I had to think a little about the situation, maybe because you want to know so much detail, but don’t forget, I was pretty drunk at the time and things get a little fuzzy you know.
I was there because I had been invited by the sound engineer to whom I had known for a long time and hadn’t seen for ages.
It had been an all day music festival, with bands continually playing all day and half way through the night. I had arrived early in the evening with my friend Sunday to catch the last few bands left to play and enjoy what was supposed to be a great evening of music.
The hall was really packed out and there were a lot of people crammed in, especially near the back where people were stood talking.
I had spent most of the time talking to the sound engineer, but when a band I wanted to see came on stage, I walked to the back of the room with my friend Sunday. We didn’t want to get crushed up the front when everyone started dancing… I just hate it when that happens.
Before I get into any detail here, I must state that what happened that evening was totally accidental and could have happened to anybody. There was far too much rubbish on the floor to start with and the room was not only full to its capacity, but was very dark.
I don’t think it helped that I was very drunk, but I was enjoying myself, so what?
I was wearing my ultra short black leather skirt and some fetish open toe, six inch stiletto shoes. They were patent leather with small silver buckles running down the side of the shoe and a mini padlock that locked my foot into the shoe itself. The stiletto heel was ultra thin and ended with a steel tip smaller than the blunt end of a standard pencil. The shoes themselves had a one inch platform and to be honest, I really loved them because they were so unusual.
Size five.
The inner arch between the heel and sole was well wicked. It was not like your standard shoe as the arch was straight up rather than the normal kind. It was both deep and high and gave you no option but to walk heel first at all times.
They were really cool and had cost me a fortune at the time. However, put on the end of a pair of recently waxed and even if I say so myself..... Young, long, toned and tanned legs. They were worth every penny and would catch most people’s attention wherever you walked. I was topped with my black leather waistcoat and silk white shirt. My hair was long, blonde and cut in a shaggy loose style.
I am Five foot Eight inches tall.
A thin 10 and a bit stone
Sunday had on her stiletto punk boots and a slightly longer bondage type dress. She always looked good so I’m not going to go on about her….she was always getting the boys attention anyway.
Together we were dressed to kill and both of us had the attitude to go with it.
Anyway, enough of the fashion shows.
I’m not sure of the exact reason this particular guy was on the floor, but there were a couple of them sprawled out at the back and just like most other concerts, you always get some drunken idiot that crashes out on the ground. They either get dragged back up by their mates or kicked around a bit until they realize were they are and crawl off to a safer position under a table or something. I don’t know why they just don’t throw them out when they get like that. There a real pain in the arse and I have seen them doing it at other concerts before now.
It was bloody difficult to see the ground never mind some silly boys that had passed out amongst the rubbish on the floor and totally leaving themselves sprawled out for someone to trip over. The one was so well gone, that people must have been kicking him and treading on him for quite some time as he lay unconscious amongst their feet and know body had seen him lying there because the crowd was just too busy enjoying themselves above him. You just don’t expect that sort of thing.
I bet he already had a few heel marks in him anyway, because there were some lovely boots there that evening and with him being such a small and rather skinny man, he must have felt like a twig underfoot, even if you had walked directly onto his chest or something.
Anyway, he was sprawled out on his back and could have been there all day for all I know.
The evening was going really well, but after a while, Sunday and I decided to go back to the sound engineer when the area we were in began to get too crowded, it would be much safer there and a lot less hassle. You can get unwanted gropes and touching when you’re in a mini skirt, especially in a big crowd.
As we began walking forward, I remember standing directly on an upturned drinks can that suddenly crunched under my foot sending me reeling forward.
As I moved, I felt my right stiletto hit something. I new I had trodden directly onto something with my heel because the front end of my foot bowed forward. A skinny stiletto is not the best of things to try and balance on at the best of times, but when you are half drunk, it's a real pain in the backside.
