REGINA KILLS SOME TIME

Regina plopped down on the couch and waited for Donna, who was in the other room, supposedly getting dressed to go out. “Hurry up, will you? I don’t want miss the whole party!,” Regina shouted. The blonde was impatient and she clunked the heavy heels of her cowboy boots on the hardwood floor. Bored, Regina lifted up one of her boots to inspect the sole. She was amazed at how dirty the worn leather was. “I’ve been wearing these boots for about six months. Can you believe how dirty they are?” She stomped the boot back down to the floor and lifted the other one, resting it on her knee as she ran her fingers over the sole. “Look at all that crud”. dirty bootsole


One of Donna’s slaves came out of the kitchen on its hands and knees. It had its head bowed all the way to the floor as it crawled towards Regina.

“What do you want, slave?”, Regina asked with amusement.

“I heard what you said about your boot-soles, Goddess. I am a good licker,” the slave stammered. “How dare you talk to me, worthless bug,” scolded Regina. “Where do you think all this crud came from?” She rested one of her Montana boots on its heavy heel, facing the sole towards the slave. “Those are men’s bodies”.

The slave crawled a little closer, staring at the very worn leather sole of the Goddess’ tan leather cowboy boots. The sole was so dirty and covered with filth, it was impossible to identify anything. Globs of black and brown, scrapes and streaks. Inground pebbles, indentations and scratches. A million splotches and smears. Dirt and mud, chewing gum and cigarette ash, all worn down into a pock-marked layer of dark shapes and color. The underside was still tan-colored under the arch, until it quickly faded to darkness beneath the sole. How many squashed men were mixed in with the rest of that crud?

“You can eat whatever you get off of this sole. Then I’ll crush you,” commanded Regina.

The slave eagerly scurried right up to the dirty sole with his tongue hanging out. He lingered for a few seconds, staring even closer at the landscape of filth covering the once-bright tan leather. With his face only inches from the boot-sole, he could see the details even more clearly. So many tiny imprints, from tiny things stepped on. Hundreds of mudballs and specks of dirt. Maybe little bodies. He could almost see the splattered shapes of very flattened men, just dark globs, like stretched out gum. It was so hard to tell.

Regina just rested her sole on top of the desperate slave’s face, prompting him to start licking. The Goddess liked the soft sensation of the man’s tongue under her sole. She liked the very quiet, almost undetectable sound of the tongue as it licked the hundreds of squashed bodies she knew she had made.

“You know how many men are probably stuck to the bottom of this boot? I can’t even imagine. Just this morning I had about a hundred of them licking this one sole. It was so funny. All those tiny tongues” She reminisced about the sensation of having a layer of quivering, soft bodies beneath her cowboy boot as she sat at her kitchen table that morning, drinking coffee. Now this one, stupid slave was running its tongue over all those flattened, dead bodies. It had no idea! The crushed men were so ground in from Regina’s walking that no one would ever be able to tell.

Donna poked her head into the living room from the kitchen. “Oh, I see you’ve found some entertainment”.

“Hurry up, Donna,” said Regina as she pressed her sole flatly on the licking slave’s face, “We’re late”. The man below Regina’s Montana boot was licking so hard and fast, he was becoming delirious. The sole seemed so caked in filth that it would take hours to clean, if ever at all! The sole was so flat on top his face that he could feel the bumps of the ground-in filth against his cheeks and lips.

The blonde Goddess smiled down at the hard-working slave. “See any smushed bodies?” The worm paused in his licking long enough to stare closely at the middle of the sole. He thought he saw a vague shape spread out with what used to be arms and legs, but it might only have been a splattermark from some dried mud. “I’m not sure, Goddess....I can’t tell...I think I see one...”, stammered the worthless slave.

Regina lifted the boot away from the slave and examined the sole herself. “Where? Point to it”. The man nervously reached one trembling finger upwards and pointed to the exact center of the sole. Regina squinted and peered very closely at the layer of crud. She scraped her nail into the filth and pried away unidentifiable flecks. “I want you to go in there and tell me”.

