Commitment (Patreon)

We had to meet in public first. It was one of her rules but I wanted her rules, I wanted to follow her instructions and make her happy. The diner was dark and sleepy at this late hour, and that was just perfect for me. Every second that I waited felt like an hour, and my leg wouldn’t stop bouncing while I anxiously stared at the door.

There was no mistaking her when she arrived. Her towering form filled the doorframe, her skin-tight sleeveless turtleneck showed off every bit of her curves, and her long, black platform boots stretched almost all the way to her short grey cheetah print skirt, letting the slightest bit of her powerful bare thighs peek through.

I wanted to slip from my seat and greet her from my knees. Every instinct told me to bow down and crawl. I’d read every cruel, dark thing she’d written, fantasized over every dominant photo she’d shared. I’d sent her a picture and told her what I’d wear, so it was only a second later that she spotted me, leaving me paralyzed in my seat as we locked eyes and she started her approach.

Her tall heels clicked sharply with each of her long strides. I couldn’t stop my eyes from falling, watching every movement of her heavy black leather boots. I knew she wanted me beneath them, that she longed to crush men like insects under her feet. They were beautiful, superior, sacred, and I couldn’t help but stare.

Her fingers slipped beneath my chin and gently cupped my jaw, guiding my eyes back up to hers. “I knew you’d love these boots.” Just a soft and simple statement before she slid into the seat across from me, watching me with a little smirk while I struggled for breath.

She didn’t say anything more. It was up to me to respond, but I could tell she was enjoying my speechlessness. A long moment passed and her smirk only grew as she watched me squirm, but eventually I forced some words out. “They’re amazing! You’re amazing.”

I hated myself for my inadequacy and awkwardness but the warmth of her spreading smile calmed me. “They are, and I am. You’re amazing too, though, little one. It’s very brave of you to come meet me, and to be honest with me and yourself about your desires.”

I almost didn’t understand for a moment. She valued me, this incredible goddess, and she wanted to know more. “Tell me about you, pet. Anything you want.” She was so welcoming, so warm, and I opened up easily from there.

She ordered a coffee while I told her about playing with my mother’s shoes, about watching certain movie scenes over and over, about my favorite crush clips I’d bought and the girlfriends who reluctantly indulged my “foot thing” for a while but filled me with guilt for my “problem.”

At some point she stretched out her legs and propped her heels up on the booth next to me. She must have seen my eyes widen because the moment my speech slowed down, she reassured me. “Go ahead, you can touch them.”

I learned a little about her as my mind hazily drifted to enjoying the smooth feel of leather under my hand, gently exploring the curve of her ankle and the details of her heavy boot. She’d dreamed of being a giantess her entire life, enjoyed stepping on things since she was a child--small details that just reinforced everything I knew. She was obsessed with her own footwear and feet and loved demonstrating her power in the most extreme ways, humiliating her toys, treating them as less than human. That made her kindness to me all the more incredible, the respect she seemed to demonstrate felt precious. I felt special.

“Now let’s talk about your hopes with me.”

When we’d been messaging online I thought it would be hard to express what I wanted, but the words just flowed out of me now. Her attitude, her thoughts, everything about her just seemed like perfection. She understood the things I loved, and on top of that, she was so tall, so naturally imposing, and every time she posted a picture or video of her stockings or shoes I found myself instantly addicted. We loved all the same things. We were the perfect match.

“I just want to be yours.” It was the most true, the most completely accurate sentence I could imagine. She just nodded and shifted her legs, crossing them at the ankles so the side of her booted foot rested against my hip, leaving me shuddering for just a moment. Again she didn’t speak, so I elaborated.

“I can’t imagine anyone more perfect than you, Miss. I just, in any way I can, in every possible way, I want to belong to you. Nothing would make me happier. Nothing else matters.”

She looked away, the spirals of her long, dark hair twisting along with her shaking head as she let out a short, soft laugh. “Honey, you don’t know what that means.”

I doubled down. “You’re my dream, Miss. You’re every single one of my dreams, all wrapped up in one. Please accept me, Miss.” I was begging and it didn’t matter. I had to convince her.

“Please let me be yours.”

She slowly pulled her feet away from me, and I let my fingertips trail along the leather wrapping her legs. My heart nearly stopped as she slung her bag over her shoulder and pulled herself up from the booth. She wouldn’t leave me after all this, would she? Had I gone too far? Broken some rule, crossed some line that made her feel I wasn’t worth her time? I couldn’t lose her, not now, but I couldn’t stop her either. I was powerless, helpless, like I’d always been.

