Her private CBT dancefloor

What follows is the account of a woman, 27 years old, who won a competition thrown by an underground fetish club. Her highly unusual prize was to be given sole access to a specially cordoned-off section of dance-floor on a raised stage on the next fetish club night.  Under this floor lay the second winner of this bizarre competition, an unnamed 37 year old man.  The man was completely covered by the raised stage, except for his penis and testicles which were protruding through a tight hole in the stage.  Below the stage floor he was naked, and for his own safety his arms and legs were strapped to the real floor below. The stage floor itself was one-inch thick ply board except for a small strip of thick glass above the man's eyes.  With no lighting below the stage it was impossible to see his face through this glass, however he himself was able to see the room above which, although dark, was sporadically illuminated by the club lighting system. 

Both winners were fully aware of the nature of the prizes on offer when they entered this competition. In particular, the man understood that there was no means for him to leave his position or to summon help until he was released at the end of the night.  For the woman's part, she was advised that she was explicitly exempted from any and all liabilities arising during the evening.

What follows is the woman's personal account of the evening, in her own words.

...........

I couldn't believe the day had finally arrived, almost six long weeks after winning this amazing once-in-a-lifetime competition. That Saturday, the day of the club night, I was so nervous and so excited. All day I hardly managed to eat a thing, and as I was getting ready to go to the club in the evening I got cold flushes and shakes. In fact I had such a sense of nervous anticipation I was came close to throwing up, twice! Needless to say it took me even longer than normal to get dressed and made up, but eventually I did, keeping things simple with a short black skirt, a glittery silver bikini-top, bare legs and my favourite boots, a pair of under-the-knee fuck-me leather boots, with pointed toes and pencil-thin 4 inch stiletto heels. I love those boots as the leather fits tight to the calf which makes them feel very secure, and very sexy!

With my preparations taking longer than planned, I didn't arrive at the club until an hour in to the evening. At first I was annoyed with myself for wasting time, but felt better when I realised the club wouldn't be closing for another five hours.  The cool air of the autumn night had calmed my nerves a little and I made my way past the door staff, queuing alongside the other clubbers.  I had been to this club countless times before, it's my favourite night out, but this time was different.  I showed my winning competition ticket to the entry staff and was taken aside. After a few minutes one of the club staff came down and welcomed me, before leading me downstairs to the club proper.  She lead me past the familiar dance-floor, up a couple of steps on to one of the performance stages and lifted a rope barrier in the corner of the stage.   I was in a bit of a daze at this point, everything seemed to be going so fast!  I think my guide noticed and asked if I was OK. Yes, I was OK, just excited.  She laughed, gave me a hug, and reassured me that this was my evening to enjoy.  This small space, my own cordoned area of floor, was maybe two yards square, and I couldn't help looking down at the floor to get a look at the male genitals I was expecting to find.  With the floor and walls painted soot black, and with only occasional beams of flashing lights illuminating my little corner, it was very hard to see anything at all as I looked down.  My guide noticed my perplexed expression and reassured me: "Don't worry, he's down there, waiting for you. Look."  With that she took out a flashlight and shone it on the floor.  Sure enough, there was a man's genitals lying exposed on the floor, through what looked like a very tight hole.  I took her flashlight and lent down, curious to get a closer look at my prize.  I was taken aback to see that the waiting cock was indeed there, and was hard, bulging, almost straining.  At its base, the sac, and the two bulbous orbs of my fellow competition winner's testicles were very visible. They looked full, tense and expectant.  At that moment as I looked down at this unexpectedly fine specimen of manhood, I remember thinking how beautiful his cock was.  I felt a moistening tingle between my legs as I imagined riding it, feeling it plunging deep inside me.  I instinctively ran my finger up its length, feeling the warm, silky soft skin and seeing it twitch and spasm in response. I thought about all the women this lovely cock must have pleasured in its lifetime, and I felt sad to think it would only ever bring pleasure to one more woman, me, tonight.  I thought about all the all the wet, hungry cunts those generous balls must have exploded inside and I couldn't help a single tear rolling down my cheek as I realised they would never fill any woman ever again.

