Under My Soles: The Rope-Bound Human Carpet
He thought being tied was the punishment. Fool. The rope is just so he stays perfectly still while I use him the way an object deserves to be used — as my floor. I step onto his chest, his stomach, his face, balancing my full weight on a body that exists only to hold Me up. I bounce. I trample. I stand on his face without a shred of concern, because carpets don't have feelings, and neither does he. When I finally allow him the privilege of my bare feet, his hungry mouth gets exactly what it begged for: my toes pushed deep, gagging him, stretching his jaw, my entire foot claimed inside that worthless throat until he chokes on what he worships. This is female domination at its purest — a bound male reduced to furniture, then to a foot slut, at My mercy and Mine alone. If you dream of being flattened, used, and fed the feet of a cruel Goddess, this is your place on the floor.