GINA'S NITE OUT: Part Ten
Gina licked her lips as she plopped herself on the small couch. She could still taste the goo from the tiny men she had just eaten. There was something about the taste of little slaves that drove Gina wild. Brenda sat down next to Gina, and crossed one of her Manolo Blahnik black leather high-heeled boots over her knee. Gina noticed that there were quite a few splotch marks on Brenda�s bootsole.
�It looks like you�ve been busy, Brenda�. Gina smiled, as she lifted one of her own cowboy boots up to examine its sole. There were a few streaks of pulp covering the tan leather. Gina ran her fingertips lightly over the smooth leather, over the ground-in pulp. �I�ve been busy too. I must have squashed about a hundred men today so far�.
�I can�t get enough�, remarked the red-haired Brenda, �everytime I see them, I just have to kill them�.
�I know what you mean�. Gina lowered her heavy boot back to the floor. Her heel clunked sharply on the hardwood, and she felt the back of her heel push against something underneath the couch. She reached with her boot to feel what it was.
�Hmmm...�, she used her boot to slide what turned out to be a large white box into view. �Oooh, I wonder if this is Cheryl�s�. Both Brenda and Gina�s eyes lit up. �It looks like a boot box,� moaned Brenda.
Gina noticed the label on the side of the box. �Size 9 1/2�s. Brown...�She rested the box on her lap and removed the lid. To both women�s surprise, there were no boots inside. What they did see, however, made them both squeal with delight.
Hundreds of small, pink, fleshy things, squirming like a mound of trapped insects. Men. Lots and lots of men! Gina immediately felt wet between her legs at the sight of all those captured slaves. �Oooh, Brenda. Look what we found!�
The slaves had been inside the boot box for a few days now. Goddess Cheryl (whose party this was) had bought a new pair of brown leather riding boots, and bought a large supply of tiny slaves to fill up the box. Her goal was to keep the slaves in with the boots for a while, so they would be fully trained to worship them. Cheryl figured that being trapped inside with her new boots would make the little men completely enslaved by the riding boots. They would learn to appreciate every detail of the fine leather boots.
But Cheryl had taken the boots out for the party, and had left the slaves inside the box under the couch. They had been squirming mindlessly, overcome by the powerful smell of boot leather within the box for days. They had been rubbing themselves into the grain of the leather, praying to every inch of those riding boots. Now they couldn�t wait for the boots to return.
Gina and Brenda were amused at the sight of the hundreds of wriggling bodies. The slaves seemed oblivious to the giant women staring down at them.
Gina put the box back on the floor. �Brenda, I think we have to get their attention,� and with that, she raised the sole of her Tony Lama cowboy boot over the box. �These little men need to learn to appreciate my sole�.
The men kept squirming, as Gina slowly, very slowly, lowered her flat sole into the box. Under the shadow of the descending sole, the slaves started to look up. A gigantic leather sole, with inground dirt, small identations and lines from wear, faint red streaks and splotches, shiny areas that were perfectly smooth, and rough areas were the leather was worn....it was all coming down. The men began praying, begging for their little, worthless lives. The sole became their sky, and they screamed helplessly.
Gina felt the countless bodies squirming beneath her flat sole. It was like stepping gently on a layer of quivering softness. She pressed down slightly, and felt many of the bodies crush. It was a quiet, delicate popping sound, a liquid oozing sound, as more and more of the worshipping slaves gave way beneath her leather sole. The box was so full of men that there was nowhere for the crushing bodies to go. Gina loved watching the dozens of men around her boot, crawling over the pointed toe, the sides of the sole, as her boot became immersed in the sea of male bodies. She kept pressing down, until her sole was resting flatly at the bottom of the box. Her boot was in about half an inch. She eased the heavy heel down too, smushing dozens of men beneath the wonderful flatness of the western heel. Soon, she had her whole boot standing in the midst of hundreds of helpless slaves.
�Pick it up, Gina. I wanna see the print!,� squealed Brenda.
Gina chuckled as she slowly lifted her boot up, out of the squirming bodies. Beads of goo dripped from the bottom of her leather sole, clumps of soft pulp, globules that clung to the sole, then dangled from threads like stretched chewing gum. Gina raised her sole up higher and showed the sole to Brenda. Most of the tan leather was covered by a layer of red and pink mush. There were a lot of little bumps, crushed and splattered male bodies, mixed together in a shiny, wet paste.
Brenda leaned close to inspect the sole. �Do you think there�s any alive in there?�. She poked her fingernail into one soft glob, near the middle of the sole. The paste simply flattened.
�I doubt it,� laughed Gina. Both women looked down into the box. There was a beautiful boot-print right in the midst of the wriggling mound of slaves. Around the edges of the print, there were many squished bodies....slaves that were compressed by the very edges of the sole. The bottom of the print was a thin layer of red paste. Gina liked the way you could kind of see the imprint from the Tony Lama logo where her heel went down. It was kind of vague, but she liked the heel-shaped indentation that was firmly pressed into the pink fleshy worms.
Brenda dangled the sole of her high-heeled boot over the box next. The slaves were too confused, terrified and helpless to do anything but squirm faster. Brenda giggled as she poked the tip of her boot toe into the mound. She loved the way that the slaves swarmed over the round leather-covered toe, under, over and around it. She immersed her toe in a little farther, about an inch deep. �Come on, little boys. Don�t you like the toe of my fashion boot?�
Meanwhile, Gina was picking at the globs of quickly drying crud on her cowboy boot sole when she noticed a small half-buried pink shape. It might be alive...
