GINA'S NITE OUT: Part Three
It was getting dark by the time Gina reached the outskirts of town. She had never been to Cheryl’s before so she pulled into a small gas station to check her directions. She noticed that there were no auto-pumps. It was an old-fashioned station where you pumped the gas yourself. Gina humpfed to herself at the inconvenience and got out of the car, stomping her heavy cowboy boots onto the concrete as she did.
Then she noticed a sign near the pump, “Squish ‘em, you buy ‘em” and laughed. She looked around but saw no attendant-slaves. Apparently, some woman had already stepped on the little fuckers. Gina looked on the ground for stains or streak marks. She saw a red smear, still wet, on the edge of the curb at the base of the pump.
She went to the office door and looked in. The cluttered room was brightly lit but seemed deserted. The woman who owned the place must be crazy. She let slaves operate the station themselves? “Hello?”, Gina called through the glass.
A frazzled blonde started up from behind a large desk in the far corner, like she had been caught in the act of something. The girl quickly scurried over to the door and opened it for Gina. She was wearing tight, faded jeans, tucked into a large, heavy pair of motorcycle boots. Gina liked the silver buckles on the boots and the shape of the squared-off toes.
“I just need gas...”, then after she thought about it, “and maybe some pads”.
The girl let Gina into the small office/store and nervously watched her look for the pads. “That’s a nice jacket,” she commented, admiring the soft folds of Gina’s black leather jacket.
“Thanks,” whispered Gina, who definitely heard some shuffling coming from behind that desk.
“I need a slave for the gas..,” she stated as she took the pads to the counter.
“Oh, right...I’ve got a bunch...”, she slid open the drawer from her side of the counter and Gina’s eyes popped open at the sight of dozens of tiny male bodies, filling the wooden drawer, ready for service. The girl picked up one of the men between two fingertips and bent down to place it on the floor. Then she enlarged the slave to full-size. “We’ve got a customer,” she commanded to the embarrased slave.
Gina looked at the stumbling worm with cold eyes as it went past her and out the door towards her car.
“What’cha got behind the desk?,” she asked quietly.
“Oh, I was just having fun...wanna see?”
Gina smiled and walked around to look for herself. There was a slave curled up under the desk, its dick fully erect, a pair of soft, black, leather high-heel boots between its trembling thighs and a puddle of cum still wet on the floor. “Oh, this one’s having fun..”
The girl came over and licked her lips in front of the slave, letting him see her tongue in all its delicious glory. “I was lettting him play with my high-heel boots. The leather’s really soft. Then I was sucking his dick. The cum tastes pretty good”.
“Ooh, I hate sucking dick,” Gina said as she reached one of her Tony Lamas under the desk to press her flat leather sole onto the squirming slave’s penis. “I’d rather just crush their whole bodies...”
“Go ahead. You know I’ve got more”.
Gina smiled and shrunk the masterbating slave until it was now just a wriggling speck, a trapped bug under the soft, leather shafts of one of the high-heeled boots. The boots had fallen over and were now lying on their sides, and Gina laughed at the way the shaft jiggled from the tiny, twitching bump underneath. She reached her hand under the desk and lifted the shaft up, revealing the small pink slave’s body. She pulled out the whole boot and looked at the writing stamped on the arch.
“Hmmm, these are nice...Bandolinos. Size 10, same as me...”
“Yeah, but I usually wear these at work...”, the girl showed off her black motorcycle boots.
“What make are those?”
“I don’t know...”
Gina turned her attention back to the slave under the desk. “Wow, all these boots...what are you going to do, slave?” The little man started crawling towards the women, though at his size, it would have taken a long time. He was confused by the smell of all the leather. First, there was a giant, high-heeled boot (the one he had been worshipping all night), lying on its side right next to him. He had felt the soft leather between his legs all night and now the boot was a thousand times bigger than he was!
There was a beautiful Goddess with dark hair, wearing an incredibly soft looking leather jacket, perfectly tight jeans and huge western boots as big as skyscrapers! The white stitched pattern on the Tony Lamas fascinated him. And the pull-tabs! He wondered if any slave had ever been inside them? (Little did he know that there was a dried clump of slave-goo still in one of the tabs, something Gina had forgotten all about)
The dark-haired Goddess was also holding the other soft Bandolino boot in her hand, feeling the pleasing suppleness of the shaft with her fingers. She looked like she might use it soon to do something, but what?
Then, of course, there was the Mistress Amy, in her huge, heavy motorcycle boots. He had been her slave forever, bought by her, trained by her. He had spent days on end licking the soles of those motorcycle boots. He knew what make they were because he spent hours praying to the logo stamped on the wide, flat leather sole. He wanted to tell the women about the make of the boots. He crawled towards them, so helpless that he didn’t realize he had entered the pool of his own semen, a puddle that was becoming gooey and sticky.
Gina and Amy laughed at the sight of the miniscule man stuck in its own cum. “Aww, that’s cute,” said Gina, as she replaced the Bandolino boot back under the desk, lying the soft shaft over the puddle, covering the area where the trapped slave was. “Oh I’ve got to do this...”
