Adnah, in time, stood, his arms, hands, and back still throbbing in agony. The huge silky hand was more patient this time, petting him and gently prodding. She felt the two small pressure points that were his feet on her back. Bititi inhaled, then exhaled calmly before gingerly picking him up and getting back into her position sitting on the edge of the bed.
She cupped her palm under the hand holding him and released, allowing him to sit freely in both. He gazed again at that immense, bewitching, face. Her eyes were wet, a small tear fell from one, marring the perfection. Her nose sniffled. The physical pain dissipated, only to be replaced by an emotional one. The moment his eyes moistened, hers glinted unfamiliarly.
“You have done so much for me, my little savior, but…” she trailed off, her eyes looking away in humiliation.
“What?! What is it?” he asked, jumping to his feet, his pain causing him to regret the hasty impulse.
She looked back at him, another tear escaping her eye, “You have freed me from the iron collar, but the two leather shackles yet bind my feet. There is no salvation for me.”
He looked down, the two dark brown colonnades were each bound by leather. She lowered him to the floor so he could observe the bindings. He saw the leather wrapped snugly, a softer material fixed between her skin and the thick rawhide. There were two locks, locking each leather while also connecting to the thick chains.
He walked over to one, and with both hands swiveled it to examine the keyhole. This one’s mechanism was designed for a twist key. He reached his hand in and felt that he would have to push left, and upwards. This required far more torque than his strength or any change in his positioning could possibly generate. The silky female hand braced against his back again.
“When you are primed, let me know and I will try to assist you,” she said in a weak voice, almost as if her strength as a giantess was inferior to his.
He felt the hand tremble in anticipation, before steeling, ready to ram his arm into the metal. He shivered, while her strength was equal to the task, his flesh’s durability was not. He foresaw her hand pushing on him with all its might, causing his limbs to snap in a futile attempt at this device.
Pushing back and taking his arm out quickly he yelled to her, “This lock is different, even with you aiding me I cannot open it.”
Her pouty, sullen eyes hardened angrily for a fraction of a second before resuming their pitiful state. They looked at his own, somehow seeming to question his resolve. They darted away from the tiny Adnah, searching for something unknown to him. They paused upon glancing at the table. One mighty hand descended, clutched him, and brought him back before the auburn womanly mask.
“If only there was something to sever my bonds,” her eyes beckoned his to the table, to the knife still sticking out from the beef.
“Jelani’s knife…” he trailed, his mind slowing, trying to warn of him of something.
“Yes! That might just work,” she smiled at him graciously, the eyes now radiating hope, “If you could just bring me the knife…”
He gauged the distance from the floor to the table, to him it was five or six stories tall, the legs located inwards from the edges, climbing was not an option. The chair was situated just out of range. He pondered, looking around for anything that he could use.
He didn’t hear Bititi’s brows furl or her impatient exhalation. The hand rotated him so that he was facing the Nubian façade.
“My small hero, if you were willing to be brave, I believe that I could help you reach the knife,” she paused, letting the words sink in, “I could throw you the short distance, then you could push the knife from the table.”
His mind raced, the distance was not so short. He looked at those bright oculi, now pleading.
“Throw me…?” he began.
“Thank you!” she exclaimed, cupping him in her fist firmly and standing up before he could continue.
She leaned as far forward as the chains would allow. Her arm withdrew back in a curve, began its expedited fall, and she released, tossing him into the air. He gasped as he began his arc, his body twisting and flailing beyond his control. Reaching the zenith, he felt his ascent slowly halt, only to scream as his descent accelerated him towards the table.
His body hit the remaining mound of beef, cushioning the initial landing but his inertia caused him to bounce. He landed for a second time, his right shoulder banging onto the wood. His body rolled twice before laying splayed out. The pain in his shoulder reminded his senses of his previous suffering. He groaned. He crumpled up, holding himself. He lay there, focusing on his breathing, the only thing within his control.
Eventually he collected himself and stood. He looked at the knife, he felt a strange disappointment when it failed to gleam. His view of Bititi was blocked by the large slab of meat. He felt frightened of her possible gaze and instinctively crouched down. This was the first time since she had opened his chest that his mental faculties weren’t clouded.
What was he doing? Or even why? He thought of the colossal beauty, of her shackles and pitiable condition. He felt sympathy for someone who was also considered property, someone who was also only partially human. But even if he succeeded, his life would not change, why even bother? The pain reminded him of the costs he’d already been forced to bear. He thought of the pleasure she had provided him, but even Nia and Sauda sometimes inadvertently pleasured him. He continued thinking for some time before resolving to finish the deed. There was no noble nor chivalrous reasoning behind his choice. Merely that it seemed as practical to finish as to give up.
“Little One? Are you alright?” Her voice wavered.
“Yes,” he shouted, his head now appearing from behind the knife.
She smiled, clasping her hands together eagerly. She opened her mouth but stopped. Instead her lips closed and raised into a suggestive smile. Adnah unconsciously swallowed, he blinked twice and fixated his attention to the mission. The dagger lay before him, both longer and wider than his body.
He grabbed the white ivory handle and slowly dragged the knife to the end of the table opposite the goddess. He pushed perpendicularly against the handle, rotating the instrument until the sharp point faced the edge. He gripped the blunt base of the handle. Grunting, he heaved against the bottom, gradually moving the knife over the boundary. He felt the blade end’s mass begin to tip downwards. He shoved once, forcefully, tipping the mass in a seesaw manner. The blade sank past the periphery, its heft then worked with gravity to cause the back half to slide after the front. There was a clattering as it landed and lightly bounced forwards.
He approached the cliff and saw that the blade was now only five feet from the giantess. She smiled as she stooped over from her seated position. Her feet stayed fast with the tension of the straps, but her hands landed on the floor. Her arched back gradually flattened, her hands extending inch by inch. She grabbed the dagger and slid it to her feet. She proceeded to walk back her hands, her back arching like a cat. She grabbed the knife before sitting up. She examined it, turning it hither and thither before bringing it down.
She began slowly, probing the exact sharpness of the blade versus the leather’s immunity. She carved, from the base up. Slowly a line shaped gap formed. She pressed firmly, but not excessively, all good things in time. After a few minutes her patience was rewarded as her restraint came off, leaving her skin and the soft material beneath from scouring. She chuckled hysterically in exultation.
Regaining her composure, she repeated the procedure, composing herself more stoically as the second leather strap fell. She removed the silky fabric and delicately rubbed the chafed part of her legs. She moaned sensuously, her dark sparkling eyes immediately fixated on the tiny, suitably sized man before her.
“All good things…” she whispered.