Is there a more perfect expression of dominance than Trampling? A slave lies at my feet, face down. His naked back is exposed to me, waiting for my attentions. He is mine to play with. My rug, my little trample whore. The very act of walking on his back indicates that I am far superior to him.

I am, of course, wearing fabulous boots. Kinky heels and black leather with straps and buckles and all those little features that excite kinky minds. Before we got to this point, however, this slave and I may have been engaging in some boot worship to warm things up. He would have paid homage to me by licking and kissing my leather clad feet and sucking on my heel. I may have pressed a heel into his shoulder a little, just a little. Enough to remind him who is boss and what is to come, leaving a little red mark below his collarbone. A little mark that will soon fade but which he will remember.

Once he has satisfied my desire for worship, however, I move on. I stand over him in my towering heels and press one of them into his back. Again, just a little. A few spots over his back, pressing my heel down. I carry on, pressing harder each time. I build up the intensity, bit by bit. Then, when we are both ready, I climb up onto his back and he suffers my heels at their fullest. Can he tolerate this pain and humiliation? Do I care if he does or not? He has offered himself to do anything for me and what I wish is for him to allow me to walk on him.

If you want to suffer my trampling you should contact me by email: domme.sakura@gmail.com. If you are a good boy and are polite, I might allow you to choose which shoes I wear when I walk on your back.