Just when I thought my heel was secure on whatever I had stepped on, I felt myself tilting forward as my heel went straight through what ever it was on the floor. It felt like I had put my heel through a floor board, or something with a semi hard surface and soft interior like a big potato. My foot suddenly squashed through whatever it was and hit the floor with a bump.
I honestly didn't hear a scream or anything and as I carried on going forward, my heel was well on it’s way to totally entering a guy’s face just under the cheek bone. His head was lying sideways, so my heel easily penetrated the skin and ended up going right through his mouth and out the other side. I must have knocked out one of the boy’s teeth as my thin stiletto heel carried on straight through his face. It’s odd, but even though it was my heel that did the damage, I still felt a little crunch as my foot went further down through the man’s head.
Yuck, it’s really strange to think of now, but at the time it didn’t feel like someone's face at all, it felt more like a big ball of blue tack or a cabbage or something. There was then a little slip as my full weight hit the stiletto’s tip and moved it around until it settled itself firmly on the ground. I remember some bloke behind me holding out his arms in case I did fall, and then pulling back quickly when I turned and scowled at him. He should be so lucky and it’s a good job he didn’t touch me or I would have slapped him one.
I now very innocently had a man’s face pinned to the floor with my stiletto heel and was holding him down with my full weight while I steadied myself. I new I had stood on something unusual and almost froze standing upright in case I slipped again. I thought at first that I had stood on someone's foot but when I looked down to check, I saw my right stiletto sticking right through this dirty rubbery looking thing and was quite relieved I had not hurt someone’s toe or something.
At first it was totally weird, I couldn’t see any blood or anything and I stayed stood on top of it trying to look down to work out what it was. It looked like I was standing on a funny rubber mask that someone had lost on the floor and left to be kicked around and trampled.
I must have stood looking curiously down at him for ages and my half drunken state was not allowing me to see anything other than some crumpled up stupid mask, which was now half covered and twisted under my shoe and my stiletto heel going straight through it.
I guess because it didn’t do anything it was o.k.
Truth be known, I was so drunk, I was probably trying to work out if it was a famous person mask or just one of those full faced funny ones. I don’t know why it mattered, it would probably still get squashed whatever it was and it already looked half ruined anyway.
I also remember thinking at the time, that whoever lost this awful thing was going to find it full of holes when they got it back, which would serve them right for dropping it on the floor in the first place.
To be brutally honest, I really didn’t care at that moment as to what it was I was standing on, because I never really thought it would be a mans actual face. Besides which, there was so much else going on, that I was about to ignore what it was altogether, give up ever trying to get back to the sound engineer and start dancing away with Sunday.
The reason this mans face was so hard to work out, is that when I had first stepped onto him and my heel slid through his cheek, my drunken weight pushed the ball of my foot right over his top lip. This not only broke his nose with the edge of my shoe, but it had squeezed and jammed his top jaw right into my shoes arch and forced it all the way to the top were it stayed fixed to the bottom of my shoe. I had then very innocently began to squash it up even tighter as I stupidly stood pressing down until my foot felt level to the floor again.
I knew my foot had finally gone through whatever it was, because I could feel the stilettos metal tip clicking on the floor as I stamped my heel onto the ground a couple of times. Unfortunately, by doing this I simply jammed his jaw, teeth and nose so far up the arch, it became seriously stuck like a piece of meat you sometimes get stuck in your tooth.
It is so difficult to explain this situation without making myself look stupid or something, but in reality, I don’t think anyone else would have been able to tell what it was either. It is just not something you expect and all I wanted to do was enjoy myself.
The crowd around us was now so tight, we had no option but to stand where we were and any irritation I may have felt from this thing under my foot had to wait until the crowd thinned out.
When I think about it, other people must have been standing on top of this man’s body, arms and legs, because there was not a space to be seen. I know I tried dancing for a while, which is not too easy in a crowd like this and probably kicked and dragged this poor man’s head around like a meatloaf while I grooved to the music. I do actually remember my other heel catching hold of it as I did dance and I must have given him a few really good boots when I brought my feet together.