Gina stepped her Tony Lama back under the desk, hovering her sole over the Bandolino shaft. She became really turned on at the sight of that twitching bulge again, making the soft leather shaft jiggle. “That’s pretty cool, Amy... we’ve got a man stuck in his own cum, trapped under a soft boot, ready to be pressed and squished by my cowboy boot”
The poor slave begged and begged, but no one would ever hear him. The semen was drying up and he was delirious with its strong smell mixed with the overpowering leather smell. The giant leather shaft on top of him was so soft, so rich and deep and perfect. He begged as the pressure increased as Goddess Gina rested the sole of her cowboy boot on the shaft, gently squeezing down. Both women moaned when they heard the ooey, squishy sound of the man’s tiny body flatten into the cum. Amy touched her fingers to the fly of her jeans, ready to feel herself in ecstacy.
Gina pressed her sole firmly on the shaft, making sure it was a smooth, flat crush. When she excitedly lifted the shaft up and looked at the other side, Amy couldn’t help but unzip her fly. The black leather shaft had a area of milky wetness from the cum, and a small, spread out glob of pinkness mixed in, right along the seam that ran up the shaft.
Amy started feeling herself, panting lightly with pleasure. Gina handed her the boot and Amy quickly pressed the soft shaft with the wetness against her crotch, rubbing the leather against her open zipper.
When the slave came back inside after pumping Gina’s gas, it saw the women by the desk, heard the moaning, and instinctively got on its hands and knees. Gina called out, “Get over here, and bring that drawer-full of slaves with you”.
The attendant-slave stumbled behind the counter but couldn’t open the drawer. He needed a key.
Amy moaned desperately, “The key’s in my jeans”, but she was too busy rubbing the high-heeled boot into herself to actually do anything about it.
Gina saw the small bulge in the coin pocket of Amy’s jeans where the keys obviously were. She had an idea. She commanded the worthless worm to come over. “Kneel down and kiss the the toe of my cowboy boot, little fucking worm...” The man grovelled and put his lips against the black leather toe of the boot, then eagerly started licking the shiny silver rand around the tip of the toe. “I didn’t say you could lick that...” She shrunk the man until he was just a tiny insect, a struggling pink bit of flesh clinging to the silver metal of the rand. It was pressing itself into the beautifully decorated silver, on the very, very tip of Gina’s boot-toe.
The slave’s entire world was now the pattern etched into that rand. He could not see anything else, except the blackness of the shiny leather of the toe beyond the rand, and the ledge below him, where the boot’s sole jutted out a little in front of the pointy toe. There were large stitches along the perimeter of that sole, and he used one of them to help push himself up onto the rand, trying to climb over the toe. He was just too small.
Gina forgot about whatever her plan was and decided that this little struggling man was destined to be smeared right away. She took the beautiful soft piece of leather that was the end of her jacket belt between two fingers, and slowly wiped its supple grain around the very point of her boot-toe, smearing the soft body’s guts in a gentle, quiet stroke into the rand. Gina lovingly wiped the belt-tip in a light circular motion into the leather-covered toe, working the man’s juices into the leather, even geting a nice shine.
Amy was still on her knees, playing with herself, so Gina reached into the girl’s coin pocket and felt the keys. Amy’s moans increased suddenly and Gina discovered why...in with the keys were a few squirming bodies!
“Ooh, look’s like you’ve got a few secret playthings...” Gina held the group of tiny men (about five or six) in her palm and looked at them closely. Somehow, they hadn’t goten crushed in that tight pocket.
“I don’t even remember where I got them”, moaned Amy, “Give me one”.
Gina teased Amy by holding the palmful of slaves right before the moaning girls’ crotch. Amy was using both of her hands to rub the high-heeled boot between her legs and, in her passion, was unable to free one hand to grab the slaves. “I want them all,” she cried with desire.
Goddess Ginette sat cross-legged, one cowboy boot crossed over the other, and gently dropped the tiny men onto the floor, between both women. “Now, Amy...these little things have lives...we don’t want to kill them for no reason, do we?”, Gina teased. She tilted the boot resting on top of her knee a little so Amy could see the bottom of the sole and heel. The sole was very flat, mostly clean, except for a few faint marks, and a medium tan color. Amy liked the stitches that ran along the edges of the sole. They were lighter in color. The bottom of Gina’s boot heel was also exquisite. Black, smooth and shiny, except for the Tony Lama imprint stamped on the bottom..
Gina laughed at the helpless trapped men as she hovered her fingers over them, deciding which one to pick. “I think I know a good reason. We need to teach these men about our boots. They’re going to find out the makes of our boots”.
Gina picked a slave and held it about a inch from the bottom of her heel, facing the stamp. The little thing twitched in her fingers as it saw the bottom of the giant heel. “Now these are Tony Lamas. See the stamp on the heel?” Gina chuckled as she pressed the helpless man’s body into the stamp with her fingertip. She pressed until the little man crushed into the letters of the stamp, and delicately smeared its soft goo into the fine imprint. Amy loved watching Gina casually crushing the slave and moaned even more. :”I knew when I saw these boots in the store that I’d like squishing men under these heels. Look, that one barely squished enough to cover half that stamp...”, with that Gina picked another slave and simply pressed its begging body into the stamp right next the other glob, making a new soft splotch. Gina admired the way the wet goo from the slaves glistened on the bottom of her heel.