She stood in the walkway between the two rows of booths in this old, not quite empty diner. I stared up at her, my eyes pleading with her but my mouth unable to form a single word.

“Kiss my boots.”

I heard myself gasp at her command. Her voice remained soft, low and even, but there was a firmness about it that shook me to the core. Her first order. The first demand she had of me, her hapless little slave.

I’d imagine kneeling before her for weeks, ever since I dared to send her the first of many messages. Her boots deserved worship, and I longed to serve them, but I’d never imagined I’d be asked to do it in the middle of a restaurant.

It was my fantasy come true, and even still I was slow to move. I took stock of every single person in the place--the older waitress who seemed to be covering every table herself. The cook pushing eggs and hashbrowns around the grill on the other side of the wall. The four college students laughing in the corner. The couple sitting three tables away, cuddling on the same side of their booth.

A long moment passed, and she continued to wait and watch. I believed she would stand there all night, but what if she didn’t? What if there was a limit to her patience? At any second she might turn around and head for the door, and that’s what pushed me to slip from the edge of my seat directly down onto my knees.

Even as I knelt before her, staring at her feet, I hesitated. Decades of shame still gnawed at me, my embarrassment still stood in my way. Another long moment went by, and I hear the waitress approaching. My eyes stayed locked on her boots, the boots I needed to serve. The boots I was going to kiss.

“You can’t be doing this here.” She’d gone from a waitress to a chiding schoolteacher. For some reason it put me on the verge of panic, until I heard her calm, even reply.

“We must. This is important.”

Before the waitress even walked away, my palms were flat on the floor and I was bowing down. All my anxiety melted away as I breathed in the rich scents of her leather. My eyes drifted shut as my lips touched the smooth surface of her boot, and I let the release of giving in, of obedience and total devotion just wash over me. There was such passion, adoration and love in that single long, lingering kiss, and her other boot clearly deserved the same level of worship and respect. 

My mind emptied of everything except for her. I didn’t even bother to open my eyes; I could feel the presence of her boot, smell it, sense it. I could envision her standing over me, the warmth in her eyes and the satisfaction in her smile as she watched my lips touch leather a second time. I knew precisely what she wanted, and giving that to her fulfilled my deepest desires, too. Anyone who cared to look could see us right where we belonged--she stood exalted, superior like a goddess above while I crawled before her like a worm, kissing her feet.

“Hand me your wallet, pet.” Her second command was as simply uttered as the first, and I didn’t even imagine hesitating. I pushed myself up on my knees and fished it out of my pocket, placing it in her waiting hand. She called me “pet.” It felt wonderful, beautifully possessive. Would she keep me? I couldn’t stop myself from being filled with hope.

The waitress returned with what I could only assume was the manager just in time to watch her drop two twenties on the table, a massive tip for a couple of two-dollar coffees. What did I care? What was a little money compared to what I might experience?

I followed at her heels as we headed towards the door. The college kids laughed and applauded us as we walked by, and the shame I expected never hit. I was proud, delighted that they had seen me in service to this powerful, perfect woman. I left the restaurant beaming and followed her around the corner to my car.

“Keys.”

At some point my wallet must have ended up in her bag, because when she stopped in front of me held her hand out without so much as bothering to look back at me, it was empty. Ever so briefly I feared she’d hop into my car and drive off, leaving me stranded at this dusty old diner with a slew of people who’d seen me for the little bootlicker I was, but I still handed over my keys quickly enough that I doubt she noticed.

She wasn’t interested in my hatchback, of course. The keys went straight into her bag before she paused for a beat, then spun around to face me.

“You want to be mine?” It wasn’t a question. It sounded more like an accusation. She took a step towards me and I backed up on instinct. “You want to belong to me?”

I nodded, but couldn’t quite make a sound. I took another step back when she got close enough that our bodies could touch. She was taller than me, especially in those massive boots, and I had to crane my neck when she stood over me, close enough that I could feel the breath from her words on my skin.

“Mine to hurt, however I wish. Mine to use however I desire. You want to be my property, little man? You want to be my toy?”

I nodded again, harder this time. God, I wanted it. I needed it. It was everything I’d wanted my entire life. These last five minutes with her were more fulfilling than anything I could have experienced in fifty years. I had to say something, had to make it more official.

“Yes, Miss!” My voice was revoltingly shaky and timid. Nothing like the conviction that I felt inside.