I have a feeling I pulled out most of his hair as well, because I could feel my heel ripping at something on the odd occasion. I hope it was his hair anyway, he would have been in a right state if my heels were actually catching his head and his face would stand no chance if I got my way and pushed a space for myself to really let rip.
In hindsight, it would have been bloody awful to have done this because I was actually very drunk and would have ended up kicking and crushing this poor mans face under my shoe while I danced the night away. My steel tipped stiletto heels would have eventually ripped his face right open and I guess I would have trodden on him a quite a few more times before I had ever noticed him. After all, who the hell thinks it’s a man’s face squishing around under their feet with the rest of the rubbish on the floor. Especially while you innocently dance away on top of him trying to look sexy and cool. Besides which, other people had obviously been trampling him as well and nobody else said anything.
His head looked so small and didn’t look like a man at all. Admittedly, my shoe had distorted his face so much by squashing half of it off, I was very simply dismissing him as just another bit of tack stuck to my shoe and would therefore only have looked down again if it really began to bother me that much and begin to cramp my style.
However, I even doubt I would have been bothered to do that once I had really started dancing and would have waited until it had dropped off somewhere and became someone else’s problem.
I had seriously got to the point, that even if I had taken the time to get it off, I knew it would soon be replaced by something else, especially with these heels, they were very much like a park attendants spiked litter picker and no matter how I tried, they were continually picking up something.
I have literally dragged some woman’s handbag half way around the dance floor before now after the strap had got tangled up in my heel. Stupid people, they deserve to loose things if they leave them on the floor and when I’m half drunk I’m all over the place.
Put it this way, I made sure I was on the other side of the dance floor before I kicked her stupid bag off, so she would then have to run around trying to look for it.
Luckily for the drunk on the floor, I had decided to stand relatively still the next time I danced and calmly smooched for a while just behind Sunday. I slowly moved my body around and got into the slow rhythm of the bands music. I knew I had great legs and wanted to show them off as I danced, but unfortunately, the only one who would get a good view of them in this crowd, was the poor thing being shuffled around in the dirt under my shoe. It’s a shame really, because I am actually a good dancer when it comes down to it.
I closed my eyes and gently swayed from side to side without a care in the world with Sunday doing the same just in front of me. We loved dancing like this and it was just nice to be able to do a sexy dance for a change.
I could actually feel this thing under my foot as it got dragged from side to side while I danced, but after a while I got use to it and probably even forgot it was there. As horrible as that may sound, I know it only bothered me for a little while anyway, and hey, I was dancing and was more interested in the music. What the hell do you expect; I didn’t know I was dragging some guys face around every time I took a step somewhere.
Besides, even when I think about it now, it was not difficult to move my foot at all and basically it just felt like my heel was caught in another handbag and I was really not going to grovel around on the floor just to pick up someone else’s lost property. I would much rather kick this thing around under my foot all night than lower myself like that. and when it comes down to it, I had actually spent most of the earlier part of the evening kicking off rubbish and drinks cans from my heels anyway and had just got bloody fed up with it.
I couldn’t take my shoes off either because of the mess on the floor. I did think about it, but Yuk, you never know what’s down there and had I trodden on a drinks can, I would have hurt myself.
Anyway, my foot was able to get a stable hold.
Sunday then reached back behind her and pulled my arms around her waist, we then smooched a little longer as I snuggled into her back and swayed to her rhythm.
When I think about it, I was so closely cuddled up to Sundays back that her boots must have been in this poor guy’s face as well and we must both have been squashing him between our feet as we danced. How terrible really, I bet Sunday’s boots did some damage as well and all this guy must have seen was a bloody big set of heels rubbing away his face, while another set was pinning him down as the two girls wearing them danced away above him.
At one point I needed to put out my cigarette so I dropped it on the floor were it landed right next to this poor mans face. It brought him back into my view but I still simply could not work out that it was a man I was standing on. I will say again and again in my defense, it was very dark, I was really quite drunk and there really was a lot of other stuff I was treading on as well. I don’t want to go on about it, but unless you have walked on a floor like this, you will not know what I mean.
