THE CONCERT: PART THREE
The concert hall was packed with thousands of tiny slaves, men who had worshipped the Goddess Samantha for their entire lives and now were finally getting to meet her. They had seen the posters everywhere, heard the sound bytes on TV, and prayed that they would live long enough to actually make it to this room. In reality, the concert hall was an empty twelve-foot square space with hardwood floors, black walls and a curtain against one wall, covering the doorway into an adjoining room. It was once a room in a nightclub that had long ago been converted into a performance space. To the thousands of miniature ant-sized worshippers, the small room seemed gigantic.
In the next room, Samantha brushed her long blonde hair for the tenth time. She wanted to look perfect for the video cameras that would be taping the event. She looked ravishing in her tight, tattered jeans and her soft leather, studded motorcycle jacket. The most important detail was her footwear, of course. She had picked out one of her favorite pairs of boots, a black leather western pair with sqared toes, about an inch heel and straps with metal hoops that went around the ankles. They were a little bit like motorcycle boots and cowgirl boots combined. They had the pull-tabs up top and fairly worn leather soles. The leather of the shafts was incredibly buttersoft.
The boots had been standing on the stool next to her. Samantha liked the way the soft black leather glistened under the flourescent light. When she was satisifed with her hair, she glanced at the clock and proceeded to slip on the boots. They made a heavy thunk when she stomped the heels down to the floor.
�Showtime!,� she said to herself as the clock struck the hour. She stood up and went to the curtain.
The thousands of helpless slaves stared up at the quivering fabric of the curtain. Their pleading voices and anxious panting paused for a brief moment as the curtain started to draw open. The cameras were rolling and the world was watching as music swelled and the Great Goddess Samantha was revealed, in all her glory!
There was a step down into the concert room, so Samantha could stay at the top of the step and use it like a stage. The little slaves were far too tiny to ever climb up the step. She stood with her legs spread, her boot-toes pointing forward, her hands on her denim-clad hips. The crowd went wild!
She listened to the chanting, pleading and screaming for a few minutes, taking it all in. She looked down at the carpet of pink flesh before her. The lightshow began and it was amusing to see the carpet quivering like an ocean of fleshy waves. The men were so tightly packed that they couldn�t help but constantly squirm. Of course, Samantha knew that they were probably all jerking off.
�Everybody jerking off?� , she asked sweetly, teasing them by raising the sole of her right boot up a little, balancing it on the sharp heel. The men sould all now see some of tan leather sole. They could see how worn the sole was. Most of the slaves knew each and every pair of Goddess Samantha�s boots by looking at pictures. Most of them recognized this pair and knew that they were Samantha�s favorites.
Samantha laughed when she realized that the carpet was quivering more frantically now. They probably were all jerking off now. �Keep making cum, little slaves. Thousands of your little penises making cum, that�s so cute...�
Samantha tapped the sole of the boot back down. This drove the crowd even more wild. They all wanted to be under that boot!
The eyes of the world were watching for it; the big moment. The eyes of the women in bars who were gigggling and laughing and probably squishing men under their own boots. The eyes of lucky slaves who were allowed, or managed to sneak, a view on television while they served in the Goddess� homes. They all waited for Samantha�s first step!
The Goddess thought about where she wanted to plant her boot first. She looked at the throng of little pink bodies and it all seemed the same. Would she stomp right in the very middle or start at the sides and work her way over? It was so hard to decide.
�Aw, little slaves, I can�t deicde where to start. Maybe you can help me decide...�, she teased as she raised the boot again, showing even more of the sole. �Wherever I hear the most screaming and see the most jerking off, that�s where I�ll start. So, who wants to be the first lucky, little slaves under my boot?�.
Of course, this prompted the wildest screaming and worshipping yet. The men were twitching themselves into a frenzy all over the floor. Samantha still couldn�t discern one area of the crowd as being different than any other, so she randomly decided to start on her right, about two feet in.
She crouched down and looked closer at that area. �I like the way all those bodies look there. They look extra soft and squishable,� she said then stood back up. The Goddess then lifted the right boot all the way off the floor and glided the sole over the crowd. She kept one hand on the doorway to keep her balance, of course. The countless slaves stared up at the giant sole passing over them and screamed with excitement. They weren�t sure where it would eventually press down.
Samantha hovered the sole about two feet outward and smirked. She was amused at the little men fighting to get under the shadow of her sole. The men were so tightly packed, though, they couldn�t do much to move. Of course, that would change once a little floorspace opened up!
Without a word, the Goddess lowered here bootsole until she could feel the carpet of flesh through the leather. She was resting her sole on top of the mass of helpless flesh. This sent a wave of warm pleasure through her body. Hundreds of men, trapped under her boot! Thousands more, surrounding her boot, ready to be killed too!
�I guess you little boys get to be the first,� she said as she pressed down slightly. Samantha could feel the bodies mushing together into paste, the men being liquefied together under her sole and her heel. The sound of all those crushing slaves was a sucking, squeezing sound. The men pressing up against every side of her boot were trying to climb onto it. She pressed down flatly to the floor and savored the experience for a moment. �When I pick my boot up, I want everyone to stay in their place. Nobody move. I want to see the print,� she commanded.
Samantha slowly lifted the boot up out of the crowd and the slaves obeyed. If they hadn�t, Samantha would never have seen the print because their little bodies would have scurried to fill in the area. But she lifted the boot about a foot up and smiled at what she saw. A perfect boot-print, an impression in the pink flesh that was blood red, shaped like the sole of her boot, and the bottom of her heel. The men that had been under the arch were still alive, of course. The print was a glistening wet redness. The Goddess was amused by the gobs of crushed pulp coating the bottom of the leather sole.
The men stared upward at the boot that had just been in their midst. They saw the vast sole, now completely covered in smashed pink and red goo, intermixed bodies, pressed out and flattened into a layer of jelly-like crud. The bottom of the western heel was also completely covered. The Goddess was laughing as she looked at the sole herself. She touched the goo with one fingertip and felt the dead pulp. She raised the fingertip to her lips and tasted the wetness. �Mmmm, not bad�.
Samantha immediately lowered the right boot again, this time resting it on one side, the outer side, so the bottom of the sole and heel were tilted at a 45 degree angle. She rested the boot this way inside the print she had already made. �Okay slaves, fill in that space,� she ordered.
Of course the tiny men all obeyed, scurrying to fill in the entire area of the boot-print. Soon, Samantha couldn�t see the floor at all. She kept her boot precariously resting on its side at that angle, then slowly started tilting it back down, so that it would eventually be flat on the floor.
The men were still too packed to scurry away even if they wanted to. Samantha�s boot simply came down, decresasing the angle and men started to become caught under the leather. She slowly eased the boot down, catching more and more of the helpless bodies. �Aww, you�re all so soft!� she said as she lowered the boot down until it was now upright. Men were being squeezd slowly and their soft guts smooshing into red jelly. The jelly was oozing out from under the left side of the sole and heel. Samantha wiggled her foot inside the boot a little, getting comfortable, and sighed with passion.
�Coating the bottom of my boot, that�s what all of your guts are for,� she said as her boot finally rested flat on the floor.
TO BE CONTINUED!
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