wet floor, from the dozen or so men that were suddenly smeared.
“Oh, shit...,” she lamented as she stood up the boot and ran her finger over the traces of wetness on the back of the heel. Belinda was amazed at how many slaves had crawled towards her riding boot. She gathered a handful of them in the palm of her hand. “You crawled all the way over here to worship my riding boots?” One of the tiny men in her hand dared speak: “I saw the soles of your boots and wanted to be part of them, Goddess....”
Belinds cupped the handful of men and held them all close to her ear. “Did one of you bugs say something? Say it again...” The little man stared at the gigantic ear and trembled as it spoke. “ I saw the soles of your riding boots and I wanted to become smushed into them, Goddess. I worship them”. Another of the squirming men also spoke, “I worship them, too, Goddess!” Soon, all the little captives were screaming to Goddess Belinda about how they worshipped the soles of her boots.
She laughed hysterically and held them all in front of her eyes. She watched with amusement as their miniscule bodies twitched with pleasure. She hovered two fingers from her other hand over the slaves. “Who should I pick first?”
The handful of men screamed with excitement to be picked. Belinda lowered her palm down towards the floor, allowing the tiny worshippers to see the entire height of her boot’s gleaming black leather shaft as they descended. When she was holding them about as low as the boot’s ankle, where the thin ankle strap went through the little gold buckle, she paused. “Look at the way the leather gathers at the back of my ankle.”
Belinda picked one of the men from her palm and placed it in one of the slight folds of leather where the ankle met the shaft. There were a few interesting wrinkles where the leather gathered, and the tiny man squirmed in one of them. Belinda shifted her foot around inside the boot to make the folds move. The slave was in heaven, clinging to the rich, black leather. He pressed himself into the inky blackness and smelled oil and polish, rubbed against the cracks of leather and came all over himself. Goddess Belinda had let him go and taken her finger away. She was laughing at the clinging, twitching boy. She continued to hold the palmful of slaves next to the ankle so they could see the gleaming folds and the trapped slave.
“Why don’t the rest of you explore my ankle?.” she asked as she tilted her palm so the little men were pressed lightly against the back of her boot ankle. “Get into those folds”.
Belinda was amused as she felt the tiny men crawl from her palm into the folds of black leather . Before they were all there, she started rubbing one fingertip around the ankle, into the soft folds, smearing one of the trapped slaves and wiping his soft guts into the leather where a particular fold gathered. She casually ran her fingertip all through the moving, shifting folds of leather, lightly pressing and squishing the tiny, soft slaves whenever they were stuck. She loved the gentle, quiet sound of the crushing, spreading goo against the buttersoft leather, with the sound of her boot-heel shifting against the floor.
She pressed the rest of the men still in her hand around the ankle and poked their individual bodies into the folds, squishing them as she did. “All of you can die around the ankle of my riding boot. I think that’s cute”. She simply wiped her palm around the back of the ankle, back and forth, smearing all of the helpless, little men into liquid paste, working their soft guts into the leather.
Jamie looked up from the slaves gathered around her engineer boot and noticed the crowd that had gathered in front of her friend Belinda. “Getting a nice shine on your boots?,” she asked.
“I just like the way their guts work like boot polish,” said Belinda, who kept rubbing the bits of slave-goo around the ankle. “I like squishing them into the wrinkles and folds here, right above where the ankle strap is”.
“What about the folds on your skirt?”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right”. Belinda ran her hand across the front panel of her skirt. “There are so many folds. Great places for tiny men to die”. She scooped up a handful of slaves and dropped them all on the front panel. Belinda sat with both riding boots crossed and the skirt stretched out before her, a canvas of soft lambskin. The two dozen or so slaves crawled like ants across the rich, black leather of the skirt.
“Hello, little boys. Why don’t you play on my skirt for a while?” She poked one of them with her fingertip and felt it wriggle as she lightly pressed it against the leather. “You’re a cute little one. You’re right near this seam”. The slave happened to be about half an inch to the left of one of seams on the front of the skirt. Belinda then pinched the leather on either side of the tiny man with her other fingers and made a slight fold. She squeezed the fold together, compressing the trapped man. The little slave wriggled in the deep gullet of black softness for a microsecond as it was slowly squished between the folds. Belinda rubbed the folds together for a few seconds, feeling the leather slip from the moisture of the crushed man. When she let the folds part, there was a glistening splotch of red and pink wetness on her skirt.
Meanwhile, Jamie was still staring down at the swarm of men who had gathered to worship her Frye boots. One boot was still on its side, with a nice red mark across the logo stamped on the sole. Most of the slaves were staring up at that huge, flat sole. Her other boot was still standing upright with a trace of wetness along one edge of the buckle. “Well, I’m not wearing a leather skirt, am I? I guess these slaves will have to pray to my jeans”.
