“What a pathetic little creature,” she said, and in that cavernous grotto vibrating with her commanding voice, it became like a judgement from the world itself. Henry truly felt like the words belonged to him.

However, this was also a chance to act. The lethargy following orgasm was very real, and Henry wasn’t pretending as he lay there with a confused, gasping mouth. But the thought of a chance sobered him up, a flash of energy. He clapped his hands together, summoned his art, and hopped away from these stomping grounds. Her foot narrowly missed him.

Helga raised her hand again, fingers shining green. Henry expected the lashing vines around him, instantly bolting about. He had to target her, turning course towards this hundred-foot goddess. The vines sprung up as expected, diving towards him. He dodged again and again, noticing, however, that they didn’t have the same curling grasp as before.

And then, his trousers fell off. Henry instinctively tried to pull them back up, but his fingers only saved torn rags. The vines were thorned, and they’d surgically carved his trousers to pieces.

“So there’s that nasty little culprit,” Helga said, frowning at his now limp manhood after its release of pleasure. “You dare tarnish my holiness with your carnal desires?” She sent the vines after him again.

Henry leapt and hopped from the vines emerging out of this green grotto. Other than dodging, he tried to inch his away closer to her and her nonchalant pose. Helga had no more than a hand raised where she stood, stone-faced, a provoking air to her casual pose. Henry used the vines to his advantage, dodging over them and landing on top, using them to kick his way further up. Golden energy brimming in his arm, he flied towards her face.

Helga snapped forward with her head, her mouth succeeding where all the vines had failed and snatching him out of the air. The arch of pearly white teeth ran down from Henry’s left shoulder to right thigh, biting to press a couple of groans out of him. Then, she spat him out. Henry saw the bush rushing up to him, landed with grace, but she had all the time to see where he would end up, and her right foot was instantly upon him.

“God… dammit,” Henry muttered, as he once again found himself underneath the ball of her right foot. He couldn’t take another round of stomps. The toes gripped his naked body; it didn’t seem like she had the same plan in mind, though that was no cause for celebration yet. Helga’s right foot fished him out of the bush and put him over the left one, standing atop it. He was pancaked, the tough, skeletal part of her upper left foot behind him, while the smooth, comfy sole of her right foot pushed him into it. The big toe sat under his chin head, while his groin was under the ball of her foot.

Then, she slid back and forth. The big digit pushed his chin up and down, making him repeatedly nod, but that wasn’t the point. The point was the repeated scrape against his manhood, this time intentional. The protruding ball of her foot found it easily in its vastness, pressing his cock up against his lower abdomen and including it well in the slide over his entire body.

Any other time, this would have been a welcome gesture. But Henry had just come off an orgasm, and the reception from his groin was one of aches and slow burns, not pleasure. “Ah,” Henry huffed, writhing where he lay.

Helga looked at him with an icy expression, doing nothing except scroll her foot that incredibly small distance, back and forward over him and his manhood.

“Please, stop,” Henry said with a hiss. He freed one arm on the side of her big toe, repeatedly punching into it with the limited energy he could summon from such an indisposed position. She responded by pushing her toe farther up, its plump, cushy nub resting atop his head. His face was now scrubbed by the creamy tissue, plugging his words. He could only produce a muffled grunt into the large digit, all while his manhood reluctantly returned to climax with a painful burn. Henry opened his mouth and bit into as much of the toe flesh as he could, sucking on it. This orgasm indeed hurt, but once he had reached the point, he was fully there, and he worshipped the toe. Again, he ejaculated, its duration perfectly matching the vivacity with which he suckled on the mouthful of toe flesh he had. When he slackened, his mouth at ease, he was well and truly spent.

The right foot rose, Henry following it. Both sweat and his own cum had firmly glued him to it, so a proper kick of her foot was needed to send him free. Henry rolled and landed over a bed of flowers, a mere ragdoll.

“I surrender,” he whispered, not moving one bit. He’d felt heroic and valiant when taking her on, thinking of his captured friends, of the importance of this fight. Now, he gave up without regret. He only wanted this to end.

“I am merciful,” Helga began, turning around and walking back to her stony throne, all the herbage flattened under her path yet rising tall with a reinvigorated stalk once her feet stepped off them. Her holiness was the source of their life. “To those who deserve my mercy, that is. To challenge me so insolently, battle me, and wallow in undeserved bliss that you steal from me, I am afraid more disciplining is warranted.”

“What? No…” Henry clambered up just as she sat. She snapped her fingers. He knew what was coming, but he’d already surrendered and didn’t have it in him to avoid the four vines emerging and diving after him. They entangled his two wrists and ankles, bringing him over to Helga. She steered him with the movement of her index finger. Helga crossed her left leg over the right, bringing the left foot to a dangle. The vines brought him to them, and, under the careful guidance of her index finger, positioned his manhood against her third toe. The contact alone made Henry shiver, but the vines had him locked.

Then, the vines fluttered while holding him, making him rub up against her. The situation was effectively reversed, from her foot rubbing him to him rubbing up against her foot, the underside of the third toe specifically. His manhood, now a rod of aching pain, was becoming intimate with the delicacy of her third digit. Nothing about it summoned a shred of joy. Henry croaked, biting his teeth together, trying to squirm away and flailing hard to break free from the vines. But they didn’t give him anything. Helga’s index finger pointed at him, shining green, shifting up and down dimly and instructing the movement that scraped his cock into her toe. It was nothing but a burn, a churning wave of agony roaring through his lower abdomen.

“Please, I surrender,” Henry repeated. But her expression didn’t change, the monotony of the movement unbroken. Henry knew it would return, that’s what he feared the most. Through the pain, that same tick of pleasure and reward emerged. It was no more than a small prickle, but it was there, and Henry found himself thrusting his waist into her third toe.

The third orgasm approached, Henry snorting and hissing.

The index stopped. The vines released him, letting him plummet to the expanse of grass before her throne. Confused, Henry got up, instinctively caressing his burning manhood. She presented both her feet before him, a row of ten cute and pale toes.

“Finish.”

“What?”

She didn’t provide any further instruction, only kept the ten toes presented before him. Henry didn’t wish to go against her, surrender was the best option at this point. But it shocked even himself to see how quickly he obeyed, how quickly he threw himself at those toes, licked and kissed the gaps between them as he humped his way into his third and most painful orgasm. No more than a few drops were produced in this excruciating deal he was solely responsible for. He collapsed over her foot.

“I assume you did this with the giant you came with,” Helga said, correctly referring to Ada. “I shall let her watch you cast yourself at your new mistress, next time.”

Henry would have been better off joining his friends in their captivity. Instead, he was stomped and made to worship Helga before Ada’s eyes, was worn like an anklet around Helga’s feet for most of the days as she sat upon her throne and the villagers wandered up to her holiness and asked for guidance. Indeed, he’d be better off quiet and obedient. Now he was the active subject of her humiliation, and he had nothing but his attempted heroism to thank for it.