Light streamed into the hovel and momentarily blinded Brent where he was glued in the compression of sole and insole. A long finger, full of promise and potential for malice, appeared. He tensed up, preparing to be scooped up lengthwise, his shrunken naked form displayed to the rest of the boardroom before he was jammed back inside. Which, when he thought about it, had its perks; fresh air was sounding pretty heavenly right now.
But her eyes didn’t meet his. Instead, Ms. Perkins simply pressed her fingertip into the pliable flesh of her instep and began to scratch. Her white-tipped fingernail casually arced along the sloped angle of her arch, relieving herself of an itch. The simple act rubbed the stocking every which way, rattling her reduced prisoner.
Brent grasped the fibers of the nylon and clawed his way closer to the light, with his tiny face pressed up against the nude fabric. He wasn’t sure what it was he intended in doing so; even if tainted through the soggy filter of the stocking, all he wanted was some air.
Ms. Perkins glanced down toward her lap, catching his eye down in the shoe. Her expression didn’t change, so as not to arouse suspicion in the room, he guessed. What could she possibly say? Rather, a subtle approximation of a Mona Lisa smile curved into her lips. Finished scratching her itch, the woman’s powerful digit curled in and then ever so gently pushed directly into Brent’s shrunken face. The strength of her fingertip easily dislodged Brent’s grip and caused him to slide backward and become adhered to his boss’s foot again, his helpless cock swallowed in a velvety sole wrinkle just as Ms. Perkins paid him a final glance and shoved her foot cleanly back into its slingback.
Sweat audibly squelched and sprayed as Brent was sealed back in the airless tomb of Ms. Perkins’ perfect, godlike sole and the worn-down altar of the leather insole. The stocking tightened back around him, bending his body to the muscular whim of the woman’s arching foot. Cringing with all his might, and regretting every insanely-pleasurable instant, Brent couldn’t help but orgasm amidst the uncaring darkness of Ms. Perkins’ purgatory while a perfectly average boardroom took place above.
Time became an indeterminable dimension as the boardroom meeting came to a close and Brent endured another brisk jaunt from the conference room back to Ms. Perkins’ palatial office. The afternoon slowed to a crawl. However long it was here was there, he didn’t fully realize the consequences of his screwing up the McConnell deal and perving on Larissa had at least reached a conclusion. At least until he was being literally peeled away like a smashed insect by giant fingers from Ms. Perkins’ damp sole. Happily (he was pretty sure), he was still alive and intact.
No words were exchanged as the CEO delicately plopped Brent back on the floor, where his pre-shrunken business attire was waiting for him, right where he’d left it and she’d shrunken it to fit him now. The man lay dumbfounded upon his belongings and watched the alluring, silent fireworks display of Ms. Perkins artfully dressing her nude stockings over her endless leg and gorgeous foot, though she didn’t yet slide it inside her slingback. Instead she crossed her leg over the opposite and let her nyloned sole hover precariously above little Brent and his clothes.
“Well, Mr. Tucker,” Ms. Perkins sighed, resting her chin on her fingers. Her sole scrunched. “I do hope you’ve learned some lesson today, small though it may have been. I must admit, you’re slower to develop as an ideal employee than have some of your predecessors who underwent similar consequences for poor business decisions. Nevertheless, I see potential in you, and have decided that you will have a future at this company. I will not tolerate quitters, as I’m sure you’ve heard, and though you’re flawed, Mr. Tucker, I do not judge you to be a quitter. I hope you prove me right.”
Brent nodded blankly. He didn’t really stop to consider whether he actually wanted that, after what he’d gone through today. It was just a foregone conclusion when spoken by someone as imperious as Ms. Perkins, especially when the brunette titaness sat above him, lording the casual threat of her dangled nylon foot over his naked inch-tall self.
Still, he’d worked hard to get here. He was a go-getter and skilled at his job, except with that last assignment. There was no way he could endure all of today and let the time spent go to waste, could he? Such a conclusion to this sordid day would be the most depressing realization of all. At least the craziness was over. He could stew over what had transpired today for years to come, likely feeling inadequate at times and likely masturbating to the memory of it at others, but he was done.
“So, go ahead and get yourself dressed again, and I’ll regrow you,” Ms. Perkins said. She separated her toes and squinted, spying Brent’s puny head from between the separated digits and through the film of her stocking. A genuine smile formed on her lips this time. “After all, you’ll likely need a good night’s rest before we continue your re-education in proper business practice tomorrow. Spending the day with you has given me several ideas I’d like to test-run, which I think you’ll find most scintillating while I’m on conference calls.”
“Excuse me?” Brent coughed.