Jamie pinched up one of the men and poked its miniscule body beneath the denim flap over her zipper. She used one fingertip to gently rub the soft body up and down against the gold metal of the zipper’s teeth, crushing the man into a trickle of juice. She bent back the fly to look at her zipper and couldn’t see any trace of the man she had just killed there. “Aww, where did it go?” she teased.
The men were all facing her boot-sole, but many of them turned upwards to see the fly of Goddess Jamie’s tight jeans. “Come on, let’s have more of you in here”. She collected a half-dozen of the slaves in her fingers and placed them all in a small clump along the zipper. She kept the flap open so she could see the tiny, worshipping bugs. She also wanted the rest of the slaves below to see what she did next.
“Time to play in my zipper, little boys”, she gleefully said as she used her one fingertip to crush the entire clump of pleading slaves up the length of the gold zipper, rubbing their soft bodies into the teeth, making a faint trace of red liquid. She giggled and closed the flap. “What a nice place for little men to go”. She moaned as she pressed the outside of the flap against the zipper, listening to the quiet sound of seeping liquid.
She grabbed another man from the floor next to her boot and held its tiny, pink body next to the gold rivet on the small coin-pocket on the right-hand front pocket of her jeans. “Why don’t you go here?”, she asked as she pressed the tiny man with one finger against the rivet. The little body wriggled, twitching against the Lee logo etched into the rivet. Jamie pressed the squirming bump of flesh harder, crushing it against the metal stud. She sucked the tip of her finger, tasting the wet goo she had made. There was a glint of redness on the rivet.
Jamie had an idea: she scooped up a small handful of slaves and held them all in front of the coin pocket. “Look at that tiny, little pocket. I wonder how many of you I can fit inside?”
She poked the little slaves one by one into the small pocket. Jamie liked the way the little men crawled down to the bottom of the pocket as she kept stuffing them in there. After she had slipped about twenty of them inside, she still had plenty more room. She reached down to the floor and scooped up more. “Now force yourselves all the way down. I want my little pocket stuffed”. She gleefully pushed more men into the small denim pocket, watching them squirm together like little pink worms. “This is the smallest pocket of my jeans and I can get so many of you in here”.
Jamie had about forty of them in there. She figured she could get about a dozen more before the little things reached the lip of the pocket. There were about that many still on the floor. She scooped the rest of them up and started carefully poking them into the pocket, into the growing collection of trapped slaves. She eventually had them all stuffed into the coin pocket. The slaves at the very top stared up at the Goddess.
“Do you like it in there? Do you like being in Jamie’s pocket?”. the slaves were all twitching helplessly, turned on by the sight of the blonde Goddess staring down at them. “Maybe I should just press the outside of this pocket and crush all of you together,” she chuckled as she rested her finger against the denim of the pocket. “Do you all wanna die inside my little pocket?”
Jamie shuffled on her knees over towards Belinda, who was preoccupied with the men on her skirt. “Look at them all stuffed in there,” she said as she showed Belinda her pocket. Belinda looked up and laughed at the tiny pink things just barely sticking out of the lip of the pocket. “Awwww. That’s so cute”.
Belinda leaned close to Jamie’s coin pocket. The tiny men at the top saw every detail of the Goddess’ giant red lips. “Do you boys like being in my friend’s pocket?”
Jamie kept her finger pressed lightly on the outside of the tiny, bulging pocket. Belinda noticed Jamie’s nail pressing against the denim. “Oh, I like your nails,” she commented. Jamie had her nails done that morning. They were ivory color. “I like that color”.
Jamie then slipped her finger inside the pocket, delving her nail deep into the mass of trapped bodies. She fished around slowly through the soft flesh, feeling the tiny men wriggle against her fingertip, get stuck under her sharp nail, and slowly squeeze into paste. Belinda watched excitedly as Jamie probed her finger inside that tiny coin pocket. She liked watching the bulge made by her friend’s finger through the denim, and hearing the gentle crushing sounds of all those male slaves being ground together.
“They’re all dying inside my little pocket. Oh, Belinda, they feel so good,” moaned Jamie as she kept moving her finger around. Belinda became so turned on that she had to become involved. She blindly swept her hand over the front panel of her black leather skirt and scooped up some of the men there, then held their twitching bodies together in one clump between two fingertips. Belinda pinched the cluster of bodies, about ten or so, right up to the opening of Jamie’s pocket. “Let’s add these ones,” she proposed.
Jamie moaned with pleasure as Belinda dropped the little men into the pocket a few at a time. Jamie could feel their tiny, helpless bodies falling into the growing mush inside the pocket, collecting around her finger.
“Oh, you little people. Tiny little people,” screeched Jamie with passion. She started heaving with desire, rubbing her fingertip more frantically inside the tiny pocket. Most of the men were crushed and their guts were soaking into the pocket’s lining.
Belinda dropped the last of the men in there and Jamie quickly smeared their soft bodies into the pocket’s lining right away.
She finally withdrew her finger from inside the gore-drenched pocket and both women gasped with pleasure. Jamie’s nail wasn’t ivory anymore...it was blood-red!
PROCEED TO PART THREE
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