Composing myself, I gave the flashlight back to my guide and mumbled something about getting a drink.  She smiled, wished me luck and left as I made my way to the bar.  The music was pounding, heavy and electronic, and I felt disorientated by my confused emotions.

Gathering myself by the bar I ordered a rum and coke to calm my nerves, and then another.  It didn't take long before I could feel my nervous tension ease as the alcohol took effect.  I remember thinking back over all the nights I'd spent lying in bed imagining this moment since I'd won this amazing competition, and I soon started to feel energised and excited.  I ordered one more run and coke which I gulped down a little too quickly as I made my way from the bar back to my private dance-floor.  By the time I got there I was distinctly tipsy and I remember laughing out loud at myself as I fumbled with the rope barrier, amazed by the sheer surrealism of the situation.

Safely back in my private dance-floor, I pulled myself together and gingerly walked towards the centre of my little square, not quite sure what to do. I knew what I was supposed to do, but this felt strange.  Looking down, the floor was pitch black again, so using my left foot I carefully prodded and felt around the floor until I felt something. There it was. Still there, waiting for me, hard and expectant.  In my fantasies I'd just imagined dancing with wild abandon, shredding the helpless cock and balls beneath my spike heels without a care, but now I was here I couldn't help realise there was a real man under me, one who was about to give up his manhood for me.  As I reflected on this I felt a wave of pleasure in my womb which tingled out through my body. I felt ready.

With my nerves eased by the alcohol, I decided the best thing was to move to the edge of my little dance-floor and just spend some time getting into the groove of the music. I did my best to forget about the man lying naked, just inches under under me, and tried to focus on the music and the atmosphere of the club.  By this time the main dance-floor was packed out and the pulsing music was pumping out, loud and insistent. Standing at the edge of my little floor, I relaxed my body and let the groove enter me, allowing my body to start to respond in time to the beat, forgetting all other thoughts.  It didn't take long before the music had fully taken hold and I was at one with the groove.  Lost in this moment, I actually forgot about the man below and just enjoyed the familiar pleasure of dancing, and it was a good few minutes before I remembered the real reason I was there.  It was then too that I remembered my dance-floor had been fitted with a small glass viewing window for the benefit of the man underneath. I couldn't see where it was, but I smiled to myself at the thought of him looking up between my legs as I danced above him.  I had no idea how clearly he could see, but I hoped he'd at least get some pleasure from the fact that I'd chosen not to wear any panties under my short skirt.

Now under the spell of the music, and with my nervousness replaced with anticipation, I felt myself groove slowly towards the centre of my little dance square.  As I did, I was taken aback when the sole of my foot landed on something and slipped sideways, causing me to stumble slightly.  I don't know why I was surprised, but I suppose the reality of the situation had still not quite hit home.  I didn't know exactly what I'd stepped on, but it felt quite hard so I supposed it was his erect cock. I regained my composure and let the music take me again, staying around the centre area.  After a few steps, I again felt something under my boot, and then again.  Over the next minute or so I gained confidence in dancing on this unusual, uneven surface, and before long I was dancing without a care, just as I'd done in my fantasies. As I drifted around my private area I'd still feel something under my feet every now and then, but I found that the best approach was to keep my rhythm and not try to second-guess when I might land on part of the exposed manhood at my feet.

I'd only been dancing properly for a few minutes, but already the club was really pounding and I was being swept along, now relishing the thought of the invisible cock and balls under my dancing heels.  I'd probably only landed on his cock a few time and indeed when I did it still felt big and hard under my soles. Even after this relatively short time I was amazed how strong this man's cock and balls seemed to be. Although I couldn't see them they still formed very obvious bulges on the floor which I could feel as I was dancing.  Emboldened, I continued grooving, my pencil-thin stilettos stabbing down relentlessly on the hollow floor. I wondered how it sounded like to my partner!