The little man tried to wriggle, but it was completely stuck in the thick layer of jelly. It was pressed deeply into the goo and flat against the gigantic leather sole. It was amazed that it was still alive. A few seconds ago, it was being pressed flat with dozens of other slaves by this gigantic flat sole. It screamed and prayed as bodies squeezed and smushed around it. The next thing it knew, the slave was trapped in a layer of gooey gel, unable to move, as the giant cowboy boot lifted up into the air. Now, Goddess Gina�s fingertip was probing around him, moving and scraping some of the dead pulp away, revealing the slave�s trapped body. The man looked up at the gigantic Goddess� perfect face, her perfect red lips and big, beautiful eyes. He was so helpless, stuck to the sole of this Goddess� western boot!
Gina poked her fingertip into the trapped slave, and tried to pry his body out of the mush. The man clung to the gigantic roundness of the fingertip, hoping to be freed at last. �Come here, little man. I want to see you�. Gina pressed her fingertip into the sole so that the man became wedged under her long red fingernail. She felt his little body stuck under the nail and laughed, then pulled her finger away from the boot altogether.
She stared closely at the man stuck under her nail. �I can�t believe it. Look, Brenda...�.
But Brenda was busy swirling the tip of her boot-toe around, into the pleading mass of tiny slaves, smushing them into paste, getting her toe wet from the soft juices. She loved watching the men squirming over themselves, not getting anywhere, as they eventually slipped under the toe and turned to jelly. Then she lifted her toe out of the goo and hovered the black sole of her high-heeled boot over the worshipping bodies. The slaves in the box stared up at the blackness. They saw the gleam of light reflected off the smooth sole, and the round of the arch as it curved upward, finally meeting the slender, sharp heel. �It�s my turn to make a print....,� she said as she pressed her boot-sole flatly into the mass of trapped slaves. Brenda stood her boot firmly, pressing the hundred or so bodies into liquid paste immediately. The red sploosh of liquid goo seeped out from beneath the sole, and was absorbed by the surrounding, still-squirming slaves. Just for fun, Brenda swished her sole from side to side a little, catching more of the slaves to either side and smearing them too. She delicately lowered the tip of her high heel into the bodies and loved the way it descended about two inches into the fleshy things. So many men crawled around the heel, trying to climb up it, while so many of them became liquefied along the heel�s slender sides as Brenda twisted her heel around.
Gina showed Brenda her nail with the trapped man underneath. �This one was actually still alive on my sole. You were right, Brenda�.
Brenda was still moving her boot around in the box, smushing the surrounding slaves, as she looked up at Gina�s finger. �Aw, that�s cute. I wonder what it�s thinking right now�.
�It better be thinking how much it worships my fingernail,� said Gina as she tried to scrape the tiny man out from under her nail, with another nail. She got it out easily and held it lightly pinched between two fingertips. �What are you thinking, little fucker? Do you think you�re lucky? You were supposed to be smashed under my boot. How dare you still be alive�. The little man twitched. It couldn�t believe it was alive, either. It knew it would be dead any second.
Brenda lifted her high-heeled boot out of the box next, and squealed with delight at the clumps of squished men that were dripping off of her smooth black sole, and dripping down the length of her heel. She rested her boot over her knee and looked closely at the clinging remains. �I don�t think there�s anything left alive on my sole, Gina�.
Gina held the tiny man between her fingers about an inch from Brenda�s gore-covered sole. �Look at Brenda�s boot-sole, slave. See all those squashed bodies? That�s what you�re supposed to look like�.
The tiny man twitched helplessly in Gina�s fingers, being forced to stare at the absolutely drenched black boot-sole. There were clumps of oozing mush everywhere, shapeless goo that was slowly dripping downwards since Brenda had her boot resting on its side over her knee. The entire sole was covered by the mass of gooey pulp.
�I think he likes my sole, Gina�, giggled Brenda as she glided it ever-so-slightly closer to the twitching slave. Gina let the tiny man feel the wetness of Brenda�s sole for a minute, then pulled him away, back to her own sole.
�I think he�d rather play on mine�, she said as she held him right right next to the already drying layer of slave-goo on the flat sole of her cowboy boot. �After all, this was where he came from...� Although Brenda�s sole had been completely covered, Gina�s had a more interesting pattern of splotches across the surface of the tan leather The little slave twitched as he was held closer, less than a quarter of an inch from a fairly clean spot on the sole, right between a few smear marks from earlier crushings.
�I think I found a spot for you. It looks like nothing�s been squashed here. You can be the first�. Gina slowly pressed the little, wriggling body against the small spot on her sole, making sure that its guts would neatly fill in the spot when she smushed it. the man was wriggling so much, Gina started getting turned on. �Be a good little slave and squish nicely for me�.
Gina moaned quietly to herself as she pressed the tiny thing into the sole�s smooth leather until its softness became wet. The little bump flattened under her fingertip, making a delicate liquidy sound. She loved the way it felt, having a tiny drop of male goo that she could smear slightly, filling in the once clean spot on her sole. When she pulled her fingertip away, she admired the way that section of her boot-sole was filled in.
Meanwhile, Brenda was mad that Gina took the slave and decided to unleash her anger on the rest of the box. She kicked the box on its side with her boot and scowled as the hundreds of still-alive men poured out onto the hardwood floor. �You can all die, little fuckers...�, she whispered.
Back to Story Index
Home