Before the slave could react, Regina shrunk him and held him pinched between two fingertips. She tilted her boot-sole slightly upward, resting her boot on her knee, then let the tiny man go on top of the worn leather, close to the spot she was just picking at. “Check out this,” she pointed her nail at the spot, “Tell me what it is”.

The miniscule slave crawled across the dark brown and black boot-sole, across nicks and scratches, slight mounds of flattened crud and tiny round indentations. He reached the spot where Regina’s gigantic fingernail had been pointing, and where her nail had scraped away bits of the crud, exposing some of the delicious tan leather of the sole. He saw a very flat shape, a little bigger than himself, covered in criss-cross lines and a few specks of pressed mud. It was mostly black, with areas of brown mixed in.

“Well, is it a squashed man? Can’t you tell?”

Regina grew impatient and scraped her nail into the crud some more, scaring the tiny slave back a little, and exposing more of the boot’s tan sole. “Look at that scum. Get in there and look!” She used her nail to push the tiny man towards the scraped spot, forcing him into the miniscule gullet she had carved. The slave looked all around at the dried filth and saw shapes that looked squeezed and pressed together, like layers of grime. He looked closer and noticed dark red and even pink areas. He saw some glistening spots of still-pastey goo, embedded in the dried pulp. He realized that he was surrounded by layers and layers of ground-together shapes, bits and pieces of once-twitching bodies, compressed flat under the massive weight of a woman’s western boot-sole. He was scared and prayed to the gigantic Goddess, whose face was his sky.

“Please, Goddess! There’s squished men everywhere! So many!”

Regina laughed at the little pink thing in the middle of her dirty boot-sole. She could barely hear it’s shouting voice and lightly prodded it with her fingertip. “You didn’t eat much of this, did you? How am I ever going to find a slave to clean this sole?” She pressed her fingertip on top of the little man’s body, making him squirm quickly. The tiny slave could see nothing but the grooves on Regina’s fingertip, pressing down firmly. Beneath, he could feel himself pressing into the dirty leather of the sole, into the crud. The giant fingertip was slowly working his twitching body deeper into the layer of dark filth. He was flat against the worn leather, smelling the Goddess’ fingertip, the boot leather, and acres of dried slave-pulp. He tried to scream out, but his little voice was muffled.

Donna came into the living room, finally ready. She laughed at what Regina was doing. “You just can’t resist, can you? You’ll never get those boots clean if you keep crushing men into the soles”.

“I know. This one just feels good right here...” and with that, Regina pressed the little bump of male flesh flat into the sole, squishing its soft guts. The sound was a delicate burst of liquid, a trickling wet noise. The Goddess smeared the red juice and pink pulp into the dark, dirty leather, smearing the crushed jelly across the flatness of her cowboy boot’s sole. “Do you have any more I can step on before we go?”

“I thought you were in a rush,” laughed Donna, as she reached into her closet for her black leather trenchcoat. Her black riding boot heels clunked loudly on the hardwood floor as she slipped the coat on.

“Just a few, that’s all. I’m in the mood”, moaned Regina, as she lightly ran her fingers over the small wet spot in the middle of her sole.

“You look horny to me,” said Donna, who reached down to the floor of her closet and shuffled through some cardboard boxes. The Goddess used the toe of her boot to slide an old shoebox out of the closet, across the floor towards Regina. “See what’s in there”.

The shoebox slid a few feet and bumped into the toe of Regina’s cowboy boot. The blonde sighed with pleasure as she used her boot’s pointy toe to flip off the lid. Inside the box, Regina could see some crumpled tissue paper and an older pair of chocolate brown leather fashion riding boots. Crawling all over the boots were dozens and dozens of tiny men! The little pink things were all over the worn heavy black heels, the long, the folded-over leather shafts, and the ribbed leather soles. There were faint red splotches on the inside walls of the box, as well as the bottom, and some marks throughout the tissue paper.

“Look at them!,” exclaimed Goddess Regina, “Do you keep them in there all the time?”

“I have a lot of old boots like that. I usually keep them in boxes...”

