Hand Crush by Heels.pdf

It was a crowded train car on the morning commute. The air was thick and humid, bodies pressed together in the sweltering heat. Among the throng stood Priya, a stunning Indian woman in a tight mini skirt and strappy high heeled mules that showed off her shapely legs. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and she wore minimal makeup that accentuated her exotic features.

As the train lurched forward, Priya stumbled slightly and regained her balance by placing one stiletto-heeled foot on the hand of a man sitting on one of the benches. "Oh! I'm so sorry," she apologized, her voice like warm honey. The man stared up at her, eyes wide, taking in the full length of her toned legs and the tantalizing glimpse of smooth inner thigh peeking from beneath her skirt.

"Go ahead, step on me," another man said from across the aisle, his voice low and suggestive. "Use my hands to balance yourself."

Priya smiled enigmatically and placed her other foot on his upturned palm. She stood there, teetering on her heels between the two men as the train rocked and swayed. Beads of sweat ran down between her breasts, which were clearly outlined in her tight blouse.

"Such a sexy woman shouldn't have to stand," said the second man, his voice thick with lust. "I'd like to worship between those gorgeous thighs of yours. Let me rest my face there for just a moment."

Priya considered his words for a long moment. Then, slowly, gracefully, she stepped off his hands and lowered herself to perch on his lap. She could feel his hardness pressing against her plump ass and inner thighs.

"Is this what you wanted?" she purred, shifting her weight and making him groan. "To be dominated by a powerful woman in a short skirt and heels?"

"Mmm, yes," he grunted, nuzzling his face between her barely-covered thighs. "You can use me however you want. Smother me with your sexy ass and legs."

Priya smirked and ground down harder, her soaked panties leaving a damp spot on his pants. She reached down to stroke his hair in a humiliating head-pat. "Such a good little footstool," she praised. "Maybe I'll let you lick my stilettos clean after they're done walking all over you."

The other men watched in envy as she casually sat on her human footrest, her strappy heels digging into the carpeted floor. She crossed her legs nonchalantly, letting her skirt ride up to give them a peek at her ass. Let them drool and wish they had the chutzpah to offer themselves to this bombshell like her current footstool did.

For now, she would take her pleasure from smothering his face between her thighs, marking him with her musky scent. The true alpha female, queen of all she surveyed from her high perch. And he was just her loyal, obedient footrest, groveling for the privilege of being under her feet.