high heel trampling
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cruel mistress with cute feet trampling cock and balls
Waitress playing full weight hopscotch in high heels during her breaktime. Unreal CBT.
Heavy woman in high heels climbing aboard mercilessly. Full weight privates crushing.
Like the caption says! And I DID. This bloke boasted that most Mistresses he visited got tired and bored trampling him, because they couldn’t even get a reaction. I Had a new pair of shoes to break in after all. And I had NO problem getting a
Where the hell is that useless piece of shit that is supposed to be laying here for Me to wipe My heels on? Now I’m going to get dust on the floormats. I’ll break every bone in his miserable, useless body when I find him.
Taking a little break from what I love most. Putting males in their place…marking up My property!
Out on the town, dressed to thrill, dressed to kill. I need to feel something squirm, gasp and give it up beneath these heels tonight. Could be a bug. Could be a rodent. Could be a bum in the gutter who makes that fatal mistake of mouthing off
Teaching the ‘DOWN’ always works more effectively when a little pressure is brought to bear. If they try to get up, I just step up and walk up and down them like the rug they are.This is where they belong…where YOU belong.Correct??
A place for every ‘thing’ and every 'thing’ in its place
There are uses for these otherwise useless creatures
I wish there really was a species of ‘little men’ like this. Of course you’re ALL little in My eyes, but having truly little creatures like this scurrying around, desperately running for their lives, would be so entertaining. That lovel
A male’s proper place. Pinned like an insect beneath the cruel spiked heels of it’s merciless Owner. The ONE thing you can do better than a cockroach is cry, whimper, groan. So when She digs, twists, drags and rocks back on those beautiful spikes,
“Oh stop crying for goodness sake! you never could play the piano and you’re far too stupid to be a brain surgeon. So what if I break every bone in them! I’m having fun and thats ALL that matters!
Step aerobics…Divinyl style.
Some pics of Me abusing My slave. I had a brand new pair of Italian heels and they so needed to be broken in properly.Four part vids available at My storehttp://clips4sale.com/34682
Proper protocol…so very important. The beautiful boots that are about to walk all over you and rip you to shreds must be worshipped reverently both before the beating, as a show of respect and resignation to your fate…and afterward…a
Ohhhhh, how sweet! My little man sent Me a dozen beautiful roses. Must have romance on his mind. But, as you can see, I have OTHER things on MY mind!
Hey, I do Throw Back Thursday’s on Facebook. So why not do some here too? Hmmm… I think this is from around 2008. Before (L) and after ® a very brutal high heeled trampling session. And I don’t look any worse for the wear do
More from the same lovely afternoon, including the aftermath.
At the end of the day, a work slave is responsible for completing it’s full assignment. When an inspection proves otherwise, it must be shown it’s place. And…the point driven home.
Too bad the sentence was pronounced. But what a way to go…right boys?
mistress-scarlet-captions: spk72: LOVE hand trampling. Kiss her shoes as she steps on your hand and fingers, she obviously deserves it. https://msscarletuk.wordpress.com/ Why fight it? you’re here for one thing. Our entertainment. And
Dinner is served! Worthless scum! (A rare moment of kindness in the Female led household)
You met her the first night of your singles cruise. She was charming, cute. Wearing a sundress and flip flops during the sail away. You hit it off, met for drinks after dinner and she agreed to meet you at the bottom of the gangplank to explore Cozumel
Has to be a helpless feeling. All that weight focused on one little sole and heel tip…pinning you down to the floor. Then…you see that other foot poised above your face. And the look on the face of your Tormentress. Will I lower it slowly, and simply
See the looks on these little monkeys’ faces? My girlfriend/lover and I just broke the news to them that We’re having another little ‘contest’. A 'hands free’ beatdown. Only legs and heels allowed. The first slave that
T is for Tiles - YouTube
Sigh…. Poor thing. All cold and shivering from your long night chained to the concrete floor down here in the cellar. Weak from days without food. Well, that’s the way I like you. Weakened, frightened, trembling uncontrollably. It just
The pit in your stomach… When your wife tells you she’s invited a friend to join Her for your Friday night beating. A friend whose never trampled before, but is DYING to try!
Nothing quite does it for Me like slipping into a beautiful pair of spiked heels and taking a nice long walk on a bound and gagged slave. Looking down My legs as they teeter on that beautiful canvas of unmarked flesh. Feeling it’s heart pound
Not to worry My pet. you’ll heal up soon enough. By then I’ll be in the mood to do this to you all over again. Welcome to the rest of your miserable life pig!
I found Myself sliding around too much on some of the fat pigs I trample. All that sweat and blood makes for bad footing. I could turn an ankle! So I had these lovelies designed to give Me better grip. Now I can really go to town on these piggies!
