GODDESS CHARLENE: UNDER THE DESK
Goddess Charlene’s black leather coat was hung over the back of her desk chair.
The sumptuous leather spilled onto the floor. The sleeves drooped down on either
side. The welt pockets were open a little. The belt hung down on either side
too, the two ends resting on the floor. One of the ends was curled, and a tiny
pink thing looked like it was stuck to the leather. It jiggled ever-so-slightly.
The little man rubbed his body back and forth against the soft, black
leather. He was pressing himself into the the impossibly supple blackness,
cumming all over himself and licking the belt constantly. He worshipped the
gigantic leather coat so much. The beautiful tie belt was more than enough to
keep his tongue and worthless body busy forever.
There was heavy
clunking noise that shook the entire floor. The tiny man knew the sound of
Goddess Charlene’s boot-heels. The blonde Goddess was entering her office and
approaching her desk.
The slave kept rubbing against the belt, his
passion accelerated by the heavy boot-heels getting louder and closer. Then they
came into view. The slave’s eyes popped wide open in amazement at the sight of
those tall, gleaming leather shafts. But first he had to takes his eyes upwards,
away from the gorgeous stacked heels and the square toes.
Goddess
Charlene was wearing an exquisite pair of fashion boots that were very much like
riding boots. She was now standing next to her chair, getting ready to sit down.
The slave gasped with excitement as the boots slid passed him. He saw the backs
of the heels and glimpsed the underside of one of the heels. It was hard to tell
with so short a glimpse, but he thought he saw some kind of imprint under the
heel.
When Charlene sat down, she stretched both of her boots under her
desk. The heavy clunking of those heels was incredible. The tiny man licking the
belt of her coat went completely unnoticed.
Charlene got on the
intercom. “Kelly, bring those pictures in here. I want to proof them”.
As Charlene waited, she slid her left hand into one of her trenchcoat’s
deep pockets. She felt way down to the bottom of the pocket, where about thirty
or forty tiny men were collected. She smiled to herself as she felt the little
squirming bodies with her fingers. She remembered capturing most of them on her
way into work. A whole group of slaves had been waiting on a streetcorner for a
bus to pick them up. Charlene had asked them why they were all there, but the
stupid slaves were so helpless at the sight of the blonde Goddess in her long,
black leather coat and her tall, black leather boots, that they all bowed down
and prayed to be crushed! She just laughed out loud and shrunk them all, scooped
them up in one handful and dumped them into her coat pocket. (There were a few
men already in there from the night before, too)
The office door opened
and Kelly walked in, a beautiful young woman with long, auburn hair and
impossibly tight jeans, a tight white tube top and chunky heeled zippered
rust-coloured leather fashion boots. She handed Charlene a stack of glossy
photos over her desk.
“Thanks, Kelly. Mmm, these look great,” commented
Charlene as she flipped through the photos. Kelly stood there waiting for new
instructions.
Charlene kept her hand in her coat pocket, feeling the
trapped slaves as she perused the pictures for the LICK JEANS new ad campaign.
There were dozens of very suggestive pictures, close-ups of a woman’s posterior
in very tight denim, most of them focusing on the curves of her ass and the back
pocket with the Lick Jeans leather patch above. Charlene especially liked the
ones where the woman was slipping one finger just barely in through the very top
of the pocket. “You know what this needs,” Charlene asked as a joke, pulling out
one of the tiny men form her coat pocket. “A slave’s opinion”.
She held
the tiny man’s body between two fingers, a few inches away from the giant
photograph. “Do you like that picture, slave?” The man simply wriggled
helplessly, unable to respond.
Kelly giggled at her boss’ sense of
humor. Charlene lay the photo on the desk and let the slave go. Both women
chuckled as the little pink man crawled across the picture, unsure of what to
do. “I think we need to put some tiny men in these photos,” suggested Charlene.
Kelly came around behind her boss to look over her shoulder and peer
down at the picture too. “That’s a good idea,” the girl said.
