If it is my magic

The woman who is committing violence is about thirty-seven or eight years old. Her fine face and concave and convex figure are like ripe peaches, attractive and deep. But the boy on the ground is pitiful, tiny limbs and withered body are covered with countless scars, old and new. The boy was trampled on the ground by a woman wearing high-heeled shoes. Although the slender high-heeled heels made the boy’s chest ache incomparably, the boy did not dare to have a trace of resistance. Fear filled his eyes, and he looked at the woman who was standing high. The young woman looked down at the boy on the ground. She enjoyed the fear in the boy’s eyes. The feeling made her extremely comfortable, and even a kind of faint pleasure from the soul.