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Cement Shoes

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This story was original hosted on the Sticky-Site website's Story section and has been posted her as a recovered archive. This story was written and posted by user: Ardvark.


Cement Shoes by Anonymous

She walked through the casino parking garage. It was very late, and she had been playing blackjack all night. She had a great arrangement going on with one of the pit bosses. He let her win while she kept him sexually satisfied. Her boyfriend Tony never knew what was going on, or so she thought.Suddenly, a black Cadillac pulled up alongside her. It had been silently tailing her, but she never heard it because she only wearily thought about reaching her car. Just as it stopped, a large man bolted out, whisking her into the back seat.

"Where are you taking me?", she asked in vain. The Cadillac sped towards the Jersey Shore into the night. Though she was blindfolded for the duration, she could tell from the salt air that they were headed for the docks. The Cadillac stopped alongside a party fishing boat, and its passengers filed out and headed up its walkway. She stumbled awkwardly onto the boat, where she was led into a dimly-lit room. The blindfold was removed, and the first thing she saw was a large tub of wet cement. Her worst fears were suddenly realized. She looked incredulously at her captors, hoping it wasn't what she though it was,... but it was! She started to cry, the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Take your shoes off hon, your gettin' a custom fit!", a raspy voice called out to her.

Reluctantly, she slipped off her shiny black pumps, revealing a stunning pair of bare feet. The floor felt cold and damp and slightly itchy as she stood, staring down at her alabaster feet. "O.K. hon, you know what comes next, let's go!", the voice said again. Not only was she going to die, she was going to feel the instrument of her death between her toes! The focus was on her face. All eyes could see her moving slightly forward and left; she was lifting her right foot. Suddenly, a slow, slurping, gurgly sound could be heard. It was the sound she made as a young girl, when she played barefoot in the mud,... but this wasn't mud! Her face began to writhe in agony as the cold cement sent a chill through her leg, up her spine. The sucking sound culminated in a dull thud; her foot had reached the bottom of the tub. Her tears intensified - she began to plead, "No, please, no...", but to no avail.

Cement Shoes

"C'mon now hon, you can do it again!", the voice beckoned. Slowly, the focus moved down as she proceeded to lift her left foot. A dim light sparkled off her gold ankle bracelet. She raised her foot and began to splay her beautifully pedicured toes, which were painted a seductive red. She gingerly penetrated the silky cement with her long, slender toes. The thick, sticky mass oozed and lathed between them, making the same gurgling sound as her other foot. As she bared down with her weight, the displaced cement engulfed her foot hungrily, sucking it down around her ankle. Finally, there was another thud, and she was standing well past her ankles in the batter-like substance. A chair was produced and she was invited to sit down, while her hands were tied behind her back.

She began to wriggle her toes in the thickening slag. It seemed to get warmer as she churned it between her toes, around her soles, then past her ankles in a continuous circular motion. It felt almost relaxing, not unlike the paraffin treatments she would get at the beauty salon. If she kept it up, could she prevent it from setting? She found she couldn't swirl her feet non-stop for more than a minute. Each revolution seemed slightly more difficult than the previous. It was as if thousands of tiny strands of thread were weaving between her toes, slowly binding them together.

The voice called out again, "Don't bother squishin' it up hon, it's quick-drying!" She tried to keep it up for a few minutes, but eventually lapsed into an exhausted stupor as she contemplated her fate. Time passed by, but she got no feedback from her captors. Who were they? What had she done to deserve this? There were no answers. Finally, the leader called out, as if to gauge time, "Why don't you try wigglin' your toes now hon?" She couldn't remember if she had been doing this all the while. She lost track of time. How much had elapsed? Five minutes? Thirty minutes? She proceeded to wiggle her tired digits, then began crying harder. "I can't!", she said with a whimper. The cement had completely hardened, encasing her beautiful bare feet from her shins to her toes!

Cement Shoes2

Finally, the leader called out, "O.K. hon, we're ready for the next phase!" Someone went behind her and cut her hands loose. Two large men on either side helped her out of the chair. She lacked circulation in her arms and legs and began to shiver. She almost collapsed under her own weight, her legs too weak to hold her up. A handtruck was wheeled behind her, and the two men strained to set her upon it.

Suddenly she realized that she would soon meet her demise. She began to scream and howl, competing with the loud squeaking from the handtruck wheels. A side door was flung open to reveal choppy water, lit by the light of the moon. She stood by the edge, tottering with each pitch of the boat, trying to maintain her balance. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, "This is what you get for stealing from my Family!" It was Tony! She tried to call out to him, but could feel a shove in her lower back. She fell overboard and plunged into the sea, her arms reaching over her head to grab the heavens.

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