Anyway, I guess you can look at the funny side of things, I actually took his head with my foot when I trod on the cigarette butt to put it out, then I bounced his head around as I tried to scrape the flattened butt off my shoe afterwards. It was so ironic, here I was with a man’s face stuck up the arch of my shoe while I was worried about a cigarette butt being stuck under my foot and burning my shoes.
Just before I did take my eyes back away from him and really got on with it to a rocky tune the band were now playing, I saw him try to open his mouth and his tongue slipped out. He looked straight up at me even though his head was still firmly trapped sideways and completely distorted under my shoe. His little eye fluttered open and closed at me, which is really sad, because it must have been so painful and awful being were he was, I mean stuck under someone’s shoe of all things, with some silly woman looking down at him like he was just rubbish and wasn’t going to do anything for him except stare at him and squash him when she moved. I really didn’t mean to be like that and had I known, I would have done something about it. I just hate to think I was just standing there with him pinned under my shoe all this time and he must have been so frightened when I was dancing.
It must have been pure instinct, but my first reaction was to kick my foot forward to try and shake his head off my heel, which must have really pulled his head around because it seemed like it was stuck on my shoe for such a long time and I just could not get it off. Nobody batted an eyelid and must have thought I was doing some sort of weird dance or something, even Sunday picked up her rhythm and joined in.
I didn't realize that I was simply pulling this head back and forth rather than simply trying to lift my heel straight out. Besides which, his little face really was jammed tight into the arch of my shoe and he was not being very helpful to himself either.
I know this is going to sound a bit silly, but at one point he looked a bit funny stuck down there to be honest and I could shake his head around really easily. His hair looked like a mop and it was pretty awesome to have someone's face getting that crushed up and distorted under your shoe like this. I mean, it was such a weird rush and I could so easily have squashed his face up even worse if I wanted and he just seemed to be crumpled up like a discarded milk shake carton under my foot. Honestly, he did not look human at all.
The rest of my shoe was really pressing his nose sideways, leaving it broken from the force of my hard shoe hitting him the first time round and no matter how I tried I just could not shift him away. He really was stuck there getting continually trodden on, while I unknowingly used him to walk around on.
He was completely and utterly under my control, as his head had to go were ever I put my foot and goodness knows what he must have been thinking if he realized what had happened to him.
He must have thought he had died and come back as a woman’s shoe, only to be worn by me and kicked around a dance floor like I didn’t respect my own footwear or something. I can’t imagine how many scuffs and scrapes he ended up with after a few dances and he had picked up other bits of rubbish that had stuck to his face and hair making it even more unrecognizable.
Anyway, I wanted to put my other foot on his head and give the stuck stiletto a good tug, but I could not get my balance right and ended up stabbing him and wobbling all over him as I unwillingly kicked and squashed him further under my shoe. This is when the blood really started coming out and the poor face went really white. I am sure he kept passing out because he gave no resistance to my frantic kicks and stamps, or there were other people standing on his arms and things and stopping him from doing anything. He just seemed really limp on the end of my leg and didn’t do anything.
I could not help what I did and I see it as his fault for being on the floor. I shall never forgive him for having his face there in the first place and totally messing up my evening.
It is also really strange what pops into your mind at a time like this, because I had also been thinking, this guy has been looking up my mini skirt all night and I’m really glad I put on knickers. He must have had a really good view when I was dancing and probably felt like I was using him or something.
I don’t know if he had tried shouting at any time, you think he would have done, but the music was so loud it probably covered up any cry for help. In any case, how would you know where the voice was coming from in this crowd? There were lots of cheers and people singing all the time, so his voice would have been muffled and lost anyway.
After a few minuets of my silly efforts on tugging his head around and bouncing his scull under my heel, I pulled Sunday around and showed her what was happening. She casually looked down and squinted at the floor. I guess she made the same mistake as me and could not work out what the hell I was on about.