“Don’t call me ‘Miss.’” My next step back had me flat against the diner’s brick wall. She grabbed my jaw and shoved my head back so I could stare into her eyes, and my body surged with heat and desire. “There’s no half measures with me. I’ll possess you, totally and completely, and you will look up and call me God.”

I thought I’d feel silly saying it, but I didn’t. It felt good. It felt right.

“Yes, God.”

She laughed and patted my cheek, then leaned back a little, reaching down into her bag.

“Your world will forever change, pet. Your life, as you knew it, will end. If I take you, you will belong to me and me alone.” She pulled a band of black leather from her bag. Nothing remarkable just from the look of it, but I knew it was meant for my neck. I wanted it, more than I’d ever wanted anything from any woman in my life.

“Who do you worship?” She smiled as she unlocked the thick metal clasp.

“I worship You.” It was like call and response. I said the words like I’d rehearsed them a hundred times, easily, automatically.

“Who do you love?” She opened the collar, holding it before me, waiting to accept me.

“I love You.” Words I couldn’t say to girlfriends for years spilled out of me after just hours in her presence. It was true--I couldn’t imagine a life without Her.

“Who do you belong to?” I bowed my head and moved forward, leaning into Her leather’s embrace, shaking as I felt Her close and tighten it around my throat.

“I belong to You.”

She stepped back, leaving me to gasp and smile as I lifted my head to look upon Her. The parking lot’s floodlights buzzed and blurred and my vision swam, almost like I couldn’t focus on Her form. I was unsteady, uncertain, and crumpled to my knees, folding over with my face to the ground.

I don’t know how long I was disoriented, or if I even stayed completely conscious. Was this too much for me? It’s true I’d never had an experience like this, but I’d also never passed out just standing around.

“Wake up.”

Her voice exploded through me, all around me--far above me. I winced and jerked back, falling on my elbows, shrieked and shook my head in disbelief.

Her pointed toe stared back at me, at the end of a foot bigger than a truck. Her boot stretched up and up and up, black leather rising up along Her hundred-foot long leg as She towered over me, dark hair ringed in a halo of light from the street lamps above.

My God. She could do the impossible, fulfill Her deepest and darkest desires, and I was Her inches-tall toy.

“Surprise.”

For a moment I’d allowed myself the fantasy of being her pet, but I’d read Her texts. Seen Her videos, followed Her stories. All the more reason for my screams. I had no illusions when Her boot rose from the ground and a stiletto heel as long as my body settled before me with a sharp click. I tried to turn, tried to flee, but She lowered Her toes and Her sole crashed into me before I could even get up, before I could even crawl.

Bits of gravel and dirt clung to Her sole and dug into my flesh for a split second before my ribs buckled and snapped. I thrashed and screamed, fists hammering against Her hard, heavy unforgiving sole. There was no mercy, no teasing. She was just stepping on me, after all the messages, all the conversation, all the love.

My screams turned to gurgles as blood and viscera surged in my throat. I was nothing to Her. It was so easy to just squish me like any other insect stupid enough to cross Her path. The agony was blinding as more of my body simply gave way, crumpling as Her toes pushed down, and then there was the surge of colors and light and the deep crunch and squelch that I felt more than heard--my tiny skull bursting under Her boot.

But I still watched. I still saw Her, Her tremendous boot, the gory bits of me spurting out from under Her foot. I saw from a distance, still near the ground, hearing Her groan with soft satisfaction as Her boot slowly twisted back and forth, grinding what was left of me to an ugly reddish smear on the pavement.

The hazy reality that there was nothing recognizable left of me hovered at the edge of my consciousness, mingled with an inexplicable pulsing pleasure. I’d given Her my worship, my devotion, my love, and She’d crushed me like a bug, just because it turned her on. That was my body, pulverized beneath Her, and when She lifted Her toes, it was me that I saw, splattered across the bottom of Her boot, and in spite of everything, it was hotter than I ever could have imagined.

But then, the little lumps of gore started to lurch and roll towards wherever and whatever I was. Pieces of flesh peeled away from Her boot and drifted through the air. Searing torment overtook every bit of my senses as the bits of me piled together, knitting themselves into a united whole, piece by piece.

In the end, I was left gasping and heaving, facedown on the pavement in nothing but the collar She’d locked on me, as impossibly alive as I was impossibly three inches tall.

“You didn’t think I’d crush you so quickly if I only got to do it once, right?”

Her thumb and forefinger closed on my chest, smashing me in Her grasp as She lifted me from the ground.

“You’re mine, pet. Body and soul.”