introduction
17-Sep-98 22:24:51

Hello everyone. I would like to introduce myself to you. I made several comments on the board for the first time. I am a 24-year -old male and I love crush. I have pondered the ethereal nature of the female presence for many years. I have contemplated the sensual augmentation powers of the highheel. I have been stuck in a mind-world where women crush every living thing (other than each other) under their feet. This experience probably sounds familiar to most of you.

Like most crush/trample enthusiasts, I got my start early in life, when I was about four. My mother used to play this game with me, at whose instigation -- hers or mine -- I'm not sure. But, I would lie on the floor and pretend to be sinking in quicksand. I would call to her to help me. She would walk over to me and smile down with a big smile. Then she would lift her foot and gently place it on my abdomen. She would continue smiling and say, "You are such a silly boy." That was the beginning. From that moment forward, I obsessed over the idea of feeling all her weight on top of me. This is something I never expressed to her, and she certainly would never have done it if I had asked, but the idea grew. It branched into other possibilities that would increase the intensity of the female stimulus. One of those possibilities was crush. Over the years, these thought-tributaries began to converge once more. I am left with several crush/trample desires, but the most prominent is being a tiny man crushed deliberately beneath the soles of a woman wearing highheel shoes.

Since the physics involved render this fantasy improbable at best, I have explored my crush/trample nature in other ways. One of them is by communicating with you good people on this message board. However, I have done some pretty interesting things that you probably would like to read about.

I won't bore you with the early years, but I will start in high school. My high school years are the time when I really accepted my sexuality and myself and put away my feelings of anxiety and shame over my sexual preference. I embraced the idea that there were others like me in this great big world... with 5.6 billion people the odds were definitely in favor of that notion (thank God for the book on probability Mr. Wall gave me). I decided that I had the power to get what I wanted out of life, no matter what that was.

A funny thing happened with that epiphany and decision. My mind began to realize all the wonderful possibilities for sexual expression in my high school environment. Let's start with Mrs. Dantone. She was my english teacher for three of the four years I attended high school. She almost always wore high heels to class. Needless to say, she was my favorite teacher. We were seated by alphabetical order in her class. My last name starts with a B, so I actually had the first seat in my class... right up front where I could see really well. I would watch her walk back and forth in her elegant highheels every morning and mentally picture myself as a tiny man lying in her path. I could see myself crushed vividly beneath the soles of her shoes. Then, one day a caterpillar crawled into our classroom. I watched Mrs. Dantone walk gingerly back and forth and miss that caterpillar by inches several times. Then, one lucky moment in time, I witnessed her step on the caterpillar and crush it under her soles. The green goo oozed out from under her shoe. When she lifted her foot, the caterpillar's desiccated body stuck to the bottom of her shoe. I felt worshipful adoration for her at that moment, and I vowed then and there to bring her a tiny sacrifice every morning for her to crush.

I never waivered in my ritual sacrifice to Mrs. Dantone. I would walk up to her desk every morning at the beginning of class and drop the victim in her footpath. When she came in she would inevitably crush the victim at sometime during the morning. Sometimes it was caterpillars, sometimes it was beetles, sometimes it was daddy longlegs with their longlegs removed. Any thing I could find that suited the requirements of tiny, inconspicuous lower life forms, I sacrificed to Mrs. Dantone. I started off every school morning with a fetish buzz.

None of my other classes used alphabetical seating. So, I made sure I sat in front of an attractive young lady. In our high school the desks had wireframe bottoms. I would bring a coat to school every day, even in summer. Then I would drape the coat over the back of the seat. For some reason, all the girls at my high school loved to prop their feet up in the rear bottom of the desk in front of them. It was my observation of this phenomenon that gave me the idea in the first place. Anyway, I would reach my left hand down beside my desk and into the wireframe bottom. Then I would curl my fingers around the very back wire. When the young lady behind me put her feet in the back of my desk, she would crush my fingers. Periods in my school were 50 minutes long. Sometimes I would sit there the whole period with no relief. At the end of such a period, my fingers would be numb and colorless on their tips. They would also have a deep indentation just below the tips where the wire bar had pressed deep into them. Allow me to clarify... my fingers were pinned between the bottom of the young lady's shoe and the wire bar around which they were curled. Some of the young ladies would slide their feet back and forth producing extreme spikes of white-hot pain from the tips of my fingers up my arm. I endured and enjoyed. Every once-in-a-while, one of the young ladies would slide her foot all the way forward, quickly and forcibly, crushing my pinned fingers under the heel of her shoe and grinding the heel on them. And the beauty of it was, they never knew, because the whole experience was obscured from view by the coat draped over the back of the seat.

I've used up enough space for this post. Keep checking back. Future posts will chronicle my masochistic development over the years... some more high school experiences and some really neat experiences beyond high school. Until then, remember... No matter how many times I am crushed, no matter how visciously I am trampled nor by how many women, the immortalmasochist can never die!

To pleasure eternal and immortality in the flesh...
This is immortalmasochist signing off.