Focusing more in the centre of my space now, I was aware that by now most of my steps were landing on male flesh.  When they did, I made a point of continuing unaffected, even if, as would often happen, my foot would roll off to the side as it came down on the man's cock or balls.  After a while I started to get familiar with the different sensations as my boot would land on different parts of the man's genitals.  It was easy to tell when the sole of my boot landed on his cock, as I could feel it as a long length under my sole before I invariable slipped and rolled off it. The most treacherous thing seemed to be when my sole landed on his balls.  Most times, as my weight came down on them, they would compress and then just as my weight was transferring on to that foot, they would suddenly ping out to the side of my sole. On more than a few occasions I came close to twisting my ankle.  Very occasionally the sole of my boot would apparently land squarely on a single testicle and the slight flexing of my boot sole would slightly cup the testicle, preventing it from firing out to the side as I came down fully on it.  Even as I danced my sensations were acutely focused now, almost in slow motion I could feel the testicle compress under me before stopping hard.  I couldn't believe they could be this strong!  It's true I'm quite a slim build, maybe 110 pounds, but still it was an amazing sensation to feel his ball bend under me before taking all my weight.  I wondered what the man below me must be going through, it must surely be pure agony to have his testicles relentlessly crushed underfoot like this.  I remember hoping for his sake that despite his agonising ordeal he might draw some strength from the sight of my now glistening cunt dancing happily above him.

Sometimes as I grooved away I would feel something uncertain under my stiletto heel.  My heels themselves were circular, about the same diameter as a pencil, so it was much more difficult to work out what it was they had landed on as they would invariably drive down though any obstacle to the solid floor underneath. I could sometimes tell when they'd landed on the shaft of his cock, sometimes the heel would scrape down the side of the shaft, other times I could tell I had impaled his shaft directly as I could just feel a slight softening under my heel as it came to the floor, and the usual hard clack of the steel heel tip against the wooden floor was replaced with a slightly dull thud as the flesh of his stiff cock muted the blow.  These "direct hits" on his cock were quite rare but I have to admit they were intensely satisfying. More than once I would pause my dancing just to hold my heel in place on his shaft, leaning back on the impaling heel to relish the sensation of his lovely cock being pierced beneath me.  I remember once when I did this time seemed to stop as I stood their balanced precariously on my one heel. I knew for sure his cock was under me as I could just about feel what felt like small fibres under my heel as I twisted back and forth. I could almost feel him being torn up beneath me.  I thought back to that beautiful hard penis I'd ached at the sight of earlier that evening, and before I knew it the leg I was standing on started to quiver in spontaneous orgasm as I stood there on what now must surely have been his ruined cock.

I'd been dancing for maybe half an hour when there came a lull in the music. I was aware by now that the insistent bulges that I'd felt at the beginning of the evening had clearly diminished.  Pausing to take breath, I probed the dark black floor with my foot. I could make out the flesh of his cock still but it certainly wasn't hard any more.  Hardly surprising I suppose when you think what it had been through.  What I couldn't tell was whether he'd understandably just lost his hard-on or whether I'd properly broken his cock.  Amazingly though I could still feel the two orbs of his balls, apparently intact.  I can only guess that their natural tendency to roll out of danger had protected them so far.  Amazing!  Although I knew they would eventually be lost, I did feel genuinely happy for the man that he still had his balls for now.  The fact that they hadn't yet broken made me realise that they must have still been able to cause my man untold agony as I was sure I had been bouncing on them pretty hard.  I guess that's why he had been strapped down, and thankfully the music was too loud and the raised floor too thick to hear any unsettling screams.  I thought for a moment about how those two proud eggs would be the source of yet more unimaginable suffering before my evening was over, and not for the first time that evening I felt a deep wave of pleasure well up between my legs.

