The pounding was relentless. Footfall after footfall landed uncaringly on him, and now he couldn’t get up even if he wanted to. As one model reached the steps and stopped pinning Eddie down with her weight, the next one was already on top of him, crushing more coarse beach sand through Eddie’s clothes and into his soft skin, crushing more air from his lungs. He could feel the blood rushing into his head, and it felt as though his skull was about to burst. He couldn’t relax, couldn’t breath, couldn’t replace the air that was being punched out of him. As one model left, the next arrived, on top of him in a most crushingly powerful way. He didn’t even have time to tense his body against the trampling. Each foot that thumped down on him pounded his muscles into a squirming layer of unresponsiveness, helpless and waiting for the next footfall.
Eddie quickly lost count. He guessed 3, maybe 4 had passed him, when the fifth one slowed on his chest, passed more slowly. Assumedly the large models weren’t all that fast when climbing stairs, and there was a queue. The rest of the models walked over him slowly too, often pausing on his chest. There would be one stationary on his chest, one around his crotch, and one somewhere down by his legs, all waiting, then moving slowly. The footfalls were more gentle, but the crushing pressure was irresistible, and more prolonged. Eddie soaked up the feeling completely. He was carrying perhaps two hundred and fifty kilograms of sexy woman on his torso at any one time, and by now his body had been pummeled into a state of non resistance. Eddie just relaxed, accepted that he had no control over his fate now, and enjoyed every ounce of mass balancing on him. As another foot, perhaps the fourth in the parade to do so, found his penis and squashed it against that specially prepared layer of sand, Eddie felt his passion involuntarily rushing down to his member. Just before it got there, the pressure on his penis relaxed, and Eddie’s charging climax found its way into his pants.
At last the pounding stopped. All ten models must now be on the stage. Eddie’s passion dissolved with his climax , and he started to become rationally aware of his situation. The sand had been compacted around Eddie such that he could still feel where the major pressure had been on his chest and abdomen. His body started stinging all over where the course sand had been forced deep into his skin. The booming continued, and gained rhythm. They must be playing music. Eddie wanted to get out now. He’d tried his luck, he’d got away with it this far, he didn’t want to take any more chances. He wanted to run home as fast as he could. He wanted to take his camera, take his snorkel, and just run. He thought of how much he would enjoy playing the video back that night. There was no doubt that the models had crushed him, and every single one of them had stood on some or other part of him. Over one ton of women had just walked all over him as though he did not exist. There would be no escape though, not until the show was over.
Escape. For all his planning, Eddie had not considered how he was actually going to get out of his hole. How was he going to know when to come up to the surface? Would he even be able to, now that the sand was compacted around him? Was it enough to trap him? He did not dare test it to find out. The show started at eight o clock in the morning, and would be finished by eleven o clock. That left eight hours of daylight for him to wait through, if he wanted to emerge after dark. And he was horribly uncomfortable already. What if they decided to dismantle the stage before then? Even if Eddie did not get discovered before then, his camera and snorkel surely would. Now that the passionate tide that had washed over him so completely a few minutes earlier had ebbed, Eddie’s mind was clear and focussed on the problem. But it found no solution. After a while Eddie was distracted as the booming P.A. system grew in volume. Something new was happening. Eddie’s concentration peaked again.
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