“No, not the boots, I mean the slaves”.

“Oh, them”. Donna clunked over, looking down with a frown, into the box as if she was seeing the little slaves for the first time. “Kill them if you want. I don’t care about them”.

Regina giggled and reached her hand into the box, feeling the smooth leather of the riding boots, covered with a lot of crawling bumps. She collected a handful of the slaves and lifted them out of the box, up to her face. “Did you little worms like living in that shoebox? You must’ve worshipped those boots for a long time”.

She lay them all in a pile between her legs on the couch, right in front of her crotch. The little men squirmed as they stared up at the fly of Regina’s tight jeans. They worshipped the stitches of the thread areound the flap of the fly and prayed to the giant gold rivet above with the word “Lee” etched into it. Regina plucked a few out of the pile and held them in front of the dirty sole of her cowboy boot, as she rested her boot across her knee. “Now you can worship MY boots...up close,” she said as she pressed the clump of begging flesh into the leather sole, right where the red splotch was from the last slave she killed. She used two fingers to flatten the soft bodies into gooey paste, working the men’s guts into the cruddy bootsole. She liked the wet sound of the pulp and the way it trickled around her fingertips. She twisted her boot around in the light to see the wetness covering the center of the sole and smiled.

She sucked the juice from her fingertips and laughed at the men between her legs. They were edging closer to her fly, begging to crawl underneath the denim flap. “You little boys want to go inside and see my zipper?” The slaves screamed with desire, hoping to be forced inside by the giant Goddess. Regina flipped open the denim flap to show the slaves the gold metal zipper of her jeans. “You like my zipper? That’s so cute...”

Donna stomped over in her riding boots and leather trenchcoat, her hands slid into her deep pockets. “I take it you’re going to be a while”.

“No,” mused Regina as she ran one finger through the tiny men between her legs, “I’ll kill them in a minute. I’m just not sure how...”

Donna peered down into the boot-box, still full of small pink bodies, clinging to the old pair of fashion boots. “I used to love those boots. I killed so many men with them, I bet there’s guts wedged under those shoe plates”.

Regina used her one finger to poke a few of the worshippers into her zipper. She ran their little bodies up and down the closed teeth of the zipper, smearing the slaves into soft jelly. She started to orgasm when she felt the little men squish as she rubbed them into the metal.

Donna laughed at Regina’s sudden ecstacy and lifted the sole of her black leather riding boot up between the blonde Goddess’ legs. She slowly lowered the ribbed sole until it hovered less than an inch over the couch, over the remaining zipper-worshippers. Regina gasped with desire as she looked down at the shiny black leather of Donna’s boot. She saw the rounded leather toe, and the dozen or so tiny men squirming underneath...all right against her crotch!

The men were staring at the beautiful gold zipper as red and pink pulp clung to its teeth, with Regina’s giant finger running up and down, smearing the pulp. They also stared upward at the giant riding boot sole hovering above, with its deep ridges and ocassional specks of dirt and dried pulp embedded in the ridges. The men didn’t know what to do and simply prayed to both Goddesses.

“Smush them, Donna!,” cried out Regina with passion. Donna chuckled and very slowly lowered her sole, until she could feel the little bumps under her tread. The slaves were becoming stuck under her boot! Regina stared down as the little men’s arms and legs twitched wildly, sticking out from under the round leather boot-toe. Some of the slaves crawled out from underneath the toe and right onto the zipper of Regina’s jeans. Regina gasped as she caught them as they escaped, and quickly smushed them into the metal teeth, adding to the wetness already there. As Donna pressed her boot more firmly into the couch, the men’s bodies started squeezing and squishing. Their soft, pink guts oozed out from under the riding boot and Regina wiped the jelly onto her zipper, climaxing again and again. Donna pressed her boot flatly down, crushing the last of the soft bumps into paste. Regina ran her fingertips under Donna’s bootsole, feeling the just-squished bodies. She loved the way the dead things felt trapped in the ridges of the sole. She kept feeling Donna’s bootsole and climaxed so hard she almost passed out!

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