The music once again picked up its pace and I could see the sea of clubbers synchronise their bodies to the beat once more.  I felt really energised by my first hesitant experiences of dancing on a man's cock and balls and was fired up to carry on.  I made a determined dash for the bar where I got myself another rum and cock for the journey ahead. I returned through the crowds to my now familiar cordoned area, where I deftly lifted the rope barrier, downed the rest of my drink and put the empty glass out of harms way.  I thought briefly about the perfect cock and balls that had been waiting for me just an hour before, the new and strange sensations of feeling them bend and distort under my relentless dancing feet, and the mental image of the state of his manhood - the two good balls and the damaged cock - which I had managed to build when I paused for a break.  I prodded the floor once more to reassure myself he was still there. He was. Again, two distinct lumps, and a longer piece of flesh, feeling rather like a piece of rubber tubing under my foot.  Whether it was the drink or my growing confidence, my earlier reticence had gone, and I was eager to take my prize and do what I'd come to do.  Letting the music take my tingling body once again, I started dancing hard to the pounding beat. There, I felt him under me, just as before.  My foot squirming slightly on the soft flesh.  It felt gorgeous, reassuring.  I continued dancing, this time eager to feel him under my cruel heels.  Then, just like before I felt the sole of my shoe come down squarely on something hard, pebble like. In the split second that my weight transferred to this foot I knew I had come down on one of his testicles. Managing to balance on that one foot, my heel raised off the ground, I could feel the single ball pressing into the centre of the thin sole of my boot.  Using my hand against the wall to keep my balance, I just stood motionless, marvelling at the way his testicle was strong enough to carry me.  It was an amazing sensation, all at once I could feel it bending, distorting and flattening beneath me as I shifted my weight slightly to stay balanced on it, and yet I was aware that it also felt hard, hard enough that I could feel its orb like contour through my sole. I was lucky that I'd managed to catch my balance against the wall before slipping off his ball, and so I was able to remain standing on him for what must have been a good thirty or forty seconds.  As I did so I thought about the man who's ball I was crushing, lying hidden beneath me.  I hoped he could see through his little viewing glass exactly what was happening, that he could see me balancing on his tortured testicle. I wondered what was going through his mind.  Pain that I'd never know, I'm sure, but I also knew he had entered this bizarre competition for the same reason that I had, and I hoped that as he looked up at me, my short black skirt, my pretty cunt, my slender legs, my elegant but deadly boots and his bulging testicle beneath, he was getting at least some of the pleasure and satisfaction from having me slowly but surely destroy his manhood as I was getting from destroying it.

As I continued standing there, balanced perfectly on his tormented testicle, I started to feel a sea of sensations and emotions well up inside me.  I can only guess that I had been stood there for maybe a minute when I started to feel the unmistakable waves of another orgasm building.  By now I was very wet and I found myself thinking about how I'd love to feel that beautiful hard cock plunging inside me, before I'd ruined it.  As I felt the muscles in my arms and legs start to quiver, and the feint but unmistakable waves start to flow from my womb, I felt instinctively that it was going to be a big one.  Feeling increasingly light headed, I managed to have the presence of mind to work out what I must do before the rising orgasm overwhelmed me.  I knew no matter how my body started to spasm I must not let his testicle roll out from under me as I'd never be able to trap it underfoot again in a hurry. By this time my head was swimming and at one point I very nearly did lose my balance.  Trying to maintain my senses as my growing orgasm approached I desperately twisted my foot back and forth on his straining testicle to keep my balance.  As I did so I could feel the tiny fibrous structures inside his ball grinding under my twisting weight, tiny micro-vibrations tingling up through the sole of my boot.  I knew at that instant, as I'm sure he did too, that his ball was now lost.  I knew also that those delicious crunching sensations through my sole, and the thought of his ruined testicle beneath me, were about to tip me over the edge.  As my orgasm built relentlessly I was suddenly aware of a confused dilemma in my mind which almost made me panic. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to cum whilst I stood there balanced on his testicle - to have him carry me with his tortured ball, or whether I wanted to cum from actually feeling it break under me. By this point though, my body about to be engulfed by a crashing orgasm, my mind was swimming too much to think about such decisions. Past the point of no return, I thought once more about the man below, looking up at me in agony as I was overwhelmed with pleasure.  As the waves of my orgasm built from my centre and washed out to the extremities of my body, I felt my legs - one floating in the air and the other perched on the doomed ball - start to shaking violently. As my orgasm shuddered through my balancing leg I feared I'd lose balance, but instead I could actually feel his amazing testicle working like a shock absorber beneath my shuddering leg, bending and crushing to keep me steady. Just incredible.  What happened next is still a blur, but I was dimly aware of a very feint, muffled scream just above the pounding thud of the music. At the same instant I suddenly felt my foot drop maybe half an inch on to the hard wooden floor. My instant reaction was dismay, thinking that I'd accidenally let his testicle slip out during the most profound orgasm of my life, but this was instantly replaced by a deep sense of relief, pleasure and satisfaction as I remembered the slight crunching sensation I had felt through the sole of my shoe as I'd dropped. Reassured that I had indeed completely pulped his testicle, I squatted down to keep my balance as I my orgasm reached a second peak, taking care in my confusion not to remove my devastating foot from his shattered testicle.  As my orgasm slowly subsided I was still basking in the pulsing waves of pleasure that continued to wash through my body.  Slowly standing once again, I found myself absent-mindedly spinning my body in half-circles left and right in time with each wave, the sole of my shoe still standing on the remains of the lost ball, able to spin smoothly on spot, lubricated by the pulpy remains of his testicle.  As I twisted blissfully on the spot, I occasionally felt strange lumps under my sole, almost crispy.  In time though these seemed to disappear as I continued to gently grind his remains under the sole of my boot, and after a few minutes I once more became aware of the clubbers around me and the music resounding through the club.