“I’d like
to see one here,” said Charlene as she prodded the tiny man with one finger,
moving him over the image of the Lick Jeans leather patch. “Maybe have him
licking the patch, that would be perfect”. Kelly agreed and both women waited
for the tiny man to figure out his new orders, but the slave was apparently too
stupid.
Charlene pressed the tiny man gently with her fingertip, “Well,
go on, lick it!,” she commanded. The slave curled up in a ball and started
licking the glossy surface, hoping he was satisfying the two Goddess’ above.
Kelly broke out into hysterics. “Maybe he should lick the real thing,”
she said as she turned halfway to show Charlene her back pocket. Kelly was
wearing a pair of Lick Jeans, of course.
Charlene plucked the man off
the photograph and handed him to Kelly, who then used her own finger to press
the slave against her leather patch. The man immediately licked the giant Lick
Jeans logo as both women giggled. “Oooh, that would be perfect,” moaned
Charlene. “Now how would it look half-squished?,” the blond Goddess asked.
“Oh, like this...” said Kelly, who started pressing the little man’s
body against the patch. The little man wriggled and begged then started to crush
and ooze into gooey paste. The Goddess kept the pressure just enough to leave
the glob of crushed pulp still intact. “Don’t smear it around,” suggested
Charlene, “It looks good like that. You can tell it was a man but that’s it’s
dead”.
Kelly carefully lifted her finger away, showing off the
glistening red glob, sticking to the patch right over the letter ‘K’ in ‘Lick’.
Charlene reached into her coat pocket and withdrew another slave. She held this
one herself in front of Kelly’s patch. “See your tiny dead friend?” she teased.
“I want to see what you look like on the ‘L’” Charlene pressed the tiny body on
top of the large ‘L’ in the logo, crushing the squirming thing into a flat
dime-sized pancake of pink mush. “Perfect,” she said as both women admired the
way the patch looked.
“You know, it’s funny,” said Kelly, “I crush them
all the time back there. I’ve been doing it like that for a while”.
“Really?” Charlene was intrigued.
“Oh yeah, a lot of girls do.
It’s fun to make them lick your patch then kill them into it”.
“I guess
we’re onto something,” mused Charlene, who peered down at the collection of men
in her trenchcoat pocket. “Do you little boys like that idea?” She scooped all
of the men out of the pocket at once, and held them in her cupped hand next to
Kelly’s leather patch. “Do you all want to be squashed against the patch on
Kelly’s jeans?”
Kelly looked back and down at the squirming mound of
male bodies in her boss’ hand. She smiled and whispered to them. “I’d like to
have all of you there. All dead on my patch”. The men stared up the gigantic
leather patch and prayed. Kelly reached her fingers down and plucked one of the
men out of Charlene’s palm and gently pressed the man into the patch, right onto
the letter “I” in the Lick logo. She slowly smeared its soft red guts in a tiny
circular motion, letting all the men below watch as their friend’s innards
blended into smooth red paste.
Kelly became aroused as she smeared the
droplet of goo against her patch. The girl used her other hand to suggestively
touch the fly of her tight jeans. Charlene noticed and smiled. “Do you want to
pleasure yourself, Kelly? Get on the floor...”
The office girl quickly
dropped to the floor at the side of Charlene’s desk and lay on her side. She
unzipped the fly of her jeans and rubbed her fingers over her panties, feeling
her throbbing clit through the silk. She would look back at the patch of her
jeans and see the smear marks from the three dead slaves and get even more
excited.
Charlene still had a handful of men in her palm. She smiled
down at them and decided to kill them all so she could get back to work.
Charlene bent down and spilled all of the men onto the floor under her desk. She
was amused at the dozens of scurrying pink shapes now in the vicinity of her
black leather fashion boots. She casually hovered one boot over a few of the
men, who happened to be close enough together, and quickly stomped her treaded
sole flat on top of them all. She squashed three of them at once under the fine
lines of the leather sole’s tread. Charlene twisted the sole from side to side,
smearing the dead pulp and creating a soft liquidy sound.
