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This is a giantess fantasy: I wanted him beneath my heels! To worship me! He was trembling before I even stepped into the room. I towered above him—six-inch stilettos on, black latex hugging every curve. To me, he looked no taller than a doll, kneeling on the hardwood floor with wide eyes and a bulge straining in his pathetic little cage. You’re so small,” I whispered, circling him like a predator. “So easy to break.”
I leaned down, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of my breasts swelling against the latex. His lips parted like he wanted to worship them—but I wasn’t here to be soft. “I could crush you,” I said, lifting one heel and placing the sharp tip between his legs. He whimpered. I laughed. “Hahahaha! You’re pathetic!” I loved watching him squirm. I was a goddess to him, untouchable, unstoppable, and he was nothing but a plaything.
I picked him up like a toy—his light little body pressed to my chest—and carried him to the bed. He gasped as I spread my legs, lowering him between my thighs like I was offering him heaven. “Prove yourself,” I growled, grabbing the back Continue reading “Beneath My Heels”