By this time, having come down from my orgasm, I was suddenly feeling physically drained. Just as before I prodded the inky black floor to assess the situation. And just as before, I could feel the deflated cock, still lying there, apparently lifeless. Moving down the squishy shaft, I found a hard lump, surely his remaining testicle. Prodding my foot up and down around this bulge, I searched for its partner, and was relieved when I was unable to feel any trace of it.  Again I heard the music pounding through me but this time I didn't feel in the mood to dance again just now.  Instead, I found myself feeling bothered by the fact that there was still an intact testicle at my feet . With so much empty space now left in my unseen partner's scrotum I had a feeling it could be tricky to pin down the lone testicle, seeing as it had already apparently escaped my heels relatively unscathed until now.  With this in mind, and with the buzzing energy in my muscles having been replaced with the floaty lethargy of my orgasm, I wondered what I should do.

It didn't take me long to decide. The emotional high of crunching the first testicle had been like a drug. Even then, no more than five or ten minutes after pulping the first one, I wanted more.  I knew I only had one chance left, and having already done a full-weight crush I was still eager feel what it's like to skewer a live testicle under my spike heel.  The more I thought about it, the more I could feel my heart start to pound. My face felt hot and flushed.  Once again I felt that now familiar, comforting, tingle between my legs, and the slight nervous shaking in my knees and hands.  I'd already decided I didn't want to dance on this last testicle just in case I broke it, perhaps without even noticing.  Instead I squatted down and gingerly felt for it with my hand, slightly nervous of what carnage I might find.

My hand first came on to his cock.  It still felt cock-like, but I was aware of some small sticky patches on the skin, which I figured must be blood.  Running my finger up its length, just like I had earlier that evening, I could feel strange lumps and dimples on the skin, bruises or blisters I guessed. To my surprise, I felt the cock twitch. So, it was still alive, sort of!  Instinctively I wrapped my fingers around the soft shaft and started to gently stroke it up and down.  It didn't feel too good in my hand, I could feel the strange lumps and tears in the flesh as I tried to coax it into life. Again I felt a faint pulse of blood through the shaft and again I stroked harder, curious to find out just how broken it was.  Sure enough, I could feel it start to grow slightly but it seemed unable to reach even a semi-hard state, and as I pumped it harder I was aware that my hand was getting wet - fluid was apparently seeping out of the sides of the shaft.  Realising his cock was surely ruined, I gave up and moved my hand down until I found his last testicle. 

