Mistress Azumi and Mistress Q are goddesses of control, and today, they crushed me—literally. Clad in gleaming latex bodies and black stockings, their heels were sharp, their presence overwhelming, and their demands unforgiving.

The session began with foot worship. On my knees, I kissed and licked their boots as ordered, desperate to earn their approval. But it was never enough. “Pathetic,” Mistress Q sneered, digging her stiletto into my chest. “You’re not even trying.” Mistress Azumi followed with a sharp kick that left me gasping.

“Maybe trampling will teach you,” Azumi said coldly, shoving me to the floor. They both took turns stepping on me, their heels digging into my skin, crushing me under their weight. Mistress Q pressed her heel into my face, forcing me to kiss it while Azumi ground her boot into my stomach, laughing at my helpless squirming.

When they decided I’d had enough beneath their heels, the real punishment began. Secured and immobile, I could only watch as Mistress Q strapped on an impossibly large toy. “Since you failed so miserably, you’ll be broken properly,” she declared. They used me brutally, each thrust harder than the last, driving me to the edge of my limits.

But they didn’t stop there. Mistress Azumi took over, forcing me to endure repeated milking, extracting every drop as my body shook with overstimulation. Mistress Q mocked my weakness, her whip cracking across my thighs when I begged for mercy. “Dogs don’t beg,” she hissed, her latex-clad hand tightening on my leash.

Post-orgasm, the torture continued. They used clamps and toys, pushing me beyond exhaustion, ignoring my cries as they teased me to the brink of passing out. “You’re nothing but our toy,” Azumi whispered in my ear before delivering the final, unbearable blow of overstimulation that left me blacking out under their control.

When I awoke, they were gone, leaving me broken, humiliated, and utterly owned. Their laughter still echoed in my ears, a haunting reminder of my place beneath their heels.Foot fetish