TRAMPLE STORY

by FrankB

***part1*** CINDY’S REVENGE CHAPTER ONE - THE SUGGESTION

Cindy sat in her car patiently waiting for the line to move up so she could pay the bridge toll and finish her trip home. She wasn’t looking forward to the dirty house and cold reception she was going to get from Don. She was thankful it was Friday at least. Cindy worked as a receptionist in a San Francisco law firm where she was required to dress up. She really didn’t need the requirement - she had been driving men crazy for about as long as she

could remember and she had loved every minute of it. Wearing short, tight skirts - seamed stockings with 4" black pumps was quite acceptable for her. In fact, she would have been happier wearing mini-skirts and 5" spikes to work but a certain amount of decorum was called for. As it was, all the men in her building were quite used to walking around all day with hard-ons. Those that didn’t work in her office always found plenty of reasons to show up outside the big glass doors and wait patiently for her to emerge from behind the large reception desk. And Cindy never disappointed them. But by the time 5:00 rolled around, she was ready to change into old jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers for her long drive home. She used to wear her high heels all the time around Don but that was before he started yelling and complaining constantly about every little thing she did or didn’t do. Now, Don rarely ever saw her dressed up anymore. When he went to work in the morning, Cindy was still asleep. All he could see were her pumps beside the bed giving faint testimony to what he always missed but all that did was make him even more grouchy and irritable. "I wish I knew what to do about Don," she said out loud to nobody in particular. She picked up her cell phone and punched in her mother’s code as she once again thought back to the night she had met Don. Don had asked Cindy to marry him when he saw her dancing in a very swanky strip club in downtown San Francisco. That had been about a year ago when he was 35 and she had just turned 18. Don had a thing about beautiful and petite ladies with beautiful and petite feet. Cindy at 5’2" and a hundred pounds with tiny size five feet filled that bill on all counts. She had attained those dimensions at age 14 and while she had developed in other areas, her height, relative weight and shoe size had remained the same to this day. Don had liked to sit next to the runway so he could get close-up views of all the ladies - and whatever else they might have been, they were all very definitely ladies. He was especially interested in their spike heels. After about four drinks he would develop the courage to casually lay his hand on the runway, palm up, hoping that one of the girls might ‘accidentally’ step on it - but no such luck. He even tried putting a five dollar bill in it, then a ten and finally a twenty with no better results - until Cindy started dancing there that is. Cindy, at the ripe old age of 18, had already had plenty of experience with men who were hopelessly enamored of her sexy feet. Men who craved a lady’s beautiful foot were certainly in the minority but there were still enough around so that she had absolutely no trouble at all spotting one a mile away. Her mother had taught her quite well. She had seen to it that Cindy understood what she was supposed to do when a man wanted to be treated like a rug. That first night she came out on stage donned in a thousand dollar evening gown with all the sexy trimmings. She was doing a series of slow bumps to a very sensuous and provocative strip number when she saw Don’s hand at the edge of the runway with a twenty dollar bill in it. He wasn’t even looking up to see who this new girl was. He was so infatuated with the tiny pair of feet encased in black silk hose and blood red, 5" spike-heeled, patent leather pumps that he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. She worked her way over to the hand and purposely started dancing all around it, but never on it. Her heels were coming down less than an inch away from his flesh sometimes even landing between his outstretched fingers. Don kept moving his hand trying to anticipate where her heel was going to come down but Cindy acted as though he didn’t exist and continued to just miss the target. Don was going absolutely crazy, his pants were practically soaked in front. He looked up to see what this sexy creature looked like. Cindy sensed his gaze and smiled mischievously down at him with her twinkling black eyes. The twenty had been brushed out of his hand and out to the center of the runway by the back of her gown which hung

