I have always loved being at men’s boots. The visual symbolism of working and worshipping at the lowest point I can be compared to them just fizzes in my brain. The first time I was trampled on by a Dom was something else entirely.
It was an incredibly intense experience from the sheer overpowering sensations. The unrelenting pressure forced everything out of my head. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t resist, I could barely even breath.
Every part of my consciousness was drawn to the immense force of the thick treads grinding down into my muscles, my bones, and to just do everything I could to take it for as long as could for him.
And the real thrill was I knew as huge as it felt for me, this was barely any effort from him.
He was only slightly plying his weight and I was having to put everything I had into not buckling under it. The fact of that power differential alone was like a needle into the subby part of my brain.