As the sun began to set on the luxurious mansion, the bride-to-be, Sarah, smiled mischievously at her closest friends gathered around her. It was supposed to be a day of pampering and celebration before she tied the knot with her
fiancé.
However, these women were no ordinary bridesmaids. They had a secret plan in store for their bachelorette party, one that would leave the groom-to-be trembling in anticipation.
Their target was James, a willing participant who had been hired to cater to their unique desires. He stood tall and strong, oblivious to what lay ahead.
The women, dressed in their finest attire, led James into the mansion’s grand ballroom. The atmosphere was electric with excitement as they closed in on him. The trample party had begun.
One by one, the women took turns walking over James, each placing their full weight upon his body. The crunching sound of his shoes cracking underfoot was music to their ears. They laughed and chattered amongst themselves, reveling
in the thrill of power dynamics.
Sarah’s closest friend, Emily, went first, her high heels clicking with precision as she trampled over James’s chest. Next up was Rachel, who enjoyed watching James squirm beneath her feet. The women took turns, each contributing to
the collective pleasure they derived from subjugating him.
The trample party continued for hours, with the women taking breaks only to rehydrate and exchange stories of their individual exploits. It wasn’t until the night had worn on that they finally finished their ritualistic trampling.
Panting and giggling, the women collectively cheered as James stood up, his body bruised but his spirit unbroken. They handed him a wad of cash, which he accepted with a mixture of relief and satisfaction.
“Thank you, ladies,” he said with a bow, “I’ll be sure to remember this night for a long time.”
With their secret safe, the women celebrated the rest of the night, basking in the afterglow of their collective thrill-seeking adventure. And James, his pockets heavy with cash, walked away into the night, ready to take on another
trample session whenever it might come.