To the touch at least it seemed in good shape, still nice and plump, warm, apparently intact.  Using my thumb and forefinger to hold it in place in the sac, I moved my right foot carefully over the top, gently placing my heel on the centre of his ball. It took a few attempts to get it to stay in place as it seemed to want to ping out at the slighted opportunity, but I found that if I held it with my fingers until I'd put a bit more pressure through my spike heel, the testicle would distort sufficiently under the tip of my heel so that it wouldn't roll away when I took my fingers away.  I found it hard to judge how much weight I was putting through my heel, but I'm sure it wasn't much. Even so I could feel with my fingers that my heel had sunk noticeably into what had been a perfect egg shape.  Very carefully I stood up, keen to keep the testicle pinned safely under my spike heel, and anxious not to accidentally pierce it.

Standing once more, I couldn't really feel the testicle under my heel. With most of my weight on the front of my foot, I lightly pressed down on my heel.  As I gently bounced my heel up and down I thought I could just make out a slight springy resistance, but it was very subtle.  To reassure myself that the testicle was in fact still in place I carefully used the pointed toe of my other shoe so check it was still there. Prodding around the tip of my heel, I could feel a springy blob against my toe. Yes, it was still pinned safe and sound under my pencil-thin stiletto.  It was an interesting sensation, not so much to feel but still I was filled with a sense of awesome power, knowing that I could instantly castrate the man still lying under me with an effortless flick of my ankle.  Remembering that man below me gave me an idea.  I realised from the orientation of his cock and ball that I must be standing face to face with him.  Without a thought for the crowds over on the main dance-floor, intoxicated with the power I had at my feet, I lifted my short skirt and tucked the front of it up into my chunky belt. Assuming my man was still conscious he now had an enviable view of my pussy, neatly trimmed and still glistening from my earlier excitement.  Instinctively my hand went down to my crotch, and I started to run my fingers up and down, releasing waves of aching pleasure from deep inside.  With the intensity of the evening so far my pussy felt hungry for the slightest touch.  Hoping that my man could see everything, I dipped a finger into my aching cunt. I was taken aback by just how wet it felt, and I couldn't help but masturbate right there, my heel still poised delicately on this last testicle, this testicle which I would soon sacrifice for my pleasure.

Once again I thought about the man watching me from below.  This was the point of no return. It was inevitable by this point that I was about to complete his castration. I would take his manhood completely, and I would cum hard as I did so.  As this thought whirled around my mind I felt the familiar waves of orgasm approach. With my body starting to go into spasm I held my finger deep inside me and pressed down very slowly with my spike heel.  As I did so I felt that same springy resistance which seemed to increase as I increased the pressure on my heel. Pressing down still harder my heel seemed to stop descending and I thought I'd gone right through. Then, in just an instant, I felt the resistance yield and my heel seem to sink easily to the floor.  As I felt my heel hit the unmistakable solidity of the wooden floor I crushed down with all my weight on the slender heel, twisting and grinding it as hard as I could into the wood, anxious to make sure my heel tip had ground through any last layers of flesh and was clean through the other side of his scrotum.  As I did so, and as I thought about the perfect testicle now skewed on my elegant heel, I started to cum so hard that I really thought I might pass out, huge shuddering spasms ripping through my body. Energised by this amazing energy, before my orgasm had faded I lifted my heel and used my other foot to push the impaled testicle down off the shaft of my heel and back on to the floor. As I did so I could feel it was still attached to its owner.  Realising this, and without a moments thought, I lifted my foot high in the air and stomped down on the already ruined testicle as hard as I could.  With its structure already destroyed by having been skewering just moments before, the broken ball offered no resistance except for a barely perceptible crunching sensation as it seemed to explod violently under the sole of my boot.  Overtaken by the moment, I stomped again and again, as hard as I could, using both feet and both of my spike heels.  Having come this far I was overcome with an overwhelming desire to annihilate the man who had offered himself to my feet.  Thinking of his pulped balls and the broken cock that could no longer get hard, I stomped furiously, blindly, as hard as I could, again and again, determined to destroy him totally. In the frenzy I'd occasionally feel something soft under my pounding spike heels, and then it would subside and I wouldn't be able to feel it any more.  After a few minutes I finally I stopped, exhausted and drained.  As I stood there dazed, out of breath, damp with the sweat of my exertions and overwhelmed by my emotions, I thought again about the unknown man I'd ruined. I couldn't help but start to cry.  I stood motionless, tears of joy and relief running down my cheeks, overwhelmed by a profound sense of my completeness as a woman that I'd never felt before.