She took the high-heeled boot away from Amy and both women looked at the underside of the boot’s arch...the words “Bandolino” written in gold ink with the number “10” underneath. “These are nice boots. They look almost new,” remarked Gina, noticing the perfectly fine non-skid tread on the sole.
Gina picked another one of the slaves from the tiny group and held its body over the Bandolino logo. “Now this slave gets to learn about your high-heeled boots. See, little man? Amy wears a size 10...” and with that Gina slowly smeared the praying slave’s body into the number 10, mushing the soft guts in a tiny circular motion, completely covering the 10 with a spot of redness.
The remaining three slaves were praying feverently. Amy took some initiative and picked one. “I think this one liked that. Give me the other boot”. Gina handed Amy the other Bandolino and Amy held the boot in her hand and the slave in another hand. She very gently pressed the little worshipper against the Bandolino logo with her fingertip, so it squirmed desperately but was not crushed. Both women laughed.
“He’s making love to that stamp. Oooh, he can’t wait to join it....nice little man....have fun...”, Amy whispered as she pressed her fingertip a little harder, making the little man compress into a flat cake of soft mush, smaller than a dime, a glob that clung to the smooth tan leather of the arch, covering about half of the Bandolino logo.
“Now let’s find out about those motorcycle boots,” said Gina. Amy folded her legs and also sat cross-legged, finally looking at he bottoms of her new, shiny boots. The soles were surpisingly smooth tan leather, and the heel bottom was perfectly smooth and shiny black. No tread, but there was a stamp right in the middle of the sole that said “Frye” followed by “Made In The USA”, then another “10”
Amy was getting into this. “Oh, this is great. They’re Frye boots...those men will look great squashed into that...” Gina eagerly snapped up one of the last two begging slaves and held it right in front of Amy’s sole, right in front of the Frye logo.
“Yes, a litle glob of squished slave...right there..” The tiny man wriggled faster and faster as Gina’s giant finger pressed him firmly against the slight impression of the giant stamp. “Just think, Amy...you’re going to have a man imbedded in the stamp on the sole of your Frye boot...” The slave screamed and begged but the women couldn’t hear the tiny sound. They only heard the small crush sound as Gina’s fingertip mashed the squiggling body into instant paste. Gina used her fingertip to work the soft goo into the stamp.
When she pulled her finger away, Amy tilted her boot around to admire the small red mark covering the “R” and the “Y”.
Amy looked down at the last slave. “What about this one? Which pair of boots does he want to learn about?”
Gina lay the high-heeled boot down nearby, so the sole faced the tiny, confused slave. The man looked up and saw the red mark from the slave that was crushed on the gold Bandolino stamp. She also faced the bottom of her cowboy boot towards him, so he could could see the remains of the two dead slaves crushed into the Tony Lama stamp under the big, heavy western heel. Finally, Amy rested her motorcycle boot so the Frye logo (with the gooey splotch in the middle) was also facing the poor slave.
The slave knew he was supposed to decide, but it was impossible. The giant sole of the Bandolinos beckoned him; the tread with very fine, almost invisible pebbles embedded here and there, and of course, the gold stamped letters on the smooth arch where he would probably die.
When he turned around, the darker tan of the Tony Lama’s sole was about two hundred feet high, and the bottom of the western heel stared at him with that stamped logo. He couldn’t ignore the spotches that were well ground into the Tony Lama stamp by Gina’s fingertip. He could easily picture himself as a new, third splotch.
Then there was the absolutely gigantic expanse of tan leather that was the sole of Amy’s Frye boot. He stared up and saw the stamp, with a small red glob, oozing a litle bit, but drying into soft jelly, smack in the middle of the boot manufacturer’s logo.
He didn’t know what to do, and begged for the giant women to decide for him. Gina decided to help by sliding her boot-heel closer, until it was right next to the slave. “I’ll tell you what, slave. If you get squashed here,” she pointed to the stamp,”you’ll help me add to this goo and maybe cover this whole stamp”.
That’s all the man had to hear. He rushed up to the heel, pressing himself agaainst it with his whole body, begging and praying to the stamp above him. Gina laughed and gently touched the praying man with her finger, slowly sliding him along the smooth bottom of the heel, towards the stamped imprint.
“No fair, “ complained Amy.
“I guess he just wants to be crushed into this stamp more..” Gina said as she positioned the twitching man’s soft body right in the middle of the stamp, between the two other dead splotches.
“Good choice, little man. I’m glad I wore these boots tonight”. Gina slowly, very slowly squashed the little man into the exact center of the stamp, making a nice juicy clump of soft mush that clung to the heel-stamp, even when she tilted her heel down to try and make it drip.
Gina left the gas station finally and was definitely going to be late for Cheryl’s party. Amy accepted the invitation to stop by the party later, after the station closed, but in the mean time, she had a drawer-full of men to take her anger out on. “How dare that slave not pick MY boot to be squashed under. I’ll show those worthless worms...”
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