As I emerge from under the door of our apartment, I look up to find Alison sitting on a chair--one leg crossed over the other, wiggling her bare foot--watching me.
“Hello, dear,” my wife says playfully as she looks down at me.
After meeting her gaze, I drop my eyes to the pair of high heel sandals sitting beside her.
I never should have taken the job requiring me to be shrunk to 8 inches, but the fat paycheck and the prospect of being able to buy a house was too appealing. The problem isn’t that the work is hard, or that I’ve had to become a hermit to keep it a secret. It’s what it has done to my marriage.
Being shrunk hasn’t been all bad. In fact, it’s been fantastic for our sex life. Size does matter, and being small means I can do things between my wife’s legs that are very exciting for both of us.
However, the mind-blowing sex alone isn’t enough for Alison. She demands that I worship her before sex, as well as throughout the day. I adore my wife and she’s hot, so I’m not ashamed to say I enjoy bowing down to her. Many kisses on her feet have led me to discover that I like their salty taste on my tongue.
It’s also never bothered me that Alison wants me to massage her feet endlessly, though it’s a bit more work at this size. She also has me painting her toenails a different color each day to match her outfit now. But I love my wife, and I’m happy to indulge her.
We have both found it especially thrilling for me to pamper her secretly in public. I’ll ride in her purse to dinner and drinks with her girlfriends, and sneak under the table to rub and love on her feet. I love to stick my tongue between her toes to make her giggle, and Alison loves to stick her toes between my legs to make me have a fantastic orgasm, all right beside her oblivious friends’ feet. It’s dangerous and exciting, and our little secret.
However, everything changed the night Alison’s friend Karla moved close to watch something on Alison’s phone. Unknowingly, she smashed my hand under her sandal. A few of her friends heard my diminutive scream, but only Alison knew it came from the little man under the table. A little while later, Alison slid her foot out of her own sandal and elicited a scream herself.
From that night onward, our relationship has become less pleasurable and more painful for me. Every night out now, as I love on my wife’s feet, she finds opportunity to smash parts of my body under her bare feet. When I realized my screams were what she craved, I stifled them. But it just made her bolder. I can be in the middle of a massage and Alison will raise her foot and stomp her bare heel hard onto me. Hard, flat sandals have now become her shoe of choice to permit her pampering and produce my screams. However, the cruelest is when Alison removes her foot from the shoe to give me my reward, but then smashes my testicles under the tips of her toes just as I’m about to cum between them.
I swear my wife is a good person. I fell in love with how sweet she is. She still is to everyone else. Which is why I don’t understand why she’s hurting me. Alison has never been eager to smash another guy’s balls, even when given the opportunity . . . so it must be me. I encouraged the pampering and the under-table games, even when it started to hurt.
To this day, Alison still claims every painful strike under the table has been an accident. But recently she’s decided we need to test the limits of my small body at home, “so I know what to avoid at work that could seriously hurt me.” But I know the truth. In private she can be more precise. She can keep me from swallowing my screams. She can also look me in the eyes as she thrashes me beneath her feet. And looking back into her eyes, I can tell she loves every second of it.
Until now, Alison has always “tested me” barefoot, smashing every part of my body under every inch of her size 9 feet. And now she’s sitting here. Waiting for me. With a pair of 4” stilettos.
The toes I painted black to match her dress before work this morning flex, and a sly smile spreads across Alison’s face.
“Come here.”
I stand frozen, staring, like a deer facing its demise.
“I said, ‘Come here!’”
“No.”
“Excuse me?!?” Alison drops her crossed leg off of the other one, slamming her bare foot to the floor. “Did you just say ‘No’ to me?”
An image of myself impaled on her stiletto heel flashes into my mind.
“You will come here. You will kneel before your Princess. You will cover my feet with your kisses. And you will pray that I forget you just said that.”
My brain says “obey,” but my body says “run.”
My body moves faster than my brain, so I turn, wiggle back under the door and run into the hallway.
Immediately, I hear footsteps pound the floor and the door flies open.
Before I can dart under another door, Alison is on top of me. My legs fly out from under me as Alison’s foot punts me into the wall.
The moment I hit the ground, I roll to avoid her swiftly descending foot. It crashes down in the space I just occupied.
I manage to get up for only a moment before her arch sweeps over me and knocks me down.
I roll again as her foot stomps down, but this time she manages to just barely catch my feet beneath her powerful toes.
I frantically flail as Alison places the big toe of her left foot squarely on my back and forces me flat onto the floor.
