My doormat awaits me, splayed out before the X-cross. He understands that I may require something to alleviate my burdens, but he is unaware that my heels will not suffice this time. As I approach, my gait is unsteady, accentuated by the towering, spiked stilettos I don. The doormat greets me, planting a kiss upon my shoes, but I quickly inform him that I am in a malicious mood today.
With each step I take, his cries of agony are immediate, my heels leaving deep imprints in his flesh. He pleads for respite, but I have declared that I will show no mercy. I tread further, my heels sinking deeper, and when I arrive at his genitals, he begs for mercy. Yet, there is nothing to be saved.
The marks I leave resemble the bites of a serpent, growing more numerous by the minute as I continue to trample him, relishing in the marks I create.