to the floor. Cindy would delight in turning her back on him denying him any sight of her feet until she finally decided to turn and face him again. The front of her blood-red, sequined evening gown was cut up to her knees giving the audience a terrific view of foot, ankle and lower leg. Most of the men in attendance enjoyed the view considerably but, of course, they were waiting patiently to be sent to heaven when the gown came off. Don, however, was seeing all he needed to see. He had already died and gone to heaven. Cindy finished her strip and started to leave the stage when she suddenly turned and undulated back to Don. The drummer started a slow and rhythmic beat in time with Cindy’s provocative walk. Don, by now, had removed his hand from the stage feeling that it was not going to be trod upon by the lovely Cindy. When Cindy got to within an arm’s length of Don’s face peering just over the edge of the runway, she turned her back on him, lifted one blood-red, spike heel in the air - then looked down at him over her shoulder with a wicked little gleam in her eye. "Well!?" she said softly but loud enough for the rest of the audience to hear. "Would you like to put your hand under my heel and experience the thrill of watching it, and then feeling it painfully sink into your tender flesh?" Don’s heart was pounding rapidly. He never dreamed he would get his wish and he wasn’t at all sure anymore if he really wanted that wicked spike he was staring at stabbing into the palm of his hand. Don had never had a woman dig her heels into him before. He had, up until now, only engaged in light foot worship with the women in his life - kissing their feet and having them rubbed on various parts of his body but only barefoot or stockinged. Being hurt by women in high heels had only been a fantasy up until now. ‘Go ahead! Put your hand down! She won’t hurt you - too much!’ came the laughing male voices from behind. ‘Look at that gorgeous foot! It’s not nice to keep a lady waiting! Go for it!’ a female voice said. Cindy continued standing there patiently on one foot smiling down into Don’s frantic face. Don was in a panic - clearly embarrassed and afraid to set his hand down on the stage but even more embarrassed not to. He had been coming to this same club every Saturday night for the past three months making a fool of himself in front of the girls and the audience. Most of the men in the audience were regulars who were quite familiar with this nightly ritual of his and now they finally had a chance to see someone take him up on his little fantasy trip. Don was quite sober now. He swallowed hard and slowly extended his hand, palm up, across the floor toward, and then under, Cindy’s up-raised foot. He looked up at the gorgeous creature towering high above him and said in a faint whisper, "Be gentle, Cindy. My heart is in that hand." Cindy blew him a little kiss, "Good! I love trampling all over men’s hearts!" And so saying in a sexy, sultry voice, she slowly brought her heel down to rest lightly on Don’s palm. Everyone in the predominately male audience had clambered out of their seats and rushed forward in an effort to get a better view of the proceedings. Don was leaking all over himself as he gazed at the beautiful red pump posing regally on his hand. It hurt a little bit but not as much as he thought it would. It actually felt quite pleasant and it looked so sexy. He felt as though he were in a trance - a living dream - not real, just a figment of his imagination. He had never had a heel in him before so he had no way of knowing that Cindy hadn’t even begun to apply any real pressure yet. Then, just as Don began to close his eyes to savor the sensuous feel of Cindy’s spike heel, Cindy suddenly shifted all of her 100 pounds to that same thin heel resting majestically on his palm. Don was immediately brought back to earth in a hurry. He let out a blood curdling scream as the men who had gathered around the stage cheered wildly. ‘Way to go, Cindy! Hurt him! Twist it around a little! Teach this idiot a lesson he’ll never forget!’

Don was trying desperately to free his hand as he cried pitifully, "Please, Cindy, please! I can’t take it!" Cindy just smiled and shrugged at the audience as if to say, ‘I’m just doing what he wanted.’ Everyone in the audience continued to cheer even louder. "What do you say, guys? Should I let him have his hand back?" "No! No! No!" came the hearty cries of both the men and women. "Tell you what, Sweetheart," she said to the wailing Don, "They don’t want me to show you any mercy but if you kiss the toe of my pump, maybe I’ll take my heel out of your hand!" Don didn’t have to think about it. He didn’t care what anybody would think or how embarrassed he was, he just needed her to remove that painful spike from his palm. He practically crawled up onto the stage to reach her pump with his lips and began to kiss her shoe over and over. Cindy laughed out loud, "That’s a good boy!" she said but didn’t immediately remove her foot but instead twisted it savagely into his hand in a very slow and exaggerated way for the benefit of the audience before walking away to disappear behind the stage curtains where all the other girls had gathered to watch and cheer her on. Don’s screams could still be heard above the thunderous applause and cheers that followed her back to her dressing room.