She worms her toes up my legs until the ball of her right foot rests squarely on them. Just as she settles her weight onto it, the door to the apartment beside us opens. My neighbor stops dead in her tracks when she sees my wife standing there with me squirming beneath her toes.
Hope dawns as my neighbor begins to take a step forward in her black flip flops.
“This doesn’t concern you, Katrina,” my wife says icily.
Katrina abruptly pivots and shuts the door.
Alison twists on her big toe on my back and wraps the rest of her toes around my neck and head, smashing my face into the carpet. “I take it you saw my stilettos.”
My wife scrunches her toes, digging the nail of her pinky toe into my cheek, “Things would have been easier for you if you hadn’t run from me.”
The weight on my back intensifies as Alison bends over. She removes her left foot, lifts the toes of her right, and wraps her fingers around me.
Neither of us say anything as she carries me back to our apartment and slams the door shut.
Alison wraps a piece of tape around my legs and sets me down on the floor at her feet. Then she sits and begins to wiggle and slide her foot into the straps of her shoe.
I know it’s futile, but I try pulling myself away. Alison stretches out her other foot and places it on my back before I even make it a few inches. “Stay,” she says as she buckles the strap around her ankle.
Then she lifts the bare foot off my back only to replace it with the shod one. “I’m responsible for you now, and I will not let you go running around getting yourself killed.” Alison’s sole is cold. And hard.
Once she has the other shoe on, Alison slides me closer.
Then she tilts her foot back onto her heel, releasing me. “Turn over.”
This time I obey.
“Sit up and kiss the bottom of my shoe.”
Again, I obey.
“Good boy. Now lay flat.”
Alison stands up and places a dangerously sexy stiletto-clad foot on either side of me. As I gaze into her arches curving above me, I feel . . . excitement. My eyes survey the tall thin heels, move slowly over Alison’s beautiful ankles, curve around her strong calves, and travel up her long legs. “You’re a goddess.”
Alison places the edge of her shoe over my hand. “I know,” she says as she tilts her foot and crushes my hand. “And don’t you forget it.”
Alison lifts her foot over me. “Now, let’s see how easily I can break you of your desire to escape.” Her sole hovers threateningly for what feels like an eternity. My heart beats faster and faster as I examine the tread of her shoe and the tip of the heel.
Then eternity ends. Alison’s heel strikes the wood floor between my legs just as her sole hits my chest.
I try to plead, but she presses the air out of my lungs before I get past, “Please… Alison…”
“Please, squish you?” Alison’s eyes radiate pure joy. “Okay, since you asked so nicely.” She slowly presses her weight onto the ball of her foot.
As the pressure mounts, she begins to slowly twist her ankle. I’ve never understood why it’s so sexy when a woman grinds something beneath her foot, but I can tell you it’s even sexier when you’re what is beneath.
After another eternity watching Alison’s display of superiority, she rocks back on her heel and asks, “Need a moment before I test my full weight on you?” I gasp as my lungs fill with glorious air.
She waves her foot over me, rocking on her heel for a bit.
“Time’s up!” she says sweetly as she slams the ball of her foot back down on me.
As Alison lifts her other foot off the ground, my insides strain outward under the pressure of her magnificent body. Her stiletto is my saving grace because at least some of her weight rests on it.
Pop!
A rib snaps. But Alison just stands there! How could she?
“No squeals for your Princess? I must not be pressing you hard enough!” Alison leans forward to elicit a few more pops and a loud crunch from my chest . . . as well as a long reluctant whimper from deep in my throat.
Alison drops her left foot back to the ground with a loud crack. “Mmmmm,” she moans as she staggers off of me, her heels pounding the floor. “My heart is beating so hard! I could have killed you if I kept that up!”
Alison lifts her foot back up and waves the heel over me. “You should be grateful I didn’t use the heels. But be warned that I do plan to wear these shoes for dinner tonight.” Alison grins as she stamps that heel to the ground beside me. “I can only imagine how loudly you’d scream if you got pinned beneath one of my stilettos.”
“If the girls discover what you’ve been doing under the table, I’m pretty confident all Jenny would want is your hands on her arches and your tongue between her toes,” Alison places the narrow tip of her heel on my groin, “but Meredith wouldn’t be able to resist going for your nuts.”
I barely begin to imagine Alison’s heel massaging me between the legs under the table before she roughly places that heel on my forehead. “Oh, and if you try to run away from me again, I WILL hunt you down. And I won’t hold back.”
Alison holds her foot there a while before laughing and then sauntering away with a sexy swagger. “Love you,” she calls playfully.
I curl up on the floor, smile, and whisper back, “I love you, too.”