And believe Me, I DID! I had never kicked, stomped and trampled a slave as hard and long as I did that day years ago. I found My greatest passion. Completely breaking down a male at the ends of My toes and beneath My spiked heels. Intoxicating. Addic
I adore trampling hands. Hell,I adore trampling anything! And look at this slave. All these histrionics and I haven’t even gone to the heels yet!
Workouts are what you make of them. How do I fight the boredom. I just imagine that’s you beneath Me instead of that rubber track!
After a lovely breakfast and foot massage, it’s time to knock out My step aerobics workout. (My personal trainer just lays there while I do all the work!)
I hate it when I break a heel on these rugs. This pair is perfect. Sturdy heels screwed into a steel support plate. Just right for the job!
Does this look like it hurts? Well wrong! Didn’t hurt a bit! Well… Maybe that one time I bumped My head on the ceiling. Hahahaha….
I love jamming My heel down their throat as far as I can push. So fun to watch them tense up…their eyes get so big as I tilt and scrape the edge of My heel against the back of their throat or the roof of their mouth. My other heel sinking deep
Ouch! That does actually hurt a little! Haha Hmmm…must really hurt with 155 pounds bearing down on them! On your nipples, your ribs, your balls, your forehead? I’ll never know. But you My pet…sure as hell will! GET ON THE FUCKIN
Everything has its place. We certainly know Ours! And now, you know your’s. Down with the animals and the insects!
Like a baby with a pacifier. Think maybe he’s teething? Hardly! I kicked all his teeth out years ago when I chose to make him a proper oral slave. No nasty teeth may touch My soft skin. And no worries about a scratch or scrape on the toe of
Yes My pet…I’m about to put down the cage and open the door. Finally…your chance at freedom. Even if for just three or four seconds. Do give it your best. I like it to be at least a little sporting. Run like the wind. A storm
I’m afraid I could never be a ‘vegan’. I love the softness, the primal aroma. The feel of soft kid linings caressing My feet. The glossy red reminds Me of the blood spilled in their making. A carrot just lays there. When I stab in
What’s that old saying? Build a better mousetrap… And the world will beat a path to your door? Well….
I’m going to do My damnedest to make the tops match the soles. I DO love a challenge! So are you finished tying the little fuck down or what????
Just four more steps to go. And…My foot had better not touch that pavement. See how fast you can move slave. A face, a chest, and back…at least!
I love the marks, but I just hate it when they scab over and stop bleeding. “BACK ON THE FLOOR SCUM! Let Me open those back up for you.”
you think that’s painful? you haven’t felt anything Yet! I’m not wearing rubber tires!!
Nothing stirs My sadism and stimulates Me like the feel of a squirming, sobbing and suffering body beneath My heels. The visual as I look down and see it pinned there helplessly. The feel of beautiful and deadly stilettos sinking into flesh, wobbling
Every night now…She feels the ache. Right around sunset. She is like a vampire thirstng for blood. An addict needing Her nightly fix. And the need, the desire, grows stronger and more obsessive each passing night. Ever since that one fateful
I find…when trying to make a point…or get through to these lower creatures…that a nice long stand on their heads as I spew venomous derision and instructions…seems to get the point across more expeditiously.
I just love submissives! So damned fun to manipulate and toy with. My little panting photographer today? Well I met him last night on a cruise ship. They had an Alt Lifestyle Mixer before dinner. He took quite a shine to Me. Flirting but extremely
I’m saving a place for you. And you know where that is…don’t you? Exactly! Hahahahahahahahaha…
Yep! That’s him Kendall. My carpet slave. he likes it really hard! With heels. And the little shit is tiny! Three inches shorter than me! When he sees you, he’s gonna shit a brick! Give him all you got! No safeword!
Coming up on Halloween again. MY birthday happens to be the day before. Every year since ten (I’ll be fourteen this year) I’ve dressed as a cat. Mother loves it. Says it fits My personality perfectly. Every year, she gives Me a dozen mice
Hmmmm…look at it. So relaxed and content. As if cleaning My shoes was all I had in store for it! Poor idiot! Looking down and seeing My gorgeous heels framed by the ugly face of an inferior just gets all My power revving and My sadistic juices
I love that panicked snorting sound they make right before their noses break. And the little clicks and clacks of teeth losing the fight against a metal heel. AND the give and collapse of their sternum and ribs under My weight. Was that a twig snapping
Imagine that this is your existence. your entire reason for being reduced to a footstool. Never to see the outside world. To laugh. To socialize, read? Not a chance. Five minutes a day you’re released to eat. Twice a day, the maid unlocks you
I would love love love to find someone in San Francisco who can handle this. Wherefore art thou, my high heel fetishist Romeo?