“What?” She shouted. “He’s stuck on my shoe” I replied. She looked back down to my feet again and shouted “don’t worry” she then suddenly started to kick what she thought was an old towel or rag entwined around my heel trying to get it free for me. It was so dirty by now, his face I mean, from being kicked around and stuck under my feet while I danced. Sunday would not have known any different and thought she was being helpful in her attempts to free this thing from under my shoe.
It became a bit of a comedy act with both of us trying to get this dirty face off my shoe and we totally wrecked whatever looks this poor man had. Two stupid, drunk girls kicking and stamping away on someone’s face as he lay helplessly trapped by a big stiletto heel.
I know it sounds awful, but the thing that really haunts me, is the fact that we were both looking down and giggling as we did this. I was giggling with fright and Sunday was giggling because she thought it was funny and we must have looked like two silly school girls having a great time.
Some of Sunday’s kicks were so hard, that she almost had me on the floor. She would then burst out laughing and do it again, I thought, you stupid woman, you must think it’s a game or something and had no idea of what she was kicking away at. She tried using her heel on it and even gripped both my shoulders to keep me steady while she tried scrapping away on it with the edge of her boot to try and peel it off.
In a lot of ways I just let her do it, because I just wanted this thing off my shoe.
I began to feel really ill and thought I was going to throw up, this would have been the last thing the poor man would have wished for and it’s a good job I didn’t because he would have got most of it on top of him.
Eventually I managed to pull my stiletto out of his cheek and stupidly, the first thing I did was check my heel.
I know that sounds stupid, but I stayed standing over him while he lay helplessly at my feet and lifted my foot up to check my heel. Well, they were really nice shoes and I was worried I had damaged them.
Looking back at it now, I don’t know why I did that, it was not done out of spite or anything nasty like that, but those shoes cost me a lot of money and I had just had them re heeled. Besides, I did have to go home in them as well thank you very much.
Sunday said he had no choice but to stay were he was after I had pulled my stiletto out, because I had stood on his hair and pinned him down once more as I fumbled around above him on one leg while stupidly checking my shoe. She said she could see him looking up at me in horror while I held my stiletto in my hand and started to give it a good looking over. He must have really felt abused and it makes me feel really silly to have done this, but I think it was a combination of nerves and anger over the situation and at the time, the guy on the floor was simply an irritation, like I had just trodden in dog crap and it had ruined my best shoes before the party.
By this time the guy was covered in blood and when I looked at Sunday.......she was bloody laughing!! I could not believe it, the silly cow then only wanted to start kicking him again and I’m sure she managed to catch him at least once or twice with her boot, even though I was pushing her away.
She probably wet herself with excitement and would have willingly stayed and stamped on the poor mans head had nobody noticed. It is a good job it was me rather than Sunday who had stood on the poor man as he would have had no chance under Sunday’s boots because she would really have laid into him, simply for being there.
I never got to see what he looked like afterward because I rushed off and hid by the sound engineer. Sunday soon followed and we left the drunk on the floor for someone else to find or continue to be trampled on by someone else. Sunday said she saw him with his mates while they waited for an ambulance and she said he looked like he had been in a car accident and was laid out on a couch with some St Johns ambulance people looking over him. That could mean anything, but Sunday just thinks the whole thing was funny and kept laughing about it.
She brought every newspaper under the sun the following day and eventually found a write up about it.
The paper said; “Two people seriously hurt at concert”.
Well, we knew about the one, but what happened to the other we don’t know. But at least I could feel I was not the only stupid drunk there that night and Sunday said at least he survived my dancing.
All the paper said about injuries was; multiple stab wounds and injuries to the face and torso. Oops!
Sunday was really upset she missed what happened and it was like an inquisition afterwards as she wanted to know every single detail about how it felt.
The following morning we found some blood and teeth marks on my heel and to me the whole thing was a bit scary and weird. And yes, I carried on wearing my shoes for ages afterward and why not, I really liked them. Sunday nicknamed them the jaw droppers, which I did not find funny at all.
Sunday still giggles about it even now.... bitch.
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