After a few moments, as I caught my breath, my tears subsided and gave way to feeling of pure exhiliration. I felt the pounding music once again, and now once again I was in the mood to dance!  The music took my body just at it had done before, and I spent what must have been the next two or three hours just dancing the night away in ecstatic bliss there on my own private dance-floor.  At first, the sole of my boot would sometimes slip on something wet or squishy, but as the hours went by and I danced away as if in trance, I started to realise that I could no longer feel any trace of my dance partner under my feet at all, except for a sticky sensation under the soles of my boot, like stepping on spilt drink. In time even this sensation disappeared and as the evening came to an end I reflected with an indescribable feeling of pleasure and satisfaction at the thought that I had finally ground my man's once perfect cock and balls into total oblivion.

Postscript 1: A brief account of the post-club clear-up, from the staff member who introduced the competition-winning woman to her private dance-floor at the beginning of the evening:

The house lights went up at 4AM, at which point the remaining members of the public promptly left the club premises.  At this point I remembered the man who had won the competition to be under the stage floor, and went over to release him from his hidden space under the floor.

As I approached the cordoned-off dance area, I was surprised to see that he'd already left.  The house lights were on now but I couldn't see his genitals laying on the floor where I'd left them six hours before.  Figuring someone else had already released him, I started to remove drinks glasses from around the area.  Suddenly, I was shocked to see some dark, dirty stains on the jet black wooden floor.  I looked at the draw bolts securing the raised floor.  Closed!  He hadn't been released after all, but where on earth had his penis and testicles gone?  Panicking, I raised the floor and sure enough he was there, but there was nothing where his genitals should be, except for a bloody open wound around his crotch. Indeed, I'd been able to lift the floor clean away from him even though his genitals should have been protruding though the hole in the floor.  I released the straps around his wrists and ankles, and shook him.  He mumbled incoherently, but seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. A fellow staff member helped lift him out of the false floor and carried him upstairs, whilst I replaced the floor and took out my phone to call an ambulance. I was about to call the ambulance when I found myself captivated by what I saw on the wooden false floor.  Amidst the black painted surface, I could see the same dirty stains I had seen initially, but now as I looked more carefully I could start to make out traces of what had used to be there. The dark stains were in fact skin, flattened tissue-thin and ground into the rough texture of the wood, darkened dirty brown by a mixture of blood and dirt.  This skin layer was peppered with tiny circles, evidently the prints of very sharp spike heels. In many places it was ripped and shredded, such that it bore little resemblance to what it had been just hours before. Amazingly, there was no remains of any flesh, meat or other organs of any kind.  I could only guess that his manhood had been so severely tenderised over the course of the six hours as to have been ground completely into paste, leaving little more than a large, dark stain over a large area of the floor.  I could detect a slight salty smell, frankly, of semen, but I couldn't see anything apart from some dark damp patches in the wood.  Mesmerised, I completely forgot about calling the ambulance as I sat in amazement, looking at the scene, a familiar tingle of excitement between my legs as I realised what had happened here tonight. 

Postscript 2: The following day, cleaning staff reported finding very small pieces of flesh on the walls around the private dance area, accompanied with spatter marks ranging from red to a yellowish-white in colour.  The cause of these marks was not apparent to the cleaning staff, however, based on the detailed account of the women who occupied the private dance-floor on the previous night, it is thought that these are the remains of the skewered second testicle which must have exploded violently underfoot when the woman stomped down on it.