Meanwhile,
Kelly was still playing with herself and started to climax. She craned her head
to look at Charlene sitting above, obviously having fun with the men under the
desk. Kelly looked at the long leather coat draped over her boss’ chair, then
down to the leather belt that was spilled onto the floor. She gasped with
excitement when she saw the tiny man squirming on the very end of the
belt-tip.She wanted to tell Charlene but was too busy panting to do so.
Charlene lifted her sole, laughing at the three small pink splotches
left on the hardwood floor, then glided the boot over towards another spot where
a group of slaves had gathered. The tiny men stared up at the bottom of the
Goddess’ exqusitie fashion boot and saw the three matching pink splotches on the
sole’s non-slip tread. The blonde Goddess was staring down at them, laughing.
Her other boot was right behind. There was no escape!
“I’ve got all of
you under my desk. What a perfect place to crush you,” she mused as she slowly
lowered the sole to rest on top of the group of six little bodies. The men
squirmed as much as they could as thier bodies became wedged into the tread. As
the pressure increased, their bodies started to flatten and ooze into liquid red
paste. Charlene loved the way it felt, feeling tiny men become flattened beneath
her boot-sole. She relished the sensation and kept her sole still for a few
seconds, feeling the soft lumps beneath becoming softer, spreading into jelly.
She moaned and pressed her sole all the way down, and yelped with passion at the
sudden sound of the pulp oozing into the sole’s tread.
“I love these
non-slip treads,” she mumbled, lifting the sole again to inspect the pattern of
glistening red and pink liquid on the floor. She lifted her boot and rested it
on her knee, so she could see the sole up close. She smiled at the fresh,
glistening stains splattered all over the tread.
She look at the arch of
the boot, too, and noticed the “Genuine Leather Soles and Uppers” imprint
stamped there. “I want somebody here,” she said as she ran her finger over the
imprint. “Kelly, go under there and get me a few of those slaves”.
But
Kelly was too busy masterbating and staring at the man on Charlene’s belt. The
woman inched herself towards the very tip of the belt, with her ruby red lips
parted. She moaned as she climaxed, and got her open mouth less than an inch
from the tiny man. The little slave was so absorbed in worshipping the
buttersoft leather of the belt that it never noticed Kelly’s gigantic open
mouth.
Charlene smiled down at the scene by her side. She half-thought
about stepping on the tiny man on her belt, letting Kelly see the man die under
a big black boot up close. “Should I step on that for you, Kelly? Or do you want
to swallow it?”
Kelly felt tremors through her body as she panted,
breathing hot air all over the tiny, squirming man. Charlene grabbed the soft
leather belt about halfway down and started raising it up. To both women’s
amazement, the tiny man stay clinging to the soft leather even as the belt was
being pulled from the floor. Kelly got on her knees, following the end of the
belt with her eyes as Charlene pulled it up.
Charlene lifted the belt
high enough then lay the end of it against the arch of her fashion boot, right
over the Genuine Leather imprint. “Sorry, Kelly, but this is why I’m the boss”
She laughed as she pressed the tip of the leather belt with the small bump under
it against the arch of her boot. The trapped man was now licking the gigantic
Genuine Leather imprint, as the belt pressed him down into the grooves of the
letters. Kelly sat up higher to see what her boss was doing.
Charlene
kept her finger lightly pressed on the small bump through the belt’s leather,
moaning to herself and loving her position of absolute power. “I like killing
men this way,” she whispered, “into this stamp under my boot. Right where it
says ‘Genuine Leather’” She slowly pressed the soft belt flatly against the
imprint, feeling the squirming body beneath become softer and more spread out.
She lifted the belt away and let Kelly see the wet splotch covering about half
of the logo. It was once a man, but it just looked like a glob of red